Teaser Tuesday: Tear Soup

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:
• Grab your current read
• Open to a random page
• Share a few “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
• BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
• Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers!

Last week, I shared a middle grade book. Different from my usual Young Adult angsty reads. This week I am going even farther from the trail by posting a children's book. While listed as a children's picture book, Tear Soup is really a book for anyone who has suffered a loss. This book was recommended to me when I was struggled to help my young kids understand that their favorite aunt would no longer be able to come over and play. How do you explain grief to a prechooler that doesn't sound lame or confusing? Most of all, I wanted to let them know that it was okay to cry and to feel sad. 

This book really helped explain the grieving process in a way my kids could understand; how it is okay to feel different ways when you've suffered a loss. Listed at the back of the book are tips for cooks (those grieving) and friends of cooks, as well as national help centers for various forms of loss.

Here's the description from the inside flap: "In our richly illustrated new book, Grandy has just suffered a big loss in her life, and so she is cooking up her own unique batch of 'tear soup.' Tear Soup gives you a glimpse into Grandy's life as she blends different ingredients into her own grief process. Her tear soup will help bring her comfort and ultimately help to fill the void in her life that was created by her loss."

Here is the Teaser:

"I've learned that grief, like a pot of soup, changes the longer it simmers and the more things you put into it. I've learned that sometimes people say unkind things, but they really don't mean to hurt you." 

"And most importantly, I've learned that there is something down deep within all of us ready to help us survive the things we think we can't survive."

- pg. 44, Tear Soup: A Recipe for Healing After Loss by Pat Schwiebert and Chuck DeKlyen, Illustrated by Taylor Bills

What are you reading?

or

How do you deal with grief?

Dying of the Light

In Memory of

Aunt Denise

b. July 27  d. February 24, 2013

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

By Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,   

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Aunt Denise raged for nearly three years before her battle with cancer ended. In the end, she was surrounded by family and very much loved. 

She loved American history, teaching, tennis, and being around kids. She didn't much care for rare steak, mushrooms, or wet dog noses on her toes.

We will miss her terribly.

Bad Bionics

As most of you know, I recently had a pretty serious surgery to replace my shoulder. Sounds weird, right? I mean, really, who gets their shoulder "replaced" like that? Well, if you're bionic, you kinda expect a systems failure at some point. And boy, did it fail!

I should probably tell you that I was a third less humorous than the average person. I had false humor. It's my dorky way of saying a third of my bone, known as the humerus, was replaced with a metal doppelganger. 'Cuz the original was eaten by a really hungry tumor. This new part was held in socket by re-routing a couple muscles. Unfortunately, these muscles were not properly informed of their new role and didn't do a very good job at it. This implant lasted eight years. And by the end of that time, my shoulder looked like this:

My scar is totally sexy, I know, but please try to stay focused.

See how the silhouette is kinda wiggly? That's because a muscle decided it didn't like it's new position working with the metal implant, detached itself, and spent a couple years living off unemployment checks and playing video games in it's mother's basement. Because there was no longer a muscle to keep it in place, the metal head of the implant slowly worked itself out of socket.

Have you ever had a shoulder dislocated? Hurts, right? Well, imagine having a perpetually dislocated shoulder. Not fun. So I went to a specialist to see about fixing the constant holy-crap-I'm-gonna-swear-because-the-pain-is-so-bad-but-I-can't-because-I-have-small-kids feeling. But this guy said there was nothing they could do. Medical science needed to catch up. It went something like this:

Doc: Come back in five years and we'll see what we can do then.
Me: But how do I cope in the meantime? My arm doesn't work.
Doc: Just use your arm less.
Me: (Looking from the doctor to my then-toddler son, who, at that moment was trying with all his chubby-armed might to pull himself up into a chair) Seriously?

So I waited five years. And took lots of pain killers. But Then the constant agony got to the point where I couldn't function. Enough was enough and it was time to find a doctor who would help me, no matter where I had to go.


Stay tuned for more…you know…whenever I get to it...

One Less Smile

We suffered a death in the family. It happened two days after I left to have my bionic upgrade. We were on our way to dinner when I got the phone call.

Peanut died. He was Boo's hamster; her first love.

So I couldn't be there as she cried over the phone. I couldn't hold her as her heart broke. And I wasn't next to her when she asked me why it hurt so much.

I cried and I hurt with her. But I had seen it coming. Peanut hadn't been himself in weeks. He wasn't filling his wheel with food and bedding, only to make it sound like a rock grinder when he ran on it at night. He stopped waiting by the door of his cage when Boo was getting ready for bed. He didn't sniff and dart around when out of his cage, preferring instead to curl up in Boo's hand. And he wasn't biting the Boy any more. He just wasn't himself.

Knowing what was coming, I tried to prepare Boo. Mostly she didn't believe me but toward the end, she started to admit that something wasn't right. And? I picked out a burial plot in the back garden. As much as it would suck, I had a plan to ease the blow.

Using a stepping stone kit from a craft store, Boo designed a headstone, complete with lettering. She fussed and fretted over it, re-starting her design a few times before she settled on fitting tribute.

Because our back area is not fenced, the Man gave specific instructions on the burial. Snowman dug a hole that was just over a foot deep and lined it with cedar chips. Peanut was buried in a fancy box that was originally a gift box. More cedar chips and then the dirt packed back in. The finished headstone was placed on top.

Thank you, Peanut, for being such a great pet! You are already missed.

Being a Bionic Babe

Okay, so I'm not really a babe...but sometimes I cry like a baby, so that totally counts, right?

Things I've learned since becoming Bionic:

• Magnets do not stick to surgical steel body parts. It would have made the church Talent Show a lot more interesting, though.
• Currently, I have roughly enough metal in my arm to make my own table setting of flatware.
• If your friends have a tendency to smack you playfully in the shoulder and you have a tendency to clang like a bell when smacked, be sure to sit with one side against the wall as a form of protection.
• Getting to know the TSA staff at the airport is not nearly as cool as one might think. And no, they don't accept a note from your doctor.
• Did you ever have an crotchety old relative that used to moan about their knee paining just before a storm moved in? Yeah, that wasn't an exaggeration. I can feel it. And it turns me into a crotchety old relative, too.
• Having a man call you "complex" is not exactly a compliment. Especially when that man is a medical professional at the top of his field. It also sucks when this happens twice in one week - with two separate doctors.
• My cursing gets really creative when I'm hurting but I don't want my kids repeating what I mutter. The current favorite is "scum mudge-gery." I have no idea what it means but I sure feel better after spitting it out.
• When I talk about getting my new implants, the people listening do not immediately think of shoulders, but of items more in the silicone genre, which can cause some interesting looks.

Everybody Hurts

One of the problem with being bionic is that I look like everyone else. And since there doesn't appear to be anything wrong with me, I am treated just like everyone else. I get hugged (I am very huggable; can't help it). I get smacked in jest when I make snarky comments (which is a lot). I get tapped on the shoulder to get my attention. I get hurt. Because there is something wrong with me, even if you can't see it.


I attempted to alter this by wearing a sling when around a lot of people who don't really know me. You'd be surprised by how many people will touch an arm when it's in a sling. But not nearly as surprised as they were when I'd punch them for grabbing me.

I am due to have an upgrade on my shoulder. What I've got now is metal. And out of socket. And loose. So…it hurts. A lot. Seriously. I have chronic pain that goes up and down the scale depending on how I slept, the weather, and how funky I got in Zumba that morning. But it's always there. Always.

Since I am in pain, the logical thing to do would be to take a pill, fill an ice bag, and then collapse on a comfortable surface. However, the heavy-duty meds put me under or make me see light trails. That's not exactly an ideal situation when I've still got Baby running around, looking for different things to mark on with her crayons. Instead, I take an over-the-counter pill that takes the pain levels down a notch or two but still allows me to stay conscious (and aware of where Baby is trying to leave her mark). Ice bags are nice, but they don't always stay in place. When you're minding your own business, enjoying the cold numbness, only to have the ice bag slip down behind you to the exposed skin of your lower back…not so nice. Also? Whenever I am not actively moving, my dog is actively trying to get on my lap. And if I'm laying down, she's perfectly content to perch on me (sometimes on my head).

Each day, I take my safe meds and attempt to contain Baby, while letting the dog sit on me. And I make it through. It's not a perfect situation but I've survived this long.

Except now.

Now, the doctor said I have to stop my pills. For an entire week.

So if I'm a little grumpy next time we meet, please forgive me.

And maybe give me some chocolate.



* Images from Google Images.

Can't Decide If This Is A Bad Thing..

My refrigerator broke.

I'm not sure what's wrong but the ice melted and it's not exactly cold inside anymore. Really, I can't complain too loudly because this is the first problem we've had with a major appliance since we moved in here eight years ago.

This happened on a Friday afternoon. I thought the freezer was the only thing affected (because of the huge puddle of melted ice collecting in front of the doors) so I started moving everything out and into the deep freeze. The popsicles were a loss but I managed to save the ice cream! Then I noticed that the level of chill in the other portion wasn't giving me goosebumps when I reached for my hidden stash of chocolate behind the unidentifiable leftovers. By the time I admitted defeat and called a repairman, it was too late to save my weekend. Have to wait until Monday.

Oh darn…gotta eat out all weekend. Donuts for breakfast until it gets fixed!

Unfortunately, I had just gone to the grocery store so the fridge is pretty full right now. I took out the stuff we use a lot (like milk and chocolate pudding) and put them in a big cooler packed with ice. Then I filled a couple pitchers with more ice and put those in the fridge, just trying to keep the rest of the stuff edible until the thing is repaired. As a security measure, I wrapped masking tape around the door handles. Sure, the kids could probably still get into the fridge if they were really determined.

Any other suggestions on how to help keep more of the food inside?

Balm of Gilead

I'm feeling a little pouty lately. Really, it's just my selfishness and the fact that I've worked so hard to brainwash convince so many people that dorks are actually quite lovable and now it's all gone. Along with my best friend and my substitute mom.

Our ward boundaries changed. This means that approximately 18 houses in my neighborhood (of which one is mine) are now in another ward. Same building, same gospel, same truth. Different time, different faces, just plain different.

I don't like change. Wait, let me rephrase that. I don't like change that I can't control.

Since I can't control it, I've just got to learn to adjust, right? Or I can just sit on my couch, pout, feel like my comfort zone was dissected and rezoned by imminent domain, and eat chocolate pudding.

Homemade Chocolate Pudding

3/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup cornstarch
1/2 tsp salt
2 1/2 cups milk
3 egg yolks, well beaten
2 oz baking chocolate, chopped (the darker, the better!)
1 Tbsp butter
1 tsp vanilla

1. Combine sugar, cornstarch, and salt in a medium saucepan.
2. Gradually stir in milk and egg yolks over medium heat.
3. Once combined, add baking chocolate.
4. Stir until mixture thickens and boils. Allow to boil (while stirring) one minute longer, then remove from heat.
5. Add butter and vanilla, mixing until well combined.
6. To serve warm (my preferred method): Immediately spoon into dessert cups.
7. To serve chilled (my preferred breakfast the next morning): Cover pan with plastic wrap, making sure the entire surface of the pudding is in contact, and set in fridge for at least three hours. Scoop out desired amount. Pudding will be firmer.

This is also quite scrumptious as a chocolate fondue.

* The image is from here, which also has another yummy pudding recipe.

What I Learned On My Christmas Vacation

• As much as I love the GPS system we have, it's rather depressing to get on to the main highway and see that your next turn is in 419 miles.
• There's a reason why there are no smash hit songs, popular movies, or best-selling books about Omaha.
• During the summer, Kansas is full of sunflowers and humidity. During the winter, the sunflowers are all gone and the humidity turns to ice.
• Everything in Texas is bigger. Especially the highway systems.
• Being two hours from your brother's house on your way back to Utah is a really bad time to discover his car keys are still in your purse.
• You know your anxiety medication is working when you see multiple cars sliding off the icy highway and you can still communicate with your spouse in a recognizable form of English.
• If you have to get stranded by the snow and poor road conditions, Moab, UT, is an absolutely beautiful place to do just that this time of year.
• When you finally get home, your messy kitchen will never look so inviting.

What was the best part of your Christmas vacation?

Hey, You're Just Too Funky For Me

I'm in a funk.

I'm not reading much, not really writing (I'm sure you've noticed the derth in posts and comments), certainly not editing.

I don't wear make-up every day or matching clothes and some days, I skip the shower.

I don't leave my house very often, don't chat with friends, and haven't had a Girls' Night Out since my mom was here.

And? I'm not even baking all that much. A newly-diagnosed diabetic gave me a bunch of sugar substitutes and asked me to try them out in some of my recipes (so I could tell her which ones were worth using) and I resisted. I waited a whole week before opening a bag.

Enough is enough! It's no fun being like this (and my house is a mess, too).

What do you do when you're just not feeling like yourself?

Dark End of the Spectrum

Hospitals are strange places.

Every possible range of the emotional spectrum is taking place somewhere within the sterile, white walls. There are the beaming, blurry-eyed new dads taking the brand new carseat up to it's newborn occupant. Nurses are contagiously optimistic about everything from therapy schedules to jello selections. Children look bored, uncomfortable in the whispered atmosphere. Estranged relatives arrive with flowers and determination to make things right. Relief and joy at good results. Devastation and heartbreak at the unexpected. Walking or wheeled out, grateful to be going home. Staff and visitors smile, even laugh, as they go about their business. Those moments of happiness seem to make the bleak faces more stark in contrast, those that are carrying out labeled plastic bags containing the personal belongings of a loved one that no longer has need of them. Their cried-out eyes barely registering the presence of others, with minds already running ahead to changes to be made or lingering on last conversations, things left unsaid.

It's those faces that I can't help but watch. What is their story? What is their loss? Would a hug from a stranger help? Keep your distance and don't make eye contact. Pretend that you will never be in their shoes. At least not today.

Then there are those that are waiting. The waiting are left in limbo. Good news? Bad news? No news. A doctor is looking around at the assortment of friends and family. He looks weary, maybe a little grim. Is he looking for me?

Hospitals are strange, strange places. And I really wish I weren't in one.

No Foolin'

So...it was April Fool's Day. And I did nothing. I didn't even tell a lame joke. Major fail on my part.

Instead of cackling with glee at the misery confusion I caused my children with little pranks all day long, I took a car trip to deliver my niece back to her mother. And then I discovered a whole new section of my personal hell by driving through one of the deadliest canyons during a near-blizzard. But at least I now have absolute faith in my abilities to correct a fishtail while facing down a semi truck.

No real post for now. And maybe not another one until I've decided whether or not I should reconsider the whole Happy Pills things.

Miss me while I'm gone (out of my mind)...

Holed Up

Sorry for the delay in posting. We've had a whole heap of "fun" around here that the Man doesn't want me to post about (but call me later and we'll chat!). I finally got all of the new cake pictures up, so run and take a look! Then come back and tell me which one is your favorite because I could really use some positive vibes...

The Cake Cow

A Warning to Others

Alternate Titles: "oh chee momma...," "Losing 10 Pounds the Really Painful Way," or "All I Needed to Know About Dieting I Learned in the Bathroom."

So...yesterday...

Would you be disappointed if I told you I didn't make it the full 48 hours? I had no choice, really. It was either make the deadline and possibly die or eat something and live to serve as a warning to others.

As you may or may not know, I have quite the extensive surgical history. One of those events involved the removal of my gall bladder. And people without gall bladders should not attempt an all-liquid diet. The end results are something very much like that time I decided to test my mother's warning that eating too many died apricots would be a bad thing. I spent the better part of my day yesterday in the bathroom. At one point, the Boy strolled in to talk to me. I don't remember the conversation but I'm sure my responses were more easily understood in Klingon.

Also? I have issues with my blood sugar. When it gets low, I get a headache. At the time of that last post, my head was hurting. But not an hour after, my head was throbbing. There were flashes of light and stabbing pain, which, I'm told, are very bad things when it comes to your head. And I kinda need my head in working order so I can remember how to properly make chocolate milk.

Then the nausea set in. I didn't want to take any pills for my headache because I was convinced it would just come back up, bringing with it all that juice. The end result would be eerily similar to liquefied orange jello with little bits of marshmallow.

I was in the bathroom, head clutched between my hands, trash can handy, and I was thinking that maybe Weight Watchers wasn't such a bad idea, even if they do make you eat vegetables. Surely public display of fatness was the better option.

So I ate a little food, took some pain-killers, dumped the rest of the juice down the drain, and cracked open a Diet Pepsi. It took a couple hours for things to settle back down to normal but I managed to pull through.

And I lost five pounds.

Report

So last night's activity...well, it had it's highs and it's lows.

Things that were GOOD:

• My committee all showed all, had all their assignments fulfilled and then some. They are FANTASTIC! Thanks, everyone!
• The food - 6 foot sandwiches from Wal-mart - was surprisingly good. And they gave us waaaaaay too much. Sent home boxes of sandwiches with people, along with jars of mustard and mayo.
  
• Ward members brought lots of goodies (most of the dessert were chocolate!). I even got a slice of some excellent chocolate cake.
• Strawberry lemonade was a huge hit and we went through the huge spigot cooler twice.
• Great turn out! Lots of people came, including some I don't see at church all that often.
• Plenty of good conversation. There was so much talking, in fact, that I had to get my SWAT team buddy to use his deafening whistle so I could get everyone's attention when I needed to make an announcement.
• No one was injured or in any way made to bleed.
  
• No one told me (or said within earshot of me) that it was lousy.
• Currently, there are no pending lawsuits or people having lost their faith in God as a result of last night's events.
  

Things that were BAD, BAD, BAD:

• It rained.
• It rained A LOT.
• There was lightning.
• The pool closed.
• The pool did not reopen.
• Children cried.

**Thanks to those who have emailed me suggestions for future activities! Really good stuff! Now, tell me the things that did not go over well so I know what to avoid...

Desserts Spelled Backwards

So a couple months ago, I got a new assignment at church ('calling' for you Mormon-types). I went from planning twice-monthly activities for 8 and 9 year old girls to planning quarterly parties for the entire congregation. This makes me more than a little freaked out.

At first, I thought "Hey, cool! I like parties! And I like spending someone else's money to plan them! No sweat!" Yeah. Not quite feeling that now. The first party that I've "planned" is tomorrow night. It's a pool party. The local pool is reserved, the picnic area scheduled, food ordered, and other assignments made. Should be no problem, right?

If you live in Utah County and happened to look outside this afternoon, then you might understand why I am started to grind my teeth. Wind, rain and chilly temperatures are only fun if I'm having a chili cook-off...indoors.

And then there's the anxiety. What if no one wants to get in the pool? What if some does get in, but then poops in it, shutting the whole thing down for the rest of the night? What if hardly anyone shows up? (I'm having flashbacks to when they asked me to organize a playdate and the only people who came were my friends...) What if the food is bad? What if half the ward gets food poisoning or the swine flu? What if by the time I make it to the dessert table, all the chocolate is gone? What if the only people who remember to bring a dessert are the health fanatics and everyone is fighting over a single plate of whole-grain tofu bars?

Deep breath.

I might spend most of the evening hiding under the drink station, in a fetal position, sucking on my hair and humming the tune to "Somewhere in Time."

Please give me some stressful relief tips...or, lacking any of those, some more creative things to freak out about!

Cake Decorating for Dummies

I have two cakes this weekend. Both are fairly simple designs that I've made plenty of times before. But for some reason or another, I made a completely rookie mistake, causing my entire weekend to pretty much crash and burn.

During the cake decorating classes I took, the instructors taught us a few tricks, like how to make your own decorator bags out of parchment paper, how to smooth frosting, and how to properly layer your cake so it doesn't look like a prop from a horror movie. When you make a cake with a somewhat liquid filling, like lemon curd or raspberry puree, you need to have some sort of buffer between each layer of cake (so the liquid doesn't soak into the cake, disappearing on you) and around the edge (so the filling doesn't squeeze out and leak down your cake). This is especially critical when you have white frosting with raspberry filling. That red shows through easily! I spread a very thin coat of frosting on the top on of the bottom layer and on the bottom of the top layer. Then, I use the same frosting color as the outside of the cake and, with a large round decorator tip, make a ring around the edge of the bottom layer. A dam, of sorts.

So late Friday night, I am working on the first cake. For some reason that still escapes me (maybe I was thinking about this), I neglected to put in the dam. As a result, the bottom tier of the cake looked like this:


By now, I was using other forms of the word "dam." I tried to fix it a couple different ways, only succeeding in having more berry-tinted frosting. By then, it was 3 a.m. and I was very tired. I thought maybe things would look better in the morning.

They didn't.

And now my cake was kinda lumpy. Instead, I called my fantabulous neighbor and borrowed one of her lovely daughters (she has four) to watch my sleepy kiddos so I could hit Wally World untethered. I brought home fondant, my arch-nemesis. Desperate times call for desperate measures.


Now the cake has a lovely, smooth, uniformly-colored exterior. So what if the client didn't order fondant! She didn't say she hated it...I will have to sound convincing when I tell her I "upgraded" her cake. Luckily, I can make drop flowers in my sleep so those turned out just fine.


Just like she requested: two-tiered, white frosted cake with small red flowers, chocolate cake with raspberry filling. Simple, elegant, and possibly the narrowestly-adverted catastrophe of my short career. I think I might add some leaves, give it a little more color.

And of course she reads my blog. I have no pride.

When the Sunbeams hate you...

For those of you not familiar with the LDS faith and the names of it's Sunday School classes for children, you might think that I am referring to actual beams of lights from the sun and their apparent aversion to me. Nope. Mormon kids aged 3 to 4 years old are called Sunbeams. And since my beloved Boy is one of these, I occasionally get asked to teach his class when the assigned teachers are unavailable. Normally, it's fine and I enjoy it. Normally, the kids have a good time and even learn a little about Jesus. Normally, I don't spend the rest of the afternoon fighting back tears as I scour my many hiding places for more chocolate.

The Man says I shouldn't let it bother me. Then again, he is a man. He is also emotionally stable and has a healthy sense of self-esteem. But when a small child spends the better part of an hour muttering an endless - albeit creative - list of reasons why he doesn't like you, it tends to wear you down. I even brought candy! What kid's devotion isn't easily purchased by candy?

I'm just glad that when his parents picked him up from class they didn't ask how he was or I might have burst into tears and clung to his mother, asking her to tell me I am nice or funny or pretty - anything to make up for what her son said.

I'd write more but I think I'll go make some brownies...

Screwed It Up Without Even Trying

Hey, remember that giveaway I had? And there was like, all these comments and entries and stuff? Yeah, that was cool.

Then I announced the winners. I wrote out all the name and took lots of pictures with the littles drawing the names and such. Seems easy enough, right? Write down name. Fold paper. Put paper in box. Take picture of name chosen. Foolproof.

So I guess I'm better than your ordinary fool because I screwed it up.

The big prize? The gift card? Apparently it was won by someone who didn't enter. Mary was kind enough to point out this fact after I had announced her Big! Win! Sure, she follows my blog but she's had her hands full lately and hasn't been making the rounds, so she missed the contest.

The winner of the gift card was this Mary. Completely different - but I'm sure just as nice.

So congrats to the real Mary (and please email me your address so I can mail your prize to the right place).

I Demand A Do-Over

Things I'd rather not do on my birthday (and yes, it's today):
Clean the bathroom and put in a load of laundry.

Things I'd REALLY rather NOT do on my birthday:
Clean the bathroom, including scrubbing the bathtub, because the Boy has a serious case of explosive diarrhea, requiring me to also put in a load of laundry with his clothes and the bath mat. Luckily, we still have some pull-ups or I'd really be miserable.

At least I have some chocolate that the Man brought me back from London.

Oh, and something else that totally is not cool? The shop lost my birthday present. They can't find it anywhere. Since it was rather pricey, it was the only thing I was getting. So no presents.

Let's pretend that it's really my birthday next week and try this again, shall we?