May is my second favorite month

Beautiful flowers.
                                              Mother's Day.
                 A multitude of birthdays, including mine.  🎈
                                                                      ➤Mild temperatures.
Yes, May is a great month indeed.

What keeps it from being my favorite?
POLLEN

The scourge of yellow dust everywhere and the reality that right now i am out of Benadryl, Benadryl Sinus, Tylenol Sinus, Claritin and Ny-Quil.
It is such a price to pay for all of the beauty, i'm just saying.

bowing to the inevitable march of time

Well i finally had to give in and buy some magnifying readers.
Yes, i realize that i am over forty.
And yes, i realize they are only 1.25Xs.
And yes, i realize that i paid less than $5 for them.
But still... glasses.
sigh...
I don't need them all the time, but print that i can read at 11 am is crazy fuzzy at 11 pm so they are necessary.
I was at least able to get blingy ones.

Once i surrendered to the idea of not having perfect vision it was easy to also get 4Xs to use as magnifiers when i am doing really small bead or wire work. My dad had an old pair with bright red stems that make me feel like a judgy librarian since i have to wear them on the end of my nose or i get nauseous when i move my head.

Are those books overdue, young man?

I am of two minds about April

of closed doors and chipmunks

Alexander Graham Bell is famously quoted on the topic of opportunity:

When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.

(it is also quoted as):

Sometimes we stare so long at a door that is closing that we see too late the one that is open.

Lately i have been hyper-focused on the sound of closing doors.

It seemed like that was all i could identify from the last few years:

-new job at work? SLAM, position never materializes

-continue in the field anyway? SLAM, you're fired

-golden opportunity to start a business? SLAM, depression takes hold

-business finally getting off of the ground? SLAM , business partner dies without a will

-travel to New Zealand? SLAM, travel companion dies (same guy) 

-work tirelessly on inheritance claim? SLAM, uncle he saw once in 20 years gets the money

-have regular customers and custom orders? SLAM, complete creative shut down

-several part-time jobs keeping impending financial doom at bay? SLAM, laid off

-creativity returns in time to augment income? SLAM, apathy

-finally turn the corner and start registering for the festival season? SLAM, broken shoulder the very next day

Obviously there was a lot of time in between all of those SLAMs.

Certainly good things happened along the way.

Definitely there are hundreds of millions of people -heck, billions of people- living in far worse circumstances.

Knowing those statements are true is easy, but believing them is a bit harder when you are in pain, forced to sit still in a sling, staring at the walls. 

Slipping from unhappiness into self-pity into depression into wallowing is startlingly simple and quick. My natural optimism and can-do attitude was simply no match for it.

For me the last eight weeks have been one long blur of timeless suckage.

But the other day i had a sparkle pony moment that changed everything.

Pulling into my driveway i saw a squirrel and a chipmunk running together from the house into the woods.

What were those two animal doing together?

Were they playing?

Were they racing?

Were they going for the same nut?
Were they in love?

They looked so ridiculous that i laughed out loud.

Later i started thinking about how much i like chipmunks, with their tail-high zippiness and then realized that i hadn't seen any this season.

Or last season.

In fact, i'm not sure when i last saw a chipmunk in my yard.

The next day i saw a pair of chipmunks.  I don't think i have ever seen two chipmunks that were obviously working and playing together. 
It made my withery, shrouded heart leap for joy.

Leaning out the window to see them better i noticed a flurry of motion in the trees. It was a group of finches flitting about, enjoying the lovely autumn day. That reminded me of the day i performed in PA with a serious fever and thought i hallucinated gold finches until fTM Matt took a picture of them to prove to me that they were real (which is a happier memory than it sounds).

And i cared again.

Just like that.

I could see the open door.

behold the power of SPARKLES!

In unrelated news, i am in week 3 of range of motion rehab; i see the doctor on Thursday.  

I am almost up to 180 degrees and resultingly my arm hurts. 

A lot. 

The pain meds had to be busted back out this week; they don't seem to be affectin...

ohhhhhhh... shiny...

i am wearing pants!

I have been released from the sling that bound me.
My (hopefully) final x-ray was a few days ago and things look good.
Now comes the physical therapy for 3 weeks to work on getting back shoulder function and range of motion. Right now i can lift my left arm up to nearly shoulder height (about 75 degrees out of the possible 180).
After only 4 weeks of immobilization it is amazing how weak some of the muscles have become; this morning it felt like i had done a hard arm day at the gym with free weights when in fact i had only used the arm to do normal things like opening doors and getting dressed.
The soreness doesn't really bother me though, as it means i am another day closer to being better. In fact, i feel like after a week of motion exercises i could start strength training and be fine in 2 weeks.
My doctor disagrees.
He has me on THREE WEEKS of functionality therapy and then wants to see me to decide the next step.
sigh... three more weeks of not lifting anything heavier than a bottle of water... imagine how wussy my shoulder will be by then...
Oh well, at least i can wear clothes with zippers now.
You'd be surprised at just  how happy that makes me.

cracked humerus head and it isn't funny

sorry... i had to make the joke before anyone else did

Last week i was running in my apartment to answer the phone, fell on my hardwood floor and slid.

No, i didn't trip over something.
No, i didn't have on slippy socks.
I have no idea what happened.
One second i was filled with sleepy glee that i was going to talk to my BFF after a few days away and the next i was on the floor. Rea thinks glitter might somehow be responsible, but i refuse to believe that glitter would betray me like that.
I wish it was a better story, i really do.

The of my upper arm bone cracked right under the knobbily part.



Doesn't look that bad, right?









People, that is 4-6 weeks of having my arm immobilized.
Right at the start of the autumn festival season.
Unamused.
Though when i saw the orthopedic surgeon on Tuesday (yes, it was 6 days before i saw the specialist because of the holiday weekend) he assured me If you have to break your shoulder, this is the way you want to do it because the crack isn't displayed or chipped so i don't need surgery.
This injury doesn't get casted, i just have to hold it still.
For 4-6 weeks.
There is a sling to help, but my recovery hinges on my patience and my body's natural healing process.
Nothing can possibly go wrong with that plan.
Because i am well known for my forbearance, will power and stillness.
And my body never lets me down; it is a well honed machine.

sigh... i'm screwed

Wed-Sun of last week

mmmmmmmm... pain meds

I am finally out of the initial injury haze and seeing an orthopedic surgeon today.
Tonite or tomorrow i will post an update.
Thanks to everyone who has checked up on me, super thanks to Suzanne for getting me a new phone and extra special thanks to Jason and Kate who kept me in caffeine, left food while i was sleeping and didn't even blink when i declared, The dragons want a milkshake!

One of those days

It's been one of those days. 

I broke my arm. 

I got laid off ( hopefully temporarily).

And my cell phone is in three pieces. 

Can I request a do over?!?

attack of the cherry tomotoes

I enjoy working the land with my farmer BFF.
On the phone.
In the divine not-garden of my apartment.
Just 2 days ago i was helping her weed lima beans while painting my nails that stupid not-as-blue-as-advertised color.
Kudos to everyone who grows their own fruits and veggies and herbs or cultivates lovely flowers and bushes and bonsai. You people are amazing.
Growing things is not for me.
I vastly enjoyed a Chia Pet once, but that is the highlight of an otherwise bleak botanical history.
We already know that biting, stinging and/or blood-sucking insects are an issue for me.
Plus my ghostly pale to lobster red in 10 minutes or less complexion.
And the heat.
And the dirt.
And the back-breaking work.
Lordy, the WORK.
But tonight i stumbled upon yet another reason i shouldn't garden:
 the plants fight back, people!
The house i am currently sitting has an herb garden in the back and a lovely veggie patch on the side, both of which i have been faithfully watering, which is the one bit of gardening of which i am capable.
The garden is growing right along, bursting with produce.
The cherry tomatoes in particular are really producing lots of fruit; so much in fact, they were starting to look like clusters of grapes. I have been waiting for them to become red, but finally realized that these must be an orange variety as none turned red and the orange ones were so ripe they were falling off of the plants.
So i, as a good and industrious housesitter decided to pick them before they rotted.
It is all about the preparation, people.
I waited until the sun was below the houses, wore long pants and had on my wee mosquito fan.
I was safe to go into the garden.
The tomatoes were so plentiful and ripe that if i pulled one, ten more fell off the vine into vast squash vines that assured that the renegade tomatoes would never be found. A-ha! Holding my container under clumps of 'matoes meant that gravity did most of the work.
There is chicken wire around the patch. My people mcnugget-sized stature (totally saw that on a shirt that made me cackle with glee) was not aiding in the process of picking over the wire so i pulled it aside and entered the lion's den.
Man, there were a LOT of ripe wee tomatoes (too bad i don't really enjoy eating them) and even two impressive zucchini. I was just going about my merry picking way imaging how astounded and proud Rea would be when i told her i worked the land and how the home owners would be pleased as punch to come home to their own fresh harvest when i noticed it.
The backs of my hands were starting to itch a little.
Then they were starting to itch a lot.
Then, cheese and crackers, what is wrong with my hands?
I finished picking everything i could reach without wading into the vines themselves and ran into the house balancing the container full of 'matoes and giant zucchinis on my forearms.
Produce goes flying into one sink as i hit the water and start scrubbing my hands and wrists in the other (don't you love double sinks?) with the closely available Elmo Cherry Berry liquid soap.
Some chemical naturally occurring in the plants (as i know there are no pesticides, etc being used on this garden) was making me itch like mad and break out in crazy red patches.
Damn you histamine! 
Double scrubbing calmed my skin down enough for me to be able to rinse all the veggies and get them spread out on the counter to dry.
Then it was benadryl time both topically and internally.
Yes, my friends, i am actually allergic to working the land.
To paraphrase Dr. Ellie Sattler in Jurrasic Park (both the book and the movie): Plants are living organisms that will defend themselves, aggressively if need be.
Indeed.  

randomly catching up

The festivals/ craft shows every weekend continue to go well and i thank all of those who have come out to say HI to me. However, continuing in the grand tradition of my first ever festival, the thwart-hog continues to plague me with the sorts of illnesses/injuries on festival days that only seem to occur in the Nikiverse.
I woke up with my jaw locked at 4am for the Hereford Festival; given my handling of broken metal daily tetanus didn't seem like too far of a stretch. Good news: as with many Nikillnesses after  a few days of handling symptoms - odd swelling, shooting pains that came and went, a hole in my lip that may or may not have been related - everything cleared up just as i decided that I needed to see a doctor.
Getting ready to leave for the OMHS craft fair I managed to catch my foot on a mirror that is up against a wall and slice the entire webbing between my third and fourth toes. Mind you, the mirror is flush to the wall and I walk by it 10-15 times a day. Ever tried to bandage between and under toes while bleeding profusely? Take my advice: don't bother. Dump on peroxide, wad in a bunch of sterile gauze, tape the toes together and pop two tylenol. You can be out the door in under six minutes, pain-free and without a blood trail. Viva Frontier Medicine!
Last weekend, the Browse and Buy was mostly incident-free so maybe we've broken the chain. We'll see this Saturday for the Emanuel Lutheran holiday craft festival.

When do you wash out your salt and pepper shakers?
I needed to do a refill on my table shakers -blue flower corelle ware from my childhood- and the cooking shakers -tall Tupperware cylinders from everybody's childhood. With Maryland humidity you add rice to the salt to keep it from clumping and normally I just pour more salt in since the rice doesn't come out during use, but this time I decided to get new rice as well. Dumping  the little bit of salt/rice mixture left in both shakers into a bowl I could make the right rice/salt ratio to put back in the shakers and as I reached for them it occurred to me that I never wash my salt and pepper shakers. They get low, I add more, they get low, I add more, over and over again.
In fact, I couldn't recall ever washing them or seeing anyone was them. Ever.
Salt and Pepper shakers are never empty so when would you wash them? Weird.
So I dumped the pepper left into a bowl as well and then soaked all of the shakers and caps. In fact, I emptied my light bulb pepper mill and washed it up as well. Everything is now shiny clean and filled with new salt and pepper. That should suffice for at least another 20 years, right?

Dr Cool basically told me that I needed to do a routine eye checkup before I saw her again or she was going to beat me. Not really, but she did shoot a stern and disappointed look in my direction which is the equivalent of a physical threat to my people-pleasing heart.
Though glaucoma runs in both sides of my family my eye pressure is fine.
But, I am getting old.
My visual acuity is down to 20/20.
sigh...
I know all of you glasses-wearers out there have no sympathy for me at all, but you need to understand that at one time I had 20/13 vision. fTM Brian used to call me Eagle Eye; now I am just Human Eye. It doesn't have quite the same ring, does it?
In fact, my lazy, slacker right eye is way down at 20/25. Sub-par and unacceptable right eye. In fact, I will need 1.0 reading glasses within the next couple of years.
sigh...
In brighter news I think I have found a new look for myself and perhaps the next breaking fad:

Even on a completely overcast,  rainy day my freakishly light blue eyes have to be covered when dilated (look closely and you can see the tiny ring of blue). These disposable UV blockers really work with the shape of my face; I think you will be seeing them on the Milan runways next season.


On the way to the eye doctor a guy backed into my car; I mean, we were on a one-way street, he stopped, put his car in reverse and backed right into me despite my frantic honking.
There was no damage, but what the heck?
He claimed he didn't see me (or apparently my entire freaking CAR).
The doctor commented that a lot of accidents do happen in his parking lot because he is an eye doctor after all, but it actually wasn't in his parking lot.
Do these insane things only happen to me or am I just the only one to admit it?

Speaking of crazy, I took this picture three days ago.

These beautiful blooms were in the midst of naked trees and brush.
They look like something in the azalea/ mountain laurel family which are spring and summer flowers respectively.
Does anyone know if there is an autumn blooming version?
Mayhaps it just bloomed late.
Or had enough energy for a second blooming.
Or didn't get the winter memo.
Regardless of how it was heartening to see this last burst of life.
 
Spontaneous generation has been disproven for centuries, but I can understand why it seemed so reasonable for millennia.
Last week I bagged up all of my trash to go out and then got distracted by something -probably shiny- so it sat in the kitchen. Two days there were tiny flies buzzing around alerting me to my oversight.
It is winter, the doors and windows are closed and there were no flies just 2 days earlier.
Where did these freaking flies come from?
Took the trash out, but the flies remained so being proactive I bought some fly strips.
They are ugly, but effective.
The directions say pull the cord and unwind the strip like a ribbon which sounds easy enough. I don't know what kind of ribbon is familiar to those direction writers because it was all stuck together and then a crazy tube and then in my hair. After 15 minutes more than it probably should have taken my fly strip was ribbon-like and hanging. Despite the difficult installation it did indeed catch all of my magically appearing flies and has been properly disposed of in a trash bag  that went immediately to the curb.

The Browse and Buy last weekend was at the Catonsville Historical Society again this year.  Arriving so early on Saturday that I was locked out of the building where NikCo was set up, I took the chance to wander the grounds.

Last year I only went around the side and saw the giant railroad crossing sign, but I went all the way around to the back where there is a nature walk.
This cool, old rail runs to right before the start of the trail.
I love how it looks like the track has been abandoned and nature is reclaiming the space with plants and rocks.
Wait...
What is going on with that one rock at the end?

Now THAT is random.

teal for TN (warning: not a happy post) (though it is at least clown-free)

Trigeminal neuralgia [also prosopalgia or Fothergill's disease] is a disorder in which the largest cranial nerve -responsible for the motor function of chewing and facial sensations- is damaged, often but not exclusively from swollen blood vessels scraping the protective sheath of the nerve.

Because the trigeminal nerve runs from the temple to the jaw and across the cheek in three branches the pain associated with TN can strike almost anywhere in the face leading to frequent misdiagnoses. Some patients experience symptoms for years, often undergoing unnecessary dental work before receiving the proper diagnosis.

Symptoms include sharp, intense pain described as "stabbing electric shocks, burning, pressing, crushing, exploding or shooting pain that becomes intractable" and has been called one of the worst pains known to medicine.
Sometimes attacks are triggered by talking, eating, brushing your teeth, wind, loud noises, touch or high pitched sounds; however, sometimes there is no apparent cause.
Episodes can last anywhere from a few seconds to hours and sometimes occur in clusters of up to a hundred attacks in a day.
All of this cheerfulness has led to TN being nicknamed the suicide disease because, well, okay, that's self-explanatory.

If you've made it this far in the post you're wondering what in the world this has to do with The Nikiverse.
In January of 2012 my beloved BFF was finally diagnosed with TN after having pain so bad that it would incapacitate her and she'd fall down repeatedly at work for several months. Of course first she was treated for sinus infections, ear infections, some other stuff that has all blurred together and checked for seizure disorders and brain tumors.

My soul's twin, the one I have loved since we were toddlers, has the suicide disease.
That isn't the kind of thing that could keep a girl up at night; nope, not at all.

Treatment is a combo of anticonvulsants and pain management. In some patients with  specific blood vessel swelling there is a medical procedure that can be up to 70% successful. There is also current research being done on using healthy nerve cells to repair the damaged ones.
However, in many patients it is a chronic condition that often worsens over time as the nerve degenerates.

I haven't shared Rea's condition until now because it is her story and her decision about who knows.
Today is finally the right time to share the information with all of you because Monday, October 7, 2013 is the first internationally recognized Trigeminal Neuralgia Awareness Day.
Here is an article about how awareness is being raised around the world, as well as a PSA.
I'm not gonna ask for contributions or anything like that; I know we all have limited resources and causes that are already dear to our hearts.
I just wanted to do my part to spread the word that this disease exists and strikes 1 in 15-20,000 people (hard to pinpoint the exact # as it is so often misdiagnosed).

On Monday I will wear teal -the designated TN ribbon color- for my Rickki; that and prayer are the only things I can do to help her.
        It would make my heart happy if you would too.
You could also drop by her blog on Monday to let her know that she isn't alone.

[I will share her email privately, if you ask]

don't be offended if i knife you for your pizza

The results from my latest blood tests came in this week.

Bad news first: Dr. Cool would like me to do 3 more months of the low carbs.
sigh... oh pasta, i miss you so much... (though i will admit that spaghetti squash is yummy (but does not work for moni cheese at ALL))

Good news next: Guess who had every single endocrine test come back in the normal range? Between the new levels of medication and the total dietary shock my thyroid, pancreas and adrenal health markers have all leveled off.
YIPPEE!


http://pizzatreecomo.blogspot.com/

                                                                                        Now if i can just get this pesky homicidal desire for pizza under control everything will be just peachy. September isn't THAT far away, right? 

 

one way to you know you are a science geek

Doctor Cool: The CT scan wasn't conclusive so i am ordering an MRI.

most people's reaction: Crap. Does that mean it is serious? I don't want it to be serious. Where do i have to go for that? Does my insurance cover that? Do i have to drink more nasty crap for that? Do i have to have more weird dye injected for that? How long does that take? Do they have an open machine? Am i gonna freak if it is a closed machine? How soon do i need to get this done?

science geek reaction: Cool! I've always wanted to see the inside of an MRI machine. I wonder if you feel anything during the procedure. Do you think they'll let me take a picture of the inside of the tube for my blog?

Wanna guess which reaction i had?


note:
yes, i needed to have an MRI
no, i don't think it is anything serious
no, you should not worry, if you are a worrier
yes, it was as cool as i wanted it to be
yes, you can feel parts of the procedure
no, i couldn't take pictures inside of the tube

tortilla-less tacos and warm berries

In the never-ending fun that is my endocrine system, I have to go low-carb for three months.
That is a tall order for a girl whose favorite food is moni cheese and whose go-to dinner menu is mostly quesadillas and endless combinations of pasta and veggies.
...sigh
If i remove tortillas, pasta and rice from my kitchen i almost don't know how to cook.
But a girl still has to eat.
I was thinking about those yummy lettuce wrap appetizers at PF Chang's and how you can order the burgers at Abbey Burger Bistro wrapped in lettuce and decided to try it with tacos.
I browned a combination of ground beef, ground turkey and diced onions and taco packeted it up.
Three big Romaine leaves were my taco bases which i layered with a bit of shredded cheese, the meat/onion mixture and then a tomato topping - salsa on one, verde hot sauce on one and one with fresh chopped tomatoes, which i am trying to teach myself to eat.

They were really delicious and messy to eat like regular tacos, though i missed the satisfying crunch of the shell; carrots had to stand in for my crunchiness.
There was plenty left over so i had tortilla-less breakfast burritos this morning.


I have a lot of fresh berries that need eaten and had recently seen a nice honey-lemon dressed berry recipe on Cooking with Tomo. His was served cold with fresh whipped cream, but i wanted something warm since it is still a bit nippy at night so i cut up and layered strawberries, black berries and blueberries in a small ramekin and preheated the oven to 400 degrees. I mixed and then drizzled honey and lemon juice over the berries and cooked them for about 25 minutes (at one point my oven went crazy and there was leaking gas so i'm not exactly sure how long they cooked as i had to do some repairs partway through the process).

I didn't have an heavy cream so i dolloped on some vanilla yogurt.

It was crazy delicious with the cold yogurt, warm soft berries and the blazing hot juice mixing together on my spoon.


Okay, maybe i can manage this low-carb thing.

Though i miss moni cheese even more than i miss Diet Coke.

life altering news

If you've been around the Nikiverse for a while you know that i've been working on some wee issues with my endocrine system. Had a check-up today and i am happy to report that my thyroid numbers are better and my vitamin D is on the rise.
HAZZAH! Three cheers and a tiger for me!
Of course, that means that something else is hinkey -that's the fun of your endocrine system; everything is connected- and Dr Cool has told me that i have to give up artificial sweeteners.
That shouldn't be too bad; i generally use sugar or agave in my tea. I'll just have to stop the Crystal Light singles in my water bottle and... wait... wait a daggone second here...
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
The Nikiverse is made of love, covered in glitter, driven by hope, inhabited by sparkle ponies and fueled by Diet Coke.
You know, Diet Coke... which has aspartame... which is an artificial sweetener.
I have to give up Diet Coke.
Doctor's orders and you know that i never cross Dr Cool. She's DR COOL for goodness sakes.
Dagnabit, this is worse than when she made me stop donating platelets to the Red Cross.
This is worse than when she made me swear to get at least 5 hours of sleep at night.
No more Diet Coke.
no more...
how?...
Good bye my dear and loyal friend.
Good bye my source of life sustaining caffeine.
Good bye my 2am just-gotta-finish-these-last-fifteen-cards partner.

I will miss you.

But i kinda love life even more than i love you.

Nectar of the gods.

Bubbly, delicious goodness.

No more for Niki.



needle-phobia? Not here.

In 2011 i set a goal for myself that i would achieve maximum blood donation at the Red Cross.
You can donate every 58 days, which means that i would need to donate six times in a year.
I was restricted from donating for almost a year because of being sick, so in my head i told myself that if i hit maximum donation it would mean that i was truly well again.
I did it, baby!
This week was my sixth donation in 12 months.
I think we can call that fear of needles that i used to have gone, gone, gone.
And, i think that we can call me no longer endocrinely challenged.
And, i believe that i owe myself 10 shiny Gold Stars.
Now, i just have to keep it up since maximum blood donation is on my 40 while I'm 40 list, as well.
Have you given blood lately?  It's a new year; Donate Life, people.

(graphic from Oregon Pacific Chapter website)

powerlessness

I've lost my voice.
Me without my voice is like moni cheese without any cheese.
Asking me not to talk is like asking me not to breathe.
I even talk to myself, for goodness sakes.
Obviously my job revolves around my voice (luckily i don't have any shows today), but so does my personality. I am the person who always says Hello, How are you?, Have a nice day, Thank you, etc. I think it is important to be polite, but also to be personable; it is the tiny interactions that we have with the people around us that build the foundations of relationships. I just heard someone sneeze on the other side of the room and started to call out Bless You automatically and only stopped because the first syllable hurt my throat.
This is ridiculous, people.
My voice is one of my defining characteristics; without it i feel lost and awkward.
Plus, there is a tiny irrational fear way in the back of my mind whispering, What if it never comes back? What if you are mute forever? What in the world would i do, people?
I have to be at work today because there is a ton of things on my desk so i came prepared:

Not only can i try to act like myself, i can let people know why i am acting so strangely. Plus it is important that no one tries to talk to me; i may not be able to not talk back. I'm gonna need all the help i can get to make it through the day in silence.

To my Darling Neti Pot Upon the Return of Autumnal Allergies

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I'd pen words of devotion,
If i could think of anything that rhymes with nasal irrigation.

Irony can be a harsh mistress

There is no better way to start out the last day of the work week than with a hearty chuckle and i have no qualms with being the source of your mirth, so here you go:

I injured myself while doing an African Healing dance.

Yep.
Go ahead and laugh; i know it is ridiculous.
Oh people, this is my life.

I bow to you Madame Irony

{btw, my knee feels much better now; thanks for asking}