Archive for the ‘Off Topic (Could Be Anything)’ Category
The birds in Calvert County are going to be happy with me! Benjamin and I raided the Wild Bird Store in Waldorf today.
We bought:
- A proper pole with raccoon/squirrel baffle (That THAT, you beasties!)
- Four arms for hanging birdfeeders
- A new nyger seed feeder (because we got 15% off on everything when we did)
- Nyger seed (Duh)
- A bluebird feeder, with little acrylic walls and holes just for the bluebirds. It also has a little tiny bowl inside for the mealworms they like.
- Mealworms
- Books on bluebirds and purple martins (Yes, next summer we’ll probably add a purple martin house. I tell you, this bird feeding thing is addictive!)
As soon as the guys get back from the dump, I’m putting them to work setting everything up.
Benjamin and I also bought a juicer so that we can use up some more of the vegetables that we grow–and that our friend Lucia brings in HUMONGO quantities from the farmer’s market in Hughesville.
In other bird news, there are now TWO eggs in the nest. Bluebirds lay about one egg a day until they have a full clutch of four to six.
You’ll also be THRILLED to learn that I started my first batch of cheese today (if you don’t count the yogurt cheese I make all the time). You’ll probably be all atwitter to know that I took PHOTOS. Whoohoo! Do I know how to have a good time or WHAT?
–Bumblebee (Robin)
Robin
If you happen to look at my posts regularly, you know that I was in crisis mode this week. Too much to do, blah, blah, blah.
I am sorry to complain, but that really wasn’t the point of the post. Most of you seem to have adequately captured the point, which I won’t dissect here.
Sadly, my brother-in-law, Todd, did not. He wrote to tell me to stop "whinnying." (I think he meant whining). He emailed me instead of posting a comment because I think he has figured out that I now have a policy of deleting all his RUDE or MEAN comments so that he doesn’t give other people ideas about being mean on this very polite forum. Of course, I will allow any clever, insightful and, especially, complimentary comments to remain. Post one today!
Anyway, the crisis has passed, at least for now. After delivering the fourth report in two weeks and completing a questionnaire draft at 10 p.m. last night, I earned a stretch of free time this afternoon to do really important things like getting the oil changed in my car and letting the lady at Nordstrom convince me to buy an OBSCENE amount of makeup.
I have every good intention to pull those weeds in the vegetable beds and mow the newly rain-soaked lawn tomorrow. I also have some interesting plant news and some cool miracle fertilizer challenge photos to share.
In the meantime, here are some other quick updates:
- Sarah, our youngest Papillon at 1.5 years, goes through the occasional bad patch with steps. I’m not sure why, but she usually can go up to the second floor in a flash without a second though and run in and out of the house using the couple of stairs at each doorway. But sometimes she has a little bit of a mental block. Example: She will climb all 14 stairs to the second floor but stop…at…the…very…last…step and cry. She can’t bring herself to go up the last step. She will go all the way back down and cry at the bottom of the stairs. Another example: She currently has a fear of going up the TWO STEPS from the garage into the house. Sophie (the other, older and wiser Papillon) clearly makes the effort to encourage her by standing at the top and barking and even demonstrating the up and down stairs movement. No go. Sarah high-tails it to the back door to get into the house instead. If you have a clue as to the reasons for this addle-brained behavior, please email me.
- While I was in Annapolis, nearly an hour from here where I have to go to get the oil changed in my fancy-schmancy SUV, Verizon decided to no longer recognize the $400 Treo phone I purchased from them. While I was on a pay phone at the Barnes & Noble typing in a 26-digit security code and going through other STUPID security procedures, my 16-year-old son was in a panic because I wasn’t here when he got home from school. Was he worried about the safety of his dear mother? No. He actually CALLED HIS DAD at the office all worried because he wanted to know WHAT I WAS COOKING FOR DINNER! I won’t tell you what I’m thinking about this.
- The squirrels have discovered my birdfeeders. They went through a $10 bag of premium nut mix meant for the birds in about the four hours I was getting slathered with makeup by the impossibly pretty woman at Nordstrom. Two lessons for me: Don’t buy $10 bags of bird seed and 2) Get a proper pole with hooks and a baffle to keep out the squirrels and raccoons.
- Todd, the aforementioned brother-in-law, writes to me that he is gleeful at the prospect of going to Las Vegas next week. It’s not because he’s going to lots of great shows and will be bellying up at the buffet at the Parisian (although I bet he will). It’s because he THINKS that on the trip he will find me a clever present to top the taxidermy frogs, toy Papillon (he and his wife are having the should-we-or-shouldn’t-we debate) and Elvis snowdome that I have already sent to him. (I am a very considerate gift-giver.)
Okay, that’s it. My plants are squeaking for some water and I have a zucchini pie to make for the ravenous teenager.
Ciao,
–Bumblebee (Robin)
Robin
If you happen to look at my posts regularly, you know that I was in crisis mode this week. Too much to do, blah, blah, blah.
I am sorry to complain, but that really wasn’t the point of the post. Most of you seem to have adequately captured the point, which I won’t dissect here.
Sadly, my brother-in-law, Todd, did not. He wrote to tell me to stop "whinnying." (I think he meant whining). He emailed me instead of posting a comment because I think he has figured out that I now have a policy of deleting all his RUDE or MEAN comments so that he doesn’t give other people ideas about being mean on this very polite forum. Of course, I will allow any clever, insightful and, especially, complimentary comments to remain. Post one today!
Anyway, the crisis has passed, at least for now. After delivering the fourth report in two weeks and completing a questionnaire draft at 10 p.m. last night, I earned a stretch of free time this afternoon to do really important things like getting the oil changed in my car and letting the lady at Nordstrom convince me to buy an OBSCENE amount of makeup.
I have every good intention to pull those weeds in the vegetable beds and mow the newly rain-soaked lawn tomorrow. I also have some interesting plant news and some cool miracle fertilizer challenge photos to share.
In the meantime, here are some other quick updates:
- Sarah, our youngest Papillon at 1.5 years, goes through the occasional bad patch with steps. I’m not sure why, but she usually can go up to the second floor in a flash without a second though and run in and out of the house using the couple of stairs at each doorway. But sometimes she has a little bit of a mental block. Example: She will climb all 14 stairs to the second floor but stop…at…the…very…last…step and cry. She can’t bring herself to go up the last step. She will go all the way back down and cry at the bottom of the stairs. Another example: She currently has a fear of going up the TWO STEPS from the garage into the house. Sophie (the other, older and wiser Papillon) clearly makes the effort to encourage her by standing at the top and barking and even demonstrating the up and down stairs movement. No go. Sarah high-tails it to the back door to get into the house instead. If you have a clue as to the reasons for this addle-brained behavior, please email me.
- While I was in Annapolis, nearly an hour from here where I have to go to get the oil changed in my fancy-schmancy SUV, Verizon decided to no longer recognize the $400 Treo phone I purchased from them. While I was on a pay phone at the Barnes & Noble typing in a 26-digit security code and going through other STUPID security procedures, my 16-year-old son was in a panic because I wasn’t here when he got home from school. Was he worried about the safety of his dear mother? No. He actually CALLED HIS DAD at the office all worried because he wanted to know WHAT I WAS COOKING FOR DINNER! I won’t tell you what I’m thinking about this.
- The squirrels have discovered my birdfeeders. They went through a $10 bag of premium nut mix meant for the birds in about the four hours I was getting slathered with makeup by the impossibly pretty woman at Nordstrom. Two lessons for me: Don’t buy $10 bags of bird seed and 2) Get a proper pole with hooks and a baffle to keep out the squirrels and raccoons.
- Todd, the aforementioned brother-in-law, writes to me that he is gleeful at the prospect of going to Las Vegas next week. It’s not because he’s going to lots of great shows and will be bellying up at the buffet at the Parisian (although I bet he will). It’s because he THINKS that on the trip he will find me a clever present to top the taxidermy frogs, toy Papillon (he and his wife are having the should-we-or-shouldn’t-we debate) and Elvis snowdome that I have already sent to him. (I am a very considerate gift-giver.)
Okay, that’s it. My plants are squeaking for some water and I have a zucchini pie to make for the ravenous teenager.
Ciao,
–Bumblebee (Robin)
Robin
Frankly, I’m overwhelmed. I have too much work and too many deadlines. Too much gardening to do. Too much little-dogs-need-play-and-cats-need-food. Too many weeds. Too much to cook with my whole "slow food" mania and al fresco dining fetish. Too many ideas!!! My head is spinning!!!
If all the projects I already have weren’t enough to keep me up at night worrying and scheduling, I’ve committed myself to learning to make cheese. MAKE CHEESE!!!! Like there’s not enough of the d%*! stuff in the store? I have about $100 worth of cheese making supplies that will arrive, oh, about Thursday. I was even thinking the other night about getting a goat so I could make some delightful goat cheeses. A GOAT!!!!
Which got me to thinking how much I’ve always wanted chickens. How nice would it be to have some lovely fresh eggs for my homemade quiches. CHICKENS!!!
And while I’m at it. I haven’t yet mulched up a bunch of branches from a storm a while back. As I was out walking (exercise) this morning, I had the fleeting thought of twining them into a rustic rose arbor!!!
It’s this idiotic book I’ve been reading Julie and Julia. (Don’t worry. I’ll post a review very soon.) It’s about a woman who decides to make all 500+ recipes in Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking in a year.
I’ve also got all sorts of other ideas. I think it’s this Marthaesque competitive streak that I have.
I need a support group to walk me back from the edge.
–Bumblebee (Robin)
Robin
We are finally getting some much-needed rain. It’s supposed to rain through tomorrow too. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
All I’ve had time to do aside from a bit of dead heading is watering, watering, watering. There’s not even much need to mow the grass because even the weeds are dying.
As you can see, though, the watering is working. The garden is starting to kick in, including all the little flowers. I pull out spinach this week and have ordered some summer lettuce seeds from Cook’s Garden. I’ve never grown lettuce in the summer, so it’ll be an interesting experiment to see if they actually grow worth a hoot.
Ben’s trash can potatoes are also growing like gangbusters. There’s not a lot more room for soil, so I suppose we’ll just have to let them be after we put in a couple more inches.
Yesterday we traded in our garden gloves for opera gloves and headed on into town to see the Washington National Opera’s production of MacBeth. It was hard to drag ourselves away because the weather was so balmy and we enjoy tremendously dining al fresco on these types of evenings until almost bedtime. It’s a happy state of affairs when you have to trade one pleasure for another, don’t you think?
It was a great production. The set designer for this opera made extravagant use of scrims on which he projected various images—castles growing from gnarly woods, red blood smears, wicked visions and such. It created a fabulous cinematic effect.
Now, I LOVE the opera and even fantasized for a while about being an opera singer when I was in high school and college. (Yes, it was a long fantasy). But if you’ve never seen Verdi’s MacBeth, you should be prepared for some lulls during which people wring their hands and pace about a lot. The set design and those scrims helped, I think, give you something to look at for the nearly three hours of the opera.
I did struggle in parts though. For example, throughout a good part of the last act, when MacBeth and Lady Macbeth go on a killing spree to ensure his throne, it looked like they were stuck inside a broken wire basket. Afterward, Harry said he thought it was a crown designed to look like a cage, which, if true, I think is very clever, but a bit of a stretch for an image to project onto a scrim.
And then, at the point near the end when MacDuff returns to fight MacBeth for the throne, the designer staged the battle in huge circus-style fake horses on wheels pushed by little anonymous men. The audience actually laughed when they were rolled onstage, which I don’t think was the designed intention.
The designer also dressed everyone in pretty much the same costumes with a kind of Spider Man pattern. He said his reason for dressing everyone alike was to encourage us to view ourselves as MacBeth and his lady—that anyone could do what they did.
Well, I beg to differ, but I believe these two represent an extreme element that doesn’t much describe me and my family or most of the folks that I know.
I’ve been slow at posting this week because my clients actually expect me to WORK for all the money they send me. Well, that’s it for now. More report writing to do…
–Bumblebee (Robin)
Robin
Yes, it’s Vegetarian Week. Did you know that only about 1% - 2% of Americans are vegetarian?
That little fact is probably not a surprise to you. I say that not because being a vegetarian entails such a Spartan diet. It really doesn’t. You have all these FABULOUS vegetables and vegetarian dishes, particularly from India and the Middle East, that provide lots of savory satisfying flavors. The difficulty, at least as I am experiencing it, is threefold:
1) Not all, but a LOT of really good vegetarian dishes take extra time to prepare. You can’t just toss a couple of steaks on the grill and be ready in 20 minutes. Now, I am TOTALLY behind the whole Slow Food Movement. In fact, the food around our house is so slow it routinely takes me 1-2 hours to make dinner, which is typically served at 8:30 p.m. But TIME is not necessarily something I have an abundance of, so I have to really work hard to carve out that bit of space to make a dinner we’ll all eat and enjoy. (On the upside, at least we eat a family dinner 6 out of 7 nights I’m home.)
2) The rest of the world has not customized itself to accommodate vegetarians. Sure, things are a heck of a lot easier than when I became a vegetarian for the first time back in the 1980s when I was…well, younger. Even living in California I was hard pressed to find much more than a tossed salad and some steamed vegetables in those days. Now, although there are nearly always vegetarian options available, they are slim pickins’ in the overall scheme of things, which leaves us true food lovers a bit left out of the party when it comes to restaurant eating. That’s not even to mention that people are generally disinclined to invite you to dinner, for obvious reasons.
3) Traveling is PARTICULARLY difficult. And I travel a LOT. It’s quite frustrating to be stuck in an airport with options that only amount to cheese pizza and ice cream and then landing late at night at a hotel that offers only a tossed salad and fruit. It does make a girl a bit cranky.
I was just reading an article in Yoga Journal about some of the popular yoga teachers and how they travel with their own cooking supplies. Shiva Rea even packs a whole extra suitcase with a hot plate, pot, mung beans, rice and other supplies so she can cook in her room. She has even served up to 12 people by cooking up beans on her hot plate!
Well, I’m not sure how I feel about that. As much as I would like some of those mung beans and rice, I don’t know that I have the wherewithal to cook in my hotel room late at night. I generally am more in the mood for SERVICE, preferably in 30 minutes or less.
Despite these drawbacks, if you’ve considered a vegetarian diet but just can’t make the commitment, I recommend reading Fast Food Nation by Eric Schlosser. It’s a very compelling read that puts a whole new face on the way most Americans eat. Believe me. You WILL NOT want to eat any beef, pork, chicken or fish after reading this book. You might not eat again.
Another helpful tip: PETA, whether you love them or hate them, is well organized and has sponsored its own Go Vegetarian website where you can even order a free vegetarian starter’s kit. I tried to send some to a couple of friends in need, but their form for friends isn’t working properly. Sorry, you’ll have to download or oder your own. Check out the website though. You can “Meet Your Meat,” take the “30 Day Veg Pledge,” get recipes and even become an activist.
And if you’re ever in Calvert County and in need of a good vegetarian meal, just let me know. It may be slow, but it’ll be healthy and vegetarian.
Robin
Today was Skip Day at our house. That means that everyone skipped what they were supposed to do.
Dad said the Pope gave him and Ben an “air show pass” so they could skip church today. Now, I know I’m “just a dog,” but I’m pretty sure the Pope has never, ever, thought of such a thing as an air show pass. And I’m also pretty sure that if he heard Dad say the Pope gave him one he would be in some pretty big trouble for lying on top of things.
As for Mom, she skipped her Iyengar yoga class today to catch up on some garden work. At least SHE didn’t say something silly like B.K.S. Iyengar gave her a garden pass.
So anyway, as you have no doubt deduced, Dad and Ben went off to the airshow and, you guessed it, left Mom here to work in the garden. Sarah and I, of course, stayed here to help Mom out since no one invited US to the air show.
Mom started the day with doing a lot of what she calls “puttering.” From what I can tell, puttering involves moving this stuff over there and that stuff over here. She also made an ENORMOUS dirty mess in the kitchen when she potted a bunch of orchids and other house plants because she doesn’t yet have a proper potting shed. Then, of course, she had to scrub down and disinfect the kitchen, which made everything smell like medicine.
By the way, about those orchid things. You know how she gets all excited about new projects and such. Orchids are her new project. She’s been reading all kinds of books, like Orchids for Dummies and Orchids for Whimps and bought some orchids from Logee’s Greenhouses. They arrived on Friday and I thought she was going to do a little jig she was so happy unwrapping them.
It’s really kinda sad that her she gets all on fire about these little projects instead of having something important to do. Perfect example: SHE TOOK PHOTOS OF HER NEW GARDEN CART! She was all proud that she had stocked it with all her favorite tools. She even hung a laminated copy of Mac’s “Good Bugs. Bad Bugs” to the handle for handy reference. I mean, really.
As you can tell, organizing appears to be a favorite hobby of hers. Some people ski. Others bowl. Some people collect stamps. Mom organizes things.
The other day her friend Angela came to visit and remarked that she was surprised that given Mom’s love for organizing things that Mom hadn’t invested in one of those fancy garage organizing systems.
Oooooh. You should have seen Mom. I thought the top of her head would come off. I’m not sure what was going on inside her head, but I’m sure that she was saying some of those words she’s not supposed to be saying any more.
As for Dad and Ben, they arrived home tan and happy. Ben apparently knows a whole lot about airplane stuff and Dad said he was impressed. Mom rolled her eyes and made some snide remark about how she’d be more impressed if he knew how to conjugate some French verbs. As for me, I would be more impressed if he would feed me something other than the big food Mom gives me.
Before I go, I want to address an issue that has come up around here. Several people have called and written to ask why I am a guest blogger here on Bumblebee and Sarah is not. In fact, several loyal readers have suggested that they like my observations better than Mom’s.
That has not set well with Mom and I think she might be a wee bit jealous.
As for Sarah, I know that people say she’s sweet. Everyone talks about how pretty she is. As for me, I say she’s just this side of teachable.
Now Mom’s all mad at me for being mean to Sarah when her Bumblebee policy is to be positive whenever possible. But you get the point. Don’t be expecting Sarah to write anything because SHE CAN’T WRITE.
Until next time,
Sophie
Robin
I have posted a number of new photos of my recent visit to Graceland in my photo album. But I want to offer a few observations to go along with the obvious voyeurism of these pix.
To this day, Lisa Marie still own Graceland. She long ago sold off everything else from her father’s estate to support the lifestyle to which she has become accustomed. But she has held on to Graceland. I presume that it serves three functions: 1) As a source of continuing income to support the aforementioned lifestyle and 2) to honor her dear old pops and 3) to fend off public criticism for selling off Graceland.
If I were Lisa Marie (which I clearly am not) I would do several things regarding Graceland and the memory of my dear, departed father.
1) If I were Lisa Marie, I would raise the overall level of the current Graceland tour from a National Enquirer-like spectacle of a dead, drug-obsessed superstar to the level of a National Historic Monument to a legend.
We might forgive Lisa Marie (just a little bit) for her inability to see the fine distinction between these two. After all, she grew up as a girl and lived her adult life as a subject of the National Enquirer. She had a birthday party with her little girl friends on an AIRPLANE named after her during a time when NO ONE but the elite flew anywhere. Her daddy flew her to Colorado to play in the snow FOR A FEW MINUTES when he realized that she had never seen the stuff. She has been married to some exceedingly questionable characters.
Given this type of history, she might not understand that there is a better, more refined way of doing things.
For example, she could re-orient the whole tour from a voyeuristic glimpse into Elvis’s private life into the story of his contribution to rock and roll. Oh, I understand that she needs to make a buck to pay for her own extravagant lifestyle and that the voyeuristic tour SELLS. But I think there is a continuum and she has slid so far to the end that she could afford to slip back a bit toward the middle.
She could actually PLAY SOME OF HIS MUSIC throughout the tour. Aha! What a concept!!!!
She could talk about some of the major MUSICAL events that occurred while he was living at Graceland. Or the host of MUSICAL SUPERSTARS who joined him in the various and sundry rooms in his home. She could overall put his life into context of his contribution to music. Not just tell the story of a man who lived in a house.
2) Along the same vein, she could spruce the place up a bit. If I were Lisa Marie, the first thing I would do would be to hire a proper lawn service. The grass looks unkempt and the poor excuses for flowers in the beds look like something even the local high school key club would not claim credit for. Even if Elvis didn’t splurge on the flora during his lifetime, Lisa Marie could at least do that now in his memory.
I would also upgrade the signs. The local 7-11 has better quality signs than Graceland. The ones they have are digitally produced on foamcore. It reeks of cheap, cheap, cheap. It’s like she went to the Wal-Mart Sign Shoppe.
3) If I were Lisa Marie, I would not ignore or disregard the hard lessons of my father’s death. I would acknowledge that he was sensitive, troubled and needed help he did not get. I would implore the Graceland visitors to not let the drug problems and mental deterioration that happened to my dear old dad happen to the people they love. I believe this can be done in an exceedingly sensitive manner.
At the end of the tour I would have people donate to an Elvis Presley Musician’s Drug Rehab/Rescue program. (We need a catchy name.)
4) Finally, if I were Lisa Marie, I would stop dating, and especially marrying, creeps and losers. I mean, really. Who marries both Michael Jackson AND Nicholas Cage? Lisa Marie needs her own personal intervention program.
For what it’s worth. That’s what I would do if I were Lisa Marie.
The End.
Robin
Since I know you’re going to ask, yes, I made it to Graceland. Harry asked if I cried. No I did not. (Okay, almost.)
I WAS a bit sad that someone with so much early talent and good looks spiraled out like that. Elvis weighed 350 pounds when he died. He had spent most of his last years secluded in his room reading books on spirituality. (And taking pills.)
Graceland itself is utterly tacky. Not just because it gives us a slice of a tacky era, but the presentation itself is decidedly downscale. Signs are cheap. The grounds are poorly maintained. The shops are filled with snow domes, bendy Elvis dolls, ash trays, thimbles, spoons and key chains. There are movies and CDs, of course, but the only books to be found are the Presley family cookbooks and the Graceland commemorative books. That’s probably because any biography would present a decidedly different view of his last years from the rosy one painted on the tour. (He died of heart failure, according to them. Yes, technically his heart DID stop.)
Priscilla is fairly well marginalized and Lisa-Marie is featured prominently in the audio tour. (To be expected, I suppose since she still owns Graceland today.)
About Memphis…
I do believe Memphis is the most friendly city it has ever been my pleasure to visit.
Now, that’s not to say I want to move here or anything drastic like that. I mean, it is a city whose officials feel the need to post billboards extolling the fine citizens to “Call on common sense before calling 911.” And there is clearly an issue with poverty that they’re working on.
Nevertheless, the people I met are fine, fine, fine (pronounced fahn, fahn, fahn).
I was chatted up by everyone I met, and I’m not just talking about “How are you today?” “Have a nice day.” People actually take the time to TALK with you, and especially to have a LAUGH or two. I had people flag me down after walking away from a posted map to ask if I needed help finding my way. A woman nearly threw out her back flagging me down as I was driving through town. When I pulled over she wanted to let me know, kindly, that my tire was nearly flat. Everyone wants to know where I’m from and the response is often “Oh, my! You like it there?”
The folks here display their sense of humor in a number of ways, most particularly in what they name things. There are establishments such as the Mo’ Money Taxes, Pony Up Cleaners and the Normal Hair Salon. (I guess they don’t do oily or dry hair.) And they have fine (fahn) names for roads too, like Getwell Road.
The Peabody Hotel…
I was excited to say at the Peabody Hotel, home of those famous ducks that parade through the lobby and spend their days in the fountain. I have to say that what began as a drunken stunt by the hotel manager and his whisky swilling pal back in 1932 has probably contributed to keeping the Peabody alive in times when more grand hotels were biting the dust.
These ducks have become internationally famous. Twice a day—when the ducks parade in and when they saunter out—HUNDREDS of people with cameras line up on either side of the red carpet to take pictures, as if they were movie stars. HAVEN’T THEY EVER SEEN A DUCK?
Of course, the Peabody shamelessly promotes the duck connection in ads and with images of the ducks on everything from napkins to coasters to little soaps in the bathroom and embellished on the towels.
The hotel itself is nice enough—not great. It lacks the refinement of a place like a Ritz-Carlton (whose doorman and car valet greeted me by name when I checked out in Phoenix). But they do compensate for any lack of refinement with the aforementioned Memphis friendliness.
Mo’ Memphis…
While here I also did a tour of the Memphis Botanical Garden and the Dixon Gallery and Gardens. More photos will be posted soon…
Robin
“There she is…Miss America…”
You had to have a sense of humor in our family when I was a kid. When I was growing up, the “Miss America” theme song is one I heard whenever I happened come down the stairs later than anyone else, particularly if it happened to be after 12 noon. Funny. Verrrrrryyyy funnyyyy…
So, you asked for it, you got it. This is me getting ready to launch into the world of “birding” at the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix.
Ain’t she sweet? (And isn’t it just a little bit scary that I know how to spell “ain’t?”)
Robin
