Health Update

It seems as if no real damage was done by Saturday's accident. My CNA was pushung wheelchair, got distracted by someone in the hall, and ran my chair hard into the door jamb. The shock was exceedingly painful, and I had little focal seizures in my hands and lower arms for some minutes of the 45 I waited for a nurse to appear. Why I bothered to wait for her, I don't know.
She reluctantly brought me an Incident Report form, aand I filled it out before I forgot any details. I don.t want to cause trouble for the new CNA , but ya know. when I think of the people not as aware as I am who could be really seriously hurt by such inattention, and unable to complain... I also called my DH and told him, and told the Administrator today too. I want people to know what happens here. The sad fact is, those who know.don't care, and those who care don't know!
About telling the Admin guy, who really is a decent sort, but falls sadly into the 'don't know' category.more often than not, more wierdness this morning. I asked my CNA (not the one who ran me into the door) who I had to speak to to get to see the Admin guy. Without batting an eye she told me I had to go to the Dining room and ask someone who worked in Activities to set it up.
This sounded odd to me, and getting up is a literally painful and time consuming processs,but I wanted to be sure I told him, so I said, "Okay, get me up when you have time, and let's do this." She helped me get dressed. rolled me into the diningroom, and was already walking away when I stopped her and asked thhat she wait a minute. Something was fishy about how eager she was to drop me off and split.
I called over an Activities aide and asked to see the mighty Admin Guy. I saw her excjange looks with my CNA who shrugged in a way that clearly meant , "Who knows?"
"He's in a meeting." she told me. "They announced it." I admit that here, I lost it a little. Dammit, getting up HURTS ! "No one told me! "I wailed. To be fair, my CNA (Certified Nurse Assistant)hjad not heard the announcement either. The activities lady seemed genuinely sorry I was upset, and puzzled as to why I had come to her for help to see the Big Guy. Apparently I had been misled.
The more I think about it, the more suspicious I become that this was a case of deliberate misdirection. The CNA may not have known about the meeting, but she DID know that Activities does not have anything to do with seeing the Boss! I suspect that she planned to just drop me off in the Diningroom to shift for myself, and that I would probably forget all about whatever I wanted to see the Admin Guy for. If not, I would be someone else's problem!
The nice Activitites Lady took me to the mearest nurse's station, promising me that someone there would take me to the Boss's office as soon as the meeting ended. The wait there was not totally unproductive, as I ran into the Physician's Asst. I needed to see. about an unrelated matter.
At length, I got taken to the Admin Guy, who had not been informed about the accident. See what I mean? Anyway, I told him the story, and he is "Looking into it." He gave me his inner office phone number and said he checcks his voice mail often. He also confirmed thta I should just tell whoever my attendant is to get to see him, no Aztivities people needed for an appointmente I hope it will be easier to get to him when I need him for something again!
At lunch, my tablemates agreed the whole story about asking Activities to see the Boss stank to high Heaven. *SIGH* Anyway, we'll see if :Looking into it" producrs any results.

Happy Holidays!

33 years!! Goddess! I am 33 years an Initiated Witch this morning! I remember it as if I had just out out the candles. I smell the incense & taste the wine. I brought some awful Polish mead to the ritual and had to drink a whole chalice full! Ergh!
I learned my lesson though, and have passed it on to Dedicants ever since- bring a wine you know and like VERY much or one you don't care if you will never want to drink again! The herbs in the potion quite spoiled the taste and the texture was cloying. I don't know if that was the fault of the herbs my Teacher added or not , but I still don't have the moxie to try it again!
My Vigil was the longest night of my life so far. And ,even now, it is only (barely) eclipsed by the night before my wedding, I spent that lying beside my soon-to-be husband, the Coven Sword between us, praying desperately that we were going to beat the odds and make our very much mixed marriage a success. I knew then I NEVER wanted to suffer through another night like that! I think if more couples spent the eve of their wedding with the sword between them, we would have a MUCH lower divorce rate!
When the Vigil was ended about half an hour before dawn, Yule, 1975, I was told to wait in another room while the Circle was cast. The bell would ring, and I would have to go into the other room. My robe had a big hood that fell long past my eyes, and when it was up, my vision was poor. I stood there shivering, waiting for the bell to ring, trying to remember the words I had been told to say...
Suddenly, I became aware that someone, also in ritual robes, was standing at the door. I could not see it clearly through the hood of my robe, but it looked vaguely like my Teacher in height and weight. It did not speak to me, but made an unmistakable 'Come on' gesture and stood waiting for me.
Now, I knew that I had been told to wait for the bell. I also knew that tests were everywhere and often came when least expected. Was this a test? I didn't know. I did know that a lot depended on my response.
Thankfully, I had to lift my hood to be able to obey, and that bought me a little time. I fumbled, begging pardon, and lifted the hood, ready to go, bell or not, opting for obedience and praying that was the virtue being tested and not compliance with the Ritual...
There was no one there.
A few seconds later the bell rang and I stumbled down the hall to the room where the Circle awaited me, praying now that it was compliance with the Ritual that had been tested, and that by fumbling I had lucked into passing.
My Teacher gave me no indication, aye,or no..
I went through the Rite in a sort of golden fog. Pieces of it come back to me as I write. A soft glow of candlelight around my Teacher;s bent head, the sharp prick of the sword against my breast; a shock even though I knew it was coming, all went past me as if I dreamed awake. I made my vows and was accepted.
After the Ritual, I said to my teacher,"I was really confused when you came to get me before the bell rang." My Teacher looked at me. "I didn't come for you."my Teacher said. To this day, I wonder who or what came to my door that morning, and to what Initiation I might have gone had I just followed without fumbling with my hood. Whether I passed that test or failed it, I am here, and received the Initiation I had prepared for. I pray now that it was the right decision !
A last story on myself before I close this post. After the Feast was done, and all the candles out that frosty Chicago morning, I said to my Teacher, So when do I start feeling normal again?" My Teacher snorted. "Baby -cakes,this is now normal." After 33 years, my Teacher was right.

Let's be friends

Let's be friends
Just an amazing and beautiful photo. Happy Yole!

Health Update

The pathology reports are back. The other day. my doc came and told me the news. The news is, nobody knows. Well, the Goddess knows. but She isn't speaking to the Path lab! They say the weeping lesions on my legs are not blisters nor are they tumors nor are they symptomatic of an infection.



Just what they ARE, though, no one is telling. The Doctor says she doesn't know what to make of the report. Why she came to tell me that I don't know! It 's not as if I am privy to info the path lab doesn't already have!

Anyway, the cold compresses and creams would be comforting (and torture) if they were as the skin doc ordered, but they're applied sorta like everything else here- hit or miss and at the whim of whichever treatment nurses responsible for this carcass on the day in question. That is to say, not as often or as long as ordered, and most often, not at all. I am yet to receive the treatments as ordered. I am gonna make myself a pest and talk to hospital admin about this. I cannot diagnose the lesions but I have what is wrong with this place at a glance- the ones who give a good God damn don't know what is going on, and the ones who know what is going on don't give a good God damn!

I am still gonna laugh though, so I don't cry. More Info as it develops. The blisters seem a little better even with the uneven application of treatment, and the rash on my feet is definitely better, so I am hopeful. Santissima me ayude! (Holy One [Female] help me!)

Run, Don't Walk

I am coming up on the 34th anniversary of my initiation at Yule, and not much scares me. The other day, I saw something that gave me nightmares. It was an article written by my magical teacher and published on Witchvox

It was not the contents of the article that scared me, it was the name signed on the bottom. I cannot mention it here because of that pesky rule in the Law about not exposing any of the Craft to any tribunal outside. Any of you who have heard about Randy, the Alley God, and/or the Octopus Enthroned will know who (s)he is.

I studied under this person for 4 1/2 years. They were the greatest privilege,and the direst trial of my life. (S)he was/is brilliant, an excellent communicator, and could be kind, funny, charming, the whole dream teacher. (S)he could also be tyrannical, arbitrary and violently abusive.

It is that violence that scared me, still does. And, that fear in my heart is why I am writing. To a student, a teacher is a lesser God. A teacher holds the student's soul in their hands. A Teacher who abuses this holy trust can do irreparable damage. I speak from experience. I have permanent damage to my left eye from a fist, permanent damage to my self image from the emotional abuse, and a murdered familiar to remind me.

Students, Dedicants, and prospective Witches, I implore you, before you sign on, check out your Teacher. What is his/her standing in the community? Have there been a rash of un- or poorly explained departures from their group? Yes, we are beset with our share of genuinely unprepared and unworthy students, but is this teacher's luck unusually bad?

If, after you have begun training with them you find they are making demands on you that contravene your instincive boundaries, taking more and more and more control of your life, cut you off from harmless non-Craft friends, or make you feel just wrong , RUN, do not walk as far away as possible.

I did not. Consequently, I was shamed, beaten, estranged from my family, and generally abused. I know how bad it is to love one's abuser almost more than one loves one's own life. Teachers can have that power. Mine did. Because I was unwary, trusting, and young for my age, I allowed it to happen to me. Please, be forewarned, and do not let it happen to you.

Wicca respects the relationship between a student and their Teacher, and being interfered with so often , we are loath to interfere. Still we owe i t to those whose lives are in our care to demand of ourselves the highest level of ethical behavior, and to deal summarily with those who offer themselves as Teachers , but refuse to do the same. I am available to advise and help, May the Lady bless!
Mare

Health Update

Update:

A few months ago, my legs started to swell. In a matter of weeks, my thighs had put on 60 lbs. of flabby. watery tissue that felt like overstretched water balloons. Just my thighs. Since then, I have developed small, red, weeping lesions that start like water blisters and HURT. I am not processing vluids well, apparently, so I lymph is buiding up in my soft tissues.

I saw the Dernatologist Monday. He was soft spoken, kindly, and , thank the Goddess, gentle. He did a punch biopsy on the lesions and said in a few days we will know if what I have is dermatopolymyicitis (The condition that killed my dad )or not. It is a rare condition,and the sores do not look like Poly to him, but with a positive history in the family, we are not taking chances.

Like I needed this! Anywaym any spare good thoughts and/or well wishes lying around, I would appreciatr it if you sent them my way. I live in a hospital so the treatment should be easy to get, right? Wrong! So far, no one has made a motion to do the treatments the nice doctor ordered to relieve me. the next step is for me to lodge a complaint with the administrator, but I hope it doesn't have to go that far.

You'd think these people would realizr that following Dr's orders means LESS work in the long run, not to mention less a$$ chewing by admin. But , NO!

More news as it comes in.

I Remember Mama

Seems like my mother has been on my mind a lot lately. Maybe it's because the holiday season is where her talents really shone. She was the first person in her family to achieve a higher education, much less a MFA- and she outdid herself this time of year with dinner parties, decorations, and all that stuff she held so dear.

I remember especially poignantly this year, when I am in the health center, in an 8' X 10' cubicle, dreaming of home. On Christmas Eve, every year, we decorated the tree. Mother and I did, Dad supervised, criticised, and drank wayyy too much eggnog.

The tree held her treasures, hundred -year- old glass ornaments from Germany, and wax- dipped folded-paper creations only a kid could make, and only a Mother could love. I remember being endlessly fascinated by those little lights filled with colored water that bubbled . One year, she invested in a white flocked tree, and decorated it with nothing but huge red velvet bows. Dad and I did not usually agree on such things but that year we presented a united front- it was hideous!

We went to Midnight Mass every year. Before we went, I was allowed to open just one present, my choice. The rest of the loot had to wait, theoretically, until after breakfast on Christmas. but in practice we usually couldn't wait. and opened presents while we were enjoying Mother's 4 alarm chili- cooked all afternoon every Christmas Eve. Back then, When God was a Boy, we had to fast before Mass, so we were pretty hungry by the time we got home from church, being tantalized all day by the odors of cooking chili and stollen (a light coffee-cake-type bread ). That was for breakfast.

I remember my fifth birthday. I was born in January, so I guess all the Holiday magic had not worn off yet. Mother transformed our living room into an Italian restaurant, complete with card tables set up with candles in wine bottles and red - checked oilcloth table cloths. All the guests were served a spaghetti dinner as well as cake and ice-cream. We did not have a perspiring accordionist, but if she could have found one, he would have been there. That kind of attention to details was her genius.

I remember my thirteenth birthday, I met a fellow who became my first teen - age crush, He wowed me by wearing a white dinner jacket to the party. We played a lot of kissing games that night. His first gift to me did not bode well for the relationship, however. He brought me a rattlesnake skin mounted on a piece of fibre glass.

We lasted through the Summer. Then, I bowed to social pressure and broke off with him. He had a reputation for being "wild". In those days, my own reputation was at risk because of his. Wherever you are, honey, we both missed good bets, and I hope you are happy, and still a bit wild.

I remember hearing tales of what a practical joker Mother was. When she was newly married and Dad was at sea, she wrote to tell him she was considering dyeing her hair blond. Dad thundered back that he forbade her to do any such thing! He could not have picked an approach more calculated to get Mother's 'Irish' up. but. he was young too, and from a family where Papa was BOSS. Mother said nothing more about it, but right before the ship was due back in port, she cut the long blond curls off an old doll of mine, and tucked them under a babushka tied over her own hair,just the white-blond wisps peeking out. Then she went down to the pier to meet Dad's ship. I don't know what Dad said when he saw her, but I do know Dad never said 'I forbid you' to Mother ever again!

More Heraldic Adventures

I am glad to say that my gaffe with the midwife was not the end of my Heraldic career. I continued to prove the truth of my observation about saying stupid things loudly for years!

The first really dumb thing I said was an affirmative to the question, "Are you doing to the Orange County Fair?" It is, like many such extravaganzas, a yearly celebration of nothing much in particular -characterized by lots of hoopla, incredible food. and moth-eaten carnival rides. I was a rookie- green enough to grow, and sublimely ignorant of the realities of my situation. In short, I had nary a clue. I should have gotten one, maybe when our local VIP who was wheelchair bound got the trots from something he ate, and had to leave the first day. Nope/ Then. the Lady who took over for him running our little reenactment passed the buck to me- She had a habit of saying stupid things too - like "We'll be fine. What can go wrong?" But, not being a Herald, she was able to whisper.

What could go wrong was that our VIPs turned into a mini-epidemic, our Canadian visitor who was underage spent all his food vouchers on beer, and the whole weekend violently expelling from either his upper or lower digestive tract, and a visiting VIP and entourage were on there way to complicate matters.
He was my superior, in SCA terms, and I was bound and determined to impress him. When he went anywhere in character, I rang my bell and announced in my loudest voice- "Make way! Way for the king's Herald! " Once everyone in the fair was heartily sick of both my imperious blowhard of a boss, his entourage, and that noisy kid with the freaking' bell, the stage was set for my next adventure in stupidity. We got food vouchers every day, which we were expected to turn in at food/drink vendors at the fair . Except the guy from Canada, the folks did pretty well- no one had any real complaints. Until, my aforementioned boss decided he wanted some ice cream from one of those little hand-dipped ice cream kiosks on the midway. I ran and got my bell, the folks lined up, and we made our noisy way to the stand.
I was busily collecting orders for flavors and desired toppings, figuring I would show the Big Guy how efficient I was - when a marvelous coincidence occurred to me. All of the women in our group had opted for chips and sprinkles and whatnot. The men on the other hand , had opted for peanuts and almonds and coconut, Almost before the glow of the light bulb faded, I said, in my clearest ringing tone "Hey! the girls are the ones without the nuts!" Above the guffaws, I heard my boss's voice. "Just discovered that, have we?"

I wish I could tell you that I learned from what went down in the unofficial annals of the Society as the Orange County Disaster, I really do.
Sadly this was not the case, More to follow...

What (Real ) Witches do on Halloween

To forestall any argument or bad feelings and bruised toes, let me start out by saying that if one walked into a room with ten Witches in it, one would find at least 23 different and often mutually exclusive opinions and 5 or six newsletters. It is not my intention to represent myself as any sort of expert of Traditions not my own.


A tradition, for the uninitiated, is like a denomination of Christianity. I am not even claiming to be an expert on Wicca. I am claiming to be an intelligent human with opinions, beliefs and experience to share.





That said, I will talk about what my Coven called Pleiades of the Tradition/Temple Caer Sidi did this Samhain - the Celtic name for the festival celebrated at the end of October.





Dates are slippery things. as every parent knows. And, kids operate on a different calendar than grown-ups. We have Mabon,Yule, and Samhain. They have Turkey Day, Present Day, and Candy Night, Once my children were mobile. I realized that, to preserve the fragile peace in my home, I had better not mess with Candy Night. Besides that, our Tradition uses a Lunar Calendar, and days run from sunset to sunset , Samhain would be over before the candles were lit.


Yule was not a problem-no kid in his/her eight mind is gonna complain about getting his/her presents four days SOONER than their Classmates! Consequently I proposed to the Coven that until our children were old enough to forgo the usual Halloween shenanigans, we would celebrate our religious holiday within a three day window of opportunity. The parents saw the wisdom of my suggestion, and no one else really had a reason why not, so my idea was adopted unanimously.





Tonight, I will watch scary movies on TV. My son will go out masquerading as a High School student (he's 16). My daughter will probably be a vampire.





This explains, I hope, why we did the Ritual of Samhain Thuersday night instead of tonight. My students are far flung nowadays, and have busy lives of their own. My husband of 28 years and the Elder of the Coven made use of my little 8' by 10' cubicle - pulling the curtains around us closed, and breathing a silent prayer that neither of my room-mates would take it into her head to need/want a nurse while we worked.

We started by casting a virtual Circle. Hospital rules and City Fire ordinances preclude the use of our usual candles and incense. We joined hands and pulled in energy, constructing a Circle in my tiny space. I read the second half of the Myth of the Goddess - a prose poem that describes a version of the Persephone Myth. The first half is read at Mabon, ending with the Priestess asking the God of the Underworld why He is the enemy of Life. In the second half, she receives teaching about why the seasons change, and why Witches do not believe there was ever war in Heaven. I looked over at our Elder, and saw him surreptitiously wipe a tear away. He has heard this story every year for nearly 30 years, and he gets misty every time. If he is reading this- That is one of the reasons I love you, Anarion.

We could not use candles or inscense, and I had to have electric light to read, and we did not waer robes, but Anarion did smuggle in a tablespoon or towo of a decent red wine, and i had saved some crackers from dinner. for Cakes and Wine, It is true that things in Circle happen in a place that is not a place in a time that is not a time. As we cast our tiny, claustrophobia-inducing Circle, the realities of my situation mlelted away. I stood in the Circle with my Brothers and invoked the Ancient Ones as if I stood in the grandest Temple on Earth. We reverently shared the cup and the bread, remebered our Brothers and Sisters who had passed on, prayed that we would always remember the Burning Times and never become oppressors in our turn.

The settings were spartan and the attendance meager, but those things didn't matter as we prayed, shared, and dreamed about the coming season of Winter.


When the simple rite of remeberance was over, we released the energies we had summoned for the Circle, and settled down to the feast - Anarion had brought fruit, bread and cheese, and Seqouia had provided more cheese and garlic nan, an Indian bread he knows I love.

We talked and laughed and enjoyed each other's company. It wa s a weird and in some ways impoverished Samhain. I can no longer dance, we had no privacy for a Great Rite, and I did not have the necessaries for the scrying I usally do at Samhain. But, when it was all done, and we were ready to part, I asked the ritual question of our Elder-"Is your soul satisfied?" And, I believed him when he said it was.
I know running a Coven is like herding cats under the rosiest conditions, and these ain't them, but this Samhain was what a Wiccan Rite should be- warm, loving, balancing mirth and reverence. I think our depaerted Brothers and Sisters must have gone home smiling. I know we did.

I spent a pleasant lunch hour the other day with my friend Michael. He is a gentleman I met in the dayroom who can and does converse lucidly, even witily in English. One has only to look around this place to appreciate what a find he is!

I was telling him that I have, for 30+ years been a member of the Society for Creative Anachronisms. I am a Herald, responsible for matters of protocol, making announcements, and working out representative symbols with members- these are called devices, and decorate clothing, sheilds and items of clothing worn by members of this international Medieval Recreationist society. I explained my role to michael by saying that. not only did heralds say dumb things sometimes, they said them really LOUD! I remembered announcing a long, tedious introduction to some visiting VIP's . "Lord Such-n-Such of How's- Your =Father, and Lady Whosis...." It was hot, muggy, and no one was really listening. I made it through a long list of names, occaisonally stirring a little ripple of laughter when I mis-pronouced or mangled someone's name. (Hey, I was a rookie) One of the Ladies sailed by me dressed as a nun - "Sister Bernadette, " I announced in my biggest voice- the next lady did not offer a name . but an occupation. "and HER midwife" . A ripple of laughter became a roar- a very red faced herald disappeared toute suite!

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  I have one last article, which I hope will spark a discussion- what is the stupidest thing you have ever done with your clothes on? I had hard time choosing This question occurred to me while I was doing an Occupational Therapy exercise which involved standing up, taking clothespins from a box, adding them, one by one to a yardstick with alternating hands - to increase balance and muscle control. It is plenty stupid- but not a patch on the prise winner. The stupidest thing I ever did with my clothes on was taking a ride with a stranger one stormy night in Chicago. I was drenched, he was creepy. Stupidity. I got into the car and was not even surprised when he sailed past my turn off. "You're not in a hurry, are you?" he asked. Quick to inform him that I was :




• ln a BIG hurry




• NOT interested




• Prepared to jump out of the car and make my complaint heard in Municipal Court .

I was only wet and not dead or worse when he drove away.

See, I told you I was lucky! So, do, tell what's the stupidest thing You've done with your clothes on?

Triumph and Tragedy

I will start with a small triumph. Today, for the first time in two years, I walked , Not far. But. I had no walker, just the arm of an orderly. I am exhausted, but still glowing!

Now for a minor rant.about a major problem. Abuse of the helpless, of whatever age has been in the news a lot lately. The worst abuse, I am certain is the old paralyzing "Don't Care" syndrome. This pernicious affliction is characterized by lack of empathy, lowered expectations, and sinking temperatures, especially around the heart.

Yesterday, I was witness to an incidence of abuse that was the more horrible because the abusers did not intend or even realize that they had done anything wrong.
Both of my room mates suffer from dementia. Neither of them know if I am the Second Coming or the Easter Bunny. The lady on my left, I'll call her Lori, was dressed and ready to go to the day room after breakfast. The CNA assigned to my room went to find the huge, crane-like lifting machine that helps support people who can't walk while they are transferred from bed to wheelchair and back. Finding the one at this end of the hall was in use she made her first mistake. Instead of waiting the few minutes for the machine to be freed up, or going looking for one of the two other machines in other wings which might not be in use, she made her second mistake. She picked a big,healthy guy who was also afflicted with "Don't Care"-itis to help her. They just grabbed the poor lady under the arms and plumped her down into the chair by main force. I heard the noise!
It was loud enough to make me jump. I looked around and saw an expression of stark terror on her face! There was no way to explain what they were doing, even if they had cared enough to try - and she cannot speak to complain. I complained, and loudly. The answer I got was saddest of all the sad things about this story. The guy slunk away without a word, the CNA excused herself by saying the lifting machine was in use.

I spent 10 minutes soothing my room mate the only way I knew how,soft voice and smiles. her fear gradually faded, and she was taken to the day room. I hope she has forgotten. I never will.

Now, to take the bad taste away, another triumph. I had never known, before I started attending a class in Japanese Art that I was any kind of an artist at all. This year, our county fair had an art show, and some of our teacher;s students were invited to exhibit works. I was really speechless when the teacher asked if I would like to enter, I had never even thought I could draw, much less competed! I did enter the Fair,. My painting is what is called a Hai Ga - a work that combines a poem and a bamboo brush painting. I actually won an ugly pink fourth prize ribbon, The greatest thing about this triumph is that the judges did not know I am in a hospital, were unaware of my handicaps and prognosis, I did it on the strength of what I had been taught to do. Not even one pity point!

My World and Welcome to It

Hello! This premiere Edition of Living Among the Lily-Pads comes out on a very special day! I have a rant for you, some minor triumphs. and since this is our first meeting, a bit of an introduction. I hope you will enjoy reading my maunderings, and please do feel free to comment.

Comments which contain hateful language, blatant proseletizing, or obsenity will not be published, OK? I want this to be for mature audiences of whatever age.

Now, for the Intro!

I am a 58 year old woman who is a resident in a Health Centre in Southern CA. I am a surviver of child abuse, domestic violence, 5 brain operations, gastric bypass and pneumonia every year since I was two.

I live here because I have a non-cancerous brain tumor that affects how I walk, see, hear and speak English, my primary language , while paradoxically sparing my acquired language, Spanish. This is similar to a singer who stammers when he talks, but sings without a tremor.

I am not only luckier than I have any right to be. (see stupid things with my clothes on , below) I am also an Initiated Witch since Yule , 1975, and leader of one of the longest lived Wiccan Temples in this town. We have been practicing the Old Religion since 1980. As tome goes on, I will tell you how I got here from there.