Dante v. The World

Dante and Augustine in happier times

Judge: Court is now resumed. Dante, do you mind continuing your account of what transpired the morning of Friday, May 27th?

Dante: Yeah. So, you know I love to go outside on the back porch in the mornings, but normally I have to beg and whine a little. However, yesterday when the male slave opened the door without any prompting, I didn't think anything of it, I was just celebrating my good fortune! Augustine trailed out behind me, because I never give her opportunity to go first, instead seeing everything in life as a competition and shoving her aside or jumping over her, whatever is necessarity to win as befits her station, and after just a second or two, she started whining at the door. The male slave opened the door for her after a brief moment, and she scampered inside.

Judge: And what were you doing in this time?

Dante: Doing my part of the backyard watch, making sure the squirrels and birds knew their place. There may have been some tail twitching, some guttural noises, some frantic pacing. You know, the usual.

Judge: Continue.

Dante: So, I noticed after a few minutes the male slave opened the door again to see if I wanted to come in, but seriously, who would protect our backyard if I wasn't there?! My shift wasn't over, and I refused to slack off, like one other cat I know (*cough* Augustine! *cough*). And it's not like the male slave tried very hard. Now that I think about it, I think he only opened the door a sliver, and even had I wanted to end my shift early, I'm not convinced I had any chance to actually cross the porch and get through the opening before he shut it again without some crazy awesome ninja skills. Yeah, he's definitely in on this.

Judge: Let's avoid empty speculations.

Dante: So, finally, I figured it was probably time to chase Augustine for me to make my rounds of the house, and I ambled inside the next time the door was opened. And this is when it got ugly.  Immediately I knew something was wrong.

Judge: Proceed.

Dante: So I entered the kitchen, and there was a smell of tuna in the air. TUNA! I love that stuff! I'm not even sure I heard a can opener, so nefarious forces must have been at work to keep me in the dark. Fat chance of that! I sniffed and scoured the floor, but I couldn't find anything. So, anyway, it was clear there had been a dish...or two...on the floor with the beloved tuna water quite recently.  But not anymore.

Judge: Tuna water? Can you elaborate on that?

Dante: Sure. Well, the female slave sometimes gets out a tuna can. She hasn't realized it's only for feline consumption (as if!), but as she drains the water into two little cat dishes, even sometimes letting actual tuna chunks in the mixture, I usually let that slide. So, when all is right with the world, she sets those two dishes down. Now, I admit that usually Augustine is the first to spot this bounty, but through no fault of my own. She's just not keeping up with her kitty guard duties, so she's more likely to react in her lazy state.

Anyway, usually her speed alerts me that something's going down, and I join her. She tries to pick a bowl of her own, but it's up to me to see that she's chosen wisely. Usually she hasn't, so I shoo her away from the first bowl. And then I realize she might have tried to pull the wool over my eyes I forgot to do quality control on the second bowl, so I have to shoo her away from that one as well. Once I've established that both bowls are safe -- and it usually takes a couple passes back and forth, because safety is job one and I take it quite seriously -- I let Augustine know which one is hers based on whichever bowl has the least remaining is the least likely to be contaminated, and then we settle in with our lapping race. I usually finish first, and then it's my duty to help Augustine finish. You know, so she doesn't get a tummy ache. She's advanced enough in age that...

Judge: Hold on a moment. [Papers ruffle] My records show she's only about a year or so older than you. Is this correct?

Dante: Exactly. As I was saying, in her infirmity, she should watch what she eats -- and how quickly -- and that's where I step in and help her finish. 

Judge: So, yesterday you thought you smelled tuna in the air. What happened then?

Dante: Well, I didn't see any bowls with the evidence, but I bet if my slaves would have let me jump on the counter, I would have found them in the sink. But they looked as if nothing was out of sorts, although they were quite attentive to my actions, more so than usual, which should have tipped me off that they didn't have my best interests at heart. In fact, I've lost track of how many times the male slave has catered to Augustine, telling her how sweet she is, how pretty, how "good," and then he has the nerve to hold her up as an example to me, telling me I should be more like her. I'm so misunderstood in my own house!

Judge: You're off track, again. Please stick to the account of yesterday's events with minimal tangents.

Dante: So I went to Augustine.

Judge: Describe her, please.

Dante: Well, that good-for-nothing cat, she thinks she's all that, was sitting primly in the living room on the rug. She tried to look all innocent as I approached, like I'm dumb or something. And just because I'm polydactyl and there happens to be some anecdotal evidence -- planted, I'm confident of that, because anyone can edit Wikipedia, you know, and there are wrong things on the internet--

Judge: What did I saw about indulging in these unnecessary tangents?

Dante: Fine. Some individuals claim that cats with such traits happen to be a little slow on the uptake -- liars! -- they all think I won't notice. But my olfactory senses are beyond belief, I tell you!

Judge: Let's rein it in. Return to the point of the story where you approached Augustine yesterday.

Dante: [Grumbling and muttering under his breath about well-planted hairballs for a moment before composing himself] Seriously, this is an outrage; don't you want to know all the facts?! Whatever. So I approach her, and you know what happens? I sniff her breath, and anyone want to hazard a guess of what I smelled?! TUNA! On her breath! There are only a few ways that could happen. First, she could have a tuna fish that she's slowly licking to death. But I ruled that out. Because, seriously, where would she hide it? I know everything about our dwellings and all her hiding spots. So unless she found the elusive "second basement" I've heard in legend, there's no tuna fish she's keeping to herself. So I moved onto my second guess: that she hadn't cleaned since the last time we had glorious tuna water. But as I thought about that, I smelled my breath, and there was no tuna. Let me tell you, Augustine has this weird thing about being cleanly. After all, when I was brought into this abode, she had the nerve to imply that I was a mangy, ugly feline and needed a little help in the hygiene department. So if anyone was going to have residual tuna water breath, it was going to be me. And I didn't. My third guess was that my pending patent for a tuna-flavored breath spray had made it to market. But last I'd heard, it was held up in development as they tried to figure out how we could operate it without opposable thumbs (and, um, there's also some difficulty creating a container safe for consumption, since the test subjects keep trying to eat the cat spray once they catch a whiff). So I moved onto another thought, the most evil, darkest, and convicting of all. There had been tuna water set out for us, and she had drank not just one bowl, but BOTH bowls.

Judge: Did you confront her?

Dante: Why, yes, I did. I got up in her face, asking whether she had just had a treat in the form of tuna water goodness. And you know what she had the nerve to do?!

Judge: We're all waiting on pins and needles for your account, I assure you.

Dante: She LICKED her face! In front of me! She was taunting me, right there, her tongue licking her non-existent lips. It makes me crazy! Like I had this coming to me or something! Oh, boy, she better watch her back! Why, the next time we...

Judge: I think I've heard enough. We'll take a ten-minute recess, and I will relay my decision when we reconvene. And before then, I suggest you think long and hard about what has been shared here and conduct yourselves in a manner befitting these solemn proceedings, or I won't hesitate to throw this case out. We're adjourned.

Pregnancy Update

I reach 33 weeks Wednesday- here is a photo of me at 32 weeks. I've put on 23 pounds and it seems to be all belly (you can't tell I'm pregnant from behind).

It looks like I'm on track to have a big girl. At my ultrasound a couple weeks back, they predicted her to be around 5 pounds, 4 ounces. Of course, there is a margin of error, but we're preparing to have a decent-sized girl; in these remaining weeks, babies tend to add anywhere from a third to double their entire body weight.

I'm still strict with my insulin-resistance dietary guidelines. After the above ultrasound, though, the doctor wanted me to check my blood sugars for a week or two to ensure her size wasn't due to gestational diabetes but instead could be explained by genetics (I did pass my GD test a couple months ago, but it can develop later in the pregnancy). I go in again this week, but from my testing, it sure seems my blood sugars are always on the low end. It's been a welcome learning exercise to check my levels with such frequency; I sometimes feel weak and light-headed and had previously written it off solely due to my low blood pressure, but I've noticed I also have low blood sugar at those times.

My c-section is scheduled for September 15. We feel like we are prepared for her arrival. I still need to pack my hospital bag, and it wouldn't hurt if we picked up some baby nail clippers and a thermometer, but we have a place for her to sleep, clothes, a carseat, and diapers. There are still general jobs around the house we'd like to tackle, but she won't notice if the place isn't perfectly clean.

I have periods of nesting that translate to cleaning and purging. However, I'm also suffering from general tiredness, so I have to weigh what's most realistic at any given time. I've enjoyed sorting through things from a seated position, for instance, but I can't always run around the house to accomplish the other organizational tasks. I assess my energy levels and act accordingly. And Eric is willing to serve as my hands and feet when I just can't imagine another trip up and down the stairs.

Eric is still the perfect expectant father. There are more door-side dropoffs when we're running errands (he is sensitive to my ever-expanding belly, the summer temperatures, and my slowed walking pace), and he never faults me for asking a favor. I'm independent, so it's sometimes hard for me to ask him to fetch me something when I am beyond exhausted but am in need of food or drink, but he never complains or grumbles, so I suck up my pride and ask, knowing he won't make some snide comment about me being lazy. Of course, if he thought to mouth off, I might have him strap on a 25-pound weight around his midsection and wear it for a few weeks to see how he fared.

The pregnancy insomnia has subsided once again, but our younger cat sees it as his job to make sure I need to get up at least once to tend to him (i.e., kick him out of the bedroom when he turns into "Mafia Cat"*). This tending doesn't necessarily coincide with my other pregnancy-related trips out of bed in the middle of the night.

After my maternity leave, I'm only returning to work in a part-time capacity - three days a week for a total of 12 hours - and I'm looking forward to the arrangement Eric and I have decided on. When I come to campus, I will drop our daughter off at Eric's spacious basement office, which will be outfitted with a pack-and-play, a portable swing, and a baby carrier. I will walk across the grass to my building, work my hours, and then collect her again. If all goes well, Eric will be able to get some work done while enjoying some one-on-one father-daughter time, and I can contribute to our finances and still have some adult interaction.

My youngest sister is visiting next week. For the second summer in a row, she's chosen our place to crash after returning from overseas (last year was China, this year, the Czech Republic). I recognize there will probably be some jet-lag issues, and I can't take off the whole week to be with her, but I might put her to work if she's willing. I've got it in my head that I'd like to freeze some meals so we don't have to expand as much energy with food prep in the fall. I've got a few recipes to try, so maybe if she'd like to spend some time in the kitchen while I'm at work, I can set her loose. I suspect we'll fall in love with the freezer meals and our crockpot all over again as the fall sets in.

--

*Mafia Cat is Dante's nickname when he thinks it's time for us to shower him with affection or, more likely, get up and let him enjoy our screened-in porch (we typically let them out in the morning when we get up, so he's hoping if he wakes us up at 2 AM, the same holds true; no dice, but hope springs eternal). He goes to my bedside table and starts looking at me to make sure I'm stirring, then he begins knocking things off. I imagine his thoughts are as follows: "Look at this cute travel alarm - oops! Seems that in my clumsy state I knocked it over - let's hope it still goes off in the morning at its appointed time. And your glasses, nestled safely in their case. I wonder how well they'd fare after a trip to the floor. Let's experiment, okay? Wow, this is an awfully nice antique lamp. It'd be a shame if something were to happen to it. Ooh, look, it starts rocking when I jam my head against its shade or nibble on the brim!"

Thursday Potpourri

I’ve been trying to decide what this blog should hold – do I continue with my postings on any number of topics – a random story about family or work, pictures of my felines, accounts of finished knitting and sewing projects? I think since there’s not a common theme, I have neglected posting. After all, when you can write about anything, it can be difficult to narrow it down and make the time to compose something. When I was teaching, I had no lack of stories from work, but I don’t have the same amusement in my current position, which has led to the evolution of topics.

Anyway, in the midst of my current thinking, I thought I’d just include random updates on a myriad of topics.

Our Pets
Augustine and Dante have settled into a tolerant relationship, and it seems clear that Augustine has secured the Alpha Cat position for herself, and Dante just follows her around everywhere. This was our hope all along and the reason we got a small, male kitten. They adore the screened-in porch and are relishing the warmer temperatures, particularly when that means there are open windows. Augustine still has the sweet temperament, and Dante can be aggravating in his antics, but we’ll still keep him (it doesn't hurt that his flatulence has lessened...).

I don’t know if it’s due to my pregnancy, but Augustine has decided that Eric is the preferred sleeping companion at night, which is a first. My favorite example of this was last Saturday night, when I caught her with me. Every time Eric stirred she jumped up, walked across me and stepped on him, and when he didn’t respond, she repeated her steps and settled down with me again, resigning herself to more time with me. This was repeated four times in the span of half an hour or so, until finally Eric stirred enough that I thought he might be awake, and I told him he better welcome Augustine before I reached my tolerance at being treated as second-rate.

Changes in Me
As referenced above, I am pregnant, due in September. This could be a post in and of itself, but due to my infrequency, I better address it now. Although not my first pregnancy, it might at well be with the way I face it. It’s as if I’ve never gone through this before, and I am more anxious this time around, knowing that I’m high risk. I think I’ve come to the conclusion that there is just too much information out there for pregnant women. If we look too closely at anything, we’ll find a reason it’s not safe in pregnancy. Pregnant women are supposed to sleep on their sides, and some places will tell you to only sleep on your left side or face the dire consequences – if any of you can sleep in only one position throughout the night without stirring, kudos to you. Don’t eat soft cheeses or sandwich meats, don’t stand too near a microwave when in use, elevate your feet throughout the day, take prenatals at least three months before getting pregnant, count the baby’s movements daily in your third trimester, and if they ever slow or vary, call your doctor or go to the emergency room. Some fish are okay, but not all, and only in limited servings. Avoid Caesar salads. And on and on.

My co-workers, all of whom are grandparents, drop their jaws whenever I mention one more thing I’m not supposed to do. Then they try to compare stories of all the things they did when they were pregnant with children, including ingesting alcohol. On a related note, I recall a story from a college classmate whose mother smoked but was told during pregnancy that as long as she limited her intake to three cigarettes a day, there would be no harm to the fetus. This was a big cutback to her normal habit, so sometimes she’d smoke only one or two a day so she could hoard the extras and treat herself to half a dozen at the end of the week. Things sure have changed in the medical field regarding pregnancies.

Sometimes I wander into a pregnancy forum, but there can be some alarmist posts, so I do that in moderation and I’m selective which threads I read. I’m at 19 weeks, and I’ve been feeling inconsistent movements for a few weeks now. I think I’m finally at the point where I’m feeling them on a daily basis, although they’re still of the “fluttering” variety, most apparent shortly after a meal or when lying down for bed.

Monday was the big anatomy ultrasound - our little one cooperated, so we learned we're having a girl! Since I’m considered high-risk, it was actually my fourth ultrasound, and they will continue on a monthly basis for the duration of my pregnancy. Physically I’m feeling fine, much better than my first pregnancy. And now that I’m feeling movements, my anxiety has decreased noticeably. However, since I’ve been down this road before, I have to keep reminding myself that if things continue as they are, we’ll have a different outcome, although I confess I am skeptical of this at times. I’m still mentally planning for the changes, keeping an eye out for things we may register for in the future and planning knitting projects for a future baby, but it’s still unreal to me.

Eric has asked when I want to start transforming my office into a nursery, and I’m in no hurry. I don’t want to plan on anything going wrong, and I’m honest in that my anxiety has been low as of late, but I don’t want to have to go through returning the nursery to an office again. I think I’ll be ready to move forward when I surpass 24 weeks, the point when I had complications last time.

Knitting
On the knitting front, I recently finished a hippo. I am in love with it. He is so charming and anyone who meets him just wants to squish him close – even my husband has granted it his seal of approval.

Details
Pattern: Hippo from Itty Bitty Toys (pattern link on Ravelry)
Yarn: Dream in Color Smooshy, held doubled throughout; small portion of Koigu KPM, held doubled throughout; spare black yarn for face embellishments
Modifications: None

I’ve since moved on to Giraffe, but I have trouble believing Giraffe can come anywhere near to supplanting my love for Hippo. The bar has been set pretty high. I have a couple other knit animals in my queue, but now that I know we're having a girl, I've gotten distracted. Brace yourselves for an onslaught of gender-specific outfits.

Preparing for Summer
We may have purchased a new car this week - my husband the planner thought we could upgrade my former car with one that boasted a better safety rating and half the mileage while we were both still drawing in full-time salaries. It doesn't hurt that I still get a moon roof and I now gained Bose speakers. And audio controls on the steering wheel? I don't ever want to go back!

Finally, I chopped my hair, partly inspired by the warmer temperatures, partly inspired by having had long hair for too long, and partly inspired by my youngest sister's adorable cut.

I'm enjoying the change. Now if only the warmer temperatures would stay...

The Panic Begins

Today is October 24, and I have about two months before Christmas.

I've determined not to put up our tree this year. Augustine was a terror the first Christmas we had her, as she found it to be the ideal perch from which to peer out the window. We've steadily tried to break her of this habit, aided partially by moving the tree to the corner and not in front of the window, but Dante is a larger terror with more potential to scale the tree or topple it over, so I've decided to spare ourselves the headache of two cats sparring in our Christmas tree by keeping it in storage.

Plus, Dante sees it as his personal mission to scale every height in our house. He was found on top of a door earlier this week -- his weight made the door slowly inch shut, leading to The Great Fall. He's also on par to rival Clifford the Dog's size -- without leaving the ground, he can stretch to the top of our dining table, and he can "catch" the laser beam two-thirds up our basement wall.

Sorry for the cat sidetrack, but there you go.

Anyway, we have other ways of making our home feel festive, however minimally, so the nativity scene will get a place of prominence and we'll blast Christmas records, bake holiday cookies, and burn candles that smell of pine.

Now I don't tend to get caught up in the materialistic side of things, as Christmas was always a small family affair growing up. But now that many of us like to partake in homemade Christmas on my side of the family, I'm beginning to worry as I haven't yet begun on any of my projects. I think I've established what I'm making for the female contingent, as well as the nieces and nephew, although I don't have all the materials gathered yet. I'm just hoping that while I'm completing theirs, I will have an epiphany about what the perfect gifts will be for the guys. Maybe they will be equally satisfied with getting a toy identical to my nephew's?

People shouldn't read this as I'm dreading making things for my family, as it's not that at all. I tend to find great meaning in giving and receiving handmade items, but as the leaves are becoming vivid in color and clogging our sidewalks, and as the meteorologist are talking of a rain/snow mix for the weekend, it's setting in that Christmas is not far off.

Our Furry Dependents

Dante, while still quite skinny, has stretched out to the point that he is on track to be the length of a semi by the end of the summer. We had no illusions that he was a “pretty” cat when he came home with us, but his mangy coat has sleeked out with time, so he’s less homely than when we adopted him.

Now for his misbehaviors. He is teething, which means he will chew anything. He will wake me in the night (and get kicked out of the bedroom) for nibbling on my hair. Or Eric's nose. He will chew on mail or the covers of Eric’s books. He will crunch on wooden doorways or imperfections on our walls. He will gnaw on metal cabinet knobs, watering cans, wrought-iron furniture, and bases of rotary fans.

And he will crawl into small spaces – into baskets on shelves with little clearance, inside our recliners, underneath the nonexistent space below end tables, and in desk crannies.

While on my desk, he will cut across my laptop, or take a rest mid-keyboard, and his chance keystrokes have pulled up search boxes with the following terms: ‘apsodf’poi09888888888888asdffffffffffff.’ That file wasn’t found on my computer, much to his chagrin. I’m waiting for him to send an unintelligible email or delete my hard drive.

Our cats are still getting along as before. Dante acts as the stereotypical little brother, wanting to tag along and follow Augustine everywhere. When they come in from the screened-in porch, I still haven’t gotten over the fact that Dante will match his pace to hers as they trot down the stairs, only to pounce on her as they reach the bottom.

Augustine takes his play fighting in stride, but periodically we will hear a hiss from her when she’s had her fill or he’s being too aggressive. She won’t choose to sleep next to him, and she often takes his arrival as a sign that it’s time for her to leave – you can practically hear her sigh of disgust – but sometimes he’s caught snuggling up to her as she interrupts her nap to groom him.

And at least she hasn’t abandoned all of our rituals. For the first few weeks, she wouldn’t even cuddle with me if he was in the same room, but that has since resolved.

Dante is also acting as the bully, which doesn’t bode well since he’s already nearly her size. He will shove her away when treats enter the scene, and he’ll do his best to sabotage Augustine’s window lounging. But Augustine is deferential to him, whether out of her maternal nature or general exasperation.

Introducing Dante

Every Christmas, my sister’s and her husband’s cats repeatedly act out the various scenario with Augustine.

Juris and Asher: Wow, we’re so glad you’re here! We’ll be happy to show you the best places to hunt for crickets or spiders, and the window ledges are really wide, which is great for watching everything going on outdoors. Speaking of that, sometimes there’s this cat that comes in the afternoon to see us, and we’re friends, and we watch for her and talk through the window at her, and you might get to meet her. And you can have some of our food and water -- can we have some of yours? -- and we’ll show you how to meow through the doors when everyone is upstairs and…

Augustine: I’m going to hiss at you through this door and hide under the bed, okay? Please don’t try to come after me, or I will be forced to swat my paw at you.

Juris and Asher: Ooh, you have a litter box – can we see?! And then we’ll show you the best closets for exploring and there’s a really awesome jungle gym we play on and there are some really comfortable chairs and couches and then this bed is great for sleeping on and we’d also like to smell you and let you join in our chasing games and chewing on ribbons and bows and…

Augustine: Get thee behind me, Satan!

Lest you think I jest, I offer into evidence the following photo of the first Christmas Augustine met Juris.

Finally, this past year, she started warming up to them, insofar as she could lay on the floor in the same room as them without having a panic attack every single moment.

Is now the proper time to tell you we adopted a new kitten? Yes, we’re gluttons for punishment, but we had been considering a second pet and we saw a sappy news story about how people were being forced to give up their pets during this trying economic time because they couldn’t afford to feed them. So we decided we could certainly feed an additional cat, and Augustine has gotten a little [ahem, quite] portly seemingly overnight, so forced exercise might be a convenient bonus.

We scoured Petsmart and the representatives plying their animals from various shelters, all while trying to decide which feline would freak out Augustine the least. We were leaning towards a male because they seem more agreeable, and age was a strong factor. We hypothesized a small kitten would be perceived by Augustine as less threatening than a peer would have been; her maternal instinct might kick in, or more likely, she could smack him around to let him know the pecking order. I’m sure the cute factor played no part in our decision-making; it was all purely logical because I am a philosopher’s wife and that’s the way I roll.

Enter Dante from a local humane society. Dante is about nine weeks old and weighs two pounds. He’s a sweet, affectionate little guy (Eric’s favorite part). He’s quiet (my favorite part). And he’s polydactyl (our veterinarian’s favorite part). The jury is still out about his response to yarn, although early indications are not promising. There will be continued interventions on this front.


We brought him home and kept him quarantined for just over a week until he got a clean bill of health from our veterinarian. During that time, there arose minimal hissing and growling from Augustine, but they sniffed at each other through the closed door, and later through a screen of sorts that allowed them to see each other.

I hardly dare suggest that they’re friends since it’s been a mere three days of exposure, but the drama has been nonexistent. Augustine has been caught grooming Dante (I know!), and they’ll sleep near each other (more Dante’s doing than Augustine’s). I think it’s safe to say we dodged a bullet. I had prepared myself for months of fighting and animosity, and given Augustine’s prior behavior with Juris and Asher, that was a safe assumption, so you can understand why we’re still in shock that it’s been so anticlimactic.

Halloween, Complete with Hair-Raising Felines

As new homeowners, Eric and I dutifully purchased some candy to distribute to greedy little urchins who might happen by. I say greedy because when you come with pillowcases to someone's door, you're just aiming too high. I worried they'd try to muscle past me in search of better items, should they find my candy offering unacceptable (perhaps our crystal candlesticks from our wedding). And to be honest, I'm less inclined to think you deserve more than one piece of candy when your pillowcase is already pretty hefty.

We soon came to learn that our cat is anything but fond of the visitors who found themselves on our front steps. We didn't even have to keep an eye peeled for prospective visitors; Augustine's arched back, extended fur, and loud hissing were enough to alert us. I guess she may have just been living up to the requirements of being a predominantly black cat on a late-October evening?

Since I was going to go stir crazy just sitting in a chair anticipating visitors, Eric and I settled in to a Scrabble game in between bouts of hair-raising felines. As a quick aside, while Eric was trying to comfort Augustine during a visit of goblins, one school-age girl commented, "That's a pretty little puppy you have." I restrained my desire to correct, but then she began giggling in embarrassment as she looked a little closer and made the verbal pronouncement that it was, indeed, not a puppy but a cat.


And our Scrabble game? That I effortlessly won. To be truthful, I did win, but it wasn't quite effortless. And Eric probably trounced me for creativity. My favorite quote from his lips last night was, "Wow. We had some pretty good words on the board tonight: varies, rejects, hotter, prawns, loonie." And all but the first were of his own doing. Rascal.