Unexpected Woes

Guys.

I have the most ridiculous problem in the world.

I really need to lose a few pounds before conference (it’s the raspberry dress, which we haven’t worn since before Christmas, see).

And maybe that’s not so much a unique problem, because you see, most of America could stand to lose a few pounds. And I certainly know what steps to take.

Like refusing the extra slice of Lemon Merengue pie last night. Which I did.

And maybe getting off my studying butt and walking or running a few times a week.
Which I have been trying to do.

And it’s been beautiful out, so taking a walk seems like such an easy, lovely thing to do.
So what’s the problem, Nancy?

Oh, I’ll tell you.

I have a wonderful ward neighborhood. (Still not a problem…)
No, seriously, they are the kindest most loving and giving ward ever. (Quit bragging and tell us your problem Nancy.)

Every time I try to go for a walk, someone in my ward offers me a ride.
I’m not kidding. And of course, I’m too prideful to say “no, I’ve just gained 10 pounds since Christmas that need to come off before April.” So instead I have to smile and wave, pretend like I didn’t hear, or even make up a destination, then walk home from wherever I have them drop me off, taking a different route home and praying that no one sees me.

The thing is, I’m torn. If I tell them to leave me alone, then when my car really does break down and I really do need rides places, no one will stop and offer. They’ll just think “That Nancy is so dedicated to the choir, she is always walking just so she’ll fit into her dresses.”

May be I need t-shirts made. One that says “Poor college student with crappy car, give me a ride.” And another that says “fat girl exercising, leave me alone”

Remarkable

Despite my best morals, feminist ideas, and intellectual awareness, I'm still watching the Bachelor. I'm fascinated by the psychological disorders displayed by the people that so-called reality TV chooses for their cover models. I am convinced that there is actually a trained therapist working for the casting director of every "reality" program out there. When they discover an individual who is both seriously mentally ill and skinny enough to count as "pretty", they recommend said person for the program, to be set up as a behavioral standard for the mindless masses of America.

And America buys it.

Did you know that the show "Biggest Loser"- about the overweight displaying their deepest pains for the voyeurs of the world- actually has a higher relationship success rate than the "Bachelor/Bachelorette" franchise? Which is funny since the Bachelor show is the one that claims people come and find "true love". I bet it works the other way around too. I bet more mentally ill young women have lost more than half their body weight in an attempt to become "America's next Sweetheart" than have actually lost ponds on the "Biggest Loser".

Funny how neither show actually produces its advertised endgame. So much for truth in advertising.

Although to be fair, if the Bachelor advertised itself truthfully, it would draw an entirely different audience.

"Watch for an hour while the most attractive jackass we could find rejects women for having morals, and see if he chooses the dumbest girl, the most manipulative girl, or the girl with the biggest bra size! We edit everything just to show the most cleavage and tears! We will do all we can to humiliate and exploit! We will convince these stupid stupid girls not only that said jackass is actually prince charming, but also that when he dumps them, it is because there is something wrong with them and not with him!"

I have a friend who is very pretty. She has one of those charmed lives where even the biggest bumps in the road seem only to throw her for a day, 2 days tops, and then she is back on her way, sighing about how rough life can be. And everytime I hear her talk about a grumpy day or an afternoon where she felt so rotten she actually ate a whole candy bar, I think to myself "bless your heart, I wonder what is going to happen if reality ever slaps you in the face."

Depressed for two hours because your roommate didn't put away her cereal bowl? Try suicidal for 3 years because every aspect of life suddenly crumbled to pieces and there wasn't a soul willing or able to help salvage anything.

Someday "I dated the wrong boy once" will turn into "I haven't been on a real date in 12 years and every guy I ever liked ended up marrying one of my best friends."

Someday a "rough afternoon at work" will turn into "facing a lifetime at a dead-end, low-paying job".

Someday "I ate a candy bar" will turn into "I ate an entire package of fun-sized kit kats before ten in the morning."

Someday.

Or maybe it won't. There are those girls out there (particularly the very pretty ones) for whom life just falls into place. Its not a question of Prince Charming showing up, it a question of choosing between the 18 different Prince Charmings standing on the doorstep. One such girl told my little sister once "You don't know what it's like! You don't know how hard it is to be so pretty that you just can't trust whether boys really like you or not!"

I want to punch that girl in her pretty little button nose.

But here's the deal about those girls.

They aren't remarkable.

Frankly, with enough money, time, selfishness, and self-worship, anyone can be pretty.

To be remarkable, you have to choose something more than what everyone else chooses.

And the girls who choose "pretty" and stop there are a dime a dozen. They never run any deeper than the magazine cover they are airbrushed onto. And whether they are printed on recycled matte finish or high gloss photo finish, whether they are on the cover of Shape, Cosmo, Playboy, or the Ensign, they have just as much depth as the paper they have printed themselves on. None at all. And no matter how some boy decieves himself into believing there is more, when push comes to shove and life gets painful, printed paper doesn't hold up.

I like the word "remarkable" because it's one of those adjectives that culturally means something, but literally means something more. Like "awesome" and "incredible" and "marvelous" and "glorious", there are words that seem like they could all mean the same thing culturally, but if you examine the roots of the words, you find that each has its own place. So something could inspire us to marvel, or somthing could be filled with glory, something could be so amazing it's not quite believable, or something could fill us with awe, and we can choose to find the right word for it, or we could throw out whatever synonym cames to mind.

Remarkable means that something is worthy of notice. Literally, it is something about which one can or should "remark". Culturally, its a good thing. To be sure, there are things that are remarkable in a negative way... ("wow, that dessert was so remarkable, the dog wouldn't even lick it off my plate.") But generally speaking, while we make a lot of remarks, something is only really remarkable if the remarks are positive.

So let's talk about the women we know who are remarkable.

I am a member of a church and culture (although often equated with each other, the two are in fact seperate) that honors families. And that is wonderful. The church teaches that families are front and center in the grand scheme of things and that we should make active and conscious efforts to have a family and to focus on the family and to make the family our priority in every way. Wonderful. I have no problem with that. The problem I have is when the culture then steps in and mucks things up. If the church teaches that family comes first, then the culture teaches that anything not traditional family comes last. If the church teaches us to desire a family and work towards having a happy family, then the culture teaches that an absence of a family and any flaw in the family's design is a personal spiritual flaw. If the church teaches that families are forever, the culture teaches that lonliness is forever.

I think it's time we correct the doctrine of the culture. Frankly, our family is the whole world, every effort I make to improve myself will contribute to the well being of my someday family, and the very doctrine of eternity negates the crock that is eternal loneliness.

I have been lucky enough to have many dear friends who live their lives as faithful mormons despite unfulfilled dreams and promises and expectations. I love their examples. They are remarkable. I know remarkable women who face singleness with faith, who face childlessness with hope, who face abuse and mental illness and loss and all sorts of devastation with love.

And still these faithful, hopeful, loving individuals are fed the message of the bachelor. If your life didn't turn out perfect, there must be something wrong with you.

And just like I get angry with the person who told my little sister she wasn't pretty enough to understand how rough life is, I get angry with the people sending similar messages to other remarkable women I know. I get upset with the media that announces that all a girl needs to do is be pretty enough and dumb enough, my brain screams at the message that someone is still single because they are too smart or too intimidating, my heart aches for the couples called selfish in their childlessness.

And I know that every one of us asks from time to time, just like the dumb bachelor girls "what's wrong with me?" We spend hours on our knees and in books and with friends, wondering what we did differently than the girl who did "win", trying to fix it, trying to change it, trying to be ourselves but still be someone that other people would want to be with.

Why do those things have to be mutually exclusive? Why can't someone want to be with who I really am?

My personal questions come when people say thoughtless things that reveal their true and uninformed beliefs about me. "oh, you're just too particular" (because why? I'd like to be with someone who shares the same belief system as myself?), "your expectations are too high" (meaning I'm not good enough? or someone else is too good for me?) "If you pray hard enough, something will come along" (and you are aware of how much I do pray?). I could go on and on listing the senseless and downright mean assumptions people make about me and to me. I'm tired of it.

The other remarkable single women I know are tired of it too. We don't mind talking about the issues. We mind the ignorant assumptions. If you have questions, ask them. But think about them first. Don't ask "why are you still...", ask "what are your hopes?". "Why" becomes such an accusatory word.

There are too many people that I just don't like to talk to anymore because of such conversations. Conversations that discount who I really am and what I really do in favor or who I am "supposed" to be and what I am "supposed" to do. Too many conversations teach me that I matter less because I'm not at home with my own children. Don't get me wrong. I love to hear about your children. I just don't love that somehow the children I care for matter less because they aren't my own. I love to hear about your husband, I just don't love to hear about how your husband matters more than my search for a husband. I love to hear about your chores, I just don't love to hear that your chores are harder than mine because yours are for your family.

Life is full of pain. No one burden should ever be compared to the next. But we are a people of comparison and so often culture wins out. Which leaves those of us outside of cultural norms wondering where we went wrong. So here's to the remarkable people I know who press forward in the face of disappointment. Here's to the single girls who keep going to church despite the hurt of sitting alone in the back row. Here's to the childless woman praying that someone will pass her a baby, so she can hold and pretend and pray a little harder. Here's to the aching souls who pour every ounce of faith into the next footstep. I actually have a list, a real written down list of the remarkable women I know who keep going even when life doesn't turn out the way the sunday school manual said it would. Here's to Sarah and Becky and Laura and Barbara and Sherri and Andrea and Ally and Desiree and Kim and Tricia and Jeanine and Susan and Heather and Hannah and Amanda and every one of the remarkable women I know. If I named you all, this post would be twice as long as it already is. Thanks for being smarter than the bachelorette girls. Thanks for being my examples of living faithfully in the face of all the pain life throws at us. You remind me that the span for acheiving all that we hope for is longer than memory or mortal life. Whether I am racking up husband, children, knowledge, or depth of character, I'm adding to the only eternal home that matters.

My thoughts on Mitt

This post is not about politics or presidential nominations. I make no secrets of my political affiliation. But this post isn't about politics. It does not reflect my vote, my stance on healthcare, my beliefs about homosexuality, or any other topic that you could debate or hate over.

The fact is, Mitt Romney is a Mormon and he's getting a lot of press. And a lot of that press is about the fact that he is a Mormon. I can't log onto facebook without seeing listings of the articles my friends have read. (Side note: I do not want facebook telling the world what articles I read. Sometimes I read celebrity trash. Sometimes I read politically charged stuff. Sometimes I read geek stuff. Whether it is embarrassing or smart or opinionated, I do not want my browsing announced on my facebook feed. I am always trying to delete this info from my feed.) Some of the articles I see about Mitt and Mormonism are positive, some negative. There are people out there using this as an opportunity to express hatred, hurt, acceptance, and every range of opinion about Mormonism.

I don't like that my faith is being used for political gain. or loss.

But here are my thoughts on Mitt as a Mormon: He is representing well. He's not a crazy-pants preacher who spouts over the top religious pretenses as a platform. He is doing a decent job at acknowledging his fatih (unlike Huntsman, who practically denied it when questioned) and then pressing forward with his poitics seperately.

I'm glad for that. I'm glad that he's representing in an even, sane manner. None of this Michelle Bachmann attempt to evangelize the country. He's not calling on mormons for a vote, he's not raising "mormon" issues, he is normal.

And so the opinion articles and hate that is there (which have always been there) get more press time, but they don't have a leg to stand on.

In fact, if anything, they are creating more dialogue and more exploration. Wouldn't it be interesting to be a mormon missionary in the US this year? Whether you are getting love or hate or curiosity, you certainly are seeing less indifference.

I'm interested to see how closely the press watches general conference this year. It will certainly be analyzed in april if the nomination hasn't yet been decided. And will other candidates risk losing the evidently powerful mormon vote by attacking doctrines taught at General conference? Say someone like Newt uses General conference to attack Mitt and subsequently gains the GOP's nomination. How many Mormons will that send running to a new party entirely? Its not that far-fetched. Then again, say Mitt gains the nomination. How closely will october general conference be watched and reviewed by the press? One month before a presidential election, you can bet that reporters will be wanting to exploit what the religious leaders of one of the candidates have to say. And if something "controversial" comes up, will Mitt continue to stand by his faith?

And if Mitt gets elected, will the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sing at his inaguration?

OK, that last question may be more selfishly motivated. :)

But do you see where I am going?
I am glad for the discussion. I am glad for the microscope. I don't want my religion trivialized by politics. But if political climate means people examine my religion more closely, I am certain that it can withstand. If Mitt can continue to represent the religion in a decent, sane manner, people will take note.

Frankly, its free publicity for mormons. And I guess that sums up my stance on Mitt. As long as he remains a mentally stable rich guy who wants to be president and lives his controversial faith, I'm glad for the publicity.

PS. Comments are great. But don't post here if you feel the need to correct me, educate me, or debate me. I'm not interested. I form my opinions by reading official statements by candidates and parties, not by listening to propoganda. And I still haven't told you who I'm voting for, so don't assume anything either. This post was about religion, not politics.

Yellow Shoes

Because sometimes, when you've written 3 papers in a weekend, worked a little too much, and still felt fat and lazy and unproductive and there's still homework to be done...

Sometimes what you really need is not to choose another research topic and start the next project. What you really need is a new pair of shoes.

The Rules

I have a new roommate.
Sigh.
Yet another fine individual that will hopefully be temporary. She's 20. I know lots of 20 year olds, I even like lots of 20 year olds. But living with a 20 year old is a different skill than liking one. And living with a 20 year old while I am 35 is an even more particular skill. One that I do not have.
She talks about boys. Fine. I like boys. But she talks about boys ALL THE TIME. I like him, I don't like him, he likes me, he loves me, he wants to marry me, I don't want to marry him but I don't want him to date anyone else, he is so dumb, boys are so dumb, boys are sending mixed signals, his mom thinks I'm just playing with him, I am just playing with him, it goes on and on and on.

Sometimes she talks about work instead. My boss sucks, my co-workers suck, that lady was mean, I was mean, my boss won't let me watch movies, the mean lady reported me for being mean when all I was doing was being mean back to her...

I'm so tired.

I so look forward to a day when the question of "who I live with" will no longer be in constant transition. I don't care what makes it stop, I just don't want to have to switch roommates again. At least not after I trade out this one. And I'm certain she's temporary.

I was getting frustrated the other night. I went to bed as usual around 10 pm. She was in her room watching a movie. I turned off the lights in the house, locked the door and went to bed. I heard her get up and go to her car for something around 11. I was bugged when I woke up at 2 in the morning to notice that the hallway lights were on. She was clearly in bed asleep. I went to turn off the lights, and discovered that the bathroom lights were on too. And the living room. And the kitchen. And the door was left unlocked. Have you seen my house? Because guess what. THAT'S EVERY ROOM IN THE HOUSE. Except mine.

I have been known to leave a light on now and again. Particularly when I am home alone or scared for some silly reason. But every light? After I had already turned them off?

And leaving to door unlocked? It happens. But there have been a number of times in the last few weeks when I have come home and she is at work and the lights are on and the door is unlocked and its the middle of the day.

And I thought about telling her that there are some rules. Like turn off the lights and lock the door. But I don't want to be that roommate who makes all the rules and is a total nasty person. By the way. She moved in the first week of December and she hasn't done the dishes once. Not once.

Sigh.

SO.

I need to get the rules off my chest.

The rules of living with Nancy.
These have been developed over 85 roommates and 20 years.

If you think you could live like this, please by all means, APPLY!

1. Turn off the lights
2. Lock the doors
3. If you are throwing away fast food cups full of soda, dump the soda out before putting the cups in the trash.
4. If you are putting dishes in the sink, scrape the food/bones/napkin/etc off into the trash before dumping the dishes in the sink.
5. If you (or I) have a deadline, dishes in the sink are just fine.
6. If there are too many dishes to fit in the sink, they are top priority. Deadllines don't matter.
7. There is no purpose to making the bed. If I feel like it, it will happen. If you feel like making your bed, go for it.
8. I am obsessive about having a clean stovetop. Wipe spills, clean spots, and count on the fact that I will probably bleach it every day.
9. Don't touch my crepe pan. Don't use it, and if you do use it, don't wash it. I will take care of it. If you ruin it, I would greatly appreciate a replacement.
10. Karaoke is not for singing in tune. Neither is the shower.
11. Cereal can and will be eating at any time of day and out of any container available.
12. Cereal is sacred. I don't share it.
13. I'm happy to share baking ingredients. Except for chocolate chips.
14. I'm a bit like Sheldon (Big Bang Theory) I have a spot where I sit. If you sit there, I will feel very lost.
15. Chocolate Ice Cream is very messy. When I eat it, it will be on my face, my clothes, and probably onthe furniture. Deal with it.
16. Clothes go in your bedroom, not the bathroom, living room, kitchen, etc. If you are doing laundry, I get it. Once its clean and dry, get it off my couch/floor/etc.
17. Pay rent on time. I have a great relationship with my landlord. Don't mess with it.
18. I hate pizza boxes. If you seriously ordered a pizza and then didn't eat any of it, go ahead and put it in the fridge. If not, let's put the leftovers in bags/containers and throw away the box. Sooner rather than later.
19. Speaking of pizza boxes, they go in the recycling.
20. If the recylcing or trash is full, take it out. Don't add to the pile spilling over the top forcing me to dig through trash to find the edge of the liner, dump it all over the floor or myself.
21. Park respectfully. Don't block the sidewalk/walkways. And if you are going out of town for a while, don't take up the good spot.
22. The hours between midnight and 4 am are quiet time. Unless we are doing something ridiculous and silly together, you should be very respectful of quiet. Don't show up and start packing boxes at that time of night either. I'm only asking for four hours. That's not unreasonable.
23. No boys overnight. Duh.
24. Music is important to me. If you are listening to it without headphones, then I am listening to it too. Let's talk about that. I might veto some music. You are welcome to veto some of mine. I know my taste can be particular, I try to be flexible. Please offer me the same courtesy.
25. Sheryl Crow sucks. Her voice grates on my nerves like a motorcyclist hitting pavement at 75 miles per hour. Without a helmet. I veto her entirely and always.
26. You know the little plug-pull thingy that stops the bathtub faucet and turns on the shower? Please push it back down after you get out of the shower. This is a ridiculous pet-peeve of mine. I recognize it as ridiculous, and I still want you to push it back down.
27. Do not give me or ask for advice on marriage/boys/dating. Clearly my track record does not reveal skills that you want. And as far as your advice goes, I've probably heard it. I'm happy to discuss joys and pains, even as they relate to dating. But as soon as you say "what should I do?" or "you should..." I'm out. (This rule goes for friendships, aquaintances, family members, classmates, and perfect strangers as well.)

Now I know this nearly thirty items long. But I really don't see this as being unreasonable. There are a few absolutes. But overall, I'm a very nice person. Most of this should be logic to any grown up. Shouldn't it?

neither witty nor profound

Its new years eve. I feel obligated to mention that because people like to make a big deal out of it. I've never really understood why. Because they are excited about their new calendar? Maybe last year they had cute puppies dressed like humans and this yeaar they are moving on to cats in awkward positions? Maybe last year's calendar had a lame picture for their birth month? I know its the first thing I check when I get a new calendar.

Sometimes I wonder if the hype about new years eve is related to an out with the old sort of attitude. You know how what happens in Vegas is suupposed to stay in Vegas? Maybe people are hoping that what happened in 2011 will stay in 2011. Of course, reality is that neither holds true, since whatever happened still happened regardless of where or when. So much for out with the old. And since you can't away with the past, the new isn't as shiny as everyone pretends it is.

Gosh this sounds depressing.
That's not my intent.
I just felt obligated to make mention of the timing and then defend myself for posting a blog instead of going to a party and kissing random strangers.

Reality is, I'm babysitting. Two little girls that I adore. They went to sleep as perfectly as they always do and I probably should be cleaning up their toys. But instead I'm taking advantage of the internet and the quiet.

Apparently I've taken 376 pictures in the last month. I'm downloading them to my computer now. I don't know yet how most of them turned out, I'll probably delete more than half, but I'm going to post a few here for fun. Let's do it by choosing some of my favorite numbers. I may or may not comment on them. Lets see what picture number 8 has to offer. (I like the number 8. It looks like infinity.)


That's nice. I like the exposure I used. If onlly I actually knew what the trick was. My only complaint is that its crooked.

On to 42. The answer to the question of life, the universe and everything is....


A very hogwarts chritmas! This is the set for the concerts we did this year. It was amazing. As you can see.

Alright, I'm at a bit of a loss for numbers, so lets go with the highest prime number I know off the top of my head, which is 97


It's a picture I took of the hubble feed at the clark planetarium, which was telling me amazing new wonderful things about galactic discoveries. My friend becky and I spend hours and hours at the planetarium. We watch the movies (educational and unintentionally hilarious) and we play with the toys... errr, experiements intended to educate children, and we laugh and laugh and laugh. There are very few people in this world who let you really let go and just be you.

alright, indulge me for a second while I post some photos I selected because they are awesome. We had the best, loudest, most fun table at the choir christmas dinner. mostly because of this person right here


I'm going to have to have her autograph it for me.




And the women in the picture with me. They make up the most amazing women I know and have ever had the pleasure of calling friends. I seriously can't tell you how very awesome each of them are.


I'm going to go with number 113 now. Because that's sort of my birthday. I believe this will launch us into the family portion of the month.



Ok, I fudged. When I saw which picture this was going to be, I selected the next one in line, but only because it was the exact same people and pose, just not blurry. This was probably my favorite picture of the whole lot.

What's that? I've posted a gazillion shots and we're not even halfway through? Whats half of 376? 188.


Christmas morning.

now. on to the christmas hymns. 210?



heh. match-y match-y!
I spent christmas at my sister's house, which meant I got to participate in the santa experince and then attend church in a tiny branch where one of the talks included the statement "I've decided I really don't prefer the christmas hymns in polka-style"

are you bored yet? we're nearing the end. the next 40 or so pictures were taken by my niece Katie. Which means they are all blurry, but she (being the darling only girl youngest of 7) managed to get smiles our of every person she captured. I could devote an entire blog post to a series of photos, all slightly blurred, but of every grown up in my family giving katie the exact same grin. Its pretty funny to look through. and right at the end there are no less than 10 shots of her cousin charlotte's cinderella doll.

here is 243.



now on to a nice bouncy sort of number. 275. (only 101 to go!)


can you see how she's showing you that she is "sooooo big!"?

ALright. I'm getting tired. let's wrap this up

Four in a row. I went to bemidji, minnesota. its far away and cold and its where the mississippi river starts. We tok small children swimming, we fed them chocolate, and I braved the cold for just long enough to get a very important picture.


See how I'm picking Babe the Big Blue Ox's nose?
Amy told me to.





The shacks on the frozen place are ice houses on the lake. I know lots of you may not have experienced this before, so I included it for your education. People build towns on the lakes in northern minnesota in the winter. in some places they even create roads using sand and stop signs. while there are no roads in this shot, my dad did say that he counted 48 ice houses. We only saw a couple trucks and vans out there on this day, but I'm sure that since it was the day after christmas, people were off doing some other important thing like buying AA batteries for sven and ole's toys or returning that sweater from cousin brita. I came back with a pretty strong accent.

Well that wraps up my photo review. There are lots of others worth sharing, but maybe some other time. or maybe not. school starts up again in 4 days.
:)

Happy new year!

Snappy!

I went to denver... uhhh, a couple months ago. I went to visit my very awesome cousin and her adorable baby (who, incidentally, loved me.) and we made crafts and went to story time and in general did a nice little vacation-y weekend. We ate out (Q-doba, how I miss you) and we went shopping (a favorite past time) and we visited Snappy's Quilt Shop. Snappy is my Aunt Nancy. I like to imagine that I'll get to be like her when I grow up, because I'm named after her, and so its destiny. But I have a long way to go before I have her innate sense of fun and style. And now that I think about it, innate means that she was born with it and since it hasn't manifested itself in me yet, this may be a hopeless endeavor. But anyways.

She has recently opened a quilt shop. Where I browsed for hours and drooled over the fabrics and generally daydreamed about being sassy and fun.

And I left with the fabric and pattern to make myself a little bag. Which I made.



And I love it. See the cute newsprint-y fabric? and the stripes? and the blue, well, you don't see it at a glance because its all ruffled and girlish looking, but it actually has bugs on it.

I get lots of compliments on it, so I want to tell people it was really hard to make, but it wasn't.

And I figured since i have a few friends who spend some holidays in Denver, I should plug her shop here. She didn't ask me to, but I honestly think most of my friends would have a blast if they spent a few minutes there. If nothing else, so you can meet my Aunt Snappy and finally understand the level of cool I am aspiring to.

So next time you are in Denver, stop by Snappy Quilts (that's really what its called). Its not far from the temple, and I'm sure you can google it, since I don't know Denver well enough to give you directions, that would be much more effective.

Oh, and I'm sure I'll do a little more updating while I am avoiding finals and such. So don't give up on me.