Done!

So, today I completed my application for graduate school. After grappling with the how's and why's, and believe me, there were a lot of those, I decided to go for an MS in Psychology to be followed by my BCBA (Board Certified Behavior Analyst). I can do it all online, which was a huge factor when I started thinking about the kids and the amount of work I already have. I also had to consider what I really wanted from this. At first, I was afraid to choose this path because it involves relying a lot on referrals. But the more I thought about it, I have built a good reputation for myself and now have a nice base of references. I think I'll be OK. Being a consultant has its drawbacks, but I think I can handle them and the perks ended up outweighing the drawbacks.

So, hopefully they will want me. I got a little nervous when I saw my undergrad GPA, hence the new byline for my blog. I really blew it academically a few times, due to my "lack of focus." But I have to say, I welcome the chance to redeem myself. Gratefully, most online universities do not have radio stations.

I Think I've Figured It Out

So, I've been feeling kind of lame for wanting to go see so much live music. I've wondered if I'm having a mid-life crisis. I've actually wondered if something is wrong with me. I've spent way too much time worrying about why I seem to be obsessed. Then it slowly sank in. I've basically spent the past twelve years raising kids and not going out much or seeing any shows or listening to what I want to listen to. Now they are are older and more self-sufficient. Now I finally have some of my freedom back. So, I'm back to doing what I've always loved, listening to music. It's not new or different. I have been somewhat obsessive about music since high school. My obsession just had to take a ten year break and now it's back with a vengeance.

I'm not going to apologize to anyone about why I feel compelled to turn it up too loud or why I want to see tons of shows. I figure soon enough I won't want to, so why not enjoy it now? I still love my old favorites and am loyal to them, but I've found lots of new stuff, too. At one point in my life, I wanted to make a career of working in the music industry. Then I found out how completely slimey it is and gave up. It always made me a little sad that it never came to be, but I've never regretted the choices I've made regarding work. All this is to say, yes, I probably am a smidge more obsessive about music than most people, but I think it's part of who I am and I'm OK with it.

As for my very specific interest in The Bomb, it's pretty simple. Naked Raygun was one of my favorite bands "back in the day." They were incredible trailblazers, setting the table for success for so many that followed them. While they had a good ride here in Chicago, they never really achieved the level of success that many critics feel they deserved. Jeff Pezzati was their frontman and now fronts The Bomb. I'm there to show support for the years of amazing music he produced and to support his band in their efforts now. I consider him a hometown hero. Not only has he had his own bands, but he has been instrumental in supporting other local artists through his label. This guy is invested and is for real. I learned in college working at the station how important it is to support your local scene. It's kind of like buying books at the independent bookstore or from a small press. It allows for more variety and for different voices and styles other than the commercial mainstream to be heard. So, yup, I go to all their shows and invite everyone I know. Come if you like, stay home if you want. I fully realize that not everyone likes what I like, thank God.

Scarier Than Halloween

Hold an image like this in your mind. It's what gets a parent through the day. This is a picture of a moment where everything is right. That doesn't happen often in parenting. Being a parent is only a part of who I am, but in many ways, it has changed me forever. It's not cool, it's frequently not fun, and it is thankless most of the time. I only hope that when we release these two into the world, that they will give back to our world. In this job, though, there are no guarantees. I often feel like I am leaping into an abyss.

It was so much easier when they were babies. Everyone complains about all the work it takes when they are infants. I would gladly take a day of diapers at this point. It was much easier. This is the part where it gets hard. Trusting is difficult and easily messed up. I know all about it, because I screwed up bigtime when I was young. Maybe that's why I get scared. I get it now. No matter how many times I try to help them avoid the same mistakes I made when I was growing up, they probably will have to figure it out for themselves. It is a bizarre existence right now. I can almost feel my childhood experiences being erased from history as a new generation begins to make all the same ones for the "first time." There is no Vulcan mind meld that I can do to pass my knowledge to them. I just get to watch them flounder and hope they listened.

Take This You Evil Edward Lusters

Poor Edward. Stalked relentlessly by anonymous kitty freaks. Kitty is scared!

Crappy Birthday To Me!

I think I hold the world's record for crappy birthdays. Last year, although the party was fierce, was bittersweet as it was my first one without my mom. The year prior to that, my cat of fifteen years died ON my birthday. Now this year has brought hands down, my worst meeting for work ever. I won't bore anyone with details of my work life, but it was an intense and bordering on unprofessional meeting where I got bashed around a lot. Gratefully, I had my unbelievably kind and loyal boss by my side. Were it not for her, I might have come a bit unglued.

So, the realization that I have come to is that once you are an adult, your birthday is no longer sacred ground. Instead of celebrating the day you were born, basically it can occasionally make you wonder why you are alive. Yes, I am mentally stable. Please note an air of sarcasm. Long gone are the party hats and fabulous gifts and the lavishing of attention on you. Maybe as a society we should really take birthdays more seriously. I think each one of us would agree that it would be nice to have one day where people build you up instead of tear you down. I really do think everyone should have a day off of work for their birthday and be able to do something fun and life celebrating.

That said, I'm back to work. Happy, happy, joy, joy!

I'm Very Scared (of graduate school)

As I look over information from various schools, I get more terrified by the minute. First, there is the fear of rejection. What if they don't even want me? Then there is the fear of failure. What if I totally blow it? Finally, there is the fear of the time and money factor. What if this literally kills me and my bank account?

What I would like to know is, why did I have none of these fears the first time around when I frittered away opportunity after opportunity? I would give blood, eyeteeth, fill in the blank with something precious and valuable to have some of those chances again. Now, I feel too old to be doing this to myself. Worse, my daughter is only 7 years away from the same experience, and the same financial commitment. Honestly, at almost 41, I have to do a cost/outcome analysis to see if it is even worth it. Have I missed my chance in life? Will I make enough money when I am done for this to be worth it? Will I ever pay off my original student loans? Yup, still paying for those, too. Somehow something here doesn't seem fair to me.

I guess we all make choices in life. Some of mine are coming back to haunt me now. Truthfully, many choices I made, I would make again. It's just hard on the backside of the deal. You know? I feel like I was always destined to have my Master's degree, so when it didn't happen, it made me feel like somewhat of a failure. I suppose that anytime I look at my two wonderful kids, I shouldn't feel so bad about that. I must have done something right.

BREAST CANCER SUCKS!!!!!!!!!

If I haven't said it enough before, I'm saying it again, Breast Cancer SUCKS!!!! If you haven't already donated towards a cure, do it today. And if not, I'll be bugging you for donations again soon, because I plan to keep fighting this beast until it is dead. And I mean laying on the ground, doesn't move when you poke it with a stick dead.

Why Should God Get All the Crappy Music?

Score one for the good guys. There is nothing on God's green earth better than twitchy, nerdy, spastic, bombastic Christian rock. Where has this band been all my life? I'm talking about The Detholz!

I've mentioned before that I have always felt like an outsider when it comes to religion, at least of the organized variety. While my own personal faith in God remains strong, my faith that organized religion has something to offer declines with each passing year. I feel railroaded into agreeing with things I just can't tolerate, and think are wrong, and really don't want to hang out with the people who think it's okee-dokee.

Then I saw a preview of "Why Should the Devil Have All the Good Music?" last night, which was accompanied by a stellar sweaty performance by The Detholz! There apparently are some levelheaded Christians out there who have it figured out, or at least I think so. You do not have to completely forsake the "secular" world, nor do you have to adopt the religious right's message, or vote for the "Christian" candidate. Quite frankly, as far I am concerned, I'm pretty sure George Bush is the antichrist.

Anyhow, I digress. Christian does not have to be substandard and stupid. There are some righteous Christian rock bands out there. They aren't all Amy Grant and Michael W. Smith (I have bad aural flashbacks from my days at Calvin when I think of these people and the people who listened to them). The Detholz! are just one example of Christian bands who break the right-wing mold. I'm pretty sure we aren't going to hell.

Surviving Christmas

After a flurry of activity, the holiday season is officially over, at least as far as I can tell. I've seen friends and relatives, have used yards of wrapping paper and tape, have been to the grocery store more often than I thought humanly possible, have cooked more food, and actually found time to take several naps. I feel like we had a pretty good Christmas. Much better than last year. I managed to quickly recover from my holiday meltdown and actually enjoyed most of the festivities.

A year after my most difficult Christmas ever, I feel like I can reflect a bit and realize how much healing has happened in the last year. I am far from feeling like life is back to normal, as I think I've realized that I need to make a new normal. The old one just isn't there anymore. I miss the old normal, it was easy. I miss the comfort of my mother's words urging me through my life. But I think I am finding my feet again and learning to rely on myself a bit more. So a new year begins. I have great hopes for it to be easier than the last.

Holiday Meltdown!

So, I never really understood the whole holiday meltdown thing until last year. Seeing as I am Scandanavian, I still am not a particularly obvious candidate. Repressed, uptight (oops! Did I say that out loud?), generally cool and even keeled. But now, I am a bit unglued and not enjoying the holiday folly as much as I used to. The stresses of being an adult have finally worn away any attempt I might have made at creating a little Christmas "magic." Yup, this year I am just plain old depressed and in dire need of some good counseling-I'm going tomorrow. Thank you to all of my friends who have watched me implode and have had the graciousness to just be "supportive" and not slap me silly, which is what I know they secretly and not so secretly want to do. The holidays will come and go and I will survive and manage to be a cheerful elf. Afterall, this season isn't about me anymore.

Dysfunctional Eustachian Tubes

For most of my life I have suffered from dysfunctional eustachian tubes. Most of the year, it really is not a problem, but when a particularly virulent winter cold hits me, I become partially or mostly deaf for an indeterminate amount of time. I am currently partially deaf and have been for a few days now.

The thing I find peculiar about this lack of hearing, while my ear is full of fluid (a delightful thought I know), is that not only can I not hear very much, but I really don't want to talk either because my voice resonates so loudly in my head I can barely stand it. What I want to do is be mute and read until it gets better. I feel socially inadequate, as I don't want to talk to anyone and can't hardly keep up with a conversation. It's actually very tiring to have to work so hard at something you normally take for granted.

So, right now, don't call me or expect any form of verbal reciprocity from me. I'd rather be reading.

Things You Should Consider When Choosing A Breed

When choosing a breed of cat, one should consider several factors. Sure, there's the "what an adorable kitten factor, but that is only the beginning. Our family in particular seems to have unusually bad luck acquiring things that are typical for the breed or type of animal. We once had an Australian Bearded Dragon. These were supposed to be the "dog" of the lizard world. We were told that this meant friendly and loyal. Well the dog attributes our lizard had were probably more pitbull like, ranging from crabby and solitary to viscious and dangerous. I fed the stinking thing live crickets every day of its life. What kind of thanks did I get? Well, if I put my hand unprotected in his cage, I got bit, that's what I got. Never knew lizards had teeth? Well, they do, and ours would hiss and lunge. Hiss and lunge, hiss and lunge. That's what I remember.

Then there was the teddy bear hamster....Fluffy. He sure was cute. Lived in his little cage, that smelled. He was orphaned with us and the previous owner swore he didn't bite. Why, oh why do I listen? I should know by now that ALL ANIMALS BITE. So, little Fluffy had been handled a few times by us without incident and was all cute and fluffy and innocent looking and stuff. I decide, at the urging of my son, that poor Fluffy, all locked up in his cage needs some exercise. I reach in and pull him out ever so carefully and put him in his little hamster ball to go for a spin around the house. Fluffy looked like he was having such fun! When exercise time was over, I again reached into his ball to extract him. Apparently I had not been sent the memo that said hamsters are very happy to get in the ball, but less happy to come out. That little *&#! of a hamster bit my finger down to the bone. My initial instinct was to put him back in the ball and punt it down the stairs, but I refrained and simply returned him to his cage. From then on, he might as well have lived in Siberia in exhile. No love for him or hamster ball rides. I think I may have laughed the day he died.

So now we have beautiful Edward....I think you know where this story is heading. He is a Ragdoll. Here is a brief description of the Ragdoll breed:

*They are a large breed-Read friggin' enormous!!!!! Ed can take out an entire coffee table full of stuff with one swipe of his large backside. Also, large denotes a certain lack of grace in his case. I always thought of cats as a fairly nimble animal. Nope, not Ed. This guy is an accident waiting to happen. I do not think he has yet realized how really large he is.
*They are good with children and the elderly being careful to not use their claws-It really says this on the Cat Fancier's website? Have they met Ed? He has now drawn blood from several people, particularly the elderly and small children. I am running out of bandaids. Oh, it's all in fun, but I think Ed missed the genetic preprogramming that stops him from using his claws. He whittles away at them for hours each day, making sure they are pinpoint sharp.
*They adore humans and greet you upon your arrival-This means he will pounce on you when you least expect it, scaring the crap out of the fore-mentioned elderly and children.
*Ragdolls tend to be floor cats, not jumpers-Again, have they met Ed? This very large cat hurdles furniture, leaps onto counters, pounces and generally jumps around more than any other cat I have ever owned.
*Ragdolls feel that humans prefer purrs to yowls and keep their voices softly musical-Oh my GAWD! He's an alarm clock I tell you. We can hear him yowling his heart out (in the basement, with the door closed in our bedrooms on the second floor) in the morning when HE thinks it is time for us to get up. He also yowls when we leave the room until Mr. Walnut Brain figures out where we went.
*Ragdolls adore their humans-OK, this one I will give them. He is the most loving cat we've ever had. He actually likes being with us and isn't solitary at all. If Ed could be on us or next to us all day long, he'd be happy. He purrs like a demon and tries to groom you if he is especially happy. For this, we love him.

Tomorrow we are getting a guinea pig. I've been told he doesn't bite.

UNDEAD!

Resurrected one more time because they love their audience? Who knows. All I can say is, long live the Goth Gods of Bauhaus! Tonight they are playing their second sold-out show in Chicago at The Vic. Everyone needs a little spooky in their life every now and again.

Little Miss Fast and Loud (or Am I Having a Mid-Life Crisis?)

Clearly I am having a mid-life crisis. Or am I? I don't feel desperate or old. It's more like I can't get enough or feel enough. Perhaps the old manic-depression is rearing its ugly head. Who knows? Maybe it's that taste of freedom I've been gettng now that my kids are a little older. Whatever the case, I want to run, play, and listen to loud music. Is that so wrong?

Relevent or Dinosaur?

Continuing on with our inane banter, Lauren and I started in on the mother of all music conversations in my little world. Is punk rock dead? Or, as she put it, "Is it relevent?" I knew this was headed for a good blogging the second we started discussing. As usual, Lauren is ready to throw down right then and there, she's a "wanna go?" type girl. Sticking to my true self, I refused to answer until I'd had some time to think about it. I don't like to put stuff out there in the heat of the moment and then regret it later.

So, what do I really think about the whole punk thing? First of all, it's an overused and frequently misappropriated word. It's been banging about since the mid-60's, so if you want to get technical, it really was originally applied to some garage bands in the 60's. Hardly what you think of when you hear the word punk. The first wave of what I, and many others, consider punk happened right here in the good old USA in the mid-late 70's. You know the suspects, The Ramones, Patti Smith, Richard Hell, etc.. I believe the true spirit behind these artists was their willingness to create music outside of what was popular at the time, which was the famous arena rock and, cough..sputter.., excuse me, hacking up a hairball, disco. In short, it was anti-corporate, individualistic, sometimes snotty, but honest music.

Now, if we're going to go there with this definition, let's think about the climate of today's world. Is or is not music even more corporate dictated than ever before? Is or is it not even more difficult for bands to be recognized for their merit versus their income earning potential? I think these are the real questions underlying the relevence of a punk scene these days. Yes, punk is clearly a type of music, but almost as important is the do-it-yourself attitude that comes with it. So is it dead? I think the answer is a resounding "no."

The scene exists because it has to. Should age matter regarding relevence? This is the other question I've heard from both Lauren and others pondering the whole punk thing. I guess my feeling is, no. As long as the music does not stagnate and rely on past reputation alone, age of said band members should not matter. I don't hear anyone telling Bono that he is irrelevent. Nope. They buy his albums at warp speed and U2 continues to have an audience of all ages. So, apply that principle to any music if you wish. It's relevent if your fanbase tells you it's relevent. If young kids are going to your show and your music is fueling their fire, it's relevent. Plus, I kind of feel, once a punk, always a punk. Maybe an older, more realistic punk, but still a punk. I don't even want to get into the whole idealism of youth vs. the realism of adults. Think action. If it's happening , good.

Punk isn't your clothes or your hair. It's need and desire driven. Yes, it's a style of music, but a very broad style of music. Another conversation for another day. So, as long as there are garages and basements full of boys with bands and problems or adults who've had it with corporate dictated music or are sick of the government and are going to tell you about it, punk will exist. As for relevence, I dare you to go to any show and ask the people there if it's relevent. 'Nuff said.

Indecision!

The Bomb

Have I mentioned how much I love these guys? Do yourself a favor and check out their blistering new CD, Indecision. Turn it up real loud and make your head buzz and the paint peel off the walls. Good clean fun for all! Hope they aren't serious about that losing your hearing business. You can purchase it for yourself at Interpunk and damage your own hearing. As Jeff Pezzati said at our 40th birthday party, "If it's too loud, you're too old!"

Times Have Changed

So I have been thinking that seeing as I've billed this blog as partially being about music, perhaps I should include it occasionally as a topic. There's a thought! I don't know if I am having a mid-life crisis or a reawakening or what, but lately I have been obsessed with music again. When I have freetime, I find myself wandering around different sites online. You name it, sites for bands, online music stores, music e-zines. I'm there desperately looking for something. I just can't figure out what I'm looking for yet.

Maybe I'm trying to reconnect with my youth. Maybe I'm trying to find that perfect new band that I can't stop listening to. Maybe I'm trying to identify with the aging of some of my old favorites, see how they are handling and expressing the changes your soul makes over the years. Have we softened up yet or are we just more realistic? Have we figured out what matters?

I'm still not sure why I turn to music when I do some soulsearching. I guess I find it comforting when I find a sound or an idea that mirrors what I am going through at the moment. Sometimes I think it's a little weird that I've chosen such an impersonal way to be a part of the collective consciousness. I guess I'm kind of introverted. Now that I'm older, I wonder if I am being immature. I guess I still really don't know why I love it so much. It's simply part of what makes me tick.

The difference between me now and 20 years ago, where music is concerned, is that then it was who I was. Lauren and I had a whole discussion this past week about how I used to be so concerned about my "cred" when it came to what I would and wouldn't listen to. No way in college would I ever have admitted to liking bands like Van Halen (there's a whole horrific story that goes with that one) or some funny song from younger years like "Don't Go Breaking My Heart." Now, I'm OK with it all. No shame involved, no judgements placed. Wow, it sure takes a lot less energy! There are definitely some great benefits to getting older. I find myself more able to enjoy things for what they are. Simple.

I guess what got me thinking about this today is that tonight Lauren and I are going to go see Bob Mould. He is someone who I think has aged gracefully where his music is concerned. What is great about this show is that he will finally be playing both his newer solo material as well as some old material from Husker Du and Sugar. I never blame musicians when they decide that they aren't going to play certain things from their past. Imagine having to tell some story from when you were 21 over and over again. Not only would you get tired of the repetition, but you're no longer the person you were then. I do think that as you age, it becomes easier to revisit the past, as time has a way of smoothing out even the roughest edges. You learn to appreciate that you are what you are now because of a process and that it was all important. Trite, but true.

I guess I decided to write about this today because my last experience with Bob Mould was far different than the one I know I will have tonight. Tonight, I'll pick up Lauren, drive to the show, have probably one beer, maybe two, stand in the back, and be fine with it. Almost twenty years ago, I bought my Husker Du ticket from a friend the day of the show. I piled into a VW microbus with a bunch of people I barely knew and we drove from Columbia, SC to Chapel Hill, NC. I don't know exactly how long this took, but it was more than a few hours and I know I missed class the next day, but I'll tell you about that in a minute.

So, we drove all the way there and managed to get to the show on time. I knew I wasn't feeling so good that day, but by the time we got to the show, I knew I had the flu. Cold sweats, woozy head, exhausted. So, what did I do? Why, drink of course!!!! The show was amazing. What was more amazing was the rest of the trip. Amazing? No, STUPID!!!! So, we all leave and decide that we didn't want to drive all the way back to Columbia. We stop at a hotel somewhere. This is when I realize that I have now been railroaded. No one in the van is 21 except me. Mind you, there is also another car traveling with us and they've stopped, too. I am now legally responsible for about 10 people I barely know.

We pull around the side of the hotel so the front desk can't see how many of us there actually are. I go in with one of the girls and check in and get ONE room. Right. I'm sick and delerious and feeling a little nervous, but does this stop me? No. We all load into the one tiny room and are sprawled all over everywhere and of course we are not quiet at all. At this point I realize I am really sick and pretty much attempt to pass out. In the fog my head was encased in, I do realize that my roommates are loud, they have alcohol and they are in possession of, and are using, various types of drugs. If I hadn't been so sick, I probably would have freaked out. Even then I knew what was crossing the line regarding legality and the possibility of getting in actual legal trouble. Regardless, I just laid there. Nothing happened and we all made it back to Columbia the next day, but I definitely was not happy. Needless to say, I never went on a roadtrip with that crew again.

Long story short, I am very glad to go see Bob Mould tonight. I am very glad to be going with Lauren. I am very glad that I know I will be in my own bed at a reasonable hour tonight. I'm very glad that I can tell this story of youthful foolishness with no embarassment. I'm very glad that I am 40.

I'd Do It Again

I could call these shoes my instruments of torture or I could call them my companions. Either way, my shoes and I both endured 60 miles of pavement, gravel and grass. We walked from St. Charles to the Montrose Harbor and with the help of 2,409 other pairs of shoes and their owners and we collectively raised $6.2 million for breast cancer research and treatment. It was hands down the most physically gruelling thing I have ever done, ... and I can't wait to do it again.


Without detailing what Lauren and Jane and I were calling the "Littany of Complaints," I can briefly say that Day One was tiring, but doable. Night One was freezing cold and miserable in a way that I can't begin to describe. Which led to Day Two's problems for me, the seizing up of my calf muscles. Unless I kept moving, they cramped up. So I paced around a lot even at the breaks. We wimped out and ditched camp for Night Two and retreated to the civilized confines of the Musgrave home. At this point my calf muscles had completely rebelled and were nearly immobile. We ate and passed out and woke up early the next day to head back to camp. Were it not for a hot bath that morning, I have to say, I'm not sure I would have made it. Well, a hot bath and a lot of Vitamin V (Vicodan). Day Three was unbelievably difficult from start to finish, but at that point, who's giving up? No way! I believed at one point that I could see my pain and it took on different colors at different times. I was like a runaway truck. I could only go in one direction and had no brakes.

Happily, this is the picture of me at the closing ceremonies. Obviously I made it, as did Jane and Lauren (who, if you read her blog, was considerably more messed up than I was-stupid stubborn Viking!) I feel like I did something good. I feel like I just gave my mom the best birthday present ever. I feel like I need a nap.

Walk, walk, walk, sleep in tent, walk, walk, walk, sleep in tent, walk, walk, walk, collapse

Wow. I can barely believe it. Only three days until the walk. Sadly, one of our team members, Lauren, is suffering from a painful foot injury and may not be able to join us. I am not sure what I think at this exact moment. I am excited and anxious at the same time. I am riding an emotional rollercoaster.

It barely seems possible to me that this time last year we were celebrating my mom's birthday. Although by then we knew her time was short, she was still here and in good spirits. It was my last happy memory of my mom. Shortly after her birthday we began the revolving door of hospital stays that engulfed last fall. And so, this is a bittersweet time of year for me, heightened now by the focus on her memory as I complete this walk for her and the thousands of others who have lost their mothers, daughters, grandmothers or sisters.

Hurricane Katrina was a massive blow, wiping out a large swathe of humanity in one single blow. The images are there for all of us to take in and assess. It is easy to feel the weight of such an enormous disaster. I think of breast cancer in similar terms. It's just not so graphic and palpable. It destroys family units by robbing young children of their mothers. It kills thousands each and every year. Not just once, when the weather provides specific conditions. It is an ongoing destroyer of life. It causes financial hardship for those it touches. It does not discriminate. It devastates those who are economically disadvantaged, they seldom have access to the preventative care and God help them if they need the unbelievably costly treatment. It leaves families grieving for loved ones and fearing for the future of those left behind.

I am not making light of the horrible devastation of Katrina. I personally plan on taking action and doing my part to help those affected by such a horrible disaster. I am simply saying that quietly and doggedly, breast cancer will declare more victims than hundreds of hurricanes and will continue to do so until a cure is found. So this weekend I will do my part with the support of many dear friends and family members. A huge thanks and much love to Jane and Lauren who have committed to this with me. I wouldn't be doing this without them.

The look of pounce

My poor son, Evan, is terrified of Edward. He constantly asks me if the cat has "the look of pounce." Meaning, if that cat is going psycho-kitty on me, I'm out of here. We hope that Edward and Evan will eventually be good friends.