When You've Got No Words

Happy new year, friends.

Its been so very quiet here, and so very quiet within me.  I know I wrote a few times in November, basically not at all in December, and I think its tied to several things.  The first is that finishing up your first semester as a professor and also needing to get 2 dozen custom leather purses out the door while preparing for Christmas and being 8 months pregnant is, well, a lot.  I think that might make anyone lose their capacity for creative words for a time.

But there's more.

See, this move to the Great North, its been hard.  I suppose someone who was into euphemizing would say that its been an "adjustment" and that it still was "adjusting".  But I'm low on words and so I'll just say that its hard, and its still hard.  RG seems to be fairing best of all, but blissful ignorance is the inalienable of the still-diapered set.  (And let's not talk about the whole "still diapered" thing, because we tried to potty train this week and now we're not and I don't want to talk about how its okay that its that way.  It is.  That is all.)

I could tell you reasons that its been hard.  I could fill this blog up day after day of the top 50 things I'm missing about SC in this moment.  I could strive and reach and really push myself to find things we like about living here.  But my pillow partner and I just spent hours doing that exact thing, and it doesn't leave me with any answers or feelings of relief, and so if you don't mind, I'll just skip that part.

The main problem is that right now, in the midst of this situation we are in, with the circumstances that we have, I'm having trouble finding not just my words, but my joy.  That peace that Jesus promised that reaches in and fills us up when it doesn't make any sense.  That's eluding me in this moment.  And so when there isn't peace to give me a solid foundation and there's not joy bubbling up to share, I don't really have words to go on this page.  

Now, I'd love to leave you something packaged and pretty, something that points at least to hope if to nothing else, but I'm not sure what that hope looks like.  I know its found in Christ, for He's the only one who knows best.  I know that He has promised that peace, that joy, that wisdom and so I know it'll come.  I know these are mostly feelings and even possibly fueled by pregnancy hormones (although that might mean that Handsome is pregnant too...), and I know that feelings are to be felt but not trusted.  I know these things.  But I don't know what shape my hope is coming in yet.

Truthfully, this is a bit of a bummer of a post.  And I'll likely drop by here in a day or two and throw an adorable picture of my toddler up on the front page, or a list of recipes I'm desperately trying to get made & frozen before baby #2 makes his/her appearance.  Because I know from past experience that letting a bummer post like this just sit on the "cover" is un-motivating.  But here's where I am, and here's where we are, and this is the reason for my radio silence.  

<3 M.

On Friends and Couches

Friends are probably the hardest part about moving, on both sides.  Friends you leave behind that you want to stay connected with.  Friends you're supposed to somehow magically find in your new place.

Bah.  Ain't nobody got time for that.

My inclination is to cocoon myself within my home, take care of all the things that need taking care of, bake all of the things, sew all of the things, and watch a little netflix.  I'd watch more, probably, but we don't have a couch, and I'm finding that the lack of couch is a huge impediment on my television watching stamina.

The Sactional.
How I feel: <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
What I (sadly) know: $$$$$$$$$$$$
Note: More $ than <3 = bad strategy

I don't want to reach out to those I left behind, because that wound is too recent.  I don't call because I don't want to cry on the phone like a crazy lady.  And even if I didn't cry, what do I say?  How is the life I love but no longer have?  Isn't it great that I don't know when I'll see you again?  Yes, it really is 20* colder up here than it is where you are, isn't that rad??  These aren't happy conversations.  They're probably also irrational, because life has continued to happen and there are things to talk about, but I use these excuses to keep my phone in paperweight-status, rather than using it for its intended purpose.  Plus, I'd really like to sit on my couch and talk to them, but...

The Crema Modern Linen Sofa
Gorgeous goodness.
AKA - the couch that I would ruin, never-mind my toddler

I also don't want to make new friends because hard.  What if they don't like me?  What if it turns out I don't like them as much as I thought I did?  What if they come over and expect to sit on a couch and we don't have a couch.  What do I even say when I invite?  "Hello new possible friend.  Would you like to come over and sit at my small kitchen table for a couple of hours?  The seats are hard, but it'll be grand, so long as you overlook the dried applesauce at RG's end."  That doesn't seem like a winning invitation.

The KARLSTAD.
AKA - The one that we might end up with
AKA - The one on sale at IKEA
AKA - The one I had better have extra covers for

HOWEVER.  These things that I don't want to have time for, that I want to avoid, they are important.  They are life-giving.  So I am making myself.  This weekend, I'm going to call at least 1 friend from the sweet sweet south.  Even if the phone call is awkward.  I don't care.  It has to be done.  I'll lie and tell myself that the first phone call is always awkward and then sigh once I get it out of the way.  And this Friday, we're having new friends over.  For dessert and card games, both of which are traditionally accomplished at a table, which is good because we have no couch.  

ASIDE: If you can't tell, I'm having trouble with the no couch thing.  Think about it.  Imagine your life without a couch.  Where do you relax?  Where does the snuggling under a blanket happen?  The after-work conversations and the "I just need to sit down"s.  Where, for the love, do you watch Netflix marathons??? If you have no couch, hypothetically, you might sit at your table quite a bit, and wish for padded seats.  You might learn that a few blankets folded up and strategically placed against the wall make it almost feel like upholstery.  You might dream about hanging that hammock in the living room, just so you have a place to sit.  You might propose the family conference takes place in the bathroom, with someone perched on the edge of the tub and someone else on the toilet lid, just for a change of scenery.  Hypothetically.  And one day (SOON!) you might just crack and go buy that ding dang couch so that your mind can finally have a rest from imagining what it'll be like when you have one.

But anyhow, these new potential friends are coming over, and I don't know how its going to go.  I'm making caramel apple pie and possibly another dessert, because it is my believe that good food staves off awkwardness.  And if its still awkward, I'm going to take the same route I did with the phone call and lie to myself and say that next time it'll be less strange.

SO"DERHAMN
I'd have to sit on it, but maybe.
It also kind of looks like we're starting out with flat cushions, so it might go downhill rapidly.

How'd you meet your current friends, when you moved to the place you are now?  Any tips for me on conversation topics?  Alternate desserts?  PLACES TO BUY A COUCH!?!?

<3 M.

Finding My People

You guys.  I don't want to brag, but I might have found my very favorite away-from-home job ever.  Make no mistake, I leave my heart asleep in her crib every morning when I drive to my office (which is only 3 days a week!).  But if I can't be there I so very much want to be here.

If only every day were Family Beach Day

I could tell you all of the awesome things about being a professor, and how I get hours of time in which to do what I want in terms of teaching whatever I think is pertinent and prepping in whatever way seems good.  I could tell you about the veritable smorgasbord of office supplies available to me.  Spiral bound.  Quad-ruled.  3 holes or 2.  Its like Christmas!  I could tell you about the friendly camaraderie that somehow already exists between myself and the other people who work here.  But all of that pales in comparison to my classes.

The sweet, precious sophomores this morning, when I asked for Pandora requests during in-class problem time, do you know what they said?  Ke$ha?  Nope.  Top 40?  Huh-uh.  The words that came out of Plaid Shirt, Second Row (don't judge, there's 38 of them!) were "Could you play the Garth Brooks station again?"

Bless.

They wear camo and chambray shirts with the arms cut off, and not ironically.  There is a Steeler's shirt in every classroom. There is, sadly, a shortage of sweet tea in this strange land, but I am beginning to suspect that, against all odds, I may have once again found some people to call my own.  It is beginning to feel familiar to me here, seeing these young adults as my own classmates looked so many years ago.

Its not the same, and it won't be.  There's a part of me that wants to wallow.  Preferably from the comfort of my bed with the fan on to make it cool enough to justify the duvet I'm wrapped in.  I want to just sit and just miss everyone we left, because I do miss them so bad.  And I want to lament about our house, the one I swore I'd never love and didn't want to grow old in, that I now somehow pine for.  I want to pout about the clouds and the lack of proper beverages and southerness.  But there's no value in that.  I do miss our Southern life, and you people down there, we miss you like whoa and probably will for eva.  But we're in a new place now, and so its onward and upward.  To the tune of "I can still make Cheyenne".

<3 M.

Latest Update

We've got a backlog of things to talk about, so pardon me while I brain-dump :)

0. New Giveaway going on at Maggie Whitley's blog.  I have the cool opportunity to be a part of the fall gift giveaway!  You should check it out, you might just win yourself a shoulder bag!

1. The Fabric Survey Giveaway.  First, thank you all soooo much for participating!  It was the best response I've had yet, and I'm blown away.  Y'all are great.  Second, Katie from blog comments and Anna from facebook are both winners, and have been contacted!  The winning fabric line is Indelible in Grey, and orders have been placed.  We're about to move into production mode, so keep an eye out for shop announcements!

2.  The South.  I miss it, loves.  Bad.  It calls to me, and its siren song sounds like sweet tea tastes.  Which I wouldn't know about anymore, since up here in the cold north, its called "Iced Tea" with "sugar available".  Its different.  Everything is different, and adjusting is straight up hard.  I don't remember missing northern culture when I moved south, except for the grilled chicken salad.  I took to the south like a pig to mud and all of those similies, and this whole changing back thing is not going near as smoothly.  Turns out I'm actually a southerner living in a northern climate.  *cue tears*

3.  Our new locale.  Its really not as bad as #2 makes it seem.  There's no snow yet, and its nearly September, so I'm calling it a win so far.  People are actually friendly, there is country music, and there are sunsets, despite what the nay-sayers who tried to keep us in the south tried to say.  Also - Lake Erie, its a Great Lake (see what I did there??).  I never really appreciated it before, but heading to the "beach" and just wading in the water calms my heart.  Until I remember the sweet tea thing again, but whatever.

4.  A church.  You guys.  Finding a church has been one of the hardest things about moving for us in the past, and I think we've already locked one in.  It helps that I'm semi-local, in that I can ask my parent's pastor for recommendations.  We're already looking into joining a small group, because hello! We need friends!

5.  Childcare.  Now taking the top place on the list of "things that are hard about moving".  This has been a bear to figure out. We've got RG in a spot at a cute daycare near our house, except her spot expires in November as someone already has it reserved from then on (???).  And the semester isn't over until December, so...  Also, because I only teach M/W/F this semester (more on that), I thought "I'll only get MWF daycare!  Score!" And I did.  And then I heard "Lets have our mandatory meeting on Thursdays..." about 3 times, and so now I'm in a possible bind for Thursdays.  The saga continues.

6.  My job.  Y'all.  I'm so excited.  I've taught exactly 1 class, and I'm in love with it.  So so so pumped to get to be a college professor (although technically its called a lecturer position, but they're not sure what to call me because I also have a PhD so...), its pretty much everything I hoped it would be.  I've been given office supplies like its christmas, and I have students and syllabi and books that I chose... I'm so pumped.  Plus, I get to make schedules for what we're doing on what days, and I LOVE SCHEDULES.  Be still my heart, I might have been made for this.  I was also made for eating gushers and sewing ruffles, so take that as you will.

7.  Babydaddy.  That guy I married, he's solid gold.  He's been daddy daycare while we figure out our childcare situation, and he has been completely awesome about it.  It has been so sweet to see more of a relationship grow between him & RG, since in the past he's worked 3 24-hour shifts out of every 6 days.  Now she goes to him and lets him kiss her boo-boo's, they even have little routines.  Its slightly jealousy-inducing for me, because I'm used to being the one taking care of our girl, and I miss her like WHOA while I'm sitting in my office.  But I'm going to focus on the positive, and I love the way they're loving each other.  Nothing sweeter!

8.  The weather.  No, really.  Is it cooler than usual where you are?  It is here, and I'm digging it.  I love summer, I do, but with the timing of the move and everything, I feel like a light sweater is appropriate.  I'm a jeans girl, though, and love love love a well-fitting pair more than any other piece of clothing (remember the rockstar jeans?).  And also - soup is my love language.  Last week was cheeseburger potato soup, this week I'm thinking either chili or chicken noodle.  Whats your favorite?

Whew.  Okay.  I feel lighter now.  I hope you're doing well, transitioning to fall and school and whatnot.  I'm planning to be back here more, so watch out!  And seriously, soup suggestions, hit me with 'em!

<3 M.

When your house is in boxes and you're dreaming of the future

We packed up this week, about half of our house.  Maybe that’s too generous; maybe it was 2/5 of out worldly goods.  I’m not sure.  I do know that I packed up literally half of my kitchen, and I still have plenty of functionality.  This gives me pause.  If I don’t need half of the stuff I have, why do I have it?  This question, of course, does not apply to my beloved pasta extruder, which I so bravely packed up and won’t see again until after August – I have that because, while not necessary to the function of my kitchen, it is necessary to my soul.

Please forgive the low-light, phone pictures.
Either way, this is the last proof I have of my wall like so.
These frames are now boxed, and my house is returning to its generic-builder-look

We packed and packed and packed.  You can see the digression in our packing and labeling skills.  The first few boxes are packed to the tops, nice and tight, with like items and then taped in 3 places and carefully labeled with both the contents and the designated unpacking room.  The last box I packed?  “Stuf”.  Not even two t’s.  Its pathetic. But we did it, poorly or no.  We packed, amid box shortages and uncertainty and “should it stay or should it go now” songs, and especially, despite feelings.

You guys.  There were so many feelings.  If you've ever moved from some place that you loved, I don’t have to explain these feelings to you.   There is most definitely a heart-ripping part of this.  We will never be totally separate from our sweet S. Carolina.  Its impossible, we've been changed too much by the place, by the people.  By the realization that BBQ can be something beautiful and not just chopped up deli meat & Sweet Baby Ray’s.  We've spent our whole married lives with SC driver’s licenses.  It’ll be 6 years by the time we pack the final final box, and my word, they've been good years.

But since this is a truthful place, a place to find and celebrate beauty, despite circumstances, I have to tell you that there were happy feelings too.  There is so much I want to do differently with our second house.  I’d be lying if I said that the timely arrival of The Nester’s new book didn't have a hand in that.  The ache is still in the leaving, but there’s a small spark of anticipation building too.  There has to be.  If I don’t look at this new step as an adventure, I’m sunk.  It is happening, regardless of my attitude, and so it only serves me to have the best attitude I can.

And so, after devouring The Nesting Place in one evening while sitting curled up with my new Delicate Fortress Creation’s reclaimed, hand-quilted Sari throw (so perfect!) and eating a little bit of a Divine Milk Chocolate bar, I've got the beginnings of a new Manifesto. 

Scratch that.  Manifesto implies a cohesive, well-thought-out set of ideas that can withstand time and scrutiny.  I think that what I actually have is just a motto, albeit a long one.  Whatever.  I’m proud of it all the same (hashtag: own it).  So here’s my extra-long-motto-but-not-quite-a-manifesto, because you've earned it. 

This time, I will do tings differently.

- I will not make a home for some imaginary future owners.  We are the owners, we are living our days inside these walls, and we will make them our own.  

- I will take risks, and not stick to the one decorating trick I know (read: no more empty picture frames on every floor, in every room).

- I will see the value that exists in taking time and resources to build a comfortable, peaceful home.  Yes, it takes cash dollars and brain power, but having a purposeful, intentional home is worth it.

- I will be me in this home, and this home will look like mine.  I will own it, in every sense of the phrase.  No matter if people don’t understand why Christmas lights are hanging from the chandelier, no matter if I get on a first name and “how are your daughter’s grades?” basis with the Salvation Army people, no matter if I decide I don’t like something I begged for.  If it is not known to be functional, or believed (by me) to be beautiful, I won’t have it in my home.  And if it is either of those things, it will be.

- I will share my home in all of its imperfect glory, because to me, homes are merely  tools building community and keeping the chill out.  Although my house will reflect who I am, it will not be my identity.  It will be full of warmth even when the furnace breaks, it will be a source of calm to haggard souls despite the clutter that will never be totally picked up, and it will be where people know they are welcome and loved.  It will be a fabulous home.  Even if the walls have wood paneling on them (I can't abide it, I'm sorry).  Even if there is carpet in the bathrooms when we move in (that can’t stay, and for that I don’t apologize).

Those are my plans, my hopes, my ambitions for our new home, whatever it looks like.  Now that we've packed our fingers off, we’re driving half of our belongings North to be stored in my Father-in-law’s shed without telling him (because telling him gives him heartburn), and then we’re going house-hunting.  Seventeen houses in a single day, with over 100K between the cheapest and most expensive houses we’re looking at.  Because we Magagnotti’s are cheap and dreamers and like neighbors and large plots of land, and a great many other things.  Wish us luck!  Oh, and if you've got any advice, I'm all ears!

<3 M.

Moving Feelings

So here's the deal.  I'm moving.  RG is moving.  Handsome (after a bit of argument and a few ultimatums) is also moving.  Duke may or may not be moving.  We're all moving.  I've been a bit absent from this space because I was having feelings and I wasn't ready to talk about them and so I didn't.

Please don't ask me how I'll live without my dogwoods and magnolias.
I shudder to think.

But now, whatever, I just want to throw them all out there to make room.  I don't have time for feelings.  I don't have room for feelings, because everything I own has to get packed up, because moving.

So here's the long and the short of it.  I got a job.  THE job.  The job that lets me do the parts of professoring that I'm passionate about and doesn't make me do the parts that make me bored and sad and angry and a would-be-baker.  The job that is within 2 hours of our family.  Closest relative?  No longer 645 miles away.  Try 97 or 94, depending on which side of the city we live.  The job that really does give me summers off and allow me to be a momma, which I love to be.  THE job.  That job.  That's the one I got.

Please don't ask me, though, what everyone asks: "Aren't you just SO EXCITED!?!"  I know you mean well, dear person who is excited enough for the both of us.  And yes, I did want the job, and yes, I did choose to accept the job, and yes, we are moving forward with that decision because we believe it to be the best choice for our family.  But no.  I'm not excited yet.  It feels like the whole "Surprise!  You're pregnant!" thing again, truth be told, except instead of nausea, I have stress, in all different assortments.

Moving-related stress, that regular people feel when changing zip codes by 700 miles.  Leaving-related stress, that people who have good friends feel, when forced to leave the said good friends.  Snow-related stress, that a Southern Belle such as myself might feel when realizing that THE TOWN YOU ARE MOVING TO HAD SNOW FALLING FROM THE SKY 5 DAYS AGO and I've been to the beach twice.  On top of all that, though, we've got two other kinds of stress.  We've got PhD-related stress, whereby I must finish my dissertation (that I thought I had 9 more months to do) within the next 3.  I think that no matter the deadline, this stress would have always shown its ugly head.  That stress drives most of my decisions.  

But we also have a breed of stress that I believe is unique to my situation.  Its the "I'm a romantic internal processing person but my husband is a pessimistic oral processor and I might do murder to him by accident" stress.  Anyone?  Anyone else have that?  He's still alive, but sometimes, its by a thread, I tell you the truth.  Things get ugly here.

So anyhow, now you know.  We've got 3 months to finish the PhD, pack, sell a house, buy a house, move, find Handsome a job, and prepare two classes I've never taught before for the fall.  It will be good, I know this.  We will get to be present for birthdays and all manner of lesser holidays (i.e.- everything besides Christmas) and even games and recitals.  We will once again know the four seasons from the land of our birth: Rain, Snow, Rain, Construction (That's what we call "Fall, Winter, Spring, Summer" for you non-Pennsylvanians).  We will face this mountain of change and we will go over it or through it or we will blow it up entirely, but however it happens, we will arrive on the other side.  In the meantime, please feel free to be excited for us, and eventually (as I did with about month left of my pregnancy) we will catch up with the events and be excited too.

Love to you all, darlings, I'm off to dissertate.

<3 M.

Great Memories

It was touch & go tonight.  I thought I might just cry.  Not because anything bad was happening, as I've already talked about yesterday - it's all good things going on.  But it just became nearly unbearable tonight.  That knot of stress just sat in my stomach and made me miserable.

I didn't think I'd be able to sleep tonight.  This situation called for some serious action  in the form of comfort food.  I was at the store, and it just seemed right:

Yes, I planned to eat this, and nothing else, for dinner.
No, I don't feel bad about that even a bit.

But then, well, as I was sitting for just a moment with my feet up, on the couch, with my regular bowl mixing bowl full of cereal, the unthinkable happened - I poured it everywhere.  My lap, my pillow, my floor, my couch.  I think Duke even has a few still on his back.

Confetti left over from a party?
Or my worst fears realized?

Fried

"The answer is 'Fried'"

"What is 'the current state of my brain', Alex?"

"That's right, for $1600 and the lead.  Next up, Double Jeopardy."

I thought of that little snippet right now, so I did.  It was exceedingly true earlier, but I'm actually feeling much better now.  Earlier today, though, I was a woman on edge.  I had to remember to do 17 different things, and a lot of them were time-sensitive.  Like delivering the lasagna tonight - needed to be done before suppertime.  Packing H's bag - needed to be done before he went to work.  A lot needed to be done.  A lot got done.  It's all good.

Whoa, Mariah.
Ever hear of Fill-light?
We could call this The Dark Side of Funnel Cakes
But only because the picture is dark.
This cake was pure bliss.

Moving & Shaking Packing

I need some assistance here.  If I seem needy lately, its probably due to the whole "I talk to my dog but he doesn't answer but sometimes I think he might" thing.  So have pity on me.

The state of my living room.
I'm just glad that I didn't pile these boxes up while Duke was in his bed.
Talk about a near miss.

Here's my question: What can/should I have packed 2 weeks before/1 week before/ two days before my big move?  Yes, I know that I've moved before.  I've moved quite a few times, actually.  But it's been a while, and I've never had much help.  This time 'round, it seems like I might have a good amount of help, and as such, I feel like I should be totally prepared.

I've shown up to move some people before, and all they had packed was a lunch.  That is not "help moving".  That is "help packing".  I'm looking for this move to go as smoothly as possible, and so I'd like for people who show up to "help move" to actually be able to just move, and not worry about packing.

So help a girl out there, you uber-organized peeps.  For example:

I'm thinking this can probably be packed.
I mean, yes, I may have to suffer through some warm Schweppes (my ginger ale of choice),
but I can manage it for a week (I think).

I'm not sure about this one.
I mean, what if I need to puree something?
What if I need a little magic?

Open to Suggestions,

TFW

Doing New Things

Yesterday was so good, so busy, so "Getting Crap Done"-awesome that I just didn't even have time to tell you all (still can't "y'all") about it.  Really, it was wonderful.  Afternoon classes were cancelled, because of a job fair.  

Who goes to job fairs?  People looking to gain employment.  Who is not looking to gain employment?  Yours truly!  (Ha!  A job!  A person would have to graduate from, and then not go back to, school in order to get one of those...)  So that left me off the hook for the afternoon (homework and pending research aside).

I headed out to our local Habitat for Humanity thrift store.  This was key as they are only open during certain obscure hours, and I've been trying to go out there to look for (a) a refrigerator, (b) a dresser, or (c) anything that looks necessary to the success of our new home-ownership-ness.

Well, the only refrigerator there was born before I was.  That is my number one rule of appliances - never by anything older than me.  Someday, when there are little people running around and I want something new, I might amend that to read "Never by any appliance older than the youngest person in your house."  Just for future reference.

So no fridge, but I did score this awesome table for $10!  I plan to use it for crafting/homeworking in our 3rd spare oohm when we move.

It's more awesome when it's set up than it looks here.
Really, I don't think there is much that looks totally awesome, stacked behind the weed-eater and covered in cardboard.
[except YOUR MOM!]

Also, something (I was going to say The Spirit, but I'm thinking not) came over me, and I stepped out of my comfort zone.  Really, this was a stretch for me.  I...  bought... 

... decorations!

I think the thought of having my own house has started to change me!
I might keep fruit in the basket.
I <3 that basket.

Can you believe it?!  I'm having trouble myself, and I'm the one who carried them around the store for 20 minutes, then finally paid the *quickmath* $7.97 for the whole lot and hauled them home.  It wasn't the best deal I've ever found (see above), but I was afraid that if I waited for the blue tags to be 50% off, someone else would snatch them up.

Apparently Handsome also had some trouble believing, as we had the following conversation about 30 minutes after I had showed them to him.  We had moved on to other things, talked, been quiet, and even had lunch, when this came up:

H: What did you say those were for?

M: I told you, I think they're decorations.

H: What for?  What are you going to do with them?

M: Well, from what I understand, people decorate with them.

H: Where are you going to put it?  You're just going to set a pot down and call it a decoration?

M: No, I thought I would maybe put them on a shelf together, with a potted flower or something.

H: That is homosexual.  A pot with flowers beside it?  Really?

(a) I understand his use of the word "homosexual" might offend some people.  sorry.  As a note, there is another, much more offensive Handsome story coming up at the end, and if you care to retain any affection for us at all, please stop reading if this one offended you.  It gets much worse.

(b) I wish you could imagine the incredulity on his face when he asked the last 2 questions.  Like I had suggested we stuff Duke and put him on a shelf with flowers.  Which has also been discussed from time to time in our home.  I can't explain these things.