The Barnyard Blues

A fellow blogger and I had a heated debate (heated, I tell you! Boy was it ever!) about barnyard animal sounds. This stemmed from a discussion about how onomatopoeia (quack quack, meow meow, woof woof) is different in different languages (in Estonian, the same 3 sounds are prääks prääks, näu näu, and auh auh). This conversation segued into a debate about people's thoughts about barnyard life. The discussion went something like this:


SG: I think the general population, when thinking of a barnyard sound, thinks cock-a-doodle-doo (or kikki-ri-ki-kii, in my case).

Sexy Other Blogger: Ya think so? Why, because of the cock part?

SG: No, because of the rooster on top of the barn.

SOB: Hmmm, I don't think so; I think it's probably moo.
SG: No way, man.

SOB: Oh, I think so.

SG: Care to make it interesting?

SOB: You're on, baby. By the way ... what are you wearing?

So a wager was made. Luckily, I have daily access to about 85 members of the general population*; I would have them answer this random question for me. I just so happened to be giving a quiz on Newton's Laws of Motion the next day (you don't know them, do you?**), so it was the perfect opportunity to show SOB just how right I was.

Results:

Behehehehe!!!: 1 vote.

And good job on the quiz, Christian!

(A next-day inquiry confirmed "behehehehe" as a goat sound)

Neigh?: 3 votes

Quack/Cluck: 1 vote

(I believe this type of cross-species union is genetically impossible)

Snort: 2 votes



grrrrrrrr: 1 vote

(Pam lives on a bear farm, so these results are skewed)

The startled bicalllck!

a hen makes when the egg leaves her cloaca:

1 vote

A dying zebra: 1 vote

(I believe this outlier should be eliminated,

as Andrew was picking his nose at the time and didn't really hear the question)

was up: 1 vote

(I guess the barnyard is in New Haven)

bawk bawk: 2 votes


hee-haw: 1 vote



eeeoinkkkkkkkkkkkk: 1 vote



quack: 4 votes


onk: 1 vote

(?!)


cluck cluck: 4 votes


baa: 5 votes


one for jamwall

mooooo: 40 votes

Cock-a-doodle-doo: 1 vote!

Discussion and Conclusions:

Moo by a landslide. However, Gabriella is the nicest girl EVER so her cock-a-doodle-doo counts as 50 votes, so I still win. Christian has an A- in science. Andrew picks his nose. Most of the kids in suburban Connecticut have only seen farms in books or on TV; farm life is as foreign to them as life in Africa. However, if you tally up all the results, what we have is a typical storybook farm: a buttload of cows (one of whom wears a bell), a donkey, a few sheep and horses, some pigs, one dying zebra, one gangsta-rapper, a few chickens, and atop it all, proudly crowing to welcome the dawning morn, one bantam rooster.

* No minors were harmed in this process.

** Newton's Law Refresher Course
NL1: Law of Inertia. An object in motion will remain in motion at a constant speed, in a straight line, unless a force acts upon it. Ditto an object at rest.
NL2: An object accelerates in the direction of the force that acts upon it. This acceleration is inversely proportional to the object's mass. Also F= ma.
NL3: Every action force has a reaction force that is equal and opposite.

What’s That in My Refrigerator? : a helpful taxonomic key

IF IT LOOKS LIKE….
A large, dead birdIT IS ACTUALLY…
A Purdue oven-stuffer roaster (a large, dead, edible bird)

IF IT LOOKS LIKE….
A small, dead bird
IT IS ACTUALLY…
A cornish game hen (a small, dead, edible bird) (all birds are edible, really…)

IF IT LOOKS LIKE….
A tube of red, crusty toothpaste
IT IS ACTUALLY…
Anchovy paste or tomato paste

IF IT LOOKS LIKE….
Yellowish liquid peanut butter
IT IS ACTUALLY…
Miso

IF IT LOOKS LIKE….
A slimy glop of seaweed
IT IS ACTUALLY…
chives I forgot were in there

IF IT LOOKS LIKE….
A daffodil bulb about to burst forth in a song of spring
IT IS ACTUALLY…
Garlic from last summer

IF IT LOOKS LIKE….
Ugli fruitIT IS ACTUALLY…
Uniq fruit, here in Connecticut, where no one would ever eat anything with the word “ugli” in it

IF IT LOOKS LIKE….
Black maple syrup
IT IS ACTUALLY…
A balsamic vinegar reduction (that I made myself on the stove and which warranted a visit from the local F.D.)

IF IT LOOKS LIKE….
A compost heap
IT IS ACTUALLY…
My “crisper” drawer (winner of the esteemed 2005 Misnomer Award)

Fairly Amused [repost]

Butchie's trip to the fair made me think about my happy day with the county's largest ball of yarn. Here's how it all went down ... ah, memories!:

I Am Fairly Amused [originally posted 9/17/06]

Sunday I went to the Countryishville Fair right in the heart of beautiful Countryishville, Connecticut. It was like most country fairs, with a 3-ride midway, livestock, games, fried food, and sad children. Here are some of the high points:

THE PIGEON TENT

Right next to the livestock, camel, and ostrich tent was the tent of pigeons of extraordinary plumage! It is fair to say that most of these pigeons were shitting at the time my friends and I went in the tent. I would also offer that they were pretty angry/mentally ill, judging from the erect state of some plumage, and the complete (torn out by one's own beak) absence of it in others. Above we see what I would call a typical pigeon.


... and here are the refreshments that were being offered:


Needless to say, I did not eat a cookie. Nor did I see anyone else eat a cookie, despite the come-hither appearance of the dining table.

Avian flu, anyone?

Next stop:

THE SCENIC VISTA

There wasn't any seating left because these two elderly folks had taken the primo seats with their umbrella chairs. We moved on, seeking vistas of our own.


I wish I had brought my shovel and wee pail, for next on the agenda was the ...

GIANT VAT OF CORN

I thought the kids were playing in a sandbox (or, as it is known in these parts, "giant neighborhood kitty litter"). Upon closer examination I discovered that the grains of sand they were so gleefully tossing at each other were actually kernels of dry corn! My bad.


Inside the reptile tent, our breath was taken away by this ...

DISPLAY OF RATTLERS

hyuck, hyuck. That's farm humor for ya.

Last but certainly not least, the award-winning ...

GIANT BALL OF TWINE

You could guess how much twine was actually in this ball, and win a prize. I gave up my spot in line to go to the Port-O-Let instead. What is it about people and giant balls of stuff? In 3rd grade, Ted Siversten had a booger-ball he used to show his friends on the bus (he carried it in his lunch box, in a baggie). And then Quilting Girl told me she kept (and added to) a giant jar of chewed chewing gum on her dresser when she was in middle school. I guess twine is a step up from bodily secretions and slimy offal, but still, what's with the giant balls? (That's your opening, honey.)

I sure learned a lot on my big day at the fair.

Join us again next week when we tell you about our tour of the local water treatment plant. Talk about slimy offal (I just wanted to use that phrase one more time)!

Not even a quick game of Clue?

This sign was spotted at the Stony Brook Grist Mill & Herring Run in Brewster, MA. I had no intention of playing with the herring, even if they had been running, which they ain't.

Boston Scared Me.

We took the whole 8th grade to Boston and its surrounds for three whole days. Two nights. Yes. It was as invigorating as it sounds! Besides some chewing tobacco and a wrestling-induced broken wrist sending two kids home, it was relatively event-free. Which meant I could focus on the rich history this city has to offer. Except I couldn't, because I kept getting distracted by things that scared me. Here are some visuals:

papier mache jury

walk-a-bear

(aka bear-on-a-stick)

SG Deep Cuts Part 2: Minutes: Good Old-Fashioned Slumber Party 2005

originally posted 7/18/05

My 2-person slumber party deviated pretty heavily from the agenda, both in activities and in time frame. Please refer to these minutes for actual timeline of events.

Event: The Super Semi-Annual Sleepover
Date: Sunday, July 17, 2005
Location: 1 Prickly Heat Place, Hotnhazy, Connecticut

MINUTES

5:15 PM
LYL arrives, puts own pillow upstairs in guest room
Comments: "Your apartment is fucking freezing! Oh my god, if I knew it was so fucking freezing, I would have brought a sweatshirt!"
SG turns thermostat up from 66 to 74.

5:15-6:35
Gossip, Iced Tea, Review of agenda

6:35
Starbucks

6:59
Arrive at AA meeting

7:00-8:30
AA meeting (scheduled)
7:30-8:36 (actual)

8:29
Person at meeting starts sharing over-long and meeting runs until 8:35. What the F?

8:47
Arrive back at the manse

9:15
Dinner

9:30-11:00
A rousing and competitive game of Boggle©, including real and imaginary words such as [these are some of the words that LYL challenged even though I claimed they are legit]:
nozi
cozi
clite
roc
rhea
poi
faun
roy
kirp

11:02
SG wins Boggle© game, 102 to 45.

11:08
Tea, cigarette

11:20
Rousing and hysterical game of Top Ten, which originally inspired this blog (see first few entries). Awesome game by the way.

2:35 AM
Game peters out

2:45
Check email & blogs

2:55
Retainers in

3:00
Bed (separate rooms)

3:00-3:15
SG reads Tales of the Otori
LYL obsesses about where she knew that lady at AA from

3:19
LYL remembers that the lady at AA used to be her pediatrician

3:20
lights out

8:20 AM
Wakeup and coffee

9:30 AM
Tarot Reading

12:30 PM
LYL leaves for home

Spinning Girl Deep Cuts: Time for a Good Old-Fashioned Slumber Party

Originally posted: 7/17/05

It is just too hot & sticky to do anything today, so my friend Leigh Yung Li (henceforth LYL) is coming over for a visit & sleepover. We are both in our 30's, and it's been a while since we had a girls' sleepover, so I made an agenda. Here it is:

The Super Semi-Annual Sleepover
Sunday, July 17, 2005
1 Prickly Heat Place, Hotnhazy, Connecticut

AGENDA

4:00-5:00 PM

Arrival and check-in; unpacking
Familiarization with grounds
Establishment of routines and expectations

5:00-6:45 PM

Gossip about people we hate
Tea (SG) / Coffee (LYL)/ cigarette (LYL); dinner
Examining and analyzing neuroses
Gossip about people we like
Talk about my messy house: how messy is too messy?
Talk about the hot guy

6:45 PM

Depart for AA meeting or Starbucks

7:00-8:00 PM

AA meeting or 2 double shot venti extra whip mocha lattes

8:15 PM

Arrive back at the manse

8:30-9:00 PM

Tea / coffee / cigarette
Discuss & choose next activity from list below

9:00-11:00 PM

Engage in activity/activities from list below

11:00-11:30 PM

Begin thinking about bed
Braid hair / pillow fight / massage / quasi-lesbian hinting /

put in retainers

11:45 PM

Bedtime (separate rooms); quiet reading time

12:00 AM

Lights Out

Monday’s schedule: Flexible, depending upon wake-up time, but should include coffee, breakfast, and closure on unfinished items from Sunday’s agenda.

Possible Activities
Tarot Reading
DVD: the Incredibles
Watch midget porn (nod to badgod)
Play Bullet to the Head ©
Top Ten Game ©
Gossip about people we don’t know very well
Watch TV; channel surfing
Watch TV; fixed station
The Cube: a game of enlightenment
Look at old yearbooks

Make Magnetic Poetry ©
Crank calls
Help me organize my house
Look at Slang Flashcards ©
Scattergories ©
Plaster of Paris cast of hands / feet

Mmmmkay.

Yeah, you GO, minivan!!!

W T Ff ?

Yes, this is a real road in New Hampshire. Which kind of explains things. Also, my tags have very little to do with this post. Tomorrow: A special New England surprise!

Time for another blog frolic

Reposted so that you can GET YOUR QUESTIONS IN! I plan to address this as soon as I return from the North, where I am roasting Bratwurst over a fire, and drinking diet birch beer.

Now that school is over, I can return to obsessive blogging in earnest. Or, possibly, blowing off all forms of writing and just lounging around on the lanai (read: weed-encrusted patio). I would, however, like to frolic with you once more. Here is how it goes: You pose questions in the comments section, and then one night, as I binge on red velvet cake and 2% milk ('cause I'm on a diet), I answer them. Does that sound like fun?

Here is a portion of a past blog frolic to inspire you:

Slyde said... a question, huh? ok...why don't you ever call? It’s lonely out here in the cyberverse...p.s. it was nice to see you drop by the site the other week. I was honored :)
I tried to call, but it keeps telling me that you were away from your desk at the moment, or with a client. What do you do, work for a living?!? Also, your blog is hot stuff; your template messes with my browser, though, so I only stop by when I have the patience.

miss kendra said... how far is spinning girl's house, Connecticut from say, Salem Massachusetts? And would spinning girl's house be amenable to a visit say, around the holidays, were someone from California to find herself suddenly on the east coast?
I am exactly 101.101 miles from Salem. This distance can be traversed by the spinmobile in less than 2 hours. Your wish is my command! Beware, though, for Salem (as you well know) is a hotbed of anti-feminine activity. I speak, of course, of the witch trials of old.

Übermilf said... Let no one claim Estonian women aren't hot.
This story speaks for itself. And let us not forget the hottie in the ballpit. Meowr!

DaMasta said... When can I move in?
Yesterday. No, the day before.


"K" Fingerett said... I'm sorry, I'm still stuck on your last "Discuss" post aka the "wtf post" ...Now for a question...Maybe I missed it, because you post so often and I don't get on hear as much as I used to... But, what ever happened to the monkey?
Since you are relatively new to the scene, and started coming around after the Monkey heyday, I will forgive your use of the term “The Monkey”. I must warn you, however, that he would be greatly disdained by your use of this term. He is simply “Monkey”; just as you aren’t “The Fingerett.” I won’t tell him, though, and let’s just keep your error on the QT; otherwise we would be covered with pellets o’ poo.

As for Monkey’s whereabouts, I believe he is resting. After our visit in January, when we fell in love, Monkey was quite heartbroken. He has been spotted from time to time, which eases my mind as to his well-being. Monkeys need their rest, and his hiatus corresponds perfectly with the hibernation period (a little-known fact) of wild monkeys, so I am not worried. If I see him, I will tell him that you asked after him.

Lee Ann said... Why do men have nipples?
To hold their titanium jewelry, of course.

Grab an oar ...

... and paddle along my stream of consciousness!

Monkey and the Spinning Wheels in January 2006

What follows is an excerpt from my internal dialogue between noon and 1 PM. I climbed into the Spinning Wheels and drove around town! Here is how much fun I had:

• Hmmm ... this construction has been going on a long time. I wonder if they will ever be finished?
• It seems like there's always construction in Connecticut, no matter where you go.
• Oh sure, Town Cop, I'll stop for you. Nice shades.
• You stopped me for that?!? Cutting down a 5' stump of telephone pole?
• Nice shades. Yeah, yeah, I see you waving. I'm a-comin', I'm a-comin'.
• Smile & wave. Thank you, Mr. Policeman! I like your vest that says "Spotter". Were you a "Safety Officer" in elementary school?
• Oooh, sushi here how? Score!
• This light was never here.
• God, it's gorgeous out. I need to open my windows!
• Dayumn, it's windy.
• I should take those Snapple bottles out of the back. If they clink together much more, they might break.
• Ooh, I need lipstick. There we go. Pretty me! Woah --- eyebrows!!! I wonder if Dove Spa waxes on walk-ins?
• I should blog this internal dialogue I am having. I wonder how many people will hate me. I think Miss Kendra did something like this once. I hope she doesn't mind me copying her.*
• I wonder if my internal dialogue is like everyone else's?
• I bet if I say "pubes" in my blog then people will automatically mouth the word to themselves.
• Oooh, hardware store! I need mousetraps. And a 2-prong halogen bulb.
• It's so nice out!!!
• Oh, nice motorcycle, asshat. You are way too small to be driving such a huge bike. Yes, we know you are manly. Wow, the way you rev that engine shows me how big and strong you are. Oh, here we go. Nice signaling, fuckstick. Goodbye!!!
• I can't believe they cut down all these trees to widen the road by five feet. What the hell?
• Let's go see if the new sushi place does takeout. I want some of those tempura crunchies.
  
  Thank you for joining us. Tune in next week as I drive to the dentist!

*[editorial comment: It was Brooke! Brooke! Brooke! My bad.]

Time for a tea partay.

(Thanks, Martha!)

Pomegranate Repost

I'm sort of busy, so I'm reposting this longie but goodie, one of my meditations of yore. You might want to go away & return to read it in bits, but make sure you do come back for all of it. It will change your life.

I love eating pomegranates. I love how the fruity little regiments are all lined up, these little podlings of bursting juice and one hard little seed, waiting for me to pluck them from their nests and explode their flavor onto my tongue. It's meditative, in a way: Pluck, pop. Pluck, pop. Pluck, pop. Meditative ... … Meditative ...

Shopping at Macy's last Sunday was a head trip. They are playing Christmas Music. Christmas music!!!! On November 6th! Apparently, according to their customer service, by "customer request" they start the music the same time they start their holiday displays, which is now. Apparently the customers didn't realize the start date would be just after Halloween. Hearing "Chestnuts Roasted on an Open Spit" or whatever, as sung tremulously and nauseatingly by Aaron Neville, over the high-volume / low fidelity dressing room speaker, was just as bit much for me; I was already aggravated with trying to stuff my 42 D's into a 40 C.

Also in Macy's lingerie department, there was a man. A creepy man. An oldish man, maybe 60, with slicked-back hair and a loosely fitting suit. Shiny shoes. Looked like a smoker. This man was fingering the panties. Yes, he was petting them and draping them across his hand in a very unsettling way. Unsettling to watch, that is. I was picturing him whispering, in his mind, yessss ...…oh yessss my pretty things ... this is where her kitty goes, right here ... where my hand is ... my hand is touching the lace that will be where her kitty is ... Ew. Later he would be pulling out these mental images and repeating these phrases as muffled shouts into his pillow. Then again, maybe he was just shopping for his girlfriend. Or niece. Or something. What do I know? I don't know from perverts.

I used to work with Miss Diane the mirror lady. From Romper Room. Yes, it's true. She is now a teacher aide in a Connecticut school district. She gave me this postcard to remember her by. She is nice, a little bit wacky; she wears flip flops every day because (according to her) her feet get hot from all the hot peppers she consumes. She doesn't say "I see Billy, I see Bobby, I see Molly, I see Sally" to the kids. I know you were wondering that.

When I was in 6th grade, I was running down the hall with clogs and I sprained my ankle. The janitor found me on the floor and carried me to the nurse's office. I felt a little embarrassed about that, especially when I (we) passed some other kids; they weren't my friends, so it wasn't too bad. Actually, did I have friends in 6th grade? I don't remember any. I was sort of weird. In 6th grade I hated this kid Julian who had a mop of curly hair and who always had some sort of crust around his nose. That's all I remember from 6th grade, besides simple machines. Oh, and Mr. Shaw, my social studies teacher. He looked like the Heat Miser, but he was really nice. I did steal his eraser, though. He had a really slippery, white eraser, which was resting on his desk and just calling out to me. I took it. I still have it. Sometimes I cuddle it at night and just cry and cry.

In 7th grade I wore a pink velour v-neck sweater with a white dickie under it to school. I loved the dickie; all the warmth and comfort of a turtleneck, but without all those annoying sleeves and a shirt bottom to tuck! I didn't change for gym that day for some reason (now they call it PE, but it's gym, dammit!); I just took the dickie off. The v-neck was horribly low cut, and during kickball it slid really low and when I bent over I could sometimes look down and see my own little budding breasts peeking out. I hoped no one else could; I just pulled it back up and kept running, my little pointies just bouncing up & down behind the velour. When I went back into the locker room, some 8th grade girls were there and one of them said, "why don't you wear a bra, you slut?" I didn't know what a slut was, but it didn't sound good so that weekend I asked my mom for a bra. She took me shopping and we got a training bra (that's a little bra with 2 wheels on each side, so you can train yourself to lie on your stomach and slide, which you'll be doing a lot of in just a few short years!). The first time I wore it was at my cousin's ice skating recital, and my aunt (who was sitting behind me) snapped the back of it. That was a high point in my puberty.

Hmmm, I'm just noticing that this post has a definite, albeit weak, erotic thread to it. But not normal erotic, more like back-pages-of-the-Advocate-type-stuff. I don't read those, but I have heard rumors (sexy couple seeks bedroom third; he sucks your nose while she watches! Please be disease and drug free!) Trust me, I don't know from pervs; I'm just telling my story. By the way, does Astroglide wash out of taffeta? Just asking. No reason.

I think I missed out on a drama career. I was a star in my third grade production of The Mikado (I was one of the 3 Little Maids From School). Martin S. was the lead. He was The Mikado, and he was a fourth grader! A man!!! You can see how much I love him in the photo above.


I haven't baked an apple pie in several years. In fact, I think the one I dropped on the floor was the last one I baked. We still ate it; the parts that weren't actually sitting on linoleum. It was a bittersweet time, filled with deliciousness and self-loathing, all packaged into one psycholgoically f***ed up bundle. Time to heal and bake another one. My favorite pie is -- of course -- pumpkin.

When I was a lifeguard, a little boy came up to my chair requesting some First Aid care. He had a swollen lip. I asked him what had happened; had he scraped his lip on the bottom? Hit it on the edge? No, he told me. He and a friend were playing in the creek, and one of them caught a baby snapping turtle. The friend told Boy that the turtle smelled, so Boy bent down to smell it and the turtle bit him. I guess it held on for a while, because there was a nasty welt.

Lifeguarding was such a great job. The best days were rainy days, when nobody was at the town pool (a manmade lake, really). We would float around on kickboards and search for money on the bottom of the pool. There was a lot of it, because of all of the people who swam with cutoff shorts. We would take all the money we found and order pizza for the lifeguards. We didn't spend the turds we found, we just left them to roll around on the bottom. Domino's doesn't accept turds as currency.

All of the young girl lifeguards were subjected to a ritual known as shake-n-bake by the older (college-age) lifeguard boys. Two or more boys would grab a girl, dip her in the water, then carry her up to the sand and dip / roll her until she was covered. Ahhh, good times. I loved being an object. I wish somebody would objectify me now; life is easier when you are a piece of flesh and not an intellectual, professional woman.

That's why I liked Little House on the Prairie so much. Boy, those women had it easy. All they did was sit on their asses and sew quilts all day. At night Pa would come home with a bear leg or a rabbit and they'd all sit down to eat it in the near-dark cabin. So cozy, so simple. Oh sure, sometimes they had Scarlet Fever or Malaria and one or the other of them died or went blind, but they were living it up on the frontier!!!!

So, I've plucked all the seeds from this pomegranate. My belly is full and my mind is emptied for now. These meditations are really helping me to get in touch with the Great Unknown, I think. The Dalai Lama would be so proud of me. Don't you agree?

I am fairly amused.

Sunday I went to the Countryishville Fair right in the heart of beautiful Countryishville, Connecticut. It was like most country fairs, with a 3-ride midway, livestock, games, fried food, and sad children. Here are some of the high points:

THE PIGEON TENT

Right next to the livestock, camel, and ostrich tent was the tent of pigeons of extraordinary plumage! It is fair to say that most of these pigeons were shitting at the time my friends and I went in the tent. I would also offer that they were pretty angry/mentally ill, judging from the erect state of some plumage, and the complete (torn out by one's own beak) absence of it in others. Above we see what I would call a typical pigeon.


... and here are the refreshments that were being offered:


Needless to say, I did not eat a cookie. Nor did I see anyone else eat a cookie, despite the come-hither appearance of the dining table.

Avian flu, anyone?

Next stop:

THE SCENIC VISTA

There wasn't any seating left because these two elderly folks had taken the primo seats with their umbrella chairs. We moved on, seeking vistas of our own.


I wish I had brought my shovel and wee pail, for next on the agenda was the ...

GIANT VAT OF CORN

I thought the kids were playing in a sandbox (or, as it is known in these parts, "giant neighborhood kitty litter"). Upon closer examination I discovered that the grains of sand they were so gleefully tossing at each other were actually kernels of dry corn! My bad.


Inside the reptile tent, our breath was taken away by this ...

DISPLAY OF RATTLERS

hyuck, hyuck. That's farm humor for ya.

Last but certainly not least, the award-winning ...

GIANT BALL OF TWINE

You could guess how much twine was actually in this ball, and win a prize. I gave up my spot in line to go to the Port-O-Let instead. What is it about people and giant balls of stuff? In 3rd grade, Ted Siversten had a booger-ball he used to show his friends on the bus (he carried it in his lunch box, in a baggie). And then Quilting Girl told me she kept (and added to) a giant jar of chewed chewing gum on her dresser when she was in middle school. I guess twine is a step up from bodily secretions and slimy offal, but still, what's with the giant balls? (That's your opening, honey.)

I sure learned a lot on my big day at the fair.

Join us again next week when we tell you about our tour of the local water treatment plant. Talk about slimy offal (I just wanted to use that phrase one more time)!