Surly Curly

USCIS: Secretary Napolitano Announces Humanitarian Parole Policy for Certain Haitian Orphans/br Fact Sheet

2010-01-19T10:52:00.000-06:00

USCIS: Secretary Napolitano Announces Humanitarian Parole Policy for Certain Haitian Orphans/br Fact Sheet

Janet Napolitano is in charge of DHS. Hillary Clinton is running the State Department. I wonder if women being in charge helped children become a priority? Sexist, sure. But still, I wonder.

Widkelly is okay.

2010-01-12T22:39:00.008-06:00

As heartbreaking as it is to see the destruction in Haiti, the good news is that the orphanage and Widkelly are safe.

This was posted on their website earlier:

NOTICE: WE ARE FINE AFTER THE 7.3 EARTHQUAKE. THE HOUSE SWAYED AND SHOOK. KNOCKED DOWN PEOPLE, KIDS, THE FOOD OFF THE STOVE FOR SUPPER, ALL OF MY GLASS WARE OUT OF THE CABINET, BUT WE ARE ALL OK! SHOOK UP A LITTLE, BUT OK! WILL POST MORE LATER! STILL HAVING AFTERSHOCKS AN HOUR AFTER THE MAIN EARTHQUAKE! PLEASE PRAY FOR US AND FOR HAITI!

Now, he just needs to come home.

What would Dewey Decimal Think?

2009-11-17T23:12:00.012-06:00

As further evidence that Sex and the City truly captured what a couple of city-dwelling ladies do on a Saturday evening, Jessie and I spent the other night rearranging my books by color. It looks super cool, but it does tweak my soul a little bit. It dismisses the words and the work of the writers. I can feel Mark Twain glaring at me.

(It reminds me of designer David Carson. For 13 years, his talk about the article he typeset in dingbats has stuck with me. I remember being so angry that he thought the way the words looked was more important than what they said. Anyway, back to my living room.)

Harry Potter is split onto 4 shelves. Kurt Vonnegut is all over the place. But at least the Hardy Boys are sticking together.

And they’re staying that way. Until I move or there’s an earthquake.

Down Under

2009-11-15T19:50:00.000-06:00

Is Google trying to tell me something? All the sidebar ads in my Gmail are for immigrating to Australia. Or doing my taxes in Australia. Or getting a work visa. The email it's sidling up to is the confirmation for my Art Institute (of Chicago, not Sydney) membership.

Is there a strong correlation between art goers and ex-pats? And why Australia? Is it the big art scene in the outback?

Hmm. I can't name one Australian artist. Maybe that's it. Google is trying to shame me and my American-Eurocentric art education.

The Honor System Lives!

2009-11-15T19:05:00.000-06:00

(from sometime over the summer)

Way up in Richmond, IL there is a place called Ginger Blossom. It's a collection of barns and sheds filled with goods from all over the world.

Plus, there's an unattended gazebo stocked with baskets of veggies grown on their farm. You take what you want, weigh it and then put your money in a toolbox.

I bought a pound of carrots. $2.

They were delicious.

Red wine? Or moldy bread?

2009-11-15T16:48:00.000-06:00

Today, I'm going to alternate working on the freelance project I'm being paid to do and publishing the many, many rough drafts I have stored in my "Edit Posts" folder.

I'm hoping blog posts get better with age as opposed to spoil in the back of the fridge .

Jay Manuel, MD? I don't think so.

2009-11-04T20:34:00.000-06:00

I'm pretty sure I wouldn't take Jay's (or Tyra's) word that it's perfectly fine for someone with asthma to dive.

According to PADI:
For safety, all students complete a brief scuba medical questionnaire that asks about medical conditions that could be a problem while diving. If any of these [which include asthma] apply to you, as a safety precaution your physician must assess the condition as it relates to diving and sign a medical form that confirms that you’re fit to dive.

I'm so mad. I'd stop watching, but I love the crazy.

I blame the one hour time zone jet lag.

2009-10-21T11:16:00.000-05:00

Last night, I'm in the cab on my way home. I tell him Clark and Division. (I get more specific as I get closer.) Driver asks if I want 90-94 or LSD. I get all huffy and say 90-94. Seriously, LSD? I had mentioned it was good to be home. I'm not some easily confused tourist. I was indignant! Then he asks if I want Division or Ohio. I'm thinking Holy Crap, what's with this guy? I'm reporting him to 311. So I say Division. Or North if that's better. He asks if North isn't too far. I say no, it's fine. I'm actually between Division and North. But Division is fine. It's certainly better than Ohio.

I sat there, fuming, indignant, huffy.

And then I remembered I was at Midway and not O'Hare.

SYTYCD! Spoiler Alert!

2009-08-06T21:37:00.000-05:00

Unlike the presidential elections of '00 and '04, my absentee ballot actually counted on So You Think You Can Dance. Yay Jeanine!

Surly Curly, Network President

2009-03-19T22:00:00.000-05:00

In honor of (in spite of, because of) SciFi Channel's decision to rename themselves SyFy (there aren't words, I tell you), I've decided to launch my own science fiction network. Coming to a cable system near you on or around May 25, 2011. More to come about my hate of wrestling (WRESTLING!) on a science fiction channel and why you shouldn't turn your back on your core audience. But check it out: asimovtv.blogspot.com

Why Asimov? He's not my favorite science fiction or fantasy writer, but he was one of my first. And, I'm guessing the same could be said for a lot of other people. One automatically thinks science fiction when they hear his name. It's an association hard-wired into the brains of millions. (Plus, it sounds cool.)

Surly Razr

2009-03-13T00:04:00.000-05:00

When I text, I let my phone predict what I’m typing and at the end, I go back and proofread/edit. Today, I intended to text “Have fun!” to my sister. But my phone’s first go at it was “Hate fun?” What a glass half-empty view of the world my little Razr has.

Why so sad, Motorola Razr?

Anti-Semitism isn’t funny.

2009-02-21T17:51:00.000-06:00

I was in the Museum of Jewish Art and History (Le Musée d’art et d’histoire du Judaïsme). It’s a beautiful building featuring impressive and moving exhibits. They provide visitors with audio guides free of charge. I’m not always a fan of audio guides, but the exhibits were frequently in Hebrew and described entirely in French so it was necessary. (The only Hebrew I know is the wine prayer. And while that certainly comes in handy in Paris, it’s not so useful in a museum.)

So I found myself in a room filled with various and ancient Hebrew tombstones. It was amazing to see these concrete (well, stone) examples of the presence of Jews in France hundreds of years ago. I wandered through the room along with an elderly couple, listening to my handset describe the unearthing of the stones and the age from which they came.

As I looked over these memorials to loved ones, Audio Guide Man said, ‘For more information on anti-semitism in the Middle Ages, press 5-5-1.’

Now do you recall those read-along records we had as kids? The one where you’re reading Peter and the Wolf and the record says “At the sound of the beep, turn the page.” Remember his voice? His inflection? His enthusiasm for turning the page? Well, there he was. In my ear in the 4th arrondissement. That same voice. That same inflection. That same enthusiasm for pressing 5-5-1.

So I laughed. And no, it wasn’t that uncomfortable, at a funeral, inappropriate laughing. It was real laughing at something really funny.

Okay. So maybe you had to be there. Though by the looks I received from the elderly couple who were there, no, that wasn't it (But I’m guessing they never had that record. Probably don't even know who Peter and the Wolf is. Are.) But if you had been there, you Generation X American, you would have laughed with me. I promise.

Oh, and by the way, if you’re wondering, I did press 5-5-1. And anti-semitism in the Middle Ages (and I’ll go out on a limb here and say every other age, as well) really isn’t funny.

Sheri needs to stop playing with Google.

2009-02-20T18:00:00.000-06:00

Type "[your name] needs" into Google.

Sheri needs to find a WWII German nurse's uniform pattern.
(Really, I don't. And I'm frightened that someone does.)

Sheri needs a ride for 1 to San Ramon.
(It's 61 and sunny there.)

Sheri needs help.
(Kind of goes without saying, doesn't it?)

Sheri needs to go.
(To San Ramon? Or to the bathroom?)

Sheri needs a serious attitude adjustment.
(Oh yeah? Says who?)

Sheri needs help with Broodlord quest chain.
(Obviously.)

Sheri needs to get some sleep.
(Who doesn't?)

Sheri needs more data.
(Again, I say, who doesn't?)

Sheri needs a road trip.
(Yes, to San Ramon. We already went over this.)

Sheri needs a deformed finger.
(To get the last of the peanut butter out of the jar? Like the meganosed fly who drinks the nectar out of the long deep floral tubes of its botanical counterpart. Darwin would be thrilled.)

Sheri needs to check with prison officials.
(Always a good idea.)

Sheri needs help identifying the two seated adults in this photograph.
(Uh, check the back of the picture.)

Sheri needs random sex and lots of it.
(Random partners? Random positions? Perhaps it's just a lot of sex with a person named Random, though I know of only one and she's fictional, and teenage, and a she, so not my type.)

Sheri needs direction to proceed with Phase 2.
(Awaiting instructions like a good little agent.)

Sheri needs to be left alone.
(Please exit in an orderly fashion.)

Do Wii need an alibi?

2009-02-04T17:36:00.000-06:00

Several months ago, Jessie used my Wii Fit. She hasn't been on it since and while I thought nothing of it, Inspector Wii found it very suspicious. I started him up and he gave me the above message. I'm not sure what the inspector was implying, but it wasn't good. I watch TV. I know.

(Is there any more accusatory piece of punctuation than an ellipsis?)

I would have told him I had done nothing with Jessie; she just hadn't been over in a while. It's cold out. But he has no ears and I have no Wii Speak, so it wouldn't have made a difference. And anyway, it's just a video game. An overly concerned, somewhat invasive, connected to the internet and police forces everywhere video game.

So now I find myself, every so often, posing as Jessie while I do a few hula hoops.

Most definitely not The Jewel.

2009-01-30T10:12:00.000-06:00

I was at one of my neighborhood grocery stores (there are three right outside the St. Paul metro station). I tried to buy groceries frequently because 1) it's very French and 2) I was living in a third floor, ancient uneven stone staircase apartment. So heavy bags of groceries were a no.

I'm checking out and the cashier takes my yogurt and says something to me. In French. I put my deductive powers to the test, "What would someone be saying at this point?" 'I love this yogurt.' (No, it seems more important than that.) Ah, she's pointing, saying something about the date. Oh, it's expired. (Holy crap. She was actually checking the expiration dates on the food as she rung it up.)

So I divine that she's telling me I can run back and get another one. Which I do. 'Causing a hold-up. Which (for a change) was totally not my fault.

Is hacker the coolest job ever?

2009-01-29T23:08:00.000-06:00

Maybe it's technically not a job, because you probably don't get paid to do it unless you work for an organization of evil-doers but ever since Melissa Z. and I tried to hack (unsuccessfully) into our school's computer the day after watching Wargames at Sheridan (what was then) 7, I've thought that being able to hack into a computer would be an excellent skill to possess.

(Yes, I know. It's illegal. It's bad. Terrible things could happen. But seriously, this made me wish I was in Texas. Texas! I know it's Austin, but still. Texas! And weirdly enough, Austin just keeps coming up these days. Oh, and photo credit goes to i-hacked.com.)

Do we really have to export everything?

2009-01-29T20:16:00.000-06:00

So they all live in the trailer belonging to Danny, Michael's cousin. Michael cheated on his wife with some woman who has a kid with her fiancé. If only his wife had asked him how his day was every now and then, he wouldn't have to cheat. (I swear that's what he said.) But, aha, his wife has cheated too. I didn't stay tuned to see who the guy was, but from the build-up, I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out to be Cousin Danny.

There was a little girl…

2009-01-29T16:42:00.000-06:00

OK. So I'm not a little girl anymore. Which is a good thing because when I was a little girl my curls were being brushed out into a frizzy mess by my straight-haired, but well-meaning mother.

I give to the following day

2009-01-28T20:43:00.000-06:00

Ok. So I am finally going to finish blogging about Paris. If you've heard the stories or seen the pics, please forgive me. Je remet au lendemain. (It's French for 'I procrastinate.' Or literally: 'I give to the following day' which is a really nice way of saying it.

See. It's not that I'm procrastinating; I just want future me to have something to do. Wouldn't want her to get bored.

S.W.A.K.

2008-04-27T16:35:00.001-05:00

Walking down the Champs-Élysée.

2008-04-22T16:24:00.001-05:00

So today I happened upon an amazing event when I turned the corner onto the Champs-Élysée. I'm having trouble discerning it if takes place every day but that seemed to be the buzz around the Arc.

Several old soldiers, sailors, paratroopers (I'm not familiar with French military so I don't know who belongs to what) paraded down the end bit of the the Champs-Élysée to the Arc de Triomphe and laid enormous wreaths at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, sang the national anthem and waved flags from their respective regiments.

For a few minutes (about a half-hour or so), you could see the young men and woman (there was one) that they once were. They got scolded for talking and not paying attention. They sang with pride and raised their flags with enthusiasm.

And then they were just regular old guys and gal again, a little hunched, heading off in their own directions. I wanted to give them all hugs. But there was a rope and you know, that'd be weird.

So where's Andrew McCarthy?

2008-04-22T15:31:00.001-05:00

Is there anything not creepy about a room full of naked mannequins? But hey, if you need to buy a mannequin, I now know where you can get one.

Happy Passover!

2008-04-21T15:27:00.001-05:00

Matzoh ball soup for the soul.

No, that's not a crepe with a cherry on top. It's a potato pancake with a cherry tomato on top. Along side a grilled kebab.

Tonight for dinner I went to Pitchi Poi, a vaguely Russian/Polish/Eastern European restaurant around the corner from my apartment. Despite not being a kosher (cacher en français) restaurant, (I know because several people stopped in to ask) they were serving a special Passover menu, as well as their regular menu. No bread on the table, only matzoh. And you could get (which I did) potato pancakes instead of blinis.

Clarins #704

2008-04-18T15:44:00.001-05:00

Cupid Red.

When I bought my much needed lip balm at the Clarins counter, the man gave me a sample card with 4 colors on it. This is the first one. I think it might be too pink. Though my lips are so chapped that it might just be that.

Stay tuned. I'll try another color tomorrow. The anticipation's killing you, isn't it?

Jardin du Really Big

2008-04-17T15:57:00.001-05:00

(Sorry. Blogger won't let me upload. No pictures posted tonight.)

So I finally made it into the Jardin du Luxembourg. My original plan had been to take the bus the Le Grand Epicerie, get some sandwich fixin's and have a picnic while I draw and take pictures. But, I got on the wrong bus and ended up getting off at the Eiffel Tower, the last stop. I figured I'd walk. But I was on an angled street so instead of walking directly east, I was walking directly southeast. I kind of almost had to double back. And, not knowing how long until I navigated my way to my destination (plus the temperature and wind were making a picnic sound less and less appealing), I stopped in a boulangerie and picked up a ham and cheese baguette to eat on my adventure. So plain and yet so really yummy. I made it to Le Grand Epicerie just as I finished my sandwich. I was cold and needed to pee, so I went up to the cafe in Le Bon Marché to warm up and well, pee. And caffeinate, of course.

Then, I ventured out to find the park. I bought some grapes at a little fruit stand to eat should I ever make it there. (My germaphobia seems to go away when I cross international borders. I wouldn't eat organic grapes from Whole Foods without hosing them down first in citric acid fruit wash and a lot of water.)

So I found Jardin du Luxembourg. Ate my grapes. Took some pictures. Drew a picture. Wandered around. It is huge. They have the biggest playground I've ever seen. Tennis courts. Petanque courts. (Looks like shuffleboard without the sticks or the disk thing. Or numbers. But it was old guys throwing stuff trying to get close to other stuff.) There was also a museum. The Senate. (I know. Right there. In the park. So it's the Louvre. Wrigley Field. The French Senate.)

I understand why people want to live near it. It really is the Paris version of Hyde Park and Central Park. Though I like my neighborhood better. It feels smaller. Less populated. (Not counting Sundays. Have I mentioned how the entire city descends on the Marais on Sundays? Most stores in Paris are closed, but here, the shops stay open because Saturday is the Jewish day of closing stores. So everyone comes here. Yay Jews.)

Speaking of, I had a falafel for dinner. The falafel place is kosher, and I don't know if they'll be open come Passover. I'll probably have one tomorrow too. Got to get it while I can.

Hot chocolate. As big as your head.

2008-04-16T15:54:00.001-05:00

It's nice to be in a city where adults can order hot chocolate all willy-nilly. Where the morning (or afternoon. or after dinner.) beverage choice is coffee, tea or hot chocolate. And if you order a chocolat viennois, they go to town with the whipped cream. (And how cute is my mom? And her French-waxed eyebrows?)

Le Louvre.

2008-04-13T11:28:00.001-05:00

This place is incredible. Amazing. Under the pyramid. An entire ballroom in gold leaf. Mona Lisa. (These people need to move. I can't believe Tom Hanks was in here alone. Well, him and a film crew. Made it to the front. There she is.) Mona Lisa. Winged Victory. Venus de Milo. Egypt. Mummies. Kings. Crowns. Beautiful floors. Tiaras. Paintings. Ceilings that put most museums to shame. Slowing down. Getting tired. Time to go. This way to the exit. Nope. Dead end. Here's an exit sign. Riding an elevator. Huh. Only goes down one floor. To one room. Back up the stairs. Is there only one freakin' door? In a museum the size of Maryland? Oh crap. There's Venus de Milo. Again. HOW DO YOU GET OUT OF HERE? Ooh. A stream of fresh-looking, non-overstimulated people. Must be getting close to the entrance. Victory! Actual, for real, this way out exit!

The Louvre truly is glorious and incredible. I may have liked the building, the details and the decor even more than the artwork. But next time, I'm leaving a trail of bread crumbs.

Des fleurs. Part deux.

2008-04-10T16:32:00.001-05:00

Today we went to Monet's house and gardens in Giverney. I got us lost on the way back to the bus. I should have listened to my mother but she kept saying she wasn't going to pay attention. It was very stressful. I really didn't want to get stranded in the middle of nowhere. But we made it back to the bus and back to Paris where we had a wonderful meal right by my apartment.

Oh, and the flowers were lovely.

Momma is here.

2008-04-09T15:08:00.001-05:00

Us at the Eiffel Tower. Not my best shot, but it's us. At the Eiffel Tower.

We had coffee. We had wine. (Mom had her kir. I think that might be the only reason she came.) We had a cheese plate. Went to the Eiffel Tower, the Champs Elysee and dinner. (omelette for mom (no ketchup! and she ate the whole thing!), roasted chicken for me) Also saw the Four Seasons, very nice Nenners. Now it's time for bed. I'm a little worried we did too much today; I slightly underestimated the distance to a metro station. But hopefully Mom will sleep well. I'm very excited that she's here. I can't wait to do stuff.

Des Fleurs

2008-04-08T14:16:00.001-05:00

I bought flowers today. I love the way they wrapped them and then pinned their card to the paper with a rose and the biggest pin I've ever seen. Okay. That's about as eloquent as I'm getting tonight. I need to get to bed early. My mom's coming and I need to be a good, perky host. Bonne nuit.

The torch. No, I didn't see it.

2008-04-07T11:24:00.001-05:00

I thought about going to see the torch relay here in Paris. Then I thought, I generally try to avoid situations that involve riot police in Chicago. In Paris, it really didn't seem like a good idea. How do you say "innocent bystander" in French? They just didn't cover that at the Alliance Française.

Mmmm. Chocolate. I mean, mmmm, helping people.

2008-04-06T14:28:00.001-05:00

This is the chocolate from the place where they gave the homeless guy some chocolate. It's full of antioxidents and good karma.

I went to a restaurant. And ordered. (Mostly correctly.)

2008-04-06T13:56:00.001-05:00

Croque Madame and a glass of wine at some bistro on the Place des Vosges. (right by my apartment.) So good.

Then I had a cup of coffee. Un cafe is an espresso. Un cafe au lait is bigger and comes with milk. I think they all come with a piece of chocolate.

2008-04-06T13:51:00.001-05:00

This is my front door. It's between the pink store and the (non-phone company) Sprint store.

This is me in front of the window to the courtyard. I'm really not eating my hair. But while we're on the subject, check out the haircut I gave myself just before I left. (Not too bad if I do say so myself.)

2008-04-05T13:53:00.001-05:00

If I had a detective agency, it would look just like this.

2008-04-05T12:21:00.001-05:00

The Town Hall of the 4th Arrondissement supports the action of Reporters Without Borders which calls for athletes, journalists and the public to wear badges on which is written the word "freedom" in Chinese.

This is hanging on the city hall building for the neighborhood I'm staying in. I've heard both arguments for how to impact change on an oppressive society. One is an economic, social and political boycott. Or you do the complete opposite. Go in there and expose the people to new ideas, new faces, new clothes. But does bringing money into a society do anything other than reward and offer profit to the government? Or does it offer hope and a world stage to those living there? I have no idea. But I thought the poster was cool.

French TV rocks.

2008-04-05T12:08:00.001-05:00

And before this, Buffy was on.

The kindness of strangers and other thoughts of the day.

2008-04-04T14:06:00.001-05:00

A homeless (or at least, poor) older man was at the chicken place when I bought my rotisserie chicken for dinner. I didn't realize what he was saying to the guy until after I left. At first, I thought he was complaining about how much money they were charging, but then I realized he was saying he didn't have any money. I decided I needed (need/want, whichever) some chocolate so I stopped at the little chocolate place. Suddenly, the man was behind me there too. Not in a threatening way, just looking at the chocolate. I ordered and paid for my piece.

While putting my change away, the man asked the young woman for a piece too. At first, she thought he was ordering the same as me, but then she realized he was asking her to give him a piece because he had no money. I was trying to figure out how to say I'd take a second piece for him (Le meme chose for lui? Maybe. I didn't get that far.) when she asked the guy in the back for some chocolate for her friend. And he made up a bag for her to give him.

I will definitely be going back there. Plus the chocolate was so good. I'd take a picture, but I ate it all.

Other thoughts:

Does McDonald's count as a taste of home if I rarely eat it at home?
The Louvre is kind of like Wrigley Field. (Go with me on this.) You're just wandering around a neighborhood, you turn a corner and then wham, there's this awesome, historical, famous building right there in front of you.
Ham and cheese is so much better when eaten on a baguette straight from a paper bag.

America. They got good signs there.

2008-04-04T14:03:00.001-05:00

I still haven't figured out if in brasseries and bistros, do you just sit down at a table or do you go in and ask someone first? I wouldn't mind a "please seat yourself/please wait to be seated" sign. It's nice to have everything all clearly laid.

Seriously. How am I supposed to eat this?

2008-04-03T12:53:00.001-05:00

I promise not every post will be about food. But this one still is. Here's how they make it:

Open a pita.
Put in cabbage (red and greenish-white) and cucumbers.
Drop in several small falafel balls.
Repeat step 2.
Repeat step 3.
Add some eggplant.
Spoon on some falafel sauce goodness.
Top it all off with a touch of optional, but so tasty hot sauce. (sauce piquante, like Pace, though not.)

(p.s. Is the 8 bigger than the 1 or is it just me?)

So, is it the world's best falafel? I'm not sure. It is very tasty. Crunchy veggies and outer falafel. Soft, chewy inner. Good pita. And the eggplant is a nice surprise. I really liked it. Though how people stand on the street and eat it without wearing it, I have no idea. I lugged mine back home to enjoy with my Coca-Cola Light I had chilling in the mini-fridge.

Back to the question though. Is L'As du Fallafel better than Rainbow Falafel (Union Square, NYC)? I'm not sure, but it does bring us to the most exciting, newest addition to the blog–polls! I realize all of five people read this blog, but heck, it's an election year. We should get some practice in. I've included Old Jeruselum (Chicago) for the hometown crowd, but in my opinion it doesn't meet both criteria for best falafel that I have ever eaten: to be both craving inducing and satisfying. (It gets points for the latter. It's very good, but it's two blocks from my apartment and I manage to go months without a visit.)

The Fog of Travel

2008-04-03T12:27:00.001-05:00

It's strange being in a foreign place, especially alone. Between jet lag and not understanding the language, I've been walking around in a bubble. I just ignore what everyone around me is saying because even if they were talking to me, I'd have no idea.

The fog of travel envelops you. If it was a movie, you'd be shot in real time and everyone else would be sped up.

But today was better. Today I sat in a park and sketched. And ate chocolate.

First Meal

2008-04-02T12:14:00.001-05:00

It doesn't look like much, but this is some freakin' good ice cream. It's .6 miles away. So I figure I'm guaranteed a 1.2 mile walk every day. There are a lot of flavors to try.

Last Meal

2008-04-02T08:09:00.001-05:00

I figure my last Chicago meal (so to speak) should be a Chicago meal. The O'hare Billy Goat doesn't have quite the divey feel of the city one and more disturbing, there fries were on the menu. Seriously. What would John Belushi say?