Truth is faaaaaar stranger than fiction here in Troy, Ohio.

Much Better Day

After staying up till 4:30 this morning talking to Chickpea, I crashed until 12:20 this afternoon. After a slice of pumpkin pie and cup of coffee, and a shower, I headed out to Books & Co. to say hi if Viv and/or Mr. Reiki were there. He called in sick, but Viv was there and I gave her a big hug. Plus, I know either would give me their employee (30%) discount. I'm sick of listening to the same CD's while cleaning Stillwater, so I found "A Briefer History of Time" by Stephen Hawking on CD. I head over to the self-help section looking for books on coping with being single, as lately I have found myself on the wrong side of the fine line between being free and being utterly lost. My attention meanders to the sex section, and the dizzying array of how-to guides. Being less than secure in that department, I pick up a few which don't please me, until I see one up on the upper storage overflow shelf that catches my attention. After finding a bookstore employee to grab a ladder and fetch it for me (seriously, I have no shame), I flip through and like what I see. I end up walking out with a Shutterbug magazine, the CD book (which Viv signed out for free, but I have to return it)...

and "How to Please a Woman In & Out of Bed, Second Edition". You know... just in case a situation ever arises.

---

So I walk two doors down to Trader Joe's for some lunchy stuff, and some "Frugal Joe's Ordinary Beer". Speaking of, brb while I go grab a bottle...

Ok. Back. Not bad. A little hoppier than I prefer, but for $4 a six-pack, I'm not complaining. Anyway, as I head back through Books & Co., my attention is caught by a lady setting up a table of absolutely gorgeous Native American flutes on the stage. I ask if she's going to be performing, and she says her husband will be in about 20 minutes. I figure, what the hell, I'm in no hurry, so I walk out to the car and put my bags away, and head over to Joe Muggs (the adjacent coffee shop) for something to drink during the performance. A girl is waffling over what to choose in the dessert case, and she lets the people ahead of me go ahead of her, and then me as well. I'm indecisive, but this is killing me. With a smile, I point out the caramel praline white chocolate chip cookies, and tell her they're delicious and my favorite. She looks at me like I'm nuts and nervously goes "Oh...ok...umm...uhh...thanks." I maintain my smile and say "You're welcome!" This happens far more often than not when I try to talk to people. And people wonder why I'm scared to death of initiating conversation. Remember the girl who got all weird on me at Fusion a month or two ago? Sheesh.

Anyway, this isn't a poor me post, I'm in a good mood. I head back to the stage, and before he starts, I'm admiring the flutes and he introduces himself, gives me a card, and invites me to attend Dayton's Native American flute circle that meets once a month. I think I'll go.

Stunning performance. Afterward, I compliment a strikingly attractive older lady who has a very colorful hair wrap with metal dragonfly ornaments. We chitchat for a while, and she's a massage therapist, so I ask for a card. God, the things I'll do to have pretty girls touch me. :-) I leave, flute still echoing in my ears, and feeling very inwardly at peace, and with confidence restored.

---

I go to Borders Books down by the Dayton Mall with nothing particular in mind to buy. No CDs look interesting to me, and no photography books do either, so I mosey on over to the sex how-to section. I drift over to the self-help shelf and crammed among the "All Men Are Jerks Until Proven Otherwise" (incidentally written by the same lady who wrote the book I picked up at Books & Co.) type books is one titled "The 50 Greatest Love Letters Ever Written". People are always deciding against books they pick up and shelving them wherever they stand, and I thought this was a strangely appropriate mis-shelf, being in the self-help section by the relationship books. At $8, I can't pass it up. Some of them are so sweet.

---

Over to Chipotle for a long overdue burrito. I swear, when a brotha ain't gettin any, these puppies are a near-suitable substitute. I start reading the 'please a woman' book, and am still only in the initial how-not-to-be-a-total-jerk-face chapters, chock full of totally obvious common sense advice. I think I can safely skip that stuff and head over to the bedroom chapters.

I mean, honestly, some guys actually demand their women go to the gym? What assholes.

Ok. Lesson learned.

Went to Dayton's tree lighting ceremony because the Danny Voris Project was playing with Stephanie singing, and I wouldn't miss that for anything. Armed with two pairs of socks and my government-issue polypro long underwear, I braved the cold for yet another stunning performance. I stood back and kept my distance during the performance, and afterward, as she was greeted off the stage by a gaggle of young people I figured were either friends or family. I moved closer to catch her attention, and after exchanging a nice big hug for a congratulation on a great show, I asked if she was doing anything afterward. She apologized and said that she was going out with her friends, but maybe later. I told her that's cool, I'll default to plan B: going to Fusion and dancing my ass off to goth/industrial techno. She says for me to go have fun and pick up lots of hot women. I reply "Pfffbbbbt!"

Since the event was winding down, a pizza vendor was selling pizza half price, so I bought two slices of pepperoni and at them on Courthouse Square. It was so cold tonight, I got the best of both worlds. The first slice was still nice and warm, but the second was more like the leftover slice the morning after out of the fridge. Pizza heaven. :-)

---

So it's about 8pm, and Fusion is closed! What gives? After driving circles around downtown Dayton (as every goddamn street is 1-way), I pass a place called Hammerjax, which I hear all the people at work talk about going to. It has radio ads on all the stations, and supposedly it's Dayton's hottest dance club. So I park down the street and stop by.

It's got the whole velvet rope and dude with a clipboard and headset routine, just like in the movies, but I ask if I can get in, and he says "Sure!". Inside I check my coat, and I'm finding it kinda weird that it's the only one on the rack. Around the corner, I enter the room where the pop music is disorientingly loud, the multi color lights flash and move all over the place, and it's empty. I'm the only one there.

I feel like I've stepped into the twilight zone... or a nightmare sequence from a David Lynch movie.

At the bar, I hand the bartender my newly-activated debit card, and drink several bottles of Coors Light while watching muted Comedy Central. Occasionally, I glance behind to the empty facility, hoping to spot anybody, but to no avail. An HOUR AND A HALF later, two guys come in and sit at the bar. It's 10 fucking 30, and It's me and two guys. I cash out and leave, feeling like the victim of a cruel prank.

Is that it? Is that the end-all, be-all pinnacle of what we call fun? Shit, I could've spent a lot less than $12 to spend two hours putting on a mild beer buzz and staring at a wall. I was planning on going out again tomorrow night, but now I'm not so sure. That place was like a nightmare come to life, and it's supposed to be the best place to be. I should just stay home and watch TV with Mom and Chuck. Every time I've gone out by myself, it's been nothing short of a total disaster. I couldn't wait to get the hell out of there.

At least Danny Voris' band put on a great show, and all hope is not lost! My old skool posse may remember me writing sometime late last winter about seeing a band called Sizter Machyne. Well, December 3, they're playing at the Brewery here in Troy. (not a real brewery. it was at one point back in the day, but it's just a bar with a postage-stamp sized dance floor and rap dj's.) I'm planning on having a much better time next weekend. :-)

Yeah, I'm a doofus.

So I'm up till 3am drinking beer and having a very philosophical conversation about the nature of God with my mom, who is the greatest person on earth to have a discussion/debate on the subject with. Anyway, 3am and six beers later, I hop online to check email real quick, and I decide to send Stephanie Westfall and e-card wishing her luck on her upcoming performance at downtown Dayton's tree lighting ceremony.

Problem is, I wrote good luck tonight, and the show isn't till tomorrow night. God, I'm a dork. She's gonna get it and think "WTF?" :-)

Poking around Flickr, I found that a non-pro account doesn't delete your photos after you've accumulated over 200, it sticks them in archives that you have to dig around to get to. Every photo I've posted is still there!

Happy happy joy joy! Happy happy joy joy!

Would you believe that this was taken in the same light as the others? The shutter stayed open for an entire 30 seconds! I could barely see anything through the lens, and the sky behind it was that navy blue just before turning black. I mean, this is what it would've looked like to the eye about an hour earlier. About fell out of my chair when I first saw this print.

Gotta love that red stripe laying there on the horizon.

The tripod slipped a little on this one, but the color is just so awesome I couldn't not show you. Expect more of that deep red in the next roll.

Figured that if there's gonna be that eyesore of a light pole, I might as well try to include it as a compositional element. (ooh, big words! don't I sound official?) :-)

And again in this one. Seems a little out of balance, but I love that line of clouds that intersects the pole just above half-way.

Looking a tad more to the south than the other shots.

I love the layers of clouds in this one, plus how the trees frame either side. Too bad there's that damned light pole. Thought about erasing the road reflectors, whatcha think?

Not faithfully sticking to the rule of thirds, but I think the branch at the top and the less than 1/3 foreground help to frame the sky.

Do you think I left too much blank foreground?

Ebony, Nannie and Pa's cat. He's a real sweetheart.

Ebony

God, I love how Photoshop can squish a filesize down to nearly nothing, yet keep a beautiful picture. Otherwise, this is the jpeg right off the CD, no color or saturation funny business. I'm still dying for thursday so I can pick up the roll with the rest of the sunset photos. You can see the red just beginning to peek through the trees in this one. Several minutes later, the whole lower sky was a bloody crimson red.

Hello from my new swingin' bachelor pad!

Ok, maybe the parent's house isn't quite that, but it'll do for now. Woke up this morning with my side of the bed deflated. I think I connected the hoses wrong when I reassembled it. But anyway, this is my first day off. Buncha stuff to do today, but at my own pace. My own damned pace. :-) Plugged in the webcam to get a few shots of the new room:

Here's the view out my window to George's house (I wonder if he still lives there), and the street light I find so comforting when it shines in the window at night. Michelle and Daniel's house is directly behind the house on the far left between the tree and the edge of the frame.

Armand, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Got a few of Cozy, but they were all blurry.

again

The box in the lower left corner is not only full of photos, but so is the box of equal size that it's sitting on.

Closet full of stuff my brother's and my stuff from when we lived here in the early 90's.

My bed, UNMADE. With laundry on it.

The water was shut off yesterday, so after taking Caro and her man Scott to the airport to pick up their rental car, they went down to Viv's to shower and spend the night. I headed home. My real home. Mom's. I asked (for manners' sake) if I could stay there that night, and said I had a few errands to run. So with what little of my paycheck was left, I went out. Driving away, I kept repeating in my head the line from Delerium's song Firefly:

"There's a requiem, a new congregation. And it's telling me go forward and walk under a brighter sky, every nerve glowing like a firefly."

One full tank of gas later, I headed over to Dollar General. Uber-redneck in there, but their generic products are so damn cheap. Picked up some bathroom cleaning and laundry supplies. Mom said I could use hers, but I want to impose as little as possible. Headed over to Meijer for the pack of pictures (that sunset I mentioned a week or so ago), and I'm super pleased with the quality of their processing, as well as Fuji 100 speed. God, you guys have to see these. I'll do what I can, the computer gets moved after work and I'll be back online late this evening. I pick up some mouthwash and toothpaste.

Leaving, I realize I don't have a hairbrush or trashcan, so I head over to Wal-Mart. I've got pictures there, forgot to pick them up, so I meander about trying to think of things I need. I pick out a big tacky clear neon green hairbrush and a wastebasket that's on clearance for $2. After perusing injet photo cartridge and picture frame prices, I get a can of chunky soup for dinner.

All along, I notice how much brighter and saturated the colors in the stores are. The smells are so intense, and sounds echo in my ears like never before. I see all the other shoppers, every last one of them busily and hurriedly going about their tasks, oblivious to the sheer beauty and joy of these stores. I pity them for missing it.

At home, I take a shower and inflate mom's camping air mattress in my room. I slide open the casement window and look out to Michelle and Daniel's back yard behind the house across the street. I'll have to hang out with them soon.

Laying down in the dark, I reacquaint myself with sights unseen for ages... the way the street light casts a glare in the back corner by the closet, the way passing cars' headlights slide from wall to wall before disappearing. I miss the guitar chords and Doors posters that were taken down ages ago, but I would otherwise be looking up at. I forgot how the baseboard heater smells like it's burning, and its familiar tink tink tink tink sound. I take a deep breath and close my eyes with my hands behind my head. My right elbow seeks out the feel of the edge of the mattress.

I realize... I've laid down on "my side" of the bed. It just feels right. With a grin, I fall asleep.

Almost there...

Hi all.  I'm at work and can't type much.  Pardon the wonky line breaks, but I'm sending this in through email, and for some reason it does that.

 

Tonight is my last night at the apartment.  Thursday after work, the last of my stuff gets moved.  What a rush this is.  I started counting 150 days ago, and it's been such a long, drawn out, and tumultuous journey since.  Now I've reached mid-November, instead of a sigh of relief, it's more of a quiet resignation. 

 

Kinda like when you were a kid, and you were hungry, but your mom said "dinner is in two hours".  By the time the eons passed and it was time to sit down to dinner, you went to the table all grumbly and pissed off rather than "Golly, I'm hungry.  Let's dig in!"  I'm kinda getting the same effect.  It's not directed at anybody, certainly not Caro or Viv or myself... but rather time itself.  Does that make sense?

--
(-: ydnA

Hi guys,

The household transition has begun, and immediately after posting this, the cable modem gets unplugged and taken back to Time Warner. It'll be a while until I can post photos or anything, as I'll be piggybacking off my mom's AOL dial-up account at her home in a few days. I'll still get on at work as well and post occasionally, but I'll barely have any time to read any of yours.

Please keep checking back, letting me know you're out there, and hopefully in a week or two, I'll have cable internet installed at mom's.

See you guys later! :-)

Tonight I was fidgeting with an umbrella while laying on my back listening to a CD. I opened it up and started twirling it around when I was reminded of how doing that is bad luck.

I replied that when it comes to superstition, by the sheer number of mirrors I've smashed down the dumpster chute at work for Yvonne (who refuses to), I've already accrued at least three consecutive life sentences with no chance for parole.

Call me crazy, but if the way things are going right now is bad luck, you can keep the good.

---

At Tire Discounters here in town, they always put up tongue-in-cheek sayings on their sign. Today's was, by far, the strangest I've ever seen:

"Weenie Dave Ache Asian"

Greetings from my living room floor. Moved the desk over to mom's today. All my big stuff is moved now, except for the bed. That'll go next thursday, possibly wednesday.

Went to Avalanche last night for a very long past due alcohol-fest with Angela. Caro went along as well, and as I had hoped, she and Angela got along like peas and carrots. I think they were both so protective of me that in their minds they built up overly bad images of each other. Bumped into the Angela I met a couple of times prior (heretofore known as "Angie" to allay any confusion). I have a confession to make:

I kissed her. She's totally not my type, and this isn't going to go anywhere, but I was under a certain amount of influence, thus reducing my self-restraint, and we both were in desperate need of somebody to make contact with for the moment. At one point, she said she needed to go outside for some fresh air (as it was terribly smokey in there), and I followed her out to make sure she didn't stumble or fall and hurt herself. Well... we started kissing. It felt good. I mean, how long has it been for me? There was an emptiness to it, though. There was a need not being filled, and frankly, somebody else was on my mind. I dunno. I kinda regret it. Should I? I don't know. This is confusing.

---

Anyway, flash forward to tonight. I drop Caro off at Viv's, and on the way I comment how the late afternoon sun is casting a gorgeous golden light, and how with the high altitude clouds in the west, it will probably be a stunning sunset. So afterward, the sky is turning all sorts of colors, so I make a beeline to the Kettering Memorial (remember the photos I posted of it a couple'a months ago?), which is on a high point overlooking the Miami Valley to the south and west. A firey red sunset erupted, and just my luck, today at Target they had their Fuji 100 speed film on sale, so I was in fresh and plentiful supply. So I whip out the tripod and get some (hopefully) gorgeous shots. After I'm satisfied, I put the tripod away and sit and watch the sunset turn deeper and darker shades of blood red for about fifteen more minutes until it gets chilly and I start to shiver.

So I go to a the coffee shop at Books & Co. for a cuppa joe to warm up with and the latest Shutterbug issue.

So I finish the coffee and head over to Therapy Cafe to meet up with Viv and Caro and some of Viv's friends. A band starts to set up, and out of the corner of my eye they look familiar, so I assume they're the jazz band from the other time I was there... then I see a girl with very familiar pigtails. Holy shit, it's Danny Voris and Stephanie! I can't believe the coincidence, as the last time I saw them (at the Oktoberfest, remember?) I had no idea they'd be there, either. She came over and sat and talked with us before they started and during the songs she didn't sing on. A good time was had by all, but we left after the first set, despite everybody being bowled over by the band. I didn't get any pictures of the band, though. :-(

Incidentally, I have to brag a bit. Dayton Daily News puts out the Go! guide every friday which lists what's going on in dayton for the weekend. The Danny Voris Project got one helluva writeup in today's, and the writer said that Stephanie was the best female vocalist in Dayton.

Oh yeah, Andy is smitten. :-)

*sigh*

My blog is worth $0.00.
How much is your blog worth?

Yesterday at work I was walking from the breakroom with Hickey Girl when she brushed some lint or dust or something off my back. Whatever it was, she took her hand and swiped it across my shoulders.

It felt so good my knees almost buckled, and I got a serious erection from it.

Should I feel as absolutely pathetic as I do about this? This desperate need to be touched? Is it normal to have such an erogenous reaction to something as benign as having lint brushed off my shirt?

Bought my first lottery ticket yesterday morning in anticipation of last night's $250 million drawing. Neeless to say (and despite my better hopes) I am no richer than before.

darn.

There's a friend at work who, every week or so, comes in with a big ol' hickey on her neck and a mock turtleneck which does absolutely nothing to hide it. Today she was sporting an even skin tone, which prompted me to say "No hickey? I'm disappointed. Life's too short to walk around without a hickey on your neck!"

---

I was over at my soon-to-be house dropping off another box o'stuff, and there was a program on the Travel Channel which took a camera crew the entire length of the Appalachian Trail documenting the hostels, sights, and landmarks along its 14-state span. I want to hike it so bad my back surgery aches at the thought. The loving and open fellowship and cameraderie among hikers, whether in a group, in passing, or sharing a meal or campsite at a hostel, is the stuff my dreams are made of.

"A.T." hikers give themselves pseudonyms, as they consider themselves reborn through the gruelling trial. I often wonder if the tribulation I'm going through now would warrant me the status of "reborn" when I emerge. What would your hiker name be? I think I'd be "King Tut". Not sure why.

(That, and you know passing hikers hook up at night. They have to. There out there for months at a time, and they're mostly hippies with dudes sporting Jesus beards and women with thick sexy thighs. Free love, man!)

---

Last night my mom calls me with news: She ran into a girl I went to high school with while at the Troy Civic Theatre (as she was working the hospitality desk), and with whom I was on an extracurricular team which my mom coached. Her name is Amita Patel, and she was only ever an acquaintance. We'd pass each other in the halls with a "Hi Amita!", "Hi Andy-Bob!" And very little beyond that. Well, we've bumped into each other every couple of years (this is small-town Ohio, after all), and she got married, her new name being Plantz. Anyway, she asked my mom for my number since she and another girl from my class are trying to organize the class of '96's ten-year reunion. Mom gave Amita her number instead of mine, describing my situation and saying that I'll be moving in with her in about a week.

Amita told Mom that she just went through a divorce herself... and then gave Mom her cell number and asked that she make sure I get it, in case I want to talk about it or get together over a drink or something. I know my mom. Most likely, she probably over-dramatized and "poor Andy"'ed it in a match-making effort, because she made sure to tell me that Amita stressed twice to make sure I got her number.

So I called her tonight. And we talked for a few minutes, and I explained how things are near psychotic with Caro and I being in the middle of moving, but that I wanted to return the call, and that being social was pretty much impossible until I am fully moved into Mom's. I thanked her, though, for her thoughtfulness, and said that I would definitely like to get together sometime after I'm settled in next week.

I called Angela at work all excited about what I just did, which is 100% uncharacteristic of me. She's happy for me. It was nice to talk to her, it's been far too long since we last had a thursday night at Avalanche, and I had begun to miss her.

Now, before you start thinking I'm some playa' trying to rack up multiple girlfriends, there were no romantic overtones between Amita and me. She's just an old acquaintance with a common link (mom, who's active in the theatre, despite her many attempts to quit), who's been through a very similar situation and probably needs to talk with somebody who can empathize, not just sympathize, with what she's saying.

Either way, I'm definitely looking forward to the chance of making a new good friend in a week or two.

What's black, white, and yellow all over?

I recently read about using yellow, blue, or red filters which screw onto the end of your lens for b&w photography to get certain contrast effects. Asking R Rose about her photos, as she is the b&w queen who even develops her own film (how cool is that?), she told me that she shoots normally, but then uses a magenta filter when she exposes her prints.

Then I thought, gee, couldn't I do the digital equivalent by taking a normal photo, using photoshop to overlay a layer of yellow, and then turning it black and white for the same effect? Here's the result of my experiment:


This is the original.



This is the original with the color info removed and no other adjustments or modifications.


This is what happened when I created a yellow layer over the color original (to try and simulate a yellow lens filter [and which looked really funky]), and then turned it black and white. I think the yellow was a little too intense and created too high a contrast, but it definitely indicates that with a little fine-tuning of the settings, I can get the effect I want. Cool beans. I had to share this with you guys.

Just finished "The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou". Possibly the weirdest movie I've seen in a long time. Very much enjoyed.

---

Watched the third Star Wars movie the other night. All I could think of after Anakin is fitted with the Darth Vader getup is him saying "We have the technology to construct an entire man made planet, and you stick me in this tacky-as-hell 70's lookin monkey suit?"

---

Lowe's decided to discontinue its contract with my parent company for full time dedicated in-store technicians. As of 12/31, I be outuva job. Not to worry, in fact this all pans out nicely:

1)I really didn't want to go to school at night, and now my days will be open when the quarter starts in January for me to go full time during the day. I'll pick up some POS night job.

2) Moving in with the folks. Rent and utilities go bye-bye. Money not such a pressing issue, except that I will probably become as my brother so succinctly put it, "Discotheque Andy", thus requiring a certain amount of cash inflow. It'll all work out.

---

Yesterday morning we awoke to a sputtering and gasping noise, only to find that one of Viv's cats, Willie, was having trouble breathing. To make a long story short, in the car as we were rushing him to the only vet that would see him at that early hour, he drew his last breath. Incidentally, this was just about the same time that we turned a corner heading out into the farmland east of town, and had an unobstructed view of a sunrise whose color and brilliance was equal to or surpassing the one I photographed a few weeks ago. I found this very comforting.

I miss Willie. In the year that he was living here, I grew rather fond of him over Viv's other cats. I accept death as a part of life, and the vet said that this wasn't anything we could've done anything about anyway. Pulmonary adema caused by congestive heart failure. It was a natural cause, and it simply was his time to go. Still, I was somber all yesterday at work. I wish it could've been more peaceful for him.

Last night, in Viv's friend's back yard, we buried Willie in the flower bed that also serves as a memorial garden for their pets who've passed. We have a concrete garden ornament of a cat laying down curled up asleep. Caro took it and placed it over his grave. A fitting marker, I think.

Came home and gave Armand and Cozy great big hugs.

---

Picked up some photos from Wal-Mart. I've posted them on my flickr page, but here's the ones I'm particularly proud of. They're from a hike around Charleston Falls outside Tipp City, where I went on assignment from Nan to capture the fall color. This marks a quality of photography that I have wanted to reach, but has eluded me. I consider these possibly some of the greatest photos I've taken (aside from the one of myself... that one's just vanity):











Remember, these are the lo-res versions. If you would like the full-res, which can be taken to your local photo processor and enlarged, I will be happy to email them to you.

This is going to come out all wrong, but...

Anyway... I've been thinking lately on the topic of jealousy. It had been proposed to me that women appreciate a certain amount of jealousy from men. I don't find that unreasonable at all, and actually quite understandable. First off, let's look at dictionary.com's first definition of 'jealous':

Fearful or wary of being supplanted; apprehensive of losing affection or position

Ok, for a man to be jealous of a woman, he must be fearful of being replaced, or of losing her affection, or of his position in her heart. I have to say that I am not immune to jealousy. Although admittedly my usual attitude is one of "Oh, so you think he's cute do you?? Well... I'll hold the video camera and jump in a bit later.", I do actually get jealous, sometimes to an intensity powerful enough to shake the ground. It simply lies in a place within me where it doesn't in most other men.

Remember when I wrote the line: "I don't want to be the center of your universe, just one of the brighter stars shining within you."? That encapsulates this topic in one sentence. Do I get jealous of women? Sure as hell I do! There's nothing harder on my heart to admire somebody as completely as I tend to do, and then watch or read about them living experiences (social, sexual, educational, career-wise, etc.) that I desperately wish to do myself, but cannot. This sparks a blaze of jealousy.

But... if ever I am let in, if ever I am given acceptance, if ever I become a part of, and one of the stars shining in that person's universe (in whichever aspect)... suddenly the envy dissipates and dissolves into joy.

Yes, I was passionately jealous of you, until you accepted me. Now all is heaven, and you can do no wrong in my eyes. Whatsoever.