Well, I’m back. Back to Greeley and trying to get back into the swing of things after leaving Sweden.

I got into Denver on Friday after catching the daily 8:00 am Frontier flight out of Chicago Midway. I weaseled my way out of excess baggage charges by switching things around in my luggage and carrying a few things instead. My parents weren’t at DIA when I arrived (somewhat disappointing, but I’m over it); my brother called me not long after I picked up my baggage to report the existence of a speed trap right outside of DIA. How they knew that, you can only guess…

Anyhow, we had lunch at one of Denver’s best Vietnamese spots, New Saigon, and picked up some Asian foods from the market nearby. It was nice to return and do something like that. We finished up the day with a little shopping and a visit to grandpa in the nursing home.

Greeley has changed only a little since I left. A few more buildings have gone up and minimum wage in Colorado was raised (hooray!). So if I end up not being able to find a decent summer job (which is so far furnishing little result), it might not be that bad if I get stuck somewhere like Blockbuster (again) or something in that line.

I’ve spent the days since seeing some people around town and learning how to adjust in the American world again. It’s kind of neat to have American money in my wallet again. I do find myself having to pause and think a little more when I’m interacting with people; I realize that after a year of living in Sweden has given me different social habits, like pushing through busy streets without saying “sorry” or answering my phone by stating my first name. I’m sure that will fade after a while, though.

Of my first observations, I do find that American society encourages much more apologetic behavior and guilt-tripping for the smallest behaviors; yet actions that could be considered a little more worthy of an apology beg for none. I’m not sure if my time in Sweden has changed my definition of a minor, apology-worthy opinion or if I just didn’t notice it in the first place.

Honestly, the biggest change for me is that my dog is no longer here and my grandfather no longer occupies his home. He is at the nursing home, unable to care for himself and unable to be cared for by anyone in the family. It’s the best thing for him, but it’s a hard adjustment for me. The unbearably quiet house does not help.

Today being Independence Day, it’s as if I’ve had the proper re-introduction into American society. I walked the parade route with the Weld County Democrats and Mark Udall this morning and had a pretty good time. It was certainly worth getting up early for, as it didn’t get too warm until about 10:00 am. I met some great people and got a little bit of sun and exercise.

As much as I miss Sweden, it’s nice to be back. It’s nice to see some familiar faces and more flexibility. But I’ll certainly be working on returning to Uppsala as soon as possible, whether it takes me only a few years or more than a handful.

Just two weeks ago, I had been getting ready for a big night at my nation. It was the last club night and I was working in the kitchen, and later we would hit the dance floor and party like fools. It turned out to be a great time with my friends and a great end to the school year. The next day was a little painful (bright sun, quite the headache!) but as I cycled home from a friend’s place, the sun was so warm and the weather so beautiful that I could not be any happier than I was in those moments. It wouldn’t last long, though.

By then, it was Saturday afternoon and when I got home I rang my father. He was a bit concerned because my dog, a 7½-year-old Chinese Shar-Pei named Magoo, had developed a sore spot on his leg and was not eating again, although they had changed his food. He was becoming rather thin and they decided that it was time to take him to the vet.

On the next Monday, the vet examined Magoo. He was in a bit of pain, as I could hear over the phone when I called my father. It was unbearable to listen to. The vet figured that it was an infection, especially since Magoo also had a fever. I told my father on the phone my concern that this was something much, much more serious than a simple infection. I was, for the first time, really afraid that something was very wrong with my dog.

You see, Magoo had been “my” dog. Although I went away to school almost four years ago, I went home enough to see Magoo and spend some good time with him. It still wasn’t as much as I would’ve wanted, though, and had been used to while in high school; Magoo, having in the beginning slept in a dog crate, starting sleeping upstairs near all of us and then soon by my door. Soon thereafter I let him sleep on my floor in my room. He listened to me a lot and followed me around a lot. When we first got him in Chicago seven years ago, I was the first person to see him at the door. And I played with him and stayed by him constantly. Although he belonged to our family, I’d like to think that Magoo and I had the strongest bond.

But I knew that this was a pretty serious problem. It made me cry to hear him in so much pain. In just a few more days, things got even more worse. He was not eating at all, hardly drinking, and in so much pain that my mother took him to the vet again and got him on pain medications. We called the breeder from which we got him and a veterinarian who specializes in Shar-Peis. It turned out that it could be a very serious disease called Familial Shar-Pei Fever. He showed all the signs.

After talking to the breeder, we decided to find a place where we could get some blood samples. My parents took him to a nearby town and the veterinarian there discovered that his kidney and liver functions were not good, although his kidney functions were not gone. We were starting to realize that Magoo might not make it through this.

For such a healthy dog, this was the first time we really encountered serious problems. He had never really been sick, although he often had skin problems (like most Shar-Peis) and needed extra attention to his ears and eyes (again, like most Shar-Peis). My mother and father told me to prepare for the worst.

Later we began to put him on IV fluids and make him comfortable with pain medications. He was also put on colchisine, a drug commonly used to treat gout in humans. It helped with his sore leg, and he began to put more weight on it. I was calling my father several times a day, incredibly worried at what was going to happen. How could my dog get so sick when I was only weeks from coming home?

I really beat myself up over not going home earlier. I had originally intended to spend time with a particular (cough) person (cough) who also wanted to travel a little, and I wanted to milk all the time I could here in Sweden. I could never have known that my dog would fall ill. In the beginning of my dog getting sick, I was also worried because my grandfather had been put in the hospital for observation after becoming dehydrated. I had been more worried about my grandfather until they told me that he would go back to the nursing home soon, and at the same time my dog was beginning to get worse. See, I had prepared for my grandfather possibly not being there when I came home. But I had not prepared for my dog not being there. Still, I felt very guilty. I had not seen my dog since the middle of August, and I was worried that he was beginning to think that I had abandoned him. There he was, so sick, and “his person” was not there to take care of him. But my parents and brother did a good job for me. I had my father and brother put me on speaker phone to talk to him and he seemed to perk up a bit. My father took him for a couple of walks when I expressed concern that he might not get another walk, and we tried our best to get him to eat his favorite food – cheese. You couldn’t say the word “cheese” around Magoo without giving him the idea that he might get some. But he wouldn’t eat.

Over the course of the week since he had gotten really sick, we had some hope that he might be okay. He walked around a lot more, tried to eat but couldn’t keep it down, but was more alert than before. However, by the next Sunday, it was not looking good. He just couldn’t take it anymore, and now blood was showing up when he threw up. My mother came home from work knowing that it was not going to be long. My hopes to record something for him to hear and watch before he went would not happen. He curled up in front of the front door – maybe even waiting for me, but also seeking a cooler place in the house – and at nearly 11 pm on Sunday, 10 June, Goo died with my parents and brother there petting him and comforting him until his last breath.

I was crushed.

There was nothing anyone could have done. Nothing would have stopped this, at least according to my mother (a nurse) and the vets we had taken him to. My parents said that he was so terribly thin and sick that it would have pained me more to see him that way. I agree. But I still cannot get over not seeing him for almost an entire year, and so close to my return he passed away. I realize that it is better for him that way, and that is fine with me. I just still have terrible guilt at not getting to spend time with him one last time before I knew he would be gone.

In a way, I did have a decent goodbye. Although I never knew I wouldn’t see him again, when I did say goodbye to him before leaving for Sweden, it was happy. I didn’t cry, mostly because I forced myself not to; he’s a dog, I thought, a wonderful dog that will remember me when I get home. But I can remember him as happy and healthy. I know he missed me quite a lot while I was gone, but my father doesn’t think that he felt abandoned; my parents and brother were still around, and I called and talked to him even over webcam. He liked to hear my voice.

I’ll have a lot of great memories of Magoo. I’ll miss his soft ears and the way he wagged that goofy tail of his, all curled up like a cinnamon bun. I’ll miss the way he practically melted into the floor, enjoying the cool surface of the wood and blending in with it, too. I’ll miss how he liked to chase tennis balls around the deck, completely missing the point of fetch. I’ll miss how he watched over the backyard, not chasing the rabbits but certainly looking at them, and how he liked sniffing at the other dogs on the other side of the fence. I’ll miss how incredibly lively he was. And maybe I will realize that things happen for a reason, and perhaps if things had turned out differently it would’ve been worse. But I don’t want to dwell on it. I’ll just think about how happy Magoo could be if he’s somewhere else now.

If you have gotten this far through my mostly self-beneficial tribute – a way for me to mourn – I’m asking that you consider giving what you can to the Rescue a Shar-Pei organization. The dog we had before Magoo, a black Shar-Pei named Beau, came from the organization, and the breeder from whom we got Magoo helps run it. It would mean a lot to me, and it could help someone else experience the great companionship of a Shar-Pei. Maybe you’ll even see a dog that you might want to take home and love, too.

Mr. Magoo
AKC name All-Star Footloose
30 Dec. 1999- 10 June 2007

It’s definitely summer in Sweden.

In mid-May, we were hoping that summer had finally arrived. Unfortunately, it hadn’t; there was nearly a week of rain and wind and the sun seemed to be teasing us. But as soon as June arrived, so did summer.

That’s part of the reason I haven’t been blogging much lately. The other reason is that my computer is basically out of commission and I am using Ashley’s computer. It had been so difficult to keep it on power for a while, so I just didn’t use it as much. Now it’s just sitting on my bookshelf since it pretty much can’t be fixed until I get it home and get my father to look at it. Good thing he works with computers!

Unfortunately, that means very few – if any – photos for a while. I’ll probably be writing without them, though, as I will be in Sweden for two more weeks with not as much to do. I have some school assignments still left, but everything should turn out well (I hope).

Yesterday was the Swedish national day. It’s not really celebrated that much, actually. Everything is closed and people spend their time leisurely. I didn’t, though; I was part of the crew that cleaned the nation, and spent something like 9 hours cleaning. We managed to get some time in the sun, though, as lunch was on the lawn across from the nation and we had pizza. It was nice, really.

Sadly, though, most of my best friends have left. The Frenchies and my neighbor Cecilia have all left, and a few more will leave this weekend. I’m trying to relax and enjoy the rest of my time with them.

I’ll be here only two more weeks. After that, it’s off to Dublin for a short vacation, followed by a week in Chicago. I’ll be home in Colorado before July. It’s gone too fast, that’s for sure.

Although I don’t have a lot of time right now, I just wanted to post quickly about London. I am currently sitting at a computer in a somewhat shady hostel in Piccadilly, charging my iPod (it’s worth it!) and getting my fill of news and information before I set off for another few days without Internet.

I haven’t gone much further than Piccadilly and Soho for the moment, but we’re taking a London tour tomorrow (I should get some sleep soon!) and it will include such places as Trafalgar Square, Westminster Abbey and Big Ben.

Oh, and “we” means my IMCS class! IMCS stands for International Media and Communications Studies (errr… my brain isn’t functioning right now, but I believe that’s correct). I enrolled in the Organization and Communication course, and this trip is part of it. We’re being led by one of the finest and most entertaining professors in the faculty, and we have quite an interesting list of places we will visit related to communications:

• The Travel Channel
• Reuters Television
• The Guardian
• London South Bank University
• British Film Institute

Unfortunately, we were highly let down when MTV cancelled on us. I was really looking forward to that!

Anyhow, it’s time for me to get going. I am still working on finishing posts about France, but I’ll have plenty about London as well. Stay tuned!

So, it’s been a while since I’ve posted. I’ve been pretty busy; I have three courses at once, so I spent a lot of my time reading and attending class. I will be going to London at the end of this month and Helsinki sometime next month. Before I leave Europe, I probably will have spent a few days in Berlin.

I’m working on the Paris series and I have decided that I am going to back-date all of my posts; everything about France will be posted under the date it actually happened, or if I summarize it’ll take place after those several days. It makes it easier to get through everything, and I’ll just write a summary of the entire trip in one post.

I am enjoying my time here so much that I have discovered I don’t want to leave. I have definitely settled in here; I’ve figured out what I like about Sweden, what I definitely do not like about the United States and what at home I can live without. I know it will be nice to get back home and see my family and friends, but I will have left a lot here that I intend to return to at some point.

Of course, I hate thinking about that already. I know I’ve got three months left here and I’m going to make the best of it.

So, everyone keeps asking me where my posts and pictures from France and Spain are!

I’ve got them, and I’ve got plenty to say, but I haven’t posted anything yet for two reasons: one, it’s time-consuming; and two, I’m kind of lazy coming off of holiday.

All right, and I’ve got other things to do. Things like cleaning my room (a never-ending chore), laundry, and finishing papers. I’m also kitchen bitch this week. Those sort of things that are easy to put off, and I told myself I can’t do much else until I’ve gotten that finished wth. Yet, here I am, typing away on the computer…

I will say this, though: it was absolutely magnificent to see the sun so high up in the sky for so many days in a row. There were a few overcast and rainy days in France, even some foggy and icy ones too (when we were in Bourgogne), but overall, I got more sun there than I’ve gotten in a while. Not to mention the 18-degree (Celsius!) weather we had on the coast in Coulliere, near Perpignan. It was fantastic!

Anyhow, it actually started to snow here in Uppsala last night, and it’s nice to see some of the white stuff on the ground (regardless of my feelings about warm weather). It’s been unseasonably warm here in Sweden, as well as throughout most of Europe, and it’s a bit troubling to think what kind of damage we as humans are doing to the planet. Supposedly some NPR meteorologist said that it’s just Mother Nature’s roll-of-the-dice approach at climate control. Not El Niño, not global warming, none of that! But I’ve got little to no expertise in the field besides a few courses from the weather & atmosphere department.

Anyhow, when I’ve got my ducks in a row and I’ve scraped the date stamps off of some of my vacation pictures (cough!), I’ll start posting those. Then I’ll get to work on some entries that are certainly more entertaining than opening my mail step-by-step.

I went to do some of my own errands on the northwest edge of Paris on the morning of the third day. I made it to my destination on time (thanks to the wonderful metro system!), and after that I met my parents and brother outside the Notre Dame de Paris.

It’s only slightly confusing getting to the Notre Dame from the metro stop nearby. Not many guidebooks do a very good job of it, as a girl I had met on my way there had discovered. She was also a visiting tourist, studying in Lyon. After walking around a little while and trying to figure out where we were, we finally got there and spent a while taking some pictures while waiting for my parents.

Last time I was in Paris we visited also the Notre Dame, so after just a few pictures and eating a quick lunch (mom and dad brought baguettes with them) we were on our way to Versailles. It’s easy to get to Versailles; just climb aboard the RER train and take the C line (it’s yellow) towards Versailles, which is the last stop anyhow.

This was our first visit to Versailles. Our last trip was too short for a trip to Versailles, which is definitely worth a good afternoon visit. It’s far enough outside the city that the train ride provides ample time for a snack and a chapter or two of a book.

For those of you unfamiliar, Versailles was once the capital de facto of the French kingdom and home to le Château de Versailles (or the Palace of Versailles). Its history as a château begins in around 1624 as a hunting château, and later became the property of Louis XIII. From there it was built up into a massive palace.

The sprawling palace of Versailles.

On the way to the palace from the train station, one encounters several tourist traps (like a few souvenir shops and foreign men trying to sell knock-off watches and such) as well as a sea of cobblestone. The men selling knock-off watches are very good at detecting tourists who will stop and listen, and if you silently walk past them without looking them in the eye they’ll leave you alone.

Left: the palace is full of elegant staircases. Right: a hall of sculptures near the front of the palace.

We spent the first half of our journey in the main palace. There were a lot of younger teenagers there that day who we assumed to be on a class trip. The main palace is a lot of paintings, sculptures and fancy furniture. I high recommend picking up the audio tour because it explains the important pieces and gives excellent historical context. It also gives the tour more character; just going from room to room and looking at all the furniture and such makes it seem like a blur, and kind of boring.

After the main palace, we looked at the residence area for a little while. There is another audio tour there as well. It didn’t take too long and we went out to the garden after, which is absolutely spectacular.

Late in the afternoon at the garden of the Versailles palace.

I’m sure the garden is nicer when it’s summer, but I thought it was very nice even in the winter. Considering the weather was a lot better than I’d been used to – something like 5-6° C in Paris during the day as compared to freezing-and-below in Sweden – I was not complaining.

We then decided to head back into Paris, get something to eat and visit the Louvre. On Friday nights, it’s free for anyone under 26 between 6 am 9:45 pm. We figured it would be the best chance for us to see the Louvre’s most famous pieces and fit in what else we could while most tourists were probably doing something else.

The Louvre was only a little crowded early on in the evening, but as it got late the crowds began to disperse and there was a lot more room to move around. We saw the “big three” first: Mona Lisa, Winged Victory, and Venus de Milo.

I had made it my mission to check out the area for the Scandinavian painters, which was practically at the furthest end from everything else we were looking at. So Ryan and I cruised down there while our parents did their own thing, and when we got there – surprise! – that particular section was closed! However, a very nice pair of guards were nice enough to be persuaded and let us look for just a few minutes. There wasn’t much, but I enjoyed it.

Since we had basically lost our parents, it took us a while to find them again. We found them in the underground level where there are some shops and cafés and headed straight back to the apartment for a good night’s rest.

Click here to see the pictures from day three!

After a good night’s sleep, we spent the next day figuring out what we would do the rest of the week in the apartment on Rue du Chemin Vert. We also spent a few hours walking around the outskirts of Paris for a quick appointment. I had the address and spent the a little time the night before figuring out which stop we needed to take on le Métro.

I’ve got to say that one of my favorite things about Paris is le Métro.

One of the infamous signs for the metro.

The Parisian underground is definitely the best way to travel in Paris. It’s quite nice to go on foot most places, but impossible to get across more than one quarter in a timely manner. It’s definitely worth figuring out which metro plan is best for you when you visit; should you get separate tickets, or perhaps a pass? When we first came to Paris, we bought the Paris Visite card for one day. This time, we bought the five-day tickets. Since my parents and brother arrived before I did, they had already bought one day; but my father went and bought me one the day after I arrived. It was a great deal and we didn’t have to use any other mode of transport getting around the city. I’m not sure if it’s true, but I have read that if you are within the Paris city limits then you are never more than 1,000 meters away from a metro stop at any given time.

Le Opéra Bastille

This is the relatively new, modern opera house at Bastille. A lot of French people I’ve talked to aren’t that fond of it. I think it’s okay, but I’d agree that it doesn’t really work with a lot of the beautiful architecture around Paris, especially at this location. It seems rather awkward there.

We didn’t really do more than wander around and look at shops that evening. It was a good idea because we oriented ourselves a little more around the city, since the day before was a lot more about catching up, resting from the flights and getting some food. It’s really just fun to walk around Paris, too, and that in itself is a pretty good activity in Paris after having already seen most of the touristy type of things like we did when we first went to Paris. Afterall, we were going to do more ahead in the week. The second night was perfect for a good night’s sleep, because the next day would be big!

See my Flickr photos from my second day of break!

An apartment building on rue du Chemin Vert across from our window

So, as previously noted, I took a flight from Skavsta Airport to Beauvais airport just outside of Paris. I left at 5:10 in the morning to make it to the airport a few hours before my noon departure, just as instructed for all passengers so that everything can be ironed out without risking missing a flight. I arrived at Beauvais just a little after schedule, and my father’s friend Bertrand was waiting for me. Bertrand and his wonderful family live only 20 km from Beauvais, and he does his flight training there. He offered to take me to a train station from where I would take the RER into Paris and Le Métro to the apartment we were renting in the 20th quarter (20e arrondissement) of Paris. I used Bertrand’s phone to briefly call my parents at the apartment; they had already arrived in Paris.

The ride over to the train station was a little bumpy; I get rather motion-sick, and it had been months since I’d ridden in a car for any longer than ten minutes. It didn’t help that the flight had some interesting turbulence and a bumpy landing. Nor did I get much sleep the night before. I felt a little better with some orange juice and a snack at the train station. We tried calling my parents again, but nobody answered. We assumed everyone was probably sleeping, but since the stop was so close to their house and I had their address, I figured it would not be too difficult to just find my way over there.

I took the train at Persan-Beaumont and rode to Gare du Nord, one of Paris’ largest train stations (if not the largest). Once I got there, I wanted to exchange money, and I had a big bag and backpack with me so I wasn’t exactly having an easy time wandering around the train station. I had managed to lose my ticket in the process. So, rather defeated, I stopped for a short break before buying another ticket and trying to find the number 2 line that would take me to the Père Lachaise stop.

Once I found that line, I accidentally got on the wrong way. By the time this happened, it was getting a little dark outside and I was extremely tired. I had been dragging my luggage all over and it was starting to become tiresome. I got turned around, and finally made it to the stop. Strangely enough, I met a Norwegian guy at the grocery store right near the stop. He wasn’t sure where to find the street I was looking for, but a woman came along – and actually, in concern that the guy was harrassing me, to which I told her, “No, he’s Norwegian, he’s harmless” – and she was able to help me find the street.

By this time, my patience was wearing thin. I had tried calling my parents again, but there was no answer, and when I tried another time, my phone had run out of credit. As I made it to the door of the apartment building and found there was no way for me to figure out how to get inside or let my parents know I was there – not to mention, I was very late and there seemed to be nobody looking for me – I started crying. It reminded me a little of the first time I was pulled over for speeding and burst into tears in front of the cop, who then gave me a warning and let me go on my way.

A nice man was trying to help me out, and with broken French I managed to get him to let me use his mobile phone. I didn’t know how to dial in France, so it wasn’t working. Then a guy in a red coat came up to me and started asking me what was wrong. It was kind of strange, because not only was he speaking to me in English, he had an American accent! I told him that everything was fine, my mother was in an apartment in this building and she would probably come out and see me sometime, but he didn’t need to help me. Turns out that he was the guy who helped maintain the apartment, his name was Don and he knew how to get in an out of the building. As soon as he turned around to enter the code, I heard my mother from the window up above. She came down and Don helped me get my bags up the stairs. I had never been so exhausted in my life, but I was really glad to finally get in.

And, well, it turns out that someone had been looking for me. My dad was spending time between an Internet café talking with Bertrand, trying to figure out my location, and walking over to the Père Lachaise stop to wait for me. My brother was the only person in the apartment when I tried calling, and he was sleeping, so that’s why nobody ever answered. Turns out he didn’t know there was even a phone in the apartment; I guess he couldn’t hear it and was knocked out from jet lag anyway.

See my Flickr photos from the first day in Paris!

One of the great things about my plan to spend the year here in Sweden was that my family planned on meeting me in France to spend the holidays. Upon first consideration, it was a good idea considering I would be able to share some of my travels with my family. It would also make the entire year a little easier for me; I would see my family and have an escape from Sweden for a little while, but I would not suffer some extra detachment from home upon return from Colorado had I decided to just go home for the holidays.

Sometime in the fall, I booked my flights with RyanAir. Though it’s possible to get flights with RyanAir for only a few cents plus $25 or so in fees, I took a flight that cost roughly 1,000 SEK or about $130. That included my one-bag allowance for checked items.

I’d heard a lot about RyanAir in terms of it being somewhat of a flying cattle car. It was my first experience with RyanAir, so I wasn’t necessarily looking forward to the flight. It turned out that, yes, it felt a bit stuffy and crowded in the plane, but the flight experience itself was not too terrible. There was one pretty dreadful landing, but everyone was safe so no harm done. There were no free refreshments, but what usually comes free on a plane (chips, soda) were not terribly expensive.

The only problem with RyanAir is that they fly to airports that are usually far outside the metro. The Stockholm flight with RyanAir is at Skavsta airport in Nyköping, which took me roughly three hours and two busses to get to. I took Swebus from Uppsala to Stockholm Cityterminalen (57 kr with student discount), and Flygbussarna from Cityterminalen to Skavsta (199 kr for a round-trip ticket). All of that extra travelling adds cost to the trip, and probably evens out the cost of traveling with a different carrier and going right into the cities. Not to mention the fact that, when I packed to go to France, I thought that the baggage limit was 20 kilos. In fact, it was 15 kilos, and I paid roughly 80 crowns/8 Euros for every extra kilo. Oh, and they round up. That really pissed me off when I paid a full 8 Euro for three-tenths of a kilo. But what’s eight more when you’ve already paid for… well… a lot?

The crews were very nice with RyanAir. They treat you a lot nicer than cattle would normally be treated, so I’m all right with that. I suppose they would have to even nicer than flight crews usually are, considering most people aren’t terribly excited to get on a RyanAir flight. Having to pay for refreshments in a stuffy little cabin? Lots of screaming little kids? Having to deal with the hassle of not just flying in general, but the trains, busses and other travel from the airport to destination? That’s what you get in return for paying a lower price with RyanAir.

The most impressive part was that, when our plane arrived at the gate late, it didn’t take them very long to get it ready for us to get going. We boarded the plane just a little late and actually ended up landing ten minutes ahead of schedule.

All in all, as a broke student, it wasn’t a bad way to save a little money on a flight. And, being a student and not really having the room to be picky, I was satisfied as long as I could relax and crank up the iPod, which is just what I did.