Sunday, November 8, 2020


 Well, that includes the new inner workings of Blogger (I keep accidentally writing blooger, lol) and the situation outside our home. 

Sure, trumpster fire finally being doused is good, but I mean the goddamn virus. 

Don't want to really go into stores, but have to, don't want to meet people, thankfully my things are always progressing slowly, so I can actually focus on things that matter to me. There are available jobs, but like hell I'm suitable for them and seriously, right now, I don't want to risk my health. I don't want even a regular cold, let alone THAT. So no thanks for meeting people. Besides, starting a couple of web courses on light entrepreneurship. Jesus what a monstrosity of a word. I could have signed up for more, but I have NaNoWriMo to win. 

They kept hounding me to go and test out if I have ADHD and it's bothering me and giving me anger and anxiety. Anger for pressuring me to it and also making me doubt myself again, when I was finally actually feeling rather good. Anxiety over that it will destroy what I think of myself and making it even harder in this impossible situation to find a job. I just want to be left alone, I try to see if I can handle being a seller of jewelry and miniatures, while seeing is there anything simple enough in the job market for me to do. 

For ages I've felt like I'm not good for anything and it bothers me like hell. Sure, I might take some things personally, but seriously. When you can land just few months of work every other year, it eats your credibility but also yourself. To me, wanting me to go there is an insult to what I am. Sure, I talk a mile a minute, but so does everyone in my family. I am sometimes restless, well who the fuck isn't? I can swap my attention really quickly, surely a talent. I can focus on what I want very intensely, so? Everyone does that on a subject they like. I find the requests to go to a test really insulting and degrading. Insulting to my person and degrading to my mental capacities. I'm me. Deal with it. 

I haven't yet blasted it to everyone but I will be putting up a fight this time. I'm done doing shit I don't want and need because other people think it's good for me, when I know it isn't. 

This song... it's called out to me for years. It still does. I've never fit in and these motherfuckers better buckle up because I'll be ME until the day I die. 

Friday, August 30, 2019

Slice of Life: Adulting sucks

One thing I've noticed ever since growing up. As a kid, you're all 'I'm gonna have so much fun when I'm adult'. Nah, the fun ends when you're adult. You're not allowed to have fun anymore.

Most likely, your slogan will be :

"At least the rent and bills are paid."

That applies to us. I'm supposed to do my utmost best with all that I have in the fridge and freezer... I'm guessing a whooooooooole lot of brown sauce with very little meat... Can I have a nervous breakdown now?

Money goes in a day. What little you get. We are also just waiting on everybody else to get shit done that we can't do ourselves... It's emotionally draining, you'll never be happy as an adult, it seems. Just small, short sparkles of light, otherwise it's a swamp that is slowly sucking you in in the middle of the night.

Adulting is not fun. It sucks.

Friday, August 23, 2019

Slice of Life: Whirlwind end of summer

I'm still rather windswept with everything that happened. Am now a moderator of a doll group, thanks to my ability to detach my emotions from people rather easily. Not from objects. People always come and go, they change or die, but some objects just never leave my life. I couldn't leave my piano behind, so there is an example for ya. Or that I cannot part from the dolls that are most dear to me.

Anyways, still waiting for new cabinets so we can finally, after 2 years, to start organizing and finally finish the doll room and our "atelier". Let's see is September a bit better and do we dare to hope. It's almost time for the Border Pride and the International Food Market again. I just NEED to get Strüdels from the Austrian booth, they are too good. I always take small slices for myself so I can have it last longer. Blueberry quark is my absolute favorite. Been also baking a lot of blueberry cookies myself, just yummy. Those and tea and of course, apple pie are the staples of fall.

Fall did arrive rather fast, I think. The summer seemed to end as soon as we were leaving for our hometown for a vacation and it has been pouring rain, finally. It's been so dry here (my home village still hasn't gotten much rain, yikes) that the ash bin the workers downstairs use caught fire the very same day we had come back. Of course, the guy just dragged it away from the wood-metal combo doors (we could have gotten trapped!) and between our cars, mine had just gotten the underside oiled! I was the one to go and pour water into that bin and douse it before it could really catch fire instead of billow smoke like a steamer. I had to air out our atelier and staircase. I did manage to tell the workers what happened after their day ended and they swore they always made sure it was properly out, but the new trainee didn't. I'm sure he got an earful.

That wasn't overly good rest of the Monday. Anyways, I've managed to order Apoxie Sculpt and Army Painter spray sealant for doll projects, but I haven't gotten a chance to use the latter yet, it's not such a good idea to use in wet conditions and it's been pouring almost every other day. With Apoxie, I've practiced fixing necks and making dolls some bigger boobs and a prosthetic leg.

I'm still going to do something with the hair and the leg, but so far, it does look good. Almost as good as the Mattel's one.

I think they enlarge when you click. Working on the colors, she's a quirky one and I think she'd go with her fave team's old colors.

Anyways. Been writing and modifying dolls, the only two things I actually have any passion for. The vacay did wreck my 39-day streak for Duolingo, but I'm getting back on track again, making myself a schedule to bounce between Japanese, Russian and Spanish. Also should move more, I'm not losing weight by not eating. I'm too lazy to cook and I don't know many recipes. I'm fed up with almost everything I make. And I'm picky. We got some food items from the Finnish Red Cross' food distribution for the needy. Problem is... Now I have things in our fridge I have no idea where to use them. Should probs make the Thai soup I traded with a friend for some things we just couldn't get down. I still don't have many ingredients to make anything new.

I'm in trouble, somebody should probs come and overhaul the whole kitchen and teach me new foods. I keep staring at the cabinet and fridge and freezer and just want to cry because I don't want any of what I see. Hence I was really hungry and cold last night and went to bed hungry.

My dad was a chef, he never taught me anything in the kitchen. Granny never taught me how to cook, but she did teach me how to bake. I am still able to burn potatoes and porridges. ...hey... I could make porridge. Shit, just need to put the dishwasher on to get the pots back.

Monday, July 29, 2019


Finally at home. It was about...5 and a half hour drive in the night, we left just before midnight, it wasn't hot to drive, but the lack of open gas stations was almost a problem. Well, barren roadside reststop and some tp, dooone. I fell asleep maybe an hour and a half after arriving, took a while to pass out, but finally did. Slept over 6 hours, closer to 8 I think. Still not fully functional, but... Yeah. Managed to log in at least on one email and gramps lets me use his computer, since it's only beneficial that I do. He's not that good with updating computer.

Anyway, should probs go put some clothes on. I actually found jeans that I can fit into. Weird.

Tuesday, July 23, 2019

Slice of Life: Reflection

I should probably beat the lyrics into my head and never forget them. Honestly.  She hits a point with this and no wonder it has become sort of an anthem.

Yes, I'm not "normal" as the people with a black-and-white mindset would put it. I'm a fucking lesbian. I am rough, tomboyish and I have a truck license, I swear a lot, but if I'm called a truck-lesbian, I'm punching. Or kicking. I'm more... demisexual, I don't necessarily feel too attracted to other people, some celebs get my engines revving, for a couple of months until I'm just meh, they are good looking. I'd rather just write raunchy shite of them. =D That's what I do.

I'm not a simple person personality-wise. I think. How the hell should I know? I just exist, not thinking of myself much. Not many deem me irreplaceable. One person at least. That's all that matters to me, but outside our home, that's when it does matter who else thinks I'm too important to lose. I dunno how many think that way, nobody says it to my face really. At least according to my shoddy memory.

I'm not sure is the category right still, but since people just LOVE sticking labels to things... *shrug* Whatever floats yer boat.

That's when it curves to myself again. How I see myself. How I literally see myself. I don't see myself much different from when I was 15 or something, I still feel the same. Just someone who can slip through the crowd and vanish without anybody noticing. I've liked different clothes as a kid, but I always got ruthlessly bullied because of them later, so granny told me that I should tell them what is the current style people are wearing at school, so they can buy me clothes more like theirs. In the end, I didn't give a shit. I wore whatever I pulled from my closet of people brought me. Unless they were toe-socks. I hated them. Felt like my toes had no circulation. Fuck that was a nasty phase in fashion, faded soon though. Phew.

I did always feel like I couldn't wear anything without getting shit. Whether it was a cozy Minnie Mouse black and magenta hoodie (took up wearing a fleece vest over it) or full pink almost matching pants and shirt, yellow woolly socks I partially made myself, burgundy winter boots (two different pairs, I had scraps of food, broken forks, and spoons in them or they were held hostage and tossed outside or around the school by complete strangers)... the list goes on... I tried to be normal and I got shit, I wore something I liked and got shit.

You don't walk away from that without issues. I'd probably still need a rage room, you can rent it for a small fee and are given a baseball bat to just destroy everything to vent out the rage. I need that. I'm not even kidding. All former classmates still deserve a fist in the face.

I've always been called fat. School nurse put me on a diet in elementary. Granny was pissed. Who fucking counts how many slices of sausage or cheese you can put on your bread and how many glasses of milk you can drink as a kid?! I have granny's body type and she sadly did tell me that and to stop dreaming of losing weight, when I was really trying and I needed support. I took a habit of sucking in my stomach after I was mistaken to be pregnant by one Chinese restaurant owner. I only went there once after that, shame, they had dumplings. The only place that makes dumplings.

My junior high classmate, who was alright, a bit too rough sometimes even from my point of view, once told me of what she thought when she first saw me. She had thought that "there's a girl who'd be really beautiful if she only took care of her looks." I've tried caring for my looks, but what for really? If I blend in the crowd with uncombed hair and hand-me-down clothes and don't get bullied for it, sign me up.

I liked the princess dresses as a kid, but it got embarrassing over the years. I never saw myself cute, despite what people said. I have a handful of pictures as an adult that I can actually look at and not cringe. I can't look at the wedding photos. I saw one and I just wanted to delete them all. I never realized I was so fat. I didn't pay attention to my figure, just keeping myself from freaking out over the fact I was in the spotlight with her.

I just can't look at the pictures. I can't. I hate my double chin, my belly, my thick thighs, I don't mind my big ass, though I keep knocking everything off with it as I try to sneak past. I rather wear black and baggy to hide myself. During summer, I wear lighter clothes, but even then, it's a struggle. I have days when I can wear anything and not care, then there are days I try to doll up and then just... not go...

Ugh, body positivity. Sure, it can help, young people need better role models, to know it's ok to be what you are, but... To me, it's just sure, rub it in. I am like this, but I don't' want to be like this, but there's fucking nothing I can do. I can't keep up habits long enough for my routines (what little I have, actually none...) to change permanently. I don't have that motivation. Wow, here it is again. Motivation. I don't have much of it.

Why I can't function like a regular human being?! Look at the mirror and smile at the reflection. All I see is somebody who should get her shit together. Somebody who shouldn't go out in the public at all for the sake of sparing them of nightmares. Sometimes I just... sit and wonder how can somebody love me despite being like this, I don't understand it. I know love doesn't care about looks and so what if she looks what she looks? I love her. She says the same. ...I just don't love myself. Opposite of love isn't hate, but ignorance. Now that is what I mostly feel towards myself. So what. I didn't have the best of role models as a kid, no matter which way you tilt your head, I think it all stems from there. I was often humiliated in front of people, I still have huge difficulties to go in front of people. It causes me anxiety.

I do have some form of panic disorder or anxiety disorder. At some points, it does hinder my life. I can't up and go to the archery club anymore. I felt so inferior there it wasn't even funny and all the attention on how we were doing was insane...
I can't listen to my own voice without feeling humiliated by how it sounds. I can listen through my videos once or twice, then post them, but never listen to them myself again. Or listen to somebody listen to them. I wanted to become a voice actor, but I don't have enough talent and guts for that.

I was asked to give my name and my parents' names in to microphone as a kid. I wasn't really told of my whole fucked up family situation then and I called my granny -mom-. Who else, she was only mother figure I fucking had! Easy for you lucky shits with both parents! Everybody was staring at me and I managed to stammer something, but it was humiliating. I didn't remember my granny's name and I was so confused. I'd still love to stick a knife to the teacher's throat for that and bomb the whole room. All the smiles ever since have felt like a mockery. All nice words I've gotten have always turned out to be lies. I don't really trust kind words, because they are always a mask to me. It's easy for me to lie in people's faces for that. Hide. Hide fucking everything.

Why people always humiliate me? Pick on me? What the fuck is wrong with me and you?! Why me?! What the everloving fuck have I ever done to you?!

If one could get away with murder, I'd have a long trail of bodies behind me. And all my inner demons would be silenced forever.

Well, one can dream. At least it's free, even though I don't really dream anymore, what's the use really? You'll just get disappointed when the dream ends. Life just fucking loves shitting in the fan. Getting just really tired and fed up with all the shit. 

Thursday, July 18, 2019

Oh wow...

This has been a rollercoaster week already.

Met my coach again and was introduced a book that will change our lives, hopefully. Had bit of a meltdown (both of us).
Yesterday, had to admit we are in a dead-end. This place is a dead-end, no jobs that don't require a friggin' ink on paper to prove you can do it. No wonder people move out. For me, this is also a blissful place, free of my demons of the past.

Also applied for a job. Dunno if I'm ready, but I need to try. It's just an assistant in a flower shop, but it doesn't require a certificate. I don't need to be a florist, they'd train me. I do like flowers, so... I wouldn't mind.

Planning a trip home, but a lot depends on can my gramps help me out -again- financially. Fuck, I can't even afford to get us to visit home. We haven't had the time for it with all the meetings and being just... mental wrecks. We need to get this train moving, I'm quite tired.

In a few hours, I'll have money, I'll pay up my bills and fill up the gas tank, do some shopping and go out to eat. You have no idea how this has been a torture to wait. I'm so fed up with everything I make it's not even funny! Also should write more here. A lot more.

There is a writing competition... That sounds nice. I just... don't have anything ready in English. It'd be on Wattpad. Hmm... I should go and take a look. And probs hit the bed. I'll write more laters.

Tuesday, July 16, 2019

Slice of Life: When did life go past me?

Been too long since I've written here, to be honest. I know there's probably nobody reading, but... Oh well... At least I get things off my chest.
I've been with Kela's Nuotti rehabilitation program for some time now, once a month for 2 hours with the coach. Mostly been with me talking, but I've got some goals set up towards getting some structure for my weeks. I don't want to just float around anymore.

When I look in the mirror, I see the same 15-yo girl who didn't want to go anywhere, because there was nowhere to go. I'm just fatter and look more tired. I guess that's because I'm 28 now. I look back and I've come far. I'm happily hitched, two cats, rented apartment and a hobby.

That's where I start to see differences. I look around. Some have illnesses and they cope with them, some are just as hopelessly unemployed as I am and some have jobs and steady income that doesn't evaporate 12hrs after it's been deposited in their accounts. What have I achieved in the eyes of others?

I'd say nothing. Sure, some people have it worse, but I feel like a failure for not being able to help the person closest to me. For not being good enough or confident enough to get a job. To support that way. What I'd like to have? A job that I can stand and feel it's worth getting my ass up and out. A pay that I don't have to count every cent of can we get groceries and cat food and litter plus the bills and rent and last until the next pay...

Life likes to throw wrenches at me like Ratchet, with too great of accuracy for my taste. We had savings and our computers broke. I had money and the car repairs were way over what money I got monthly. The second repairs drained the savings again. I'm tired of penny-pinching. The stress is putting a huge strain on me.

I know people would say get a fucking job. It is easier said than done. Right now, Finland does have more jobless people than workplaces open, but compatibility... You can't stuff a ball through a square-shaped hole, you know, we all tried as a kid, I bet.
I might see a job that would be interesting and I'm actually thinking of it, until few hours later, I realize I wouldn't be good at it. I'm afraid.

Afraid of being a failure. 

I'm afraid of failing. 

Few times I've tried my best, only to fail and get told that it wasn't the right way. I can't handle it. Go ahead, you can criticize my art, I know I'm not good at it, but I like doing it and I try, but god... whatever else I do and it tears me apart.

Thrice in Lankava I just wanted to drop everything and walk out, never to return. I fucking tried!

Almost every other day, I just wanted to drop everything and hop in my car and drive away from Powerpark. The register was just too complex for me and I couldn't grasp the details even after the whole season.

Few times I just wanted to sit and cry in the grass when doing park maintenance, I don't know shit about taking care of flowers or anything, I was tossed in and had to hit the ground running.

In the Children's Culture Center, I was so underqualified I'm amazed why they hired me? How bad was the other applicant that showed up?! I was completely lost with everything and just... flopped around like a fish out of water.

At the call center, that's where I broke the first time from getting chewed out by an angry customer for my mistake. The place wasn't really good, but it broke me. It simply broke me. I can barely call anyplace nor keep my shit together if my old mistakes are brought out. I wish I could thank the Swedish coworker who tried to console me. That job wasn't worth it.

People make mistakes and I am always aware of them, but I'd love to just rave at everyone's face that I'm trying, don't tell me where I went wrong. I am trying my fucking hardest. 

I don't really try anymore. Not so people can see. I don't want to hear about my mistakes. I've made them and will continue to make. I just want to forget they ever happened. I know I'm trying to shut the world out. Shut the negativity out. It's just... it's like trying to block one of the nozzles in a fountain.

Why try when you know it's going to blow up in my face?

Why bother? 

Why should I go to be the spitoon?

I don't have the answers for those. I wish somebody had. Go through that shit for money isn't what I wish for, but I tend to live in dreamland. None of you probably wonder why if you read my other slice of life shits.

This is my darkness. This is something not even my imaginary friends can save me from. I know I should just... grow the hard skin back now that it has been peeled off. I guess the shit was easier to take from the family in the form of always-broken promises, but it's the same shit that life keeps giving me, so it cannot be that either.

Sometimes I feel like the whole world could burn and I don't care. Other times I just... want to be someone people can trust. That people would trust me and look at me with a smile, with no lies to me.

...see why I don't really even apply for jobs? Why I see the psychotherapist and am in a rehabilitation program? I might look like a well-functioning 28-yo adult. Yet inside, I'm still that confused and broken, angry teen who just resigned to fate and was planning to be a bum under the bridge.

I was exhausted of expectations from everyone and fighting their visions by the time I was 20. I've tried to get a job and enjoy it, do it to my best abilities, but not being good enough. There's only one person who thinks I'm good enough and we live together. I'd probs be still holed up in that tiny village and write stories on the computer in the upstairs of my grandparents, in my childhood home. Without her, I'd be nothing.

Now I'm a wife and a cat mom. A doll modifier. A jewelry maker. A shy writer. None of that pays, but it keeps me alive and sane. If I was ever sane in the first place. I dunno. I've never been like others. I've never known how to do things others do.

Getting a job is a hurdle. Not really my fault either, the job markets are utter crap here. You'd need a million-dollar idea to become an entrepreneur. And you need those fucking million dollars to start that cycle of crap. I just want financial stability. It is just pure impossibility really... At least dreams are free.

I don't like to dream either, they just remind me what I don't have. Money. From a job.

I'm on the road to getting shit done per week, that is one step. I'd just need more help with my mind than can be provided freely. I can't go back either. My hometown is my personal nightmare for me. All the past bad memories flood me. I'm not going back to live, not until I'm better.

If I'm ever getting better.

One thing I have stopped dreaming about completely though. Losing weight. Granny told me I was never gonna lose weight since I had her body type. Well, she is right. Do I hate my body? Yeah, duh, you are lucky you haven't seen it. What do I do about it? Nothing. Nothing's gonna change anyway. My ass and thighs are never fitting in any nice clothes and my gut makes me look preggers, so I just wear oversized clothes. I'm done caring. If she still wants to wake up every morning next to me, even if I'm like this, so be it =)  I'm very much fine with it. I don't care really about myself in physical sense.

I know it shows. One classmate said that the first time she saw me, she had thought that I'd be pretty if I just looked after myself. I never trusted her again, even if she promised to help defend me against rumors. Let them talk if it's their only hobby. In that town, it is the only thing to do. Gossip on others.

I did look around the other day, seeing all these things we've collected but never seem to have time for them and I felt sad. We've put so much love and effort into them. Then what? When we're gone? Who cares of them? Who is there to read their stories? I'm almost tempted to embark in that journey next November. To give them all a voice. Starting from my old imaginary friends. Somebody should hear their stories. Fanfiction-y and impossible they are, but it's our DollWorld. Our stories.

Maybe I should. I don't want this all to go to waste.

Ok, maybe the rant is over. I've unloaded a lot off my chest. Some might call this just attention whoring. It's not, since it's not on IG or Twitter or FB. I'm the type who needs to get things off my mind and out on paper or in digital form. Then I feel better.

A lot has changed and I miss the old times. When I was 15. This new world is harsh and cruel and twisted. Maybe that's the reason for Selenia to exist. It's a safe haven for us. A place where everything is well. It's in this doll room and in our minds and in our word docs. It's in our dreams.

I'm 28. I don't have a job. I love dealing with fashion dolls and handcrafts. I love music, heavy metal in particular. I wish I could turn one of my hobbies into a business, but I know I'm not good enough. I know I'm lazy, but that could also be me being... tired. Tired of failing. Tired of being scared.

Yeah... that gotta be it.

Monday, May 27, 2019

D71 Mirka Kovalchuk-Kuznetsov (C)

Mirka. The Captain. The solid rock supporting the whole team.

Maybe the best of friends I could ever have. The voice inside my head that tells me to calm the fuck down and just do it.

I wanted to save her to be last, because of her importance and the captain always comes on the ice last. 

Born in former city of Kalinin (modern day Tver), she's 3/4 Russian and 1/4th Finnish Karelian. She does feel more at home in Finland, having lived in Lappeenranta for years before coming to Lapua with her family to join the team, ending up as the captain the second year. She radiates calmness and does keep everyone in check.

Her command of Finnish is near perfect, she worked her accent off but as they say, the younger you learn, the better you are. Nowadays she's married to Ivan Kuznetsov (honestly, it is a common last name) and has a son, Ruslan, who keeps her up at nights.

She chose to play bass, learning it from scratch for joining in the band and is rather decent with it. She mostly likes to play or tinker with electronics, her parents owning a repairs garage that she works in also. Mirka also does some paranormal investigations when not filming or animating in her little free time.

I wish I really had a friend like her, but I think she'll never really leave me either. At least I hope so.

Name:  Mirka Kovalchuk-Kuznetsov (Tarakov-Kuznetsov in official papers)
DoB:  3.3.1991, Kalinin (Tver), USSR
   Mother: Svetlana
   Father: Zedoi
   Spouse: Ivan Kuznetsov
   Son: Ruslan
Lives:  Selenia, Island of Selenia
Work:  Mechanic, animator, ghost hunter, bassist
BFF:  -
Hockey idols: 
Ilya Kovalchuk
Vladimir Machulda
Lasse Kukkonen 

Sunday, May 26, 2019

F4 Christina Hannigan

 Christina, the shy and insecure replacement for Minya, who hadn't been a very good skater ever, until Serafina, Anjeylica, Anastasia, Lucrezia and her old enemy, Frankie taught her to skate better and how to do quick moves on the ice to throw off the opponent. She did manage to fill in the skates left behind and rose to be trusted by the team.

Her sister Cat was the one who got all the guts while she grew up to be rather meek. She's grown a lot but has never shed the polite Canadian upbringing she had. Yes, she does apologize to tables and chairs if she bumps into them. No joke.

Big sister Catherine (Cat) Hannigan, a champion kickboxer
What part of me does she represent? Maybe the part that never fits in? I really don't know.

Name:  Christina "Bolt" Hannigan
DoB:  4.8.1991, Watson Lake, Canada
   Sibling: Catherine Hannigan
   Niece: Maisie Hannigan
   Spouse: Frankie Montoya
Lives:  Selenia, Island of Selenia
Work:  -
BFF:  Frankie Montoya
Hockey idols: 
Vincent Lecavalier

Saturday, May 25, 2019

F11 Valerie Orszagh

 Valerie, the mohawk girl. She doesn't want to give up her black and white mohawk, no matter what. She's been rocking that for 10 years now. She did take off some of the piercings though, kinda shame, she looked good with them.

She's the third member of the AOO-line that spun webs around their poor opponents and eventually scored a goal, usually the handiwork of Anastasia, the fastest of the trio.

What she does currently, I don't know, probs still has greyhounds, she looks to be still fit as... well, an athlete. She's edgy and does what she wants, while others usually did what they could.

She likes to shock and maybe she is that part of my personality that never gets out. When you want to stand out, do it properly. I just don't have the guts for it, but she loves to make people look. At least thrice before they believe what they see. Gotta love the huge brass balls she has.

That is self-explanatory...

Name:  Valerie Orszagh
DoB:  20.10.1991, Bratislava, Czeckoslovakia
Family: -
Lives:  Heliopolis, Island of Selenia
Work:  -
BFF:  Slavica Setzinger
Hockey idols: 
Vladimir Orszagh
Marian Hossa
Zigmund Palffy
Darius Kasparaitis


 Well, that includes the new inner workings of Blogger (I keep accidentally writing blooger, lol) and the situation outside our home.  Sure,...