Quick-Clean Company Rules

I invited some company over recently, hinting it was a casual affair, nothing fancy. That was my way of saying that I was not going to do "THE BIG CLEAN" for them, but only the "quick clean".

Suzy Homemaker, I am not. My house is not "showroom ready" 24/7. So, when people stop by with the hint that I am only doing the quick clean, there are rules:

1. No white gloves allowed.

2. No pestering the pet spiders hanging out in the ceiling corners.

3. If you are over 5', 6" inches tall, no inspecting the top of the refrigerator or the stove hood.

4. No one but me gets into my refrigerator.

5. I will do my best to make sure the toilet and sink in the hall bath are clean and there is a clean hand towel, but no peeking behind the shower curtain. It is probably closed for a reason.

6. I suggest you not wear solid black or navy slacks. We have indoor long-hair kittys.

7. Do not look for dust bunnies under the recliners. They are probably there.

8. If you do happen to look, and also see a few escapee popcorn kernels, cracker crumbs, peanuts, M & Ms, etc., leave them there. Dust bunnies gotta eat.

9. View the stuff on our mantle from at least five feet away. In fact, everything in our house looks better from at least five feet away.

10. If it is summertime, I suggest you keep your shoes on. Sometimes a quick vacuuming does not pick up all the goatheads and other stickers that get tracked in.

11. Do not enter closed doors. No going into the side room (junk room), outside storage room or master bedroom closet. Where else do you think we hide all that eyesore everyday clutter that piles up, not to mention our hobby stuff?

12. Enter the laundry room at your own risk. That is where we keep the cat box.

Grandson NASCAR Quilt

Okay, now that Christmas is over, I can post pictures of the quilt I made for our grandson back east. Well, I do not think he is east of the Mississippi River, but it is east compared to us in California.

I would not post a picture earlier, because, unlike my wonderful, artistic sister who gets along beautifully without a computer or cell phone, this kid is definitely tech-savvy. Although I doubt he or his parents live and breathe to see my blog posts, with my luck, if I had posted these pictures earlier, they might have seen them.

By now, the guy has the quilt and either likes it, loves it--or really, really hates it.

He probably does not realize my daughters and daughters-in-law will probably be in a collective snit when they realize that my first large quilt effort was for a teenage boy. So, why did I make it for him when I do not even know if he will like it or appreciate it?

Well, the short answer is, I found this NASCAR fabric in two related styles and thought of him. I worked out a pattern with the sashing to tie together the orange and red in the two different block pattern. I assembled it by machine, but quilted and finished the binding by hand. I added a hanger sleeve so he can use it as a wall hanging if he does not want to use it as a bed topper.

Although I know it would not command a price on eBay anywhere near what the Amish quilts go for, I was almost tempted to put it up for sale online and hope another NASCAR fan snapped it up for a good price. Then I would have sent him the gift card as usual. But, no, I decided to give the grandson a chance. If he is into NASCAR posters, this is one of a kind.

If he wishes I sent the gift card as usual, all I can say is, better luck next year.

Mex-Itali Salsa

Remember the blog post about how the joyful season of Christmas sometimes feels like the insanity season? Well, that feeling struck yesterday afternoon, about a half an hour before I was supposed to leave for my daughter's house to celebrate Christmas with a family dinner.

I did Thanksgiving at my house, which meant I did the turkey, stuffing and most of the side dishes. For Christmas, I did the pies. I almost think it is less work to do the turkey part. Since we went to Christmas Tree Lane in Fresno on Christmas Eve, I had to shut down the baking center a little earlier than usual on the 24th. I managed a pie shell for the chocolate pie and a batch of sugar cookies. That meant I had the rest of the pies to do Christmas morning, as well as the green bean casserole.

That was a lot of work, especially since I also worked in two batches of candy to finish the family goodie plates. But, that was not the straw that drove the camel up the tree, to mix my metaphors. It was the salsa.

One of the last phone calls from my daughter was for a request that I make some of my salsa to go with chips before dinner. She knows I was recently a Tupperware consultant, and I had the Quick Chef and spices to make a good salsa. No problem--or so I thought.

I decided that as long as I was making it, I might as well make two batches so I have one at home. I chopped up my first half of an onion, then went to the pantry to pull out two cans of the diced organic tomatoes I like to use. I opened both cans and dumped the first can in, only to realize that I had opened two cans of tomato sauce. I immediately drained most of the sauce out of the Quick Chef, forseeing a tomato-based homemade soup in my near future, and went in search of my tomatoes. There were none.

Next plan. I got out a can of the Mexican style tomatoes that have the jalapeno peppers. I usually throw a can in my homemade chili, so I have lots of that on hand from the last time the grocery store had it on sale. I decided to try it before putting in any additional spices. I added the lime, chop-chop-chop and tasted.

Ho-ho-ho hot sauce! I nearly went through the ceiling. Way too hot, and I am not that big of a hot salsa whimp.

Okay, Robyn, time is running out and you promised your daughter salsa, so what now?

I decided to make my second batch with a can of Italian style tomatoes and use no additional seasoning. I dumped the first batch in a bowl, chop-chop-chopped my other half onion, tomatoes and the other half of the lime. At the last minute I added a bunch of garlic powder, realizing that, except for the lime, I was making a rather italian mix. Then I stirred both batches together, put half into a dip container that I knew would fit my daughter's chip bowl that she bought from me last year, and hoped for the best.

The salsa was definitely spicy, but everyone who tried it at the dinner said they liked it. This morning I tried some to see how it tasted after the flavors had a chance to blend overnight.

Ho-ho-ho hot sauce!

My Christmas Gift to You

Does anyone else besides me have one of those old beat-up and stained, well-used cookbooks that they drag out every holiday for their favorite recipes?

Mine is a pie recipe book. Actually, the pages and binding are in pretty good shape. It is the loose papers inside the front cover that are the most-used and most valuable to me.

One is the Easy No-Roll Pie Crust that I got on a sheet of recipes from some Relief Society Homemaking activity. There is no date on it, but the fact it is printed with what is now very faded purple mimeographic ink on very stained and discolored paper is a good clue that it is old. I was so worried that it is will soon fade into oblivion that I copied it onto the inside cover of the pie cookbook. Here is the recipe:

1-1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1-1/2 tst granulated sugar
3/4 tsp salt
1/2 salad oil (I use canola)
2 tbls milk

Combine flour, sugar and salt in a nine inch pie pan. Mix with fork. Beat oil and milk together, then combine with dry mixture until evenly dampened. Press evenly into pie pan with fingers, over bottom, up the sides and partially over the rim. Flute edges and prick pastry. Heat oven to 450 degrees and bake for 8 minutes or until done for pastry shell.

Or, what I do, because I use this for my apple crumb, pumpkin and pecan pies--before baking, fill with favorite pie filling and bake according to pie directions. To keep the fluted edges from burning before the pie is done, cover the edges with strips of aluminum foil, shiny side out.

For my 10 inch deep-dish apple crumb pie, I make one and a half of the above recipe.

Speaking of pecan pies, my other treasured recipe I keep inside the cover of my pie book was given to me by May Drummond on Nov. 30, 1970.

Here is the recipe for May Drummond's Pecan Pie:

1 cup dark syrup (corn syrup)
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
3 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 melted butter
1/2 cup pecans (I usually use more)

Beat eggs slightly until blended. Gradually add sugars and mix. Add syrup, vanill and melted butter. Pour into [unbaked] 9 inch pie shell. Sprinkle top with pecans. Bake at 400 degrees for 10 minutes and then 300 degrees for 50 minutes.

Okay--gotta go! It is time I get busy baking pies.

Christmas House

It is Christmas Eve. One of the last gifts I made was a Christmas House hanging quilt for my sister. It was my own design based on the basic house pattern.

I had a lot of fun with it, and it stitched up faster than I thought. I still do not do machine quilting, so I assembled it by machine, but hand-quilted it freehand.

I do not need to worry that my sister will see the picture of her gift before she opens it. She does not have a computer or a cell phone, does not send or receive emails, does not surf the web or read blogs online. Her idea of high-tech is a pre-paid phone card.

Oh, and she does have a fax machine.

Thankful Season?

Wow! 'Tis the season....

It is the joyful season, although some days I feel like it is the insanity season.

Last month was what I called the "thankful season". I celebrated each day up until Thanksgiving Day by stating on my Facebook page at least one thing for which I was thankful.

I almost used "I am thankful that the stray momma cat that someone dropped off by our place only had two kittens." But, then, I decided that being sarcastic was not expressing gratitude in the right spirit.

Buck is an old softy when it comes to little animals. He couldn't do anything to harm them. However, we both know from experience that if we do not take care of new cats as soon as they show up at our place, we are soon overrun. At one time, we were up to 21 cats in our yard. We were down to four for a long time--until momma and her kittens showed up.

After two weeks of grumbling about it, we gave in and named the cats. Momma is Gidget, the solid dark one is Scamper and the speckled one is Sparky. Of course, we have no idea if the kittens are girls or boys because they are feral cats. They do not let us near them. The only thing they get near is the food bowl.

No time is a good time to have to come up with a vet bill for spaying a feral cat that may or may not stick around. December is especially not the best time to come up with an unexpected vet payment. But, we knew if we did not get momma Gidget in pretty quick, we would be looking at some more cute kittens before long. Not good.

Once we were sure the kittens were weaned, we set out the trap for Gidget. Day after day, all we caught were the kittens. We did not want them yet. We figure they were born about September, so we will take them into the vet in January or February.

I almost dispaired of ever trapping Gidget when one day last week I looked out the back window and, lo and behold, she was in the trap. She looked up at me and whined, as if to say, "Please let me out! You always let my kittens out."

No, Gidget, I don't think so!

I headed for the phone. It was early afternoon and I knew my vet usually does spaying in the morning. I figured I would make an appointment. I started wondering how I was going to get water into the cage so she did not get dehydrated before morning.

I told the vet's receptionist I had a feral mama cat in my trap. "Feral" must have been the magic word, because she asked if I wanted to bring her in right then. Did I ever! Buck was not around to take Gidget in the truck, so I lined my car's back seat with a large garbage bag and towels, and loaded up the trap. She hissed and fussed when my son first picked up the cage, but surprised me by riding quietly to the vet's office.

Sparky and Scamper were a little out of sorts when they realized momma was gone. Once we brought her home, she hid out for the better part of a day, but then all the kittys were back to their usual routine.

I just hope Gidget enjoys those kittens of hers, because they are the only ones she is going to have.

Family Traditions

Most of us have our family traditions, and we are no exception. Evidently, the Thanksgiving yams, green bean casserole, stuffing and fruit salad tradition of my youth did not filter down to the grandchildren, or all of my children, for that matter. However, there is one that is unique to us in this house, whether it is Thanksgiving or any time the family gathers here.

Since Buck and I moved back to this house in 1992, we have periodically recorded the height of the children in the family on the doorjam between the living room and the dining room. We never clean that doorjam. Even when we paint, as I did last year, the doorjam does not get painted.

We trade off where we have holiday dinners between us and the two daughters in California. For our turn, we end up with Thanksgiving at our house because we are a firm believer in keeping the toys and and wrapping paper mess of Christmas up at the kids' houses. So, this Thanksgiving, before everyone left, we did our usual "measure in", same as we did in 2006 and 2007. It has been two years since we had Thanksgiving here, but I decided to review the doorjam to see what we still have visible.

First of all, I realized that although we have not scrubbed off or painted over the measuring marks, over the years many of the markings have rubbed off as people have brushed against the doorjam. So, the complete record is no longer there. Here is what remains:

The earliest entry is for 8-9-92 (4', 9-3/8"), the summer we remodeled the house before we moved back in from Atwater. There is no name by the date, but my guess is it belongs to Big C.

The shortest entry is for C-2 on 11-23-06 (35-5/8").

The tallest entry that is named is for Big C again on 12-13-95 (5', 8-1/4"). In fact, Big C was tall enough that most of his marks are still there, including ones from 1-11-93 and 3-18-94. What they tell us is that in the almost three and a half years from August 1992 to December 1995, he grew almost a foot.

The tallest unmarked entry that is 1-5/8" taller has no name or date, but I suspect it belongs to Big S who was with us for several months years ago. Or, it could be Big L.

I know we measured Big C again along with Big W a few years ago when they were out here, but I cannot find the marks. All I remember is Big W complained because her honey was a half inch taller than she was. She wanted to be taller. He just hugged her and said, "That's the way it is."

Big T is on there. She measured in at 5', 4-1/4" in 1993 and 5', 4-5/8" in 2005.

The earliest grandchild measurements that still show are for M-3 (36-1/2") and L-1 (38-3/4") on 1-30-05.

And here is how much they have grown in the last two years between Thanksgiving 2007 and Thanksgiving 2009:

M-2: 4', 5-1/4" for a total gain of 3-1/4"
M-1: 5', 1" for a total gain of 4-1/2"
L-1: 4', 4-1/4" for a total gain of 4-5/8"
M-4: 3', 7" for a total gain of 5"
M-3: 4', 2-1/2" for a total gain of 5-1/16"
............ and the big growth spurt winner is:
C-2: 3' 8-1/2" for a total gain of 6-1/4"

Scrapbooking Your Ancestors

Bev Graham, president of the Genealogical Society of Stanislaus County, will be speaking to the Merced County Genealogical Society on Saturday, November 21, 2009 at 1:00p.m. in the Gracey Room of the Merced Main Library.

Bev will be telling us how she scrapbooks her ancestors' pictures, documents and memorabilia. She will also cover how to preserve newspapers and other documents, as well as where to find archival aid and acid-free containers for storage.

My father's photo album was put together many years before we knew about the importance of an acid-free storage environment. When I started transferring pictures to acid-free paper, I found some interesting information on the back of one of my mother's early portraits. Dad had the picture with him while he was stationed in England during World War II.

So, be sure to check the backs of your pictures before you put them in an album. And, be sure everything is labeled--either on the back of the photo or as part of your scrapbook. That will help avoid having our descendants end up with an album of "mystery ancestors."

CATS RULE -- Unfortunately

Sometimes you just can't win with cats. At least, I can't.

Our two indoor kittys, Precious and Bootsie, love to change their sleeping spots every few weeks. Two weeks ago, Bootsie decided on my desk chair. Not only did she settle in and start shedding her fur all over, she actually had the nerve to drool on the seat. But, I knew there was no point kicking her off. That was her spot until SHE decided to go somewhere else. I just put down an old blue bath towel and decided to wait it out.

I raised children so I know how reverse psychology works. I knew if I pushed the issue with Bootsie, she would claim that chair even longer because -- CATS RULE. So, I ignored her. I hoped she would change her mind soon. If I needed to use the desk, I rolled MY chair with sleeping cat away and brought in a task chair I use at my quilting frame.

Ah, but we cannot forget the "You got it, therefore I want it" psychology. Our other kitty, Precious, decided that if the chair was so great that Bootsie wanted it, then she had to have it, too. There is no "sharesies" between these two cats. They almost tolerate each other most of the time. But, they do not cuddle up together in the same catnap spot. Not today -- not in this century.

First, Precious settled down to nap at the foot of Bootsie's chair. The next day, she hopped up on the chair while Bootsie was still in it. Bootsie was not happy. If looks could kill, Precious would have been a goner. We scooped up Precious before the two could start World War III. Finally the day came that Precious beat Bootsie to the chair. After that, Bootsie could not sleep there anymore. Precious had ruined the chair.

CATS RULE. It was Precious in the chair instead of Bootsie, nevertheless, I was still without a desk chair.

I guess Bootsie decided it was my fault that Precious took over my chair--excuse me--her chair, because the next thing I knew, Bootsie was sleeping in the middle of the quilt on my quilt frame. She must have thought it made a really nice kitty hammock. I discovered this new catnap location as I was getting ready to go away for the weekend. I knew I would not be there to fight the good fight. Buck was laughing so hard at the kitty antics that he was no help at all. So, I lifted up Bootsie long enough to cover the quilt with tablecloths and decided I would deal with it when I got home.

I arrrived home and Bootsie was still on the quilt frame and Precious was still in my desk chair. So much for using reverse psychology with the cats. Time for tough love.

The weather was nice, so I threw the cats outside for awhile. I took away the towel that was covered with kitty fur, slobbers, stickers and dander and put down a clean towel. I knew that cats do not like getting near plastic grocery bags because of the static, so I cut open a garbage bag length-wise and put it over the quilt. I then sat in my chair and started to use the computer. By the time Buck let the cats back in to eat, I was ready for them.

Much to Precious's dismay, I took up all the space in the chair and stayed close enough to the desk that she could not get up in my lap. However, I could not stay there forever. Once I stood up, she was in the chair.

Bootsie was not to be deterred, As soon as I turned around, I saw Bootsie asleep on the quilt. She found that plastic cover quite comfortable.

I decided to quilt. I flung the plastic cover over the sleeping Bootsie so only her face was uncovered. She did not like that. She pushed the plastic away, but it was in the area where I was stitching so I pushed it back. She decided to lay down right where I was working. I picked her up and put her on the ground. We did this several times.

Bootsie was tired and I was cutting into her catnap time. She got in a snit and climbed on Buck's chair to sleep. Both of our chairs were taken up by cats, but at least I got her off the quilt.

Ah, but there is also the "detract-them-from-something-they-want-by-offering-them-something-more-attractive psychology.

Buck took the last of the chips out of the case box and sat the box on end near the dining area as a hint for me to get more chips next time I go to the store.

We learned long ago that Bootsie probably should have been named Boxie. If there is one thing that cat cannot resist, it is a box. The next thing we knew, there were two little yellow eyes peeking out at us from inside that box.

I liked Bootsie in the box. She was off of my chair and my quilt. Unfortunately, she knew I liked her in the box. This morning, she was back on top of my quilt. As I write this blog entry, Precious is at my side waiting for me to get out of her chair.

CATS RULE.

The Season Is Past Time

I just updated my profile to include gardening as one of my interests. How quickly I forget. I guess it happened because I started this blog in November and my summer garden is almost history.

I had such a wonderful time in my garden. Hubby and my son built three grow boxes for me and helped me fill them with soil, courtesy of the local cemetery, and the mulch, available from the local landfill. I enjoyed planting the seeds, transplanting my seedlings, shopping for small flats of vege and flower varieties that I did not start from seed and working to keep it all in order. We put a barrier down on the walkways around the boxes, so weeding was kept to a minimum.

It was so much fun--until enough of a harvest came on that we could not eat it or give it all away fast enough. I actually had to do something to keep all that produce from going to waste.

Part of my plan was to put up some of the food for the winter. I have enough squash-bean-carrot-broccoli-onion stir-fry mix, not to mention grated squash and pumpkin pulp to last me the year. I dried tomatoes so they would not take up as much space and put them in the freezer. Problem was, once it was harvest time, the fun was over and my garden started to feel like work.

I thought about a winter garden. Then, when the reality of harvesting and preserving really hit, I decided that my tendency to be a "time and season for every purpose" type of person should apply. My garden season is almost over and it is time to do something else this winter.

I think the garden agrees. I still have tomatoes--we have not had a frost yet--peppers and onions. Several are currently in my sink as I type will end up in the chili pot tonight. The flowers I planted between my vegetable plants to add color and discourage pests struggled through the heat of summer, but exploded with blossoms once the weather cooled a little. When my squash plants decided their season was over and stopped producing, the nasturtiums I planted next to them seemed to grow ten times their previous size overnight. The blossoms now are beautiful.

So, while others are enjoying the autumn leaves turning colors, I also get to look out my window and watch the flowers say good-by to the time and season of my garden. If food gets scarce because I decided to not grow a winter garden, I guess I can always eat the nasturtium blossoms.

Writing Exercises

To start the day, I decided to read some articles on how to improve one's writing.

The very first article I came across explained the value of starting the day with a writing exercise. As it applies to me or any aspiring writer, I should write 10-15 minutes about my thoughts and feelings on something totally unrelated to the topic of my work. It is not to be something intended to please a publisher, just something to get the ol' brain moving and start the creative juices flowing. The first thought that came to my mind after reading that is, that sounds like a blog post to me.

When Is Your Surname Not Your Surname?

My father's side of the family has been doing research on the surname line the past year. My first cousin, once removed, and his wife were expecting a little boy after four girls in his family, and wanted to know more about the Hobusch surname.

I helped start the search by finding out what I could about the family once they arrived in the United States. One thing I could not find was a record of the great-great grandfather Carl coming to the United States. My great-grandfather was born in Aken the year the German Republic was formed. Before, the territory where the family lived was part of Prussia, and the family considered themselves Prussian rather than German.

Cousin Kristine and her husband went to the cemeteries for us and confirmed what I suspected from researching the family records. There was a familial connection to another family with the surname of Gebhardt. The research of this family line also confirmed that, except for this little boy less than a year old now, there was no one else in the younger generation of our immigrant ancestoral line to carry the Hobusch surname forward.

Once I found out what I could about our Hobusch line in the United States, the information was turned over to a German researcher. What she found in the church records in Germany is that the great-grandfather, who has been known as a Hobusch on all the records in the United States starting with his arrival at Castle Garden, was born as an illegitimate child and given the surname of his mother: Schuster. My great-great grandmother married Carl Hobusch the following year, and later another son was born and named after his father. From what the German researcher explained, based on the practice of the time, if my great-great grandmother had married the father of her first child, the records would have been changed to list him as the father and the child would have been "legitimized". Being a legitimate child was very important in the society of that time and place. So, the fact that the records do not show that this happened meant that the man who is listed on all the U.S. records as being the father of my great-grandfather is, in actuality, not.

And, I and my cousins should probably be known as Schusters.

I was surprised how disconcerting it was to discover my surname was not really my surname. Even though I have changed my surname twice since I was born, being a Hobusch has been a big part of my self-identity. Based on pictures we have of my great-grandfather, my father appears to have inherited the appearance of his German--excuse me--Prussian line. I inherited quite a few physical traits and abilities from my father, so I have always identified strongly with my German--excuse me--Prussian surname, even though by heritage I am mostly English (not Scot, Welsh or Irish--English). I looked at my grandchildren and baby pictures of other family members over the years and, if they resembled my baby pictures, I invariably said, "Yep, s/he is a Hobusch." Now it is not really so anymore.

I feel disenfranchised.

I would have been just as happy with the surname Schuster. After all, I always have had a certain feeling of affinity for this great-great-grandmother even though I knew extremely little about her other than her name up until a year ago. When I found that my great-grandfather was illegitimate and the surname came from his mother, I would have considered it as one of those interesting "skeletons in the closet" situations. I would have been just has happy to look at those family babies and said, "Yep, s/he is a Schuster." It is just that I have not lived with Schuster being my surname and part of my self-identity the same way Hobusch has been.

All may not be lost on the Hobusch surname situation. One of the puzzles we as a family are trying to work out is that family records state that my great-grandfather's father's name was William or Wilhelm Edward Hobusch, not Carl A. Hobusch as appears on U.S. records. Could the father of my great-grandfather have been a family member of the man my great-great grandmother ended up marrying the year after her first son was born? After all, she was not a young, immature teenager who may have been seduced by an older man when she had her first son. She was a month shy of being 27 years old. Since she was a single 27 year-old with an illegitimate child, she probably was not "marriage bait". So, how did she meet Carl Hobusch who was four years her junior? One explanation could be that he knew her because of his familial relationship with the natural father of her child. If the father had deserted her or been killed in the conflicts of the time, that may explain how those two met and eventually married. We are hoping to find a Wilhelm Edward Hobusch somewhere in the area. It would not prove anything--only give the family some comfort that MAYBE we connect to Hobusch lines back in Germany.

Okay, I know our surname is still Hobusch. A lot of people changed or anglicized their given and/or surnames at the time they immigrated. The surnames put on the immigration records when they came to the U.S. and then got passed down to their descendants are the legal names of the descendants. Still, it would have been nice to know that the surname I was born with--the one with the interesting traditions attached--is more than four generations old in my generation of the family.

All we really know about the father of my great-grandfather is from the Y-DNA test we have, thanks to Cousin Rick. He was probably Prussian, since the test results show his ancestors were more slavic and came from regions such as the Ukraine and Romania. That is different than the Teutonic German Y-DNA found in many of the people native to Germany. There are a large collection of surnames who share the Y-DNA of our family. One is a Busch, but none of them is Hobusch.

Okay, I have got to get past this. Yep, I'm still a Hobusch, okay?

Getting Started

Starting a blog is something I have been intending to do for months. Now, here we go. Hope it will not be like my exercise program--hit and miss. I use Facebook, but I tend to have more to say than what fits into those teeny boxes. They are probably teeny because most of my FB friends do not really want to hear that much of what I am doing, anyway. That is okay. Those that do can click on the blog. As soon as I find the picture I want, get a few more things organized, then you will know it is me, and you can hear the "echo" of my brain anytime you want. Set this up as a RSS feed in Google Reader or your favorite RSS feed service, and let's connect. Be sure to share your thoughts with me, too.