The real Mac Daddy

Before we met, I was disinterested in being married. Marriage was a great idea for other people but the concept  was not alluring to me. And then what initially began as a glimpse through a window only improved as being close to you provided an unobstructed view of your flawless green eyes and that square jaw I immediately wanted to run my finger along.  And I vividly recall all those early dates when the sheer magnitude of you turned me inside out. Unlike some situations, I knew exactly what hit me. And then a glimpse turned into an absolute I Do. And we learned quickly marriage is not like play practice. We felt with our successes before we met, we knew exactly how to navigate this new entity. And even more humorous is how we tried to negotiate with one another that our personal way in certain formats was clearly the. best. way. Oh, we learned much the first year. And the second. Sometimes we learned our lessons gracefully. Sometimes, well, we didn't.

And when we found out we were pregnant and I immediately pondered if we were ready to be at this place, and more specifically would I be capable? Would I excel? You put your hands on me and said, "This is exactly where we should be." Later that night, I found a blue box from Tiffany on my seat in the car which held the most beautiful silver baby rattle I still own today. As we wander through the tide of couplehood and parenting, there is not a single person I would rather have in the water with me than you. 
 
You with that sexy salt and pepper hair, perfect chest, amazing biceps. Whose poor heart can only beat efficiently when properly caffeinated. Who wakes up too early every morning with your sleepy eyes and daily renewed wish there would be no talking in our house before 10 am. Who patiently explained to our son why he need not be afraid of spiders but yet wasn't too manly to hide that the first time you saw our son hurt you were momentarily washed in discomposure.


You with your crisp, expensive collars, and gorgeous cuff links. Who has the perfect golf swing and seemed almost giddy to buy our son his first clubs. Who openly stated early on you will not clean bathrooms but does all the laundry and the dishes. I never pick up after you. You pour me wine as I pull in the garage on days you know I have worked too hard and too long. You, who will spend weeks planning surprise trips for me and go to 3 different grocery stores just to find an exotic ingredient I want, all with never once being asked.

You who came home one night with a gorgeous black outfit for me and said, "Put this on. We have a dinner date."
 And you, who came to me during one of the very rare moments you have seen me distraught and asked, "What can I do to make this day easier for you?"

You who sent me to Mexico for a week so I could finish my first manuscript while you stayed home with a ten month old baby. And you are the same man who has not a single hesitation saying to me I don't agree with you at all. Sometimes you say this with more flourish than needed. Accompanied by that face you make.

You have loved me when perhaps thinking about everyone else in this household first got tiring. Too little sleep, too many demands at work, and what we learned early on as parents that there is no greater responsibility we will ever have then being good leaders to our son. But we quickly learned the words freedom and spontaneity in our lives would have radical new changes in definition. But then I hear you reading to our son and using all the different voices he loves, and I know you are an amazing Father.

To you, the man who has made me palpitate and tremble. But admittedly, we are both strong and tough and there have been minutes when we felt perhaps we couldn't even look at one another.  But we always return to our favorable position. Through a glance, a kindness, some offering, or a late night twist and turn into one another.

I love that you love music. And sports. And our son has adhered to both since he was a baby. Only you would buy our son floor seats for the Eagles concert when he was three. And two weeks ago, we sat and watched as our tiny son was invited to sit in with the band and play drums. It was a very emotional moment for us. We were totally into it as audience members. I felt like this could be a scenario we find ourselves in many times. Rooting our son on from the crowd.  I took a mental snapshot and placed a very high value on such unhampered felicity. 

And we take the good with the bad. As much as I have encouraged you to have patience at moments when MiniMac challenges us, you never threw it back on me the first night I came in and asked, "Why is he being SUCH A PILL?"  And thats not what I said but it looks much better in print. One night when we sat down sipping wine, we talked about how all the hard work is worth it. He is an incredible boy. You turned to me and said, "It is mostly because of you." No. We have the team work component down well. Reinforced the other night when I told him no and he said, "Perhaps Daddy will have a different answer." Thanks for setting him straight. I like his logical approach. And I love you shut.it.down.

We have laughed. Some of my favorite moments are when MiniMac told me I should get a penis like you two. And when you wore the Darth Vader mask to surprise him at school as guest reader. Or when he caught us mid-act and asked what we were doing. You quickly replied, "Exercising." We have cried too. The day they handed him to you and said, "You have a son" in particular. 

The amount of time we spend investing in him is incredible. Worth every minute. You are good at it and you want to be which is the most important thing. Happy Father's Day to the real Mac Daddy.

Time to eat: Kumquat goodness

All of you who visit my blog know how much I love cooking and baking. Everyone loves good food and everyone loves people who talk about, make and also enjoy good food. With that I mind, I must share:

A friend of mine from law school posted something today about his wife's food blog: Kumquat. She focuses on the gluten-free lifestyle and her food pics are AMAZING. She also just published her first book called Fast & Simple Gluten Free. Huffington Post just listed her blog as one of the Top 10 Food Blogs of June. She is also gorgeous and married to a great guy. Yes, this girl is on fire.

So for all of you who love food, food blogs and would love some gluten-free options, go visit for some Kumquat goodness.

How I am getting invited to your Memorial Day Weekend parties ( key words: my homemade Ginger Beer)

Since summer is coming, I want to make sure you have the best thirst quencher on hand for all your upcoming summer soirees and poolside fetes. And when I share it with you, you will invite me to all your fabulous parties. (Plus, I am a rather kick-ass DJ when necessary.)

A few summers ago while home in Seattle, I found myself sipping upon a Moscow Mule. Do you know this beverage? Amazing. Comprised of vodka, lime juice, ginger beer, it became my go to beverage if I was opting for liquor. Ginger beer is not actual beer but a jumped up and far more flavorful sister of ginger ale. There are several brands we used at home: Goslings, Barritts, Fever Tree and diet versions of the first two. I happily sipped it the following summer until upon ordering it in one of our favorite restaurants, I noticed an immediate difference in that my beloved Moscow Mule had an upgrade, a kick, an improved personality. The reason: house made ginger beer. Tell me more! House made ginger beer is hands down better than store purchase. However, I failed to get the lowdown on how to create such a concoction at home. The next time we were in, our favorite bartender was absent. I asked our less favorite bartender for the general 'how to' to which he replied 'it is virtually impossible to make ginger beer at home."

Virtually impossible?

You know people are making liquid nitrogen ice cream, right? And nitro siracha on tuna tartare. I mean virtually impossible is a pretty strong position.

So I went to University of Google and tried 4 or 5 different recipes to discover that what he meant by 'virtually impossible' was 'actually rather easy and should be shared with all your friends and mixologists'.  I like my ginger beer with a little sass and attitude so after several versions, my final version includes a secret ingredient: Chinese Five Spice. YUM.

Here is what I am working with:

JennyMac's Homemade Ginger Beer

1 1/4 pound of fresh ginger minced in food processor. Minced well.

 Split minced ginger between the two pitchers. Add to each:

1 c sugar
1 c brown sugar
Juice from one lemon
1/2 tsp Chinese Five Spice (if you are strong and like it with a little 'how you like me now.'
Fill remainder of vessel with hot water.

Stir, stir, stir.

Let cool to room temp (at least an hour) and add 1 tsp of yeast. You can use brewers yeast if you have it.

Let it sit overnight and then strain. 

Mix with any variety of delicious liquids for a perfect summer elixir. If you want my Moscow Mule recipe, by all means since I will be sipping it at your pool:

1 shot fresh lime juice

1 shot vodka

1 shot soda water over ice in a single bucket glass.

Top w/ ginger beer. Sip and enjoy and start penning me your thank you note. 

I just made a big batch for the beach this weekend. Have a fantastic long weekend if you are celebrating and remember the reason for this holiday season.

It is the weekend: Go out and be a badass.

I recently read an interview and a quote that particularly resonated with me is this:

Every day I wake up and remember, today you can choose to be an *sshole or a bad ass.

What a simple yet compelling remark. And it is true. The world to me has multiple different types of people. One of my least favorite: The Black Clouds. This group is the constant complainer, the 'life is lemons', the 'woah is me." One of my favorite groups: Those who MSH (make sh*t happen.) This group is the 'yes, I can', the 'I love challenges', the 'we can do this' group. Summation: the badasses.

I love great stories in the news and recently read a story of two teenage girls who lifted a 3,000 tractor off their father and saved his life. Teenagers. Girls. 3000 pound tractor? Welcome to Badassville, young ladies. 

And what do you do if you are 85 years old with five children, fifteen grandchildren and twenty-six great-grandchildren? Well, maybe you join your other widowed friends and do little but watch soap operas on television, complain about aches and pains and seem to grow dottier with every passing day. OR, you get your college degree while landing on the Dean's list, also land the job of your dreams and still have enough sass and verve to put a note on Facebook that you want to hear the important things going on in people's lives, not what they had for dinner." Congratulations Willadene Zedan for reminding me age is never the issue. 85 years old. New college grad. Sparkling personality. Welcome to Badassvile, Grand Dame.

It is the weekend and let's let these examples of human strength and tenacity, represented by a vast spectrum of age, inspire us to tap our inner badass.

A note to our son with some important considerations

You are just a boy (although, according to you once you turned 6 you are a 'man' now so accompanying me into the women's restroom is utterly taboo.) You are getting taller. You are branching out. You are using your own voice, your own rationale and your own decisions more and more every day. We just celebrated Mother's Day. It is a big job. It is my most important job requiring the most commitment, the most focus and the most flexibility. It is the job also providing the most reward. You are just a boy but you will become a man so I want to set down some hopes and requests for you as you travel that road. 

I will miss all the sweet things about the tiny you. How you want to cuddle at night or sleep next to us during a thunderstorm. I will miss that you wholeheartedly believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and that by donning a cape, you can easily fly like Superman. (I know I dashed this when you wanted to jump from our 3rd floor balcony and I had to tell you the tiny cape wasn't going to do the job.) I will miss giving you 'back scrackles' and the physical reality my hand once covered your entire tiny back. I will miss that you consider B., Bananas and Baby Bananas your actual buddies. I will miss the fact we can use these buddies to convey messages to you when you are salty or sour or simply don't understand why we say no when we do. I will miss the fact you want to pour your own milk but the milk is too full, the counter is still a bit high and you actually need my help. I will miss the fact you think my kisses contain some magical elixir that heals boo boos. I will miss the days when my mere presence at the end of your day sends you running, arms wide open calling ' MOMMY'.  I know the length of these days are measured. 

When you become a man or at least a more independent, older version of you, I will not try to control your every move. I will feign disinterest when you want to cut your hair like Justin Beiber (oh please don't ) wear orange corduroy pants (say it ain't so) or adopt a fake foreign accent like Madonna (really?) but I will intervene should you find yourself leading yourself astray with drugs, alcohol, porn, MTV cribs or Ed Hardy clothing. I don't know my tactics yet but believe me, I will have them at the ready when the time comes. I recently overheard two teen-age boys talking. Oh LORD, I thought to myself. As you grow and bloom, here are five things I will hope you consider: 

1. Refrain from inking a tattoo of a girls name or GOD FORBID her face on any part of your body. While this might indicate 'commitment' or 'honor' or 'true love forever' to some girls it also indicates 'yikes' and 'WTF' and "are you serious I have to look at that while we get ready to make out' to the other girls you will meet after you and the original inspiration for the tattoo break up. You dont need to put a persons name or character on your person in permanent ink. Ditto for you own name. If you have to tattoo your own name on your arm, you have lost 200 IQ points. 

2. Don't talk mean about women. Prior to marrying Daddy, I certainly dated. You don't need to know details. If I was on a date and that man mentioned his horrible ex-girlfriend, horrible female boss, or horrible girl who did him wrong, my instant response was "Delete." Yes, some people suck. No one needs a constant reminder or dissertation about it. You are an innately positive person and I hope this lasts forever. You will be disappointed. You will be hurt. How you handle these instances will speak volumes about you as a man. It won't be easy but every bump teaches you something about yourself, how you will love, how you will lead and how you want to be loved. 

3. Do not over communicate your sex life. At this point, you really love women and told me, your raven haired Mommy, that 'blond girls are much prettier than brown haired girls." Don't limit your options, son. And please don't be that man who share his exploits in granular detail with his friends. Say things like 'that girl is hot' or "Mary is a bad-ass on the ski slopes" or "my girlfriend killed her SATs" or "I love girls who volunteer to read to the blind or donate time to Habitat for Humanity." What you don't want to say are things like "I banged her" or "See that girl, I ______ her" or "Hey buddies, come over and secretly watch me doing _____ to this chick this weekend." The reality is if you say horrible things about women and what you did with them, well, other women will put you on the bricks so again, you are limiting your options. Being a man might sometimes seem like its about swagger and conquer. It's not.  The best girl in the world will be the one who loves you and challenges you at the same time. Just ask your Daddy. He loved it, then kind of didn't love it and then remembered how awesome it is and loves it again. 

4. Use caution with what you publish. Like, never ever make sex tape. This should be part of bullet point #2 but it might need its own platform. I don't really want to fathom you even considering this an option. I don't want to consider these words in the same sentence as a truth someone would actually have to tell you. The reality is you will grow up and do things and explore you own wants with a variety of people. You might marry the first girl you have sex with or you might marry the girl who falls 75th on the list. Whomever it is, let me assure you that with out a proper camera crew, lighting and serious editing no one and I do mean no one wants to watch this. If a girl tries to tell you its a good idea, beware. She might think it as her cinematic Kim Kardashian moment but it will be your Screech moment. Ugh. That will haunt you forever. Ditto for taking pictures of any part of your body and sending it to anyone. Ditto for taking selfie pics in the bathroom mirror with your shirt pulled up with your iPhone and posting them in cyber space. UGH. Ditto for taking pictures of yourself doing ANYTHING stupid and actually showing someone else never mind hundreds of people. I dont know what social media platforms you might utilize in the future but my least favorite people on Facebook are the ones who think it is 'diary' versus what it actually is 'public bulletin board'.

5. Help others. This past weekend, my heart was melty and stirring while you tried to show our neighbors 2 year old how to bat. I love that you actually handed me your fruit-sicle to help him. I love that you told me he needs someone to show him how its done. I love that you do not even realize his Daddy plays in the NBA and a pretty stellar athlete. You were so loving and sweet, it was beautiful and astonishingly emotion. With helping others is another rule: Don't be a bully. Recently, a teen-age boy, angry at a ref during a soccer game, punched that man one time in the side of the head and that man died. I will have a hard time defending such an action. Bullies suck. You learned this already in kindergarten when a boy in your class picked on a girl in your class. I want you to be able to defend yourself and I want you to love people. I want you to champion yourself, others and the underdog. Oh, I love competition but there is a certain decorum. I appreciate you are trying to learn this. I appreciate strong personalities. I appreciate strong opinions. I don't appreciate people who are mean, manipulative or arseholes. True giants know how to get what they want without being d-bags about it. Oh, d-bags get plenty, trust me, but not the right way. Don't be mean to the waiter, the maid or the janitor. T Remember that the person you might despise might be the person you are sitting across a desk from in an interview one day. 

There are so many life lessons to share. This is just your starter kit. 

Not my idea of sex education

A week or two ago, buckling my belt on a flight from Dallas to Atlanta, I listened somewhat inattentively to the standard announcements by the flight crew except for the portion of the program when the lead flight attendant said, "We have rectums located throughout the cabin."

Me: HAHAHAHA. Wait, what?

The man next to me and I started laughing like little children. The flight attendant was shaken only for a beat or two and then kept right on reciting without laughing a bit. You know she wanted a sip of vodka to follow since, well, she just said rectums and it was Friday afternoon after all.  And I assure you I was not laughing AT her as much as I was laughing with her because really, missteps can occur at any time.

A few days earlier, I came downstairs dressed to go out with JMac and Mini looked at me and said, "I like your bumps." No son, you don't like my bumps. You might like bumps but you shall not like MY bumps. 

Then over this past weekend, my tiny, precious son found a note his Daddy left for me and well, the note didn't say, "I would like to take you to the magic forest so we can chase unicorns, light candles and listen to fairies play little harps and tiny bells." The note did however reference some other things and none of them I wanted to discuss with our aforementioned tiny, precious son.

No, hold the horn. I am not going to get into all kinds of sultry details but let us suppose JohnnyMac believes I've got the Boom Boom Pow. And let's suppose that yes, in fact, I still got it. Now suppose he shared his thoughts with me in this regard on a piece of paper. We can all conclude the note would most certainly NOT contain references to unicorns, candles or little harps and tiny bells. I am quite certain none of you want to know all about the mega love between JMac and I but I cant really tell the story without a little reveal.

Warning: I am not about to get all Patty Penthouse on you but if you just woke up or are just trying to enjoy your morning smoothie, maybe come and visit me later? For the rest of you steely lot, move on ahead. 

I had yet to realize but quickly learned MiniMac had come across the note when in his tiny, precious voice he asked me, "Mommy, what is a blow___.

Me: (straight faced) I don't know. (Neck = cold. Spine = tingling.)

Him: I found it on this note. That is funny. (He then reads the note to me word for word. Small hallelujah: JohnnyMac isnt verbose in this verboten note. However, tiny court reporter is reading back ALL the facts. I must play it cool.)

Me: Hmmm, I have not read that note. (Even though I had and ^($(&@^)_(@@ why was that not hidden????)

Him: Do you know what it means?

Me: Oh, I have never heard of that. I don't think that is a note for me.
Him: Who else would it be for?
Me: Maybe a neighbor. Or the garbage.
Him: What? That makes no sense.
My thought: OK Jim Rockford, let us let this mystery fade without resolution!!!
Him: Blow____. Is that like bubbles?
Me: It is not even a real thing, buddy. (Oh boy.)
He gave me a quick look. I took my index finger and pretended to tap something.
He laughed and asked, "What is that for?"
Me: That is me unsubscribing to this conversation.

Followed by a text to MiniMac's Daddy with a big TA DA followed by BRAVO Dirty McGee. I mean, it is super cool that after many, many years of marriage, JMac and I still have all the sass and sizzle but really. REALLY?  Did I have the opportunity to educate my child? Not the way I see it.  Sex education for my son will be about body parts and animals that start with B. It took me a month to convince MiniMac its 'nipples' and not 'nibbles" and for him to understand I can't exactly follow his command and just 'get a penis like me and Daddy!" A note my son accidentally finds and subsequently shares with me in his curious fashion is NOT my idea of sex education. And thankfully I did not mock the poor flight attendant because as previously stated, missteps can occur at any time.

Although, given a choice, I would prefer to say rectums in front of 150 strangers and 4 colleagues than to have my son read a spicy note penned by his Daddy for my eyes only.

If neither of these scenarios have taken place in your day, you should give yourself some applause.

Because I want the country to have a better week (and proof that one minute can make a difference.)

This week was so tumultuous in the news. It is becoming more frequent that we pause from one tragedy because a new tragedy has developed. I think Elvis Costello had it right, 'What's so funny about peace, love and understanding?' I won't chime in on Boston other than my heart and prayers go out to everyone impacted. I will say I should recognize that every day, anything can happen to change the course of life. I made the most of it this weekend with my husband and son. And I actually sat in the sun, with my eyes closed momentarily, drinking a great beverage, listening to one of my favorite live musicians, at one of our favorite restaurants in Atlanta (The Optimist). 

I was not in a hurry to finish this, check that email, listen to that voicemail, think of my many to do's, plan dinner, plan the next morning. I simply sat and thought, we have a lot to be thankful for. I saw a post recently that said, "What if you woke up tomorrow with only what you thanked God for today?" I am quite diligent on the daily to express my gratitude and thanks for many, many things. My child, my spouse, safety, physical ability, freedom, family, friends and free will at the top. If I woke up tomorrow with only things I am thankful for today I would totally throw in: Kitchen Aid mixer, dance music, food processor, running shoes, iPhone (I heart Siri!), Vosges chocolate bars and Mad Men FOR SURE.

I hope the week is more peaceful. I cant no more easily explain to our 6 year old what transpired in Boston than my explanation to him recently why he can not actually jump off our third floor overlook into the second floor living room like Superman. ( PS: You want to basically hand your child a giant platter of defeat, confusion and Sorry when I told you could do anything you wanted if you put your mind to it go ahead and tell him he can't actually fly and that Superman is fiction.)

I heard an incredible story in the midst of last week's chaos and that will be a blog post later this week. I saw this clip earlier today and one minute really can make a positive difference. A 7 year old boy in Nebraska named Jack Hoffman is battling brain cancer and this moment surely made him forget all about his battle.The video was a little persnickety this am so click here for full article.

Have a better week.

The moral of this story: Get your sh*t together

A friend recently shared something on Facebook that I in turn must share with you.

Below is an email exchange between a graduate student at NYU and a well known professor in NYU's Stern School of Business. The story circulated initially in 2010 but I want to shake it off and give it some additional air time. Regardless of who you believe is in the right, the moral of this story is get your sh*t together, and frankly, that is a moral we could tell many people every day. I like Professor Galloway. Read on:

_________________

Subject: Brand Strategy Feedback

Prof. Galloway,

I would like to discuss a matter with you that bothered me. Yesterday evening I entered your 6pm Brand Strategy class approximately 1 hour late. As I entered the room, you quickly dismissed me, saying that I would need to leave and come back to the next class. After speaking with several students who are taking your class, they explained that you have a policy stating that students who arrive more than 15 minutes late will not be admitted to class. As of yesterday evening, I was interested in three different Monday night classes that all occurred simultaneously. In order to decide which class to select, my plan for the evening was to sample all three and see which one I like most. Since I had never taken your class, I was unaware of your class policy. I was disappointed that you dismissed me from class considering (1) there is no way I could have been aware of your policy and (2) considering that it was the first day of evening classes and I arrived 1 hour late (not a few minutes), it was more probable that my tardiness was due to my desire to sample different classes rather than sheer complacency. I have already registered for another class but I just wanted to be open and provide my opinion on the matter.

To which Professor Galloway responded:

Thanks for the feedback. I, too, would like to offer some feedback.

Just so I've got this straight...you started in one class, left 15-20 minutes into it (stood up, walked out mid-lecture), went to another class (walked in 20 minutes late), left that class (again, presumably, in the middle of the lecture), and then came to my class. At that point (walking in an hour late) I asked you to come to the next class which "bothered" you.

Correct?

You state that, having not taken my class, it would be impossible to know our policy of not allowing people to walk in an hour late. Most risk analysis offers that in the face of substantial uncertainty, you opt for the more conservative path or hedge your bet (e.g., do not show up an hour late until you know the professor has an explicit policy for tolerating disrespectful behavior, check with the TA before class, etc.). I hope the lottery winner that is your recently crowned Monday evening Professor is teaching Judgement and Decision Making or Critical Thinking.

In addition, your logic effectively means you cannot be held accountable for any code of conduct before taking a class. For the record, we also have no stated policy against bursting into show tunes in the middle of class, urinating on desks or taking that revolutionary hair removal system for a spin. However, xxxx, there is a baseline level of decorum (i.e., manners) that we expect of grown men and women who the admissions department have deemed tomorrow's business leaders.

xxxx, let me be more serious for a moment. I do not know you, will not know you and have no real affinity or animosity for you. You are an anonymous student who is now regretting the send button on his laptop. It's with this context I hope you register pause...REAL pause xxxx and take to heart what I am about to tell you:

xxxx, get your shit together.

Getting a good job, working long hours, keeping your skills relevant, navigating the politics of an organization, finding a live/work balance...these are all really hard, xxxx. In contrast, respecting institutions, having manners, demonstrating a level of humility...these are all (relatively) easy. Get the easy stuff right xxxx. In and of themselves they will not make you successful. However, not possessing them will hold you back and you will not achieve your potential which, by virtue of you being admitted to Stern, you must have in spades. It's not too late xxxx...

Again, thanks for the feedback.

Professor Galloway

People are awesome....

It is a beautiful day in Atlanta. I got to spend 25 minutes of this hectic day doing something free of concalls, meetings, reporting, assessing reporting, or negotiating terms.  Instead, I was reading to MiniMac's class. Last week at a party for one of the kids in his class, another Mom told me her son came home and said, "Mrs. Mac is the best Guest Reader." She told her son kiddingly, "I am a great Guest Reader too." Her son replied, "Not as good as MiniMac's Mom."

I will take that crown and wear it proudly. I think I have it in the bag because I do so many voices which is the key to being a great Guest Reader. As I left them today, I said, "Congratulations on being the worlds's best kindergarteners. Its a hard job, but you kids are awesome." I was then swarmed in the best way as 22 tiny people embraced me in a hug. That is SOME hug.

I often find humor in the levels of idiocy we see on a daily basis but I am always more inclined to seek and applaud the awesome moments. A simultaneous hug from 22 kiddos who think you are the best Guest Reader completely qualifies.

I checked my email and my Father sent me this link. Because it was one of the rare emails my Father sent sans politics, I opened it. I am glad I did. The title reiterates the sentiment I had just felt earlier today: People are awesome.

Have an awesome day.