All My Friends Know the Low Rider

OK. Am seeing things with more clarity than before. Dissertation write up for grant money applications is really starting to speak to me. You know what inspired the detail?? Last night, we rented The Hebrew Hammer (2004), and its crude and clever satire on Jewish culture (and the way Jewish culture is seen from the outside) threw everything into sharp focus. I can see my way again. Yay!

Also, some other thoughts have come to light:

- When a man at the video store has your credit card number, and then, a week after you returned Life Aquatic, he asks the question: “Hey- do you still have Life Aquatic?” THAT is the worst question in your life at that moment.

- Sometimes reading for sense or methods, and not detail, is where efficiency lies. I really don’t give a wood chuck’s left nut about Laotian Buddhist immigration statistics to the Greater Toronto Area for the past thirty years. Thus, I refuse to pretend I do. Take that world!

- Sometimes, when you’re feeling low and there’s no where to turn to, you just have to help Bill Cosby lure strangers into his cave with pudding and then beat them senseless with your Kodak camera. There’s just no other choice.

Well, that’s all I know today on The Path of Holly- the way I am learning how to be Zen about this whole PhD thing. You too can be on The Path of Holly. Just send me $1, and the deed to your house. It’s that simple.

Or, alternatively, you can read this blog for free… However, the deed would prove you’re serious about this.

Oh, and it is acceptable from my end to be a member of the Church of Catherine as well as on The Path of Holly. However, the CC is known for its orthodoxy, so they might not be so cool about it.

On Your Mark…

Have two books to read today. One on Buddhists in Toronto, the other on Islam and the Western ideal of Manifest Destiny. Oh, and I think I may be having a relapse. Fun.

As ready as I’ll ever be.

Go.

Coming Clean About the PhD

I was talking to a friend of mine who is also in PhD studies, and we noticed a strange phenomenon: The fact that old friends often belittle, downplay or scoff at the path that we have chosen. This, we have found, does not make us question our lives, but it does hurt our feelings and makes us a little steamed.

So, in regards to the PhD, I am happy that I am doing this with my life. I feel it is the right choice for me. I do not consider it a game, nor do I mistake it for “the easy route.” It is hard, gratifying and important work, and I am damned proud that I have gotten this far. I will thank fate everyday that I live that I have found this path. As a child of a family who didn’t even graduate high school, I am honoured to better my line with this degree.

Thank you, and I hope this soothes all those PhD students under siege from “civvies” who think we all have just hit the snooze button of life once too often.

In Desperate Need of Film

Hi all- I am working on my dissertation proposal again, so all my proof readers should expect a new draft of SSHRC shit in their in-box soon.

However, I am in a bind. I need a copy of the 1988 film Crossing Delancey, starring Amy Irving and Peter Riegart. It was made by Warner Bros., and was directed by Joan Micklin Silver. Amazon does have a copy on VHS, which I may actually buy (though I personally have never ordered anything directly online). I also would be interested in getting a copy of the book upon which the film is based, by Susan Sandler (1984). However, this item is completely out of print.

This movie is the one that inspired my dissertation, and is unavailable at the public library here, so I am in crisis.

If anyone has a copy they’d like to part with, or if anyone out there is in a city that may contain a copy to sell, let me know.

Love, Thy Name is Dr. Duncan (and Lust’s Name is Sleep)

Well, folks, I am on the mend. My chest is still congested, and I’m still stuffy, but I can think clearly again, and the raging hot/cold spells and torrid nosebleeds are over. At least I can be safe in now assuming that I don’t have some sort of exotic disease in which you loose your life through your nose. At least I no longer see death ahead.

I am also seeing other things in a better perspective.

So what now?

My advisor has had her baby (a boy) and they are both fine- the world goes on. This blessed event also means I am safe from disapproving eyes for a while, as I was unable to even think of my SSHRC proposal over the weekend-from-hell. Now I can sneak a draft off to her sometime this week, and, if it is in place before she recovers from labour, no one is more the wiser. Excellent- the perfect crime. Hee hee.

And now, due to a conference, and thus a cancelled class, I am not expected back on campus for FIVE DAYS!!! What a boon. My Islam prof is off to somewhere, where I hope she is having a lovely time, because these extra days are saving my ass.

So, what to do with these bouts of unexpected luck…

1) Finish new draft of SSHRC and first draft of OGS by, say, Wednesday. Needs to be more specific, it seems, and my first draft “seems very unsure of itself.” Must take assertive pills before attempting re-write- maybe eating a half a raw cow would do. (Yum. Raw meat.)

2) Read everything assigned for next week on Thursday, so I can have at least one week of being on the ball before I die. Uhh, the luxury.

3) Over the weekend, complete a draft of my presentation for October 13th- the infamous Yom Kippur presentation. I need to know enough about the construction of Islam as an anthropological category to pass muster in a class to which I am woefully inadequate. Mmmm. This might be tough. (Today, however, I choose to believe that I am invincible.)

4) Find a brilliant idea for the final paper in the above class, before I am forced to rip out my own heart out of shame- honestly, MA students are whipping my ass. This task will require nothing less than the total and non-refundable dedication of my soul to Satan. Anyone got a pen?

5) Clean my apartment before we contract the Black Death from the parasites growing in my kitchen. (Catherine, does the offer to do dishes still stand? I can FedEx them to you.)

So, I have my work cut out for me.

However, I must thank all that is holy for setting Dr. Duncan in my path. What a saving grace! Respectful, kind and well-humoured, she is a dream come true. (I just finished the first paper of my PhD, and handed it in to her, so I am anxious over how I am returning her kindness. That is, am I treating her as well as she is treating me, or did I snozz up that paper so bad she’ll never speak to me again?) However, today we had a great meeting, and I’m truly in love. What a lady.

Unsure of myself in my new discipline- at a level at which hardly anyone ever chooses a new discipline, I may add- I was beginning to panic over choosing my paper topics. They had to be good. I didn’t want any of these lovely people here shaking their heads and mentioning to each other how cruel they were to let me into a program for which I was so clearly under qualified. I feared the pity and disappointment, and I still do. However, today I met with Dr. Duncan about my topic idea for my methodology class, and she ACTUALLY LIKED IT. Me! The villiage idiot. I made her interested. (Go, me.)

I am planning to work on how we define a scholar as a “Jewish Scholar”, and the political implications of that label for modern Jewish Studies. Does the fact that someone is or is not Jewish mean something for their acceptance in Jewish studies? What makes a Jewish Scholar- or is it just in the name? (Patent pending, so mitts off my idea).

I am super-psyched, and so pleased I did something right. What with that and the Rastafarian presentation, I’m in hog heaven. Two major assignments in one class that I am absolutely wetting myself (in joy) over? What cream.

About that Islam paper, however, I may still have to perform some sort of ritual shame dance… I’ve tried nothing, and I’m all out of ideas.

Well, thank heaven for Dr. Duncan. And for five days in occultation.

Count the blessings- that’s the main thing.

No Joy in Mudville

Just hit 1000 hits, but I can't even smile about it.

I'm damp and ill, and I feel like crying everytime I see a baby. I have no idea why I feel so much over the loss of Charlotte, as I haven't seen my friend face to face in almost a decade... It just is such shitty news. I have nothing in my experience which even allows me to console her parents. There is nothing to say.

I never thought I'd be a person to ask this, after so many years of hearing other people deal with that awful, pointless question, but... Why?

Words Fail

In memory of
Charlotte Grace,
September 10- 23, 2005.

Gone much too soon, but much loved.

Can't Talk- Gonna Die

Am so sick, I see a bright white light at the end of the tunnel... So sore. So tired. So stuffy. So cranky.

Death would be a relief.

So, to be brief, other than the plague, I am fine. Yom Kippur incident is lessening due to stern yet sensible reply from stern yet sensible prof. Paper for Tuesday on Haitian Vodou is making its way through a haze of decongestive drugs. Am still thinking of possibilities for final papers- too much to consider right now. Am avoiding still crucial revisions on SSHRC proposal- hope supervisor doesn't hire some MA students to come break my legs.

That's about all for now.

Gonna die. M'malere, m'malere vre; Se defom m'genyen.

By the way, good luck in Ottawa, Catherine!

The Barrel, was, in fact, Rolled. Mightily.

So Catherine’s visit was three days’ long, and it was a wonderful break for me.

We mostly walked- to campus, from campus, to “uptown”, to the glass museum, to Sobey’s. Yes, it was a gay old time, complete with Rice-Bean-Corn enough for all.

I wish that I could have hidden from the realities of necessity and made it longer. However, she needed to get back to defend, and I had to get back to the yards of crap waiting for me on my to-do list. But we had a good time, and it allowed me to take stock of everything here.

I can do it. I’m smart enough, good enough, and, doggone it, people like me. That was my assessment after the mini vacation Catherine inspired in me.

I’m gonna make it, after all. (Toss beret here).

Catherine- whatever you are up to- you did me a world of good.
Best wishes for Ottawa.

The Yom Kippur Affair.

Well, I feel like an ass. When Yom Kippur rolls around this year, I have some letters to write.

So it all started when I asked not to have one of the topics in my Islam class for my presentation day because it fell on Yom Kippur. I don’t know if you all have ever fasted, but I’ll be too busy chasing Pink Elephants out of my periphery to speak for one hour on religion as an anthropological category.

However, the prof thought I really needed to do that topic because it fits in with my (largely hypothetical and years-away) dissertation. So I got stuck with it. She mentioned something about changing the date, but nothing was settled.

Today after class, sick as a dog, I asked her, for stability’s sake, whether my presentation was still on the 13th. I just wanted to be absolutely clear on the date so I can fit it into my already tight-as-George-W’s-ass schedule. She, who really is a kind woman deep down, started to go ahead with arrangements to change the date. However, the topic doesn’t fit elsewhere, so she decided that she’ll just email everybody and change the class to Friday that week instead of Thursday.

Now, I know the teachings of Spock well enough to know that the needs of the many should outweigh the needs of the few- or the needs of the one in this case, which is much worse.

But she was already off and running. Now I am stuck feeling grateful but more than a little queasy at the thought of airing my religious laundry in the class. Besides, I think they all think I’m this ultra-faithful Jew from a long line of Orthodox saints. Yeah, no on that, good buddy. I am, in fact, a HORRIBLE Jew. Besides that fact that I don’t eat pig, I am pretty awful. Does it make sense to put out six other people for a holiday when I don’t generally even put myself out for things like, oh say, the SABBATH?!?

No.

So, OK, my left brain is telling me that being a good Christian is no requirement to getting Christmas off, but I am still riddled with anxiety over making a spectacle over myself. What was it that Jesus said about the Jews praying on street corners just so others could see them? Yeah, that’s how I feel.

So I have emailed her, after the thing has already become an issue, and told her that I just want to go ahead with the syllabus. After all, I will only be fasting for about 12 hours by that point, so I think I can make it. However, she probably thinks that I don’t mean it because I brought it up.

Oy.

I’ve sent the email, so I gotta just hope that it never comes up again.

This better count for atoning, cause I’m in hell.

Ten Foot Tall Weirdo in a Unitard

John is having oh so much fun with his classes. One of his profs, who shall remain nameless (though that description above should clue in anyone who has met him), insists on every one talking about his or her feelings. About everything. Nothing is lectured upon- They had to read the book of Job, but never once discussed the academic implications of that book. It was all left to the students’ feelings.

Yeah- they’re nineteen. I’ll tell you their feelings: “I’m hungry.” “I’m horny.” “I want a (better) cell phone.” “When is class over?” “Uh—I was spos’ta read wha?”

After three years of teaching, I know three things:

1) Nineteen year olds don’t feel.
2) Just tell them what they bloody well should feel.
3) People pay to hear a PhD lecture, not to hear what some tart from Grimsby thinks.

This may sound harsh, but I have never been one to court popularity.

Roll Out the Barrel!!

Wash your ears; trim your nails; shampoo the rugs; polish the cat.
Dye your eyebrows; patch your pants; iron your socks; clean the stove.
Air the blankets; write the minister; bake the cake; tap the keg.
Soap your face; hide the trash; dry the dishes; soak the pots.
Scrub the floors; make the beds; dust the shelves; shine the table.
Curry the favour; close the curtains; fluff the pillows; open the smelling salts.
Label the tags; brighten the lights; brew the coffee; stir the plants.
Spritz the counters; duck the toilet; wipe the mirrors; perfume the couch.

Warn the neighbours.

Catherine is coming to visit!

Waiting is the Hardest Part

Well, I am stuck. We are running out of food, we need textbooks (as deadlines come closer and closer), and I would actually like to see a movie this weekend. However, our student loan funds have not yet been put in the bank. It could take up to a week and a half more. I wonder if anyone in any bank or university office has any recollection of what it was like to live hand to mouth? In any case, our spirits are up and we continue with life.

Had my first class as a PhD student, and it was pretty damn good. The prof is excellent, and I like my fellow students. The topics covered in this class (a core PhD course on case studies in North American religious diversity) generally follow the relation between race, ethnicity and religion in Canada, so it works very well with my own research. Further, I think I was able to impress the prof, or at least not make myself look like a jerk. Always a plus, I gather.

Am most seriously stoked about the presentation I get to make in that class. The prof had asked us to get to her next week about what topic we wanted, but I piped up right away— no waiting around when you have material THIS good. One of the topics was the Rastafarian ideology. I asked the prof whether I could do this as a “Jewish Reading of” type of thing. (Rastafarians have taken the metaphor of the ancient Hebrews and basically live according to Jewish law). I offered to do it “straight”-- the way I was always told to do it at Mac. That is, do a mild and boring review of the book on Rastafarians, with no personal content or original thought, and then take boring and insignificant questions for five minutes. The prof, being cool and slightly-off-beat, said it would be “wonderful” of I did it my own way. She immediately started a chat about Rastafarian views, and quizzed me on what I felt on the topic.

This answer confirms my suspicions that Laurier doesn’t buy into that false and impossible veneer of “scientific objectivity” in religious studies. Indeed, they encourage people to use their own experience as a launch pad for further (though fair and well-balanced) study of traditions. I’m in heaven!

SSHRC and OGS applications continue to chug along, though I find myself under a serious lack of motivational spirit these days. Maybe it’s the lack of food, but I just can’t seem to “get-up-n-go” these days. Not even coffee helps, and strolls are at a premium due to the sudden (and unwelcome) revival of summer heat here. Oh well, I’m sure the mood is only temporary. Dr. Duncan is very interested in my SSHRC ideas-- she had thought that I didn’t have a clear idea, yet. I informed her, with a chuckle, that coming from Mac leaves me in no habit of horsing around on these things-- I’ve seen too many vicious nun attacks for that.

So, we have some things to which we are looking forward. Catherine may come to visit soon, we should soon get MONEY!!!!, and the term is starting out well for me, at least. John on the other hand is, for some reason, not fully enjoying group discussions with twenty under-educated, 17-year-old tarts. Oh well, think of the A’s he’ll get! With his competition, if he can use a comma he’ll ace everything.

Hope all is well with all of you. Will try to update more frequently, but life lacks the true aggravation I require for regular rants. Please, don’t try to help me by wishing inspiration on my head.

I’m sure it’ll come in time on its own.

Sweet, Sweet Charlotte

I would like to announce the birth of the daughter of my best friend from elementary school, Charlotte Grace. Born yesterday, she is a little pre-mature, but things are looking better. Congrats to parents, uncles, aunts, grandparents, etc. Welcome, Charlotte- Hope the next generation is smarter than the last.

Wow. Nothing says "you're old" like this. Especially since it was in wedlock.

And, yes, everything IS about me.

Holly is the Devil... Pass it On

Yes, hit number 6.6.6. And I just thought I had a stomach ache. Turns out it was possession. Who knew?

Keep those hits coming. (To aid this, I added Garfield's link. Perhaps he'll add mine to his- reckon?).

Why Isn’t My Baby Growing?

Am sure that SSHRC madness has taken me. Can think of nothing but academic bullshit with which to obscure the fact that I don’t know what I am doing. Feel the unending urge to say everything in proposal-eze.

I am not insane. I am, in fact, exploring the ways in which people express difficulty in an academic setting. Or maybe I am researching the cause and effects of stress on idiotic Nova Scotioners. Perhaps I will seek to answer the thesis question: Why does stress make me feel like bugs are inhabiting my skin?

Is that worth $35,000?

SSHRC, SSHRC and Away in my Beautiful Balloon

The world outside is a pleasant 22 degrees, and I hear birds and children playing. I also see hot air balloons floating past my window like some unbelievable post card. What a great day to take a walk. St. Jacob’s, a Mennonite farm town and tourist trap, is only an hour’s walk away. Or, I could go down to the zoo. Or to a movie. Or I could go and buy that extra lamp I still need for the living room. Maybe something tacky- how about a red shade with faux brass stand?

No to all of these options, my Inner Schuller screams. (Annoyingly, this voice has a squeaky tone, and is a small and aggravating variation on the voice of my old advisor. She has joined me ever since I started this degree, and I think I may have to take up drinking to drown her sometime before she makes me lose all perspective on life.)

Instead I am in my apartment, which, sadly, gets very little light (so, like a Protestant, I am in perpetual twilight around here). I am slurping down coffee and desperately trying to accomplish several tasks which consume my thoughts and exist as a constant drain on my panic reserves:

1) Must complete one SSHRC and one OGS application proposal by the end of the week that is good enough to start shopping around to advisors. This is difficult- For most new students, these funding proposals are the first thing your advisors see from you, right smack dab in September and October. So what you do with this three pages of “gimme, gimme, gimme” will set the stage for how they perceive you for the NEXT FOUR YEARS. It is mandatory to make every effort at these applications to keep our university funding here. It is also a soul crushing experience, as the SSHRC and CGS awards are well over $20,000 or $30,000 a year, and me-wantee-so-bad. Makes the unavoidable rejection reeeeeeaaaalllll nice, indeed.

2) Have started mowing the net and journals and bill boards for calls for papers, journal submission requirements, and scholarship opportunities. Although Laurier profs are cool and all that hipster crap, they are all (everyone) excellent scholars, and they talk to us as if they think we are (or can be) as well. This is a huge vote of confidence, but is also a death sentence to any feeling of current life satisfaction. That is, as long as I have only a slim, meager CV, I must not rest until I have sucked every possible article, publication, presentation or funding dollar out of my still-too-nebulous dissertation idea.

3) Need to keep the SSHRC/ OGS thing rolling into dissertation proposal. My advisor is so pregnant it hurts to look at her, so we decided that I should send her a list of all my possible ideas for the dissertation (which I have to shorten to a nickname- any suggestions?) so she can look them over while she is on leave, and we can discuss them via electrons. (How’s that for dedication?) The preliminary proposal is due in April 2006. The dissertation itself, by the way, is due in final draft in April 2009. The first chapter is due April 2008. (I will write one comp in December 2006, and the second in April 2007.) Oh yes… They gave us a list of deadlines the first day for the next four years. Nice, huh? The list is posted above my bed so I can look at it and never sleep again.

4) I start teaching this week, so I have to watch a couple films this week and come up with something to say about them. This sounds pretty fun, so, naturally, it’s lowest on the priority list right now. Also, I have a chorus line of butterflies doing the conga in my stomach- the normal “start of teaching” nerves (read: gripping terror).

5) Must complete my student loan appeal, ASAP, and send it off. Yup. I’m broke.

6) Finally, after all that, I have to prepare for my first two grad seminars (which start on Tuesday and on Thursday, respectively). The first is an interesting “Case Studies in Religion,” one that sounds right up my so-called alley. However, I still can’t shake the feeling that I really am not qualified to do this topic, so I have to bust my ass in preparation so I don’t let them see this. The second class is a seminar on Islam and Modernity… I’m not sure, but somehow I don’t think my second year “Intro to Islam” course (taken six years ago) really gives me a good background here. Thus, I am attempting to read/ re-read every book on Islam that I own, and praying the teacher isn’t as exacting and fascist as I’ve heard she is. You see, this prof was one of the only ones not to show at the orientation parties. Nice- she isn’t social, either. Beauty.

So, while the world outside is cheerful and having a ball, I am stuck inside trying to keep body and soul together. I don’t even have time to make another cup of coffee. Why then, you might rightfully ask, am I taking time to write this entry?

Why, simply to make Catherine glad to be done with school, that’s why. It’s all for you, baby. I live to give.

Yay- Charlie Power!

I finally have a Chaplin wallpaper. Gosh I love having a real computer!

Oh, Loo-ey, Loo-i; Oh, Baby...

Gosh- it feels like a lifetime since I spoke to you all. Such things I have to tell you- Oy, so much to cover.

Where to begin? Well, the move went smoothly. Ben dropped us off and we spent the next week or so unpacking and exploring. Fritz settled in very quickly and the place actually looks really good. The building is a bit noisier than we expected, but that was mostly because of Labour Day weekend and the move-in thumping as people constructed furniture, etc. There are quite a few “real people” and families here, so it should be very nice. In any case, the actually-small amount of noise never goes too late. We actually got to hang all our paintings and degrees, and we have a quiet library nook. The study looks wonderful- very scholarly and grown up (feel free to snicker). The living room is spacious, easy to keep clean, and inviting, and the dining room looks very chic.

There are weak points, though. The fridge and stove are kinda decrepit. The shower is one of those hotel-type nozzles that feels more like a hobo pissing on you than a good, hard shower. Oh well, two black marks out of a hundred ain't not that bad.

We were SO happy to see our stuff again- especially the mattresses- and have slept and ate very well since arriving. I’ve had some panic attacks about money or PhD-flop, but those are only temporary and really quite un-founded.

We had a couple of weeks to explore the city before school stuff started, so we are pretty comfortable now. There are duck ponds, wildlife parks, wet lands, creeks, and hot air balloons enough to strangle a mule (I’m not kidding about the balloons, either). Many, many gardens, mills from the 1800s, bridges and old Victorian-factories-turned-museums. Two art-house cinemas (at which we treated ourselves to Broken Flowers this week- superb!), and at least one googolplex. Public Library is just down the street, as well as an ice rink and an Indian grocer’s, with all the samosa and spices we could possibly need. (The milk here, by the way, is farm fresh and cheap as hell.) There are at least three vegetarian restaurants, and a cat hospital on the corner. The “Uptown” is pedestrian-friendly, and quite human and cheerful. Some drunkenness, but very little compared to Hammieville (urrrrgh, I just got a cold chill at typing that name again).

The title of this entry, by the way, refers to the “Loo-y”, our new title for the Hammies of Waterloo. They are tacky and uncouth, but they still beat their predecessors by a mile!

The new comp is quick and arrived the very first week. It’s all black and new and shiny, and I wonder how long it will take to break? WE FINALLY HAVE INTERNET! Only about ten years late…

The profs at Laurier are all hip and chatty and young (or at least mentally young and fresh). My supervisor, Faydra, is sweet and kind, and only a few years older than me. The grad supervisor (who is also my TA supervisor and one of my profs for next term, as well as being on my committee), Ron, is cool and rugged and clearly an old hippy who loves making chili and driving around on his classic motorcycle. The prof for my mandatory PhD seminar this term is an absolute knock-out. Young and chic (with a honeyed way of talking that makes you listen and forget to breathe), she studies Caribbean Diaspora culture and may be very useful for my work. She also happens to chair the department, so is a welcome friend. They all have great senses of humour, especially Dr. Ross, who rolls his eyes and winks when he catches your eyes wandering away from the “honoured speakers” at functions. So, SO great!

Oh, and by the way, Christine: Cecelia Wassan (sic?) teaches here- I told her what a legend she was at Mac for finishing with Schuller. She was very… Schuller-esque, and grilled me on why I chose to leave the Scrolls. Oh well, they can’t all be super.

John is happy to be here, and we have met a couple of really nice people. The guy I TA with lives down the street with his wife, and we are currently sizing them up for “good friend” status. We met a guy last night at a Religion and Culture grad student function who looks like the animated singer from that “Belleville Rendezvous” video. (John says he looks more like a ‘young, debauched Riker’- you choose the image). He studies occult stuff, and he and John hit it off. Many good people here, I think, or at least enough for us to have a few friends.

We do, however, miss Christine (has Sid Borken arrived yet?), Catherine (my favourite Church Father), Mark (say hi to Plato for me- there is a bar here named the Symposium, so don’t be surprised at where we go when you visit) and Ben (have a root beer for us). We wish for calls, letters, visits, and emails very soon. I will leave off here, as I just wanted to let you all know I am still alive and kicking, and that we are well. We hope you are the same, and that you let us know how you are.

Ah, the train is passing. What a wonderful sound. Good night, everybody.

Feelin' Disconnected...

Am still alive. Feeling good- Waterloo is great, the apartment is good, and John/Frtz/I are all well and happy. Money is tight, but what is new about that? I have orientation tomorrow, and I meet with Grimes today for my TA duties. Crap... That reminds me that I have to run and meet with him... like... now.

Oh well... Phone is (finally) working, and internet should be a go by this weekend (we hope).

It was good to hear from you Catherine. All good hopes for your thesis. You too, Mark. Also, thanks and a cheery-hi to Ben for the drive.

Miss you all.