1000 words

I am happy to report that Robert decided to start up the wood stove this morning. And in case my last post didn't convey my current state, Cheezburger is thinking along the same lines:

marathon, or, welcome to the nut house

Some time last spring, a friend mentioned that our local home team was playing a Stravinsky piece that she'd always wanted to hear. She was frustrated because the only time she could go was on a Friday afternoon and she didn't want to go alone. Just an idle comment. Because I don't work Fridays, and because I enjoy watching music being made, I offered to go along with her.

Then we got busy and started arranging our other music schedules and somehow forgot that we'd signed up for a Friday afternoon concert. Through another series, we both separately signed up for concerts on Friday night and Saturday night.

I realized it would be a challenging but fun weekend, requiring me to be well rested and alert. I wanted to get the most possible out of each event. Then an old college friend called to say he and his son were doing the traditional spring break east coast college tour and he'd like to stay with me. Of course! Any time! And of course, it turned out to be this weekend.

So. Wednesday night, we had a haircut. Thursday, I was out the door early so I could swim a day early -- I realized there was no way I'd fit a swim in on Friday. Then I had one of those days-from-hell at work, where fortunately, my manager rose to the challenge I posed for her and she helped me straighten things out. But I was tired by the end of the day.

My friend and his son showed up late Thursday night and we stayed up late talking. On Friday, Robert went to work and the rest of us hung around for a bit. Around noon, we picked up my concert buddy and headed into town, dropping friend and son off at the subway. They had their day and the son spent the night with his older brother, who's attending a local college.

My concert buddy, college friend, and Robert all met for dinner, then went off to the concert together, where my concert buddy met her husband and two additional friends.

Saturday morning, we hung out with the college friend, then shoved him out the door so he could meet up with his son and drive to western MA for more colleges. I caught up on three days' worth of newspapers. Then, we stripped beds, did laundry, Robert worked on the yard, and I went for a walk. Finally, we dashed into town, met completely other friends who were also going to the Saturday evening concert, and then headed off to the concert hall together.

At intermission, we dashed upstairs to greet my concert buddy, her husband, and two additional friends.

Back at home, we climbed into bed and are now ready to face this rainy morning. My calendar for today is marked "do not schedule anything." However, my concert buddy is giving a recital next week that we can't attend, so we may go to her dress rehearsal. But otherwise, we'll use Sunday as the good lord intended it -- as a day of rest. Phew.

Oh -- and the concert lineup:

Friday afternoon: Boston Symphony Orchestra played Ravel, Prokofiev, and Stravinsky, conducted by Charles Dutoit.
http://bso.org/bso/index.jsp?id=bcat5220002

Friday evening: Preservation Hall Jazz Band and Blind Boys of Alabama (loved PHJB, BBfA were fine but weird).
http://www.blindboys.com/
http://www.preservationhall.com/band/index-about.htm

Saturday evening: Another in the Rob Kapilow "What Makes it Great Series" -- this time a Dvorak string quartet.
http://www.robkapilow.com/wmigreat.shtml

unprofessionalism at the new medical place

The new medical place I'm going to has a lot of services on site. I no longer need to go to the hospital facilities for blood draws and other common tests.

This morning, I was scheduled for a blood test. I showed up at the appointed hour, having dutifully fasted. As I rounded the corner to check in, there was an unpleasant stench coming from the open office area. Turns out that the young woman who checks your name off on the clipboard hadn't quite finished eating her fast-food breakfast sandwich. In fact, she hadn't quite finished chewing when she asked me if I had fasted.

Not that I was all that hungry, but the whole thing smacked of unprofessionalism and real unkindness. I ended up emailing the organization and mentioning that I was glad to be healthy -- were I sick, this would have really upset me. I also said something about how young this person was and "perhaps she didn't know better."

I was pleasantly surprised to receive a very nice note in return, including the line "i've spoken collectively as well as sternly yet tactfully with staff." The note closed with "apologies and reassurances."

OK, they get another chance.

I forgot that I get dehydrated overnight and I forgot to drink water this morning. I was consequently punished with four pokes administered by three people. Thankfully, they have a "two strikes and you're out" policy, but one of the people gave up after one strike. Next time, I'll drink a lot of water before heading over to see the vampires. And hope that the breakfast hour is over before I arrive.

Pride retrospective

Incredible video on this history of gay pride. Lovely.



HT to Joe My God

utterly repulsive, smug and cold blooded as a frozen tofu wiener

My unfortunate brother, again. OK, so I don't have caller ID yet. He called yesterday and started hammering at me. I said that I needed another week -- that to me, taking a break did not include two emails and several phone calls. I used my best Samaritan hotline technique to calmly say that I was going to hang up. More hammering. I eventually did hang up after about three warnings, with MUB still going at it in the background.

Then an email including the above quote. My initial response is "I have read Edmond Rostand (in the original French, TYVM) and You Sir, are no Cyrano de Bergerac." My second response is to make the title the subtitle of this blog -- to wear it like a banner as it were.

However, I will probably send one follow-up email in the week that I promised that basically reiterates that I cannot fix the relationship between MUB and our father, and I'm unwilling to help. And if that makes me cold and repulsive, well, he's entitled to his own opinion. Think the passive aggressive responses - then try to communicate with clarity.

off the charts!

I had my first bone density exam today. It sounded intimidating when my doc first brought it up, only because I couldn't imagine how they could tell without actually getting in there and doing something that involved touching the bone. eeuuuw. But it's much easier than that -- you lie back for a few minutes while a scanner runs over you, first checking your spine, then your hips. My appointment was at 9, I was all done by 9:10.

In the middle of the whole thing, the technician let escape "You're off the charts!" Apparently, my bone density is so good that my prescription is going to be not to take calcium supplements. I thanked her and said she'd made my day. She said that I'd made hers too -- she usually looks at dismal numbers and says that the radiologist will be in touch -- she doesn't know how to break bad news to patient after patient.

This is really nice news to get. Now on to the next set of tests...

reunion

Yesterday, four women held a reunion of a now-defunct woman-only book group. It met at my house for five years, starting 19 years ago. We read books only by women. We'd snack on goodies and discuss, sometimes with no enthusiasm whatsoever. But usually we'd have a rollicking conversation.

We are all strong, have lots of opinions, are well-educated (whether formally or not), and have amazingly diverse backgrounds. We range in age from 49 to 59. From the picture, you probably can't guess who is which age. It's hard for me to believe that any of us are as old, even, as 49.

Yesterday, we mostly caught up on our lives -- the sequels to the novels we were playing out back then. We talked a little about books, though not much, and a bit about politics, though again, not much. We are all in long-term relationships and fairly well settled in our lives. We are all, as far as I can tell, reasonably comfortable in our situations.

And we all clicked as if almost no time at all had passed. What a pleasure. I hope we do it again.

flight from florida

The last week has been fraught for the paternal side of my family, spilling over to the maternal side. I've been trying to detach, to be available when I've had the energy, to at least attempt to be clear when I don't (not that my communications have been heard or attended to).

About ten days ago, my father was vacationing with his partner of 25 years and some friends. They were in Florida. My father snapped, his partner locked herself in the bathroom for two hours, and when she emerged, there was a horrible split.

My father took one of the rental cars and headed to the airport, where he called my mother and asked if he could stay with her for a few days. While in DC, my mother apparently "talked some sense" into my father. Her advice apparently did not involve the decision about maintaining the split or repairing things. Mind you, my parents broke up nearly my entire lifetime ago but have always maintained a fondness for each other.

Somehow, my father made his way back to Toronto, stopping off in a bar in Manhattan and bonding with the bartender and a patron (a playright whose play was opening that night). He stayed in a B&B for a few days, then I don't know where, and then, after a long day of negotiation, decided to move back into his own house.

This whole series of events has kicked up a lot of weird energy for both my mother and for my unfortunate brother, and they've both been calling a lot, ignoring my pleas in the latter part of the weekend that I've been too bone-tired to really offer much support or interest. Yesterday morning, when I told my mother that I really didn't want to hear about it, she apparently thought the statute of limitations was just a couple of hours. So last night, when she called and told me all about -- MUB has been calling her and asking her to intervene -- I didn't even have the energy to wave her off.

I have told my father that I just want him to be happy, that I do not know what the answer is for him, and that I will support whatever decision he makes. I have thought to my mother that it is a good thing that she is travelling internationally soon and won't think to call me for a few weeks. And I have told MUB that I need a break from him.

Tend to one's own garden before tending to that of others. Detach, stay steady, care but not too much, don't try to intervene in the drama because there's no way to affect the outcome. And get some sleep.

my unfortunate brother, again

I should mention that my unfortunate brother called and emailed while I was out yesterday and my mother left two casual-but-urgent messages on my voicemail machine. I'm usually not this popular!

Last night, after we'd been home for just a little bit, when I barely had enough energy to sit up, my brother called again and launched into a desperate plea for help. It turns out that he is being accused -- again -- of making harrassing phone calls to my stepmother. My father has allegedly cut him off -- again. And couldn't I just call our father, and plead on behalf of the brother?

Barely a hello, and certainly with no nod to my own humanity. I quickly stopped him and said I had nothing to give him at the moment -- I was exhausted, I was all used up. "But, but, but" and it started again. It took about three tries, but I did not actually have to hang up the phone first.

I am finally convinced that my brother cares not a whit about me. I think he got it right all those years ago when he said that he never really liked me. He knows all the right words to say, how to be cunning and charming. But his real goal is to establish a conduit to his father whose love and approval he is desperate for. I cannot cannot cannot help with that for so many reasons. I am not responsible for my brother. I cannot squander the delicate relationship I have with my father to repair whatever has happened between these two other people.

This morning, I sent a rather direct email to my brother, saying that we need a break. That no, I'm not going to carry messages to our father, and that the more my brother requests it, the more resolved I become. That not listening to me last night, that basically not caring and/or not hearing me, just made me mad. This morning, silence.

Except that I sent my mother email saying that I was exhausted and had no time. She called early (because she knew I was awake -- little does she know, or perhaps she chose to forget, that Robert often sleeps in on the weekend). She was very upset because she can't reach my father and because my unfortunate brother called her several times yesterday.

I had to say several times that I did not want to get in the middle. That my father is a big boy and can take care of himself, that my brother has alienated me and that I do not want to get involved. They will all have to sort things out amongst themselves.

I feel that I have given so very much to my brother, he who deserves so little. It is never enough because what I have to give is not what he is looking for. I am an unwilling stepping stone to something else. I feel that I need to stop trying, that I need to devote my energies to people who can give back, and who can truly appreciate what I can offer when I can offer it.

In my mind, I am not making a permanent break, but a temporary one. However, if it becomes permanent, I am willing to live with that conclusion.

memorial

It's been a full and busy couple of days. Yesterday, we attended a memorial service for someone we didn't ever have the opportunity to meet. His partner of 20 years, David, is someone we dance with in western MA and at dance camp. We don't know him well but we like him a lot and felt drawn to attend the service -- us and about 800 other people.

The service was held in a high school auditorium, the school where Van, the man who died, worked until recently. Last night, I came home and read the carepages, which mark the days between February 16 when they started to engage more seriously with medical advisors, and March 9, the day he died, just a few very short weeks.

Van died of an incredibly aggressive cancer that eventually took his liver, though it may have started in his pancreas or bile ducts. He had back pain in mid-December and started going to doctors. The tests, I guess got more intense, and here we are. So fast.

The service was lovely. There was not a religious bit in there. Instead, about 15 people spoke, including a former student, fellow actors, his brother, directors, friends. People talked about his careers (actor, teacher, nurse) and about the profound effect he had on their lives. David spoke and was so open-hearted, gracious, and loving. There were about six songs sung. One person got us to give Van a standing ovation. We all leapt to our feet and cheered wildly.

Very moving. Ordinarily, I stay afterwards, but we thought we'd never get to talk to David, so we left and went to an afternoon dance in Jamaica Plain. If you don't dance, this won't make any sense -- we should have gone home to bed instead. But there's something about dancing that's so gentle on the soul, so loving, so nourishing. It fixes what ails you. Almost. We lasted through the afternoon, through potluck dinner, and I realized there was no way I could dance in the evening.

So we came home. I read the care pages, and we crashed.

another busy weekend, work will seem like a respite

Last night, we saw a disturbing play, Antigone. It was intriguing, moving, irritating, thought-provoking. Tonight, a house concert -- friends performing in front of 50 people at the house of other friends.

Tomorrow, a memorial service in the morning toward the western part of the state, followed by two contra dances way east. And Sunday, a 19-year reunion of the book club I ran here for five years.

I'm tired thinking about it. Family upheaval earlier this week (not bad, not good, just disturbing), long hours at work, and a weekend full of life and living, of connections and letting go. I hope to have more to say soon.

chicken or brave? not sure

I'm not terribly fond of doctors. I now go to a dentist regularly. I see my gyn every year. I've been getting mammograms at least once a year for the last twenty years. My current doctor is fine, but he seems not to want to be a GP anymore, so I haven't seen him in three years. I'm on one medication. Every year I call for a prescription renewal and they send me for a blood test. Then I get my prescription refilled.

Last year, the conversation went something like this. "I haven't seen the doctor in two years. I just turned 50. Does he want to see me?" The answer was "well, I can't think why. If you want to see the nurse practitioner, though, you're welcome to." I passed on that. I knew that was my goodbye call but it's taken another year, when my scrip is running out again, to do something about it.

Years ago, I had a doctor I loved. He was straightforward with me, he did "whole person doctoring" and he was available. He sold his practice to a doctor who is very very good but wants to specialize. As a result, it was very difficult to see her. And her NPs were, to be kind, incompetent. One was also mean and rude. The next doctor lasted one visit -- she worked in a giant bureaucratic doc box. Even though my records had arrived at the box a month earlier, she still didn't have them when I saw her. And they wouldn't give me the records back even though they'd messed up.

My current doctor seemed like a good choice at the time. He specializes in rheumatology, which sounded good for the aches and pains I have. Except that he's a single practioner and he splits his practice between suburbs and Boston. I'm not even sure what would happen in an urgent situation. When Robert had shingles, he never even saw our doctor -- he couldn't get past the NP, who was fine, but not as great as I would have liked.

I decided to seek out a new doctor. A side-note, perhaps amusing to me only. I used to seek out practitioners who were older than me. Now I find myself gravitating towards caregivers who are younger because if I like them, I don't want them to retire anytime soon.

I've spent the last year asking friends for references. Many people mentioned a place nearby that they've been happy with. The practice has about 10 doctors, they're available for regular appointments five days a week and for urgent appointments seven. There are even call-in hours for the inevitable problems that arise in the evening. They have a lot of services on site, yet they're convenient both to work and to the local hospital.

So I finally went for my intake interview today with an NP. She was great, very helpful, very encouraging. And I'll have a physical in July, at which point I'll get to meet my doctor. Now that I'm in the system, if a problem arises, I can actually call someone and speak to a human being -- imagine that.

I know I'm one of the lucky ones. I'm employed. I have decent health insurance. I have a large company that would probably go to bat for me if I needed help dealing with the insurance company. But finding a doctor? Ugh. One of the worst things on the planet. I hope I like this one.

snow drops

By yesterday, we'd had a few warm days and the snow had started to melt. The snowdrops made their initial appearance, for once blooming close to Mark's anniversary -- today -- his fourteenth year of being gone. In keeping with Mark's wicked sense of humor, though, it's snowing today, so soon the snowdrops will be back in hibernation for -- how long -- a day or two, a few more weeks, perhaps into April as happens some years. These little clown plants provide a good reminder to keep smiling, to keep laughing. I hope to do more of each before the day is out.

nice day

Yesterday started a little slowly, with us reading in front of the fireplace and sipping coffee. We went on a walk to our little downtown to run some errands -- our errands were so local that we were able to do them all on foot.

After getting trash stickers and yet another storm door closer, we headed to our local frame shop, where they've just mounted a show of oil paintings. We went to see the paintings but we ended up hanging out there for a while chatting with the owner and another customer. We eventually saw our friend Eric out walking with his black pug, Baskerville. He and pugsley came into the frame shop and we chatted for a bit.

Then, Eric, Robert, and I decided to go next door to the new coffee shop and have a cuppa. It was almost warm enough to sit outside, which was good because with dog in tow, we couldn't very well sit inside.

We talked to Eric about his new son -- all of five weeks old -- and he insisted we come meet Alex. So the three of us walked home, met the new baby, talked to Eric's wonderful wife, and headed back to our own house.

From there, we headed west about an hour and a quarter to a contra dance. There are always plenty of friends from dance camp, so even though we don't live near by, we alway know at least half the other dancers there. And now we're getting to know the regulars who don't go to dance camp. People who were beginners not so long ago are catching the groove and coming back, always gratifying.

The caller was *fine*, very nice, very patient, and he made lots of mistakes. That works for experienced people, but is much harder on the beginners. Somehow, we muddled through. The musicians were loads of fun. It's such a privilege to dance to live music.

Robert drove home. I snoozed a little in the car. And because we sprung forward and always take a little time to settle in anyways, lights out were at 1:30. Fortunately, we got to sleep in this morning -- no kerfuffles on or around the bed. And all is well.

upcoming trip

So I have to brag a little bit and I'll ask for forgiveness later. This fall, my group at work decided to buy an expensive piece of software. Most companies take months (like 12 or more) to make the decision. We made our decision in about eleven weeks.

One of the vendors suggested that we talk about our decision-making process at a conference. Toward the end of last year, I wrote a proposal to a conference organizer and it was accepted. And then our company announced that travel budgets were tightening.

Nonetheless, I received permission to go. My slides are done and I'm waiting to talk to the organizers about their feedback and suggestions. I've made my travel arrangements. I'm staying at a really lovely-sounding B&B just a few blocks away from the conference site. And... I'm going to take a minivacation by myself while I'm there -- I'll have a day and a half to spend on either side of the conference.

It's all happening in St. Petersburg, Florida, at the end of April. Though I've been to the state several times, I've never been to the west coast. I'm hoping to take long walks, go to a few museums and galleries (including a world-famous Dali museum and an artisan gallery), perhaps meet some friendly folks, catch part of a huge triathlon that's happening while I'm there, and sit by the water and contemplate navels for a bit. I've already talked to the inn owner who sounds friendly and helpful.

I'm looking forward to being away, even without the hubster. The conference will be good too -- it focuses on two technologies that are important to my group at work and to the path that my career has taken over the last few years.

Koa Kitty's Big Adventure

A few days ago, it was time to take Koa Kitty to the vet. There was a timing issue because she had a Rabies shot last year after more than a years' gap. If you can administer two Rabies' shots within a year, then you don't need another one for three more years. Otherwise, you have to keep going every year. She's an indoor kitty and chances of getting Rabies is very low, but there's a state law saying she must have these shots.

I was very nervous about getting her to the vet. I still can't pick her up and carry around like you can with a normal cat. I work on baby steps with her, but we're not there yet. And once she gets wind that you want to pick her up? She goes into survival mode. There is no way, no how that you can catch her again, not until a few weeks have passed.

I scheduled the appointment for a morning. Koa typically sleeps in her little bed around that time. I pretty much sneaked up on her, scruffed her which kind of hypnotized her, and scooped her into her top-entry carrier. She cried a little, and then went quiet.

For the ride in the car, I covered her carrier with a fleece pullover. When we arrived, I looked at her and her eyes were big as saucers, but she actually relaxed fairly quickly, going from terrified to just scared.

Last year, the assistant had to scruff her the whole time. This time, he held her securely and barely had to scruff her. We even got to weigh her and she didn't run away, though we were ready to grab her quickly if need be.

The vet was so kind, as always. When we took her out of the cage, he scratched her and rubbed her head, saying he wanted the beginning and end of the visit to be extra pleasant for her. He's so skilled at giving shots -- she didn't even realize it happened. At the end, we put her back in the carrier and he found some catnip for her.

After we got home, she didn't want to have a lot to do with me, though she didn't go into hiding and she did let me pet her a little. Since then, she's bounced back remarkably well. She seems to become more resilient with each new scary event. I'm so proud of my little trouper.

slightly crazed week

This week has been kind of busy. I was supposed to have dinner with a friend this week, and have delayed until next week, which will make me feel saner.

Last weekend, there was a dance board meeting. Friends from the Northampton area asked if they could stay overnight, go to the local dance on Saturday, and attend the board meeting with Robert on Sunday. We met them at our house and went out to dinner with them before going to the dance.

And then we bumped into the board president who looked at us quizzically. Turned out that all four of us had somehow gotten the meeting date wrong -- it had already happened earlier that day. Whoops.

On Sunday, instead of getting up early and shoving everyone out the door, we slept in, spent a leisurely morning and early afternoon together, and wished them well as they drove home.

Oh yeah, there was some snow in there -- very light snow all day Sunday and a lotta snow on Monday morning. So before work, Robert and I blew and shoveled both here and across the street because our neighbors were out of town. It snowed all day Monday, so when I came home, we shovelled our driveway and the neighbors' all over again.

On Tuesday night, the guy who installed our solar hot water system came over so we could sign up for another solar installation -- this time solar electric. Prices are good right now -- there's a bit of a glut of panels on the market. And both Fed and state rebates are very generous these days. We'll probably produce enough power to have very tiny or even negative electric bills in the summer, and we'll put a big dent in our winter bills. We'll also have one of the coolest looking roofs in town, at least at the back of the house.

Then on Wednesday, a friend who moved away to San Francisco joined us for dinner at a newish restaurant in town. Robert actually knew him when they were both living in Colorado and was very happy when they were both living on the east coast. On the rare occasions that I go to California, I try to catch up with him. Still haven't met his partner of eight years, but one of these days that will happen.

Last night, we pretty much collapsed and we have another night off tonight. Then tomorrow, we'll head west for a contra dance. Sunday, we're seeing Yo-Yo Ma perform. He's not doing his usual gig -- luscious classical music -- he's performing with Silk Road. So this will be a nice adventure for us.

Trip to Ptown

A few weeks ago, Robert and I headed off on a short trip to Provincetown, in keeping with our yearly tradition. Then things got busy so I haven't stopped to write about it until now.

Quite a few years ago, we were travelling towards the end of the Cape when we stopped for lunch and bumped into a fellow dancer and his partner. I quickly assumed that they wanted a romantic weekend by themselves. They, on the other hand immediately invited us to dine with them that evening. And the tradition was born.

It turns out that they go to Provincetown nearly every Washington's birthday weekend, and we've started doing that too. So now we stay in the same inn -- we've now stayed in three different inns with them, each one several times. Our current inn has a cocktail hour before dinner every evening where the guests get together for wine and cheese. Sometimes we have breakfast with our friends; sometimes we have dinner, but we also have lots of time to ourselves.

This year, we walked for miles, talked to some of our favorite artists, went into a couple of shops, went to the beach, attended a jazz concert, went to part of an art auction, walked some more, bumped into various other friends who were down for the weekend, and ate very very well.

Robert usually orders flowers for the room, which is always a nice touch. And I got him a Valentine's basket full of goodies -- chocolates, ginger biscuits, licorice, caper berries, random stuff. Breakfasts were delicious and great opportunities for fascinating conversations.

So we'll be back, probably not when the crowds are there. But I'm so grateful for our time there.

give me caffeine!!

Robert picked up some decaf coffee a little while back, but we managed to run out of the high test stuff. So, for a few days, I got coffee out. Finally, last night, he had time to stop off at the coffee store on the way home. After dinner, he even rinsed out the container so that we could decant the new batch into a clean jar.

Just after he left the house this morning, I went downstairs and discovered that there was still no coffee in the house. I called and asked him what was in the tote bag he carries back and forth to work with him. He said he'd found it just as he was walking into work. But also, he felt that it needed careful guarding, which it would get all day as it sat next to his desk.

We both expressed relief to know that he was carefully watching the coffee as part of his workaday duties.

After my swim this morning, I went out for coffee. The good news is that a new coffee shop has opened in town, in the rehabbed space left behind by the town's first coffee shop when they moved across the street. The new place carries George Howell's coffee (of Coffee Connection fame). And the proprietor knows how to make coffee -- swoon. He does not seem to believe in making the coffee transparent -- it was just right.

And perhaps we'll have homemade high-test coffee tomorrow morning.

meetings meetings meetings

Robert is part of a board having to do with our dance community. With members living in different states and with busy schedules, it's darned hard to organize meetings. Because Robert's a little calendar impaired, I end up helping with the scheduling, at least as far as his time goes.

There was a meeting scheduled for today. Two friends from western MA asked if they could come last night, go to a dance, and then spend the night with us before going off to the meeting. So last evening, we drove into town together, had a leisurely dinner, and then arrived at the dance.

The board president seemed to do a double-take when he saw us and asked what we were doing there. The two out-of-towners said "we're here for the meeting tomorrow!". "It was today," came the quiet reply. "mm?" "The meeting. That meeting. It already happened."

D'oh!!! Times four!

So instead of rushing everyone out the door this morning, we're having a nice sleeping in, which will be followed by breakfast and fond farewells to our friends.

Oh, how embarrassing.