Keeping it Real

Nothing is obsolete, everything serves a purpose. Though obscured by this and/or that, every action is functional, is fueled by motivation, desires, and ration, sometimes hidden even from ourselves. But, if you stand still and think about it, everything becomes simple.

***********

As much as I like to keep it real, some times it's hard to say the simplest things. To quote The Carpenters, "Sometimes the words get in the way." I believe this is why all the things I write can be linked or we're triggered by something physical. Nothing like a bellyache or a sunset to stop you dead in your tracks. It's so easy to become wrapped up in your subjective interpretation of what is happening in the world, but it is undeniable that "something" is happening. Something that can so rarely be manipulated and obscured by words / emotions. When the sun sets, it sets. Done.

It's when you find yourself saying, "This reminds me of..." or rather, relating a naturally occurring event to other areas of your life, or rather, inserting the meaningful into the obvious, is when connections are made and everything becomes ... who's to say? Projections, by definition, tell more about the projectionist than the object, nevertheless an object / an action / a phenomenon is needed. I am infinitely more interested in the Why of things, but I respect the Whats because they remind me that there are somethings I cannot escape and assist in articulation even if I can't at this given point in time.

An Experiment, Part 2

Part 2

So what of the past? My past was lacking in mundane way, missing father figure, extremely shy with a malnourished creative streak. Solace found in books where somehow I got it in my head that all the great ideas have already been explored. Comfort in things that had a predictable cause and effect. Scared of change and loved routines. As you can imagine, this made for a weird childhood though nothing that could predict that the future has become now and I am still here feeling it out.

Part 1

Ouvre les Yeux

When you expect nothing, anything can happen.

An Experiment, Part 1

I think there is something wrong with me. I type as fast as I think. It's almost a one to one relationship, and when it comes to the Dream Lab (a whole other story...), I can literally type faster than I can think. It feels like the words literally go from my un / sub / conscious mind to the screen without going through the normal filters cultivated by years of studying psychology ("Wait, what does that mean? Why did that happen? Are you sure that's what happened?) so much so that I surprise myself with what I write as I'm writing. It's as if I'm reading someone else's words as they appear letter by letter before my eyes.

Usually this happens on a computer, but since I have purchased my first typing machine (German DDR-era), the things I chose to type have not followed the same flow. I actually like the way I am forced to think more carefully about what I am going to type courtesy of (1) no correction tape and (2) being a cheap ass and only having one roll of tape (I plan to re-roll it when it comes to the end and reuse it...). But I owed it to myself and the typing machine to test the limits the connection I felt from mind to body to metal to paper. One of the ways I did this was to conduct an experiment: I sat down and tried to type for as long as I could non-stop.

As I didn't set any restrictions and told myself that these words were never going to see the light of day, what spilled out was extremely personal and all pride aside... about love. To quote Sade, "Love is stronger than pride." And as much as I would like to say I wrote about something deep, this is what wanted to come out at this time. I was in no position to prevent what has been yearning to be recorded.

As I've read over the pages and pages of type and typos and misaligned margins since then, with different eyes, I am surprised at my own candor. This was an experiment in being completely open, letting my fingers literally pound out thoughts that I had not have the courage to even say out loud. And now I'm taking it to the next level. Because it's outside of me now, but born of me and I have nothing to hide. Nevertheless, I reserve the right to expose myself in pieces... a little here, a little there, eventually it will be here in its entirety... because I've asked a lot of myself already and that is no small personal feat. Baby steps.

Part 1*

They say that you can only, rather, you should, or rather they say nothing in the way of anything that can be interpreted as an opinion. I believe they say write what you know. Writing what you know is subject to interpretation. Telling the truth, even to yourself, is difficult. No one knows the real facts except the writer. And that is debatable. There is a burden of truth and a burden of representation. So what is it that you think you know? One thing I can say definitively is that I do not know. I can only recall the past.

...

* Part 1 has appeared, slightly modified, in Berlin Everyday.

Ap Lei Chau, Hong Kong

Start time: 6am, December 30th, 2006

The sun is rising right now. Through the haze the sun is getting brighter as the night falls, thick, on the the other side. I want to go for a walk. I feel like smoking - not so much for the nicotine - more for the motion, the ritual, for the excuse to breathe deeply while doing something destructive and intimate - but I know I won't. And I don't. Smoke or walk. Not today. Is it fog or haze (man-made)? It takes on the color of deep blue, grey to light grey, blurring the distinct lines of the buildings on the tops of the mountains. Like distal concerns I can see their outline, I know they're there, looming but not intimidating, when I get there, to the buildings at the top, I'll be ready.

But here, on the 17th floor, I sit looking forward, a shift of the eyes down and I see details I did not see in the dark before the rising sun. Tree tops are clearly defined, I can see each leaf that makes up the canopy that blocks my view of the ground beneath, but I know what looks like as well. Save for a few small boats ferrying people, things, back and forth, the movement on the water is minimal. While there is plenty left to be explored and I want to explore it, I know I sit on the 17th floor, flights above, height that gives me clarity about what I walk through, experience every day, today and tomorrow.

My eyes shift up and proximal concerns, the ground, occupies only the lower portion of my view. I look up and as the light from the sun overwhelms my eyes, overpowering the lights from distant buildings as the main source of illumination, the buildings become less distinct, the lines more blurred, but what hasn't changed is that they sit atop a mountain. Ever present. Though created by hand those buildings sit atop a mountain. I realize that it is not the buildings themselves that are looming and not intimidating, they were just a focal point - just like Western eyes to find a focal point and regard it as the source of...

but it is the mountains that hold them up, that allow them the opportunity to be so "highly regarded", the silent foundation that strikes me with awe. I want to appreciate those mountains, feel the dirt beneath my feet - the pressure of the earth pushing me back as I push on it - propelling me up. The buildings atop the mountains have lost their glow, swallowed by the haze. The mountains, themselves, have softened into shades of brown and grey, the backdrop to another day. Strange, yet comforting, the things I see so clearly in the dark. In the light. And for the brief moment one gives way to the other.

End Time: 7:15am, December 30th, 2006

When you meet new people you get to present yourself as you wish. They take your word for it. It’s like telling a story over and over. Eventually you trim the fat and perfect the punchline. Re-creating yourself and they think you are normal.

Sometimes you find that you are more yourself when you are not your usual self.

Mandatory Business as Usual

Very rarely do I tear pages in my notebook, but tonight I feel that it’s worth it. Friday night - business as usual - but inside we are all riding bicycles in private storms, trying to find shelter amidst flashes of lights, loud claps, and sharp liquid. Chasing the sunlight. Some ride harder, some stand still, as wet drops stain light greys to black.

We fall into old habits, comfort zones. To things we think come natural in times of instability. We hold on to hope believed to be planted firmly deep beneath the ground as winds whip the hair into our already stinging eyes we don’t dare to close.

(Com)Passion

In Paris I met passion.

Unbridled. Regardless of supposed tos.

Beyond arms and eyes,

Passion that has had time to explore

the deep

and shallow end,

and is still here to recall.

And I am in awe,

rather,

inspired by the wildness

contained

slightly obscured by layers and follicles.

I only caught but a glimpse of passion

personified

and I am a better person because of that.

I said,

“Save your heart because you are special.

Not everyone deserves something so special,”

knowing full well that this will be

taken into deep consideration

before being gently and with all good intentions,

set aside.

You didn’t think I saw

but your eyes

betrayed it all

as you lifted your arm

to wave good-bye,

rather,

to be continued.

My only hope is that I held up

the mirror for you

as steady as you held it for me,

as it was just us.

Compassion and passion’s words

carrying us deeper into the Parisian night.

Beyond the stars.

Into the universe

where all provisions are distributed.

-------------------------------------------------

An End Note:

COMPASSION: (n) sympathetic pity and concern for the suffering and misfortunes of others

PASSION: (n) a strong and barely controllable emotion

a) a state or outburst of such emotion

b) intense sexual love

c) an intense desire or enthusiasm for something

d) a thing causing enthusiasm

Berlin Everyday

Baby Gurl's first exhibition. If you are in Berlin and I know you, it's almost a requirement that you come. It will also serve as a chance to say good-bye as I will be leaving back to the United States shortly thereafter. Yeah, it's like that.

Jazz Etiquette

jazz sessions. görlitzer park. do you have friends anyway? will you sleep alone tonight? rico. harmonica holster. tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk. wait your turn for the rhythm then BLOW. fingers do the anticipation dance, the rhythm jitterbug. hunched over black and ivory. matte brass. closed eyes and breathe... breathe. bum bum BUM bum of calloused fingers. you close your eyes as it is the sense of least importance here.

Why I will never have a 6-pack

Real Butter

Brie

Whole Milk

Linguini

Crusty Bread

Pecan Pie

Birthday Cake

Gristle

Pork Belly

Wine Wine Spritzers

Cumulus / The Sum of Your Parts

from the balcony: tangible mass

soft, puffy, and formidable

from the balcony: slow

creeping across the sky, but traveling at a rate

faster than i can keep up

up close: translucent

it's cold and the wind carries billions of water droplets

in the same, different direction

up close: you're just your parts

i see right through you

Spring Green, WI

out here things are a little different
every one and thing takes their time

people actually hear what you have to say
so make sure you mean it

barns are shitty because they are structurally unsound
not because they just look worn and torn

at night
great gusts of wind roll across the sky in waves
crashing through the dry leaves and stiff branches
violent and unrelenting
distant thunderstorms pound their muted BOOM
lightning briefly illuminating
clouds, acres, and rain
the misty half moon spell
over all of this

i close my eyes
and hear the ocean

Sol

sometimes I look right at the sun
even when I know I'm not supposed to
to see how long I can last.

even though it burns
i know the ghost of the sun
pulsating under my eyelids
will fade over time.

berlin, germany

October 11th to December 5th, 2009. Yep.

Tiny Vice

New Year's resolution in Nasty Nassau

I should have known from the start

At first it was social, complimentary

Then more frequent, affordances of

still times

ritual

depth

and breath

Partner to times that raised my heart rate

the closest approximation to a campfire experience with

darting fireflies

a huddle and whispers

interrupted by bolts of laughter

Campaigns waged in my youth

picket signs discarded

Now I just pick at it

A scab

I'll never say never

but I will say "Not this time"

because our time has come

Memories

What if our experiences

left physical marks on our bodies

as it does on canyon walls

and exposed tree trunks?

Imagine interpretations made by future archeologists,

sorting out the effects of

wind,

water,

and light.

S.W.C.

We're going to keep doing stupid things

until we're done.

You'll think about it everyday

until one day you don't.

It'll always hurt until

one day

it won't.

Eastern Sierra Range

Glacier lakes over 11,000 feet.

Cold and inviting,

every single pore

open and ready to receive

the burn.

Distant sounds:

The constant swoop and curve of the water over rocks.

Sweet treble.

Rocks sharply sliding downwards heavy with age, sun, and the slow movement of the earth.

Muted bass.

The wind snaking through your clothes. Your hair following the notes.

Idyllwild

Silence is deafening,

but our voices carry.

We're covered

in a thin layer of dust

with smoke in our hair.

Pictures or it didn't happen.

You can only take our word for it.

Up on Suicide Rock,

we forget the aches

and breathe deeply.

AIDS LifeCycle

A card I received in the mail from my parents, bless their hearts – no one knows how to insult, congratulate, and ignore proper grammar in sutble ways like Asian parents.

Dear Bee [family nickname],

Since we raised you, we know that you’re not a physical girl.

But for you to complete the bicycle ride for AIDS LIFECYCLE in June 2009 SF --> LA 545 miles.

"It was beyond our believe and our imagination!" [sic]

Congratulation to our Little Girl!

Love Always,

M + D Kliengklom

Bonneville Salt Flats

the air is different here.

this is what it must feel like to be in a desert.

i'll take your picture

of you

taking a picture.

you say there's nothing to focus on...

the white expanse sharpening your features

as you squint and smile.

Bear Lake, Utah

one man's abandoned property is where

another's treasures

are found.

pull off here

there is something I want to

take a picture of.

look,

it looks better in real life. 

South Dakota

Memories are made in South Dakota.

Road side stops.

Detours just because.

Sometimes all you can do is roll down the windows

and just listen to the road.

Fight or Flight

i'll take off for a while

to build up my strength

Why Moms are Kinda the Best

On Tue, Mar 31, 2009 at 7:48 AM, Tattiya Kliengklom wrote:

Oh yeah, and she gave me a $25 gift card to Red Lobster. I gave her a big hug. There's no way in the world she could have known that RL is my guiltiest of all pleasures, the cement that holds together the bond of a near and dear friend, Liz Albertson (located in Knoxville, TN), and I together whilst landlocked in Madison, WI, unless, of course, my contention that the cheshire moon was smiling specifically for me was true. Big sigh!    

Can you say Crab Crackin' Monday?

Tattiya

From Villes to Boroughs to Burghs

The trees change from lush greens and reds and purples

to reveal rusty patches.

my heart pounds through steel to rubber to cement to earth

through bare black arteries, branching veins and thin capillaries

blurring and softening the gray skyline.

It just might be a crackhead, got a hold of the WRONG stuff.

Adventure with Crackheads / Austin, TX

So... Adriana and Marie were enlisted to offer $5 haircuts at 1808 during SXSW. Simple enough? I volunteered to get the ball rolling. Adriana gave me a very sweet french braid that wrapped around my head earlier during the day (trust, it was cute), and the plan was to get a bitty trim and re-braid. Trim? Done. JUST as Adriana starts the french braid, STRAIGHT from the alley, comes SHEILA. In all her glory. All up in Adriana's hands as she's braiding my hair. Choice quotes:

"You gotta wet ALL that."

"You gotta use the comb. Get all that baby hair."

"Here, let me show you."

"You gotta pinch it."

"Baby, am I hurtin' you?"

"I'mma make my own style!"

"Ooh, if you were here yesterday, I would have given you microbraids, with a little bead at the end."

"When you go back to LA, and you just take them our with your fingers, your hair's gonna be CURLY curly."

The way Sheila was yanking my shit and talking, I thought it couldn't be anything else but the bomb biggety, but what she gave me was straight. up. DOOKIE. braids. WITH... 4 little rat tails at the end. She worked so hard on my hair, Adriana and I both felt uncomfortable telling her that I look like a broke-ass, first time Midwesterner visiting Nassau / RZA. AND fools were taking my picture while the shit was going down. So not pumped. 

I even tried to pop my collar to hide my rat tails, unsuccessful. Luckily when I came back to pick up the girls, hair undid, Sheila was back in the alley and did not recognize me... Moral of the story: do not, I repeat, DO NOT let crackies do your hair. Either that, or I need to grow a set of balls, and speak my mind when crackies attempt to cornrow my shit.

           

6:37pm CMT

they say you shouldn't

for fear of what you'll lose

but i did

for as long as i could

red phantom dots accompany me on the walk back

thoughts busy with all that was gained

Think about it.

Newton's Laws of Motion:

1) Every body perseveres in its state of being at rest or of moving uniformly straight forward, except insofar as its compelled to change its state by force impressed.

2) The change of momentum of a body is proportional to the impulse impressed on the body, and happens along the straight line on which that impulse is impress.

3) For a force there is always an equal and opposite reaction; or the forces of two bodies on each other are always equal and are directed in opposite directions.

Pop, Lock and Drop it

Scene from Chinatown, Los Angeles, CA

Bitter / Sweet

Main Entry: bit·ter

Function: adjective

Etymology: Middle English, from Old English biter

Date: before 12th century

1 a: being or inducing the one of the four basic taste sensations that is peculiarly acrid, astringent, or disagreeable and suggestive of an infusion of hops b: distasteful or distressing to the mind

2: marked by intensity or severity: a: accompanied by severe pain or suffering b: being relentlessly determined c: exhibiting intense animosity d (1): harshly reproachful (2): marked by cynicism and rancor e: intensely unpleasant especially in coldness or rawness

3: expressive of severe pain, grief, or regret

 

Main Entry: sweet

Function: adjective

Etymology: Middle English swete

Date: before 12th century

1 (1): pleasing to the taste (2): being or inducing the one of the four basic taste sensations that is typically induced by disaccharides and is mediated especially by receptors in taste buds at the front of the tongue

2 a: pleasing to the mind or feelings b: marked by gentle good humor or kindliness c: fragrant d (1): delicately pleasing to the ear or eye (2): played in a straightforward melodic style e: saccharine, cloying f: very good or appealing

3: much loved

4 a: not sour, rancid, decaying, or stale b: not salt or salted c: free from excessive acidity —used especially of soil d: free from noxious gases and odors e: free from excess of acid, sulfur, or corrosive salts

5: skillful, proficient 

Astrological

Sun Sign: Cancer

Moon Sign: Leo

Ascendent: Leo

Very interesting. 

Rhetorical

It's not rocket science 

or even algebra

to know that

the unasked question

is never asked

because you already know the answer.

Road to Tarabithia

I don’t even know that this movie/book is about or if it's even the name of the movie, but it connotes some epic shit, and on the real, that’s what we were on.

To start at the beginning:

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

On the eve of this historic day, United States citizens chose Barack Obama as their president-elect. Regardless of political affiliation, this man had to be, and was recognized as shift in the current collective tolerance for how government and the United States represents the American people.

Many others have far eloquent reflections from this very night, but from the ground up in Los Angeles, CA it felt like New Years. The streets were alive with smiles, arms, legs, hands, honks, cries, yelps, hugs, wheels, glass, fire, and smoke.  

Personally, I was in a cozy bar with close friends sharing all of the above, hearts full and heavy, minds completely blown. 

Fast forward less than 2 weeks later and with an email prompt from Liz Albertson, Michelle Garakian and I decide that there is absolutely no reason why we should not be attending Barack Obama’s inauguration.

 And thus the epic 8-day trip begins.

Thursday, January 15, 2009: LAX – ATL – TYS (Knoxville, TN)

Saturday, January 16, 2009: Arrive in DC

Sunday, January 17, 2009: Welcoming Ceremony

Tuesday, January 20, 2009: Swearing in Ceremony

Wednesday, January 21, 2009: Arrive Baltimore

Thursday, January 22, 2009: BWI – ATL – LAX

Thursday, January 15, 2009 

“Hello Stranger”

Somehow our excitement for the impending trip to the East did not translate into making sure everything was packed ahead of time, so once business was handled in that department, we found ourselves at the end of an equation marked

EXCITEMENT 2:00am at 2605 1/2 = two ladies + anticipation (a full pack, nearly 3 bottles of wine, Springsteen on vinyl, Barbara Lewis on loop) - work for the next 8 days

…exponentially increasing as the second hand ticked solidly into the morning hours

It was like the night before you knew you’d be heading to Disney World. We stayed up in anticipation of the things to come. Advice: If you’re going to pull an all nighter for no apparent reason, do not, repeat, DO NOT, switch to red wine after two bottles of white. You will be instantly knocked out and wake up with the most kickingest breath.

Armed with 3 hours of sleep and a healthy buzz, Michelle and I have the esteemed pleasure of having Mo Twine take us to the airport. Not without a stop along the way to (1) pick up forgotten bootleg Obama T-shirt from my house, and (2) croissants, cinny buns, and glazed treats. Apparently, Mo is quite versed in the donut game around town and this particular SpudNuts near USC is so dependably delicious that it also doubles over as Mo’s office and conference room. TCB.

“Bucktoof Bitch”

Recovered SMS conversation 

Michelle: Me too. I could kill that bucktoof bitch.

Tattiya: Yo, why they always got the most scurryest broad to be the manager type?

Michelle: i’m so hungover this is a test from god.

Tattiya: dude i'm trying not to pass out right now.

Michelle: Shanzi has it. En route.

Tattiya: yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees

Michelle: You on board?

Michelle: Are you flying? I’m gonna stalk that ho

Michelle: FUCK THAT BITCH

Michelle: See you fools at 1046pm. Fuck these assholes.

Michelle: In coldlanta, leaving at 950 for knx. Be in by 1046. See ya then. Delta is for ho’s. 

One expired license and expired passport later, Michelle was en route to Knoxville, TN. In the 1.5 hour between when I arrive to an unusually cold Knoxville (coldest day in 6 years!), Liz and I manage to experience Thai food and two Johnnie Walker Black Labels neat. $5.75. Goddamn.

Once we come back to home base, wine flowed and pizza was consumed while Liz let us experience her “Sister Wife” (read: Mormon) wig. It was perfect for Liz, sassy on Michelle, and made me look like a pretty pony. Did that stop us from tromps-ing around channeling Southern charm? Chris Buckner, affectionately nicknamed “Chrissy”, Liz’s roommate was not ready for us. 

“Chrissy’s Southern Style Dorito Salad Recipe”

Layer Cool Ranch Doritos in a casserole pan.

Layer room temperature refried beans.

Layer grated cheese.

Layer Pace Picante or other nasty salsa.

Layer sour cream.

Another layer of Cool Ranch Doritos.

Sprinkle with scallions, black olives, and a can of Ro*Tel.

Serve immediately.

----------------------------------

Knoxville, TN

I’ve had the pleasure twice now to visit this city and it never ceases to entertain. This time I had the extreme pleasure of seeing it through the eyes of another experiencing the city for the first time. For Michelle, as for I, it was love at first site. We were educated, amazed, befriended, and of course, well fed and thoroughly intoxicated.  

I found myself apologising upon leaving to a friend, “I’m sorry that I came in like a whirlwind or Tazmanian Devil for a day and a half and leaving carnage in the wake of my quick escape.” He said he kind of liked it that way, and I realized that I kind of do too.

Knoxville Set #1                     Knoxville Set #2                         TN to DC

Washington, DC

I came to here to do one thing… Bear witness. Unfortunate for me, I was sick the entire DC trip as my lymph nodes always revolt when there is a drastic change in temperature. That did not stop me, however, from putting all the clothes I had with me on my body and braving the cold to see history in the making.

I feel like when I try to describe this experience, I end up sounding like a mash up between child talking about her father’s job responsibilities – I can’t say that I’m 100% sure I know what he’s in charge of or how much power he actually has, but I do know that his responsibilities are immense, vast, and amazing – a really sentimental, idealistic girlfriend of some famous musician – in awe of how his presence and craft can evoke so much visceral emotions – or a crackhead – we needed some of that good shit BAD and I’m ready to go the distance for this fool if only he’ll give us what we want.   

On the real, Barack Obama had me wide open.

First line about the opening ceremony in the Washingon Post, “Rap fans danced to country music…” When Garth Brooks singing “Shout” has thousands of people twisting down to a hunch, whispering “A little bit softer now…” and Stevie Wonder is vocalizing Barack Obama’s name, it sweeps you up and you can’t help but be optimistic.

Inauguration day was emotional, intense, and surreal. Taking the Metro and walking to the Capitol after waking up at 5am was sobering and intoxicating at the same time – was this really happening and yes, this is happening; people of earlier generations as well as mine own doubting that this event would take place in their lifetime. Elders turning to the very young saying, “See, you can do whatever you want.” Tears in trickles and floods. Boos for Bush, Hallelujahs and Amens for the benediction from all denominations, and pure enegry from the crowd. Navigating our way to the Silver section (we had tickets, hwhat?!), I leaned over the side of a highway filled with human bodies lined up and yelled, “What color are your tickets?” A resounding “PURPLE” and cheers instantaneous produced smiles all around. People were supremely pumped.

I, personally, always had a mixed relationship with being American. I was born on the Fourth of July and was the first generation raised in America as opposed to Thailand. Here people want to know my heritage, nationality (American, fool!), and ethnicity, but everywhere else in the world I’m an American. I believe in Buddhist teachings, but want a white wedding in a Church. I never said “God” during the Pledge of Allegence, but I love the way the American flag looks, red, white, and blue. I believe the underlying principles in which our nation is based are noble, but I am aware of the circumstances that lead the American people to collectively develop in a certain way. I love the United States and desire more for it at the same time. But, on this day – January 20^th – I was afford the time and space to believe that we are on our way to make the United States a better place, not just for Americans, but also as active participants in the larger world. Obama’s speech lingers in my mind and while I can say with confidence that he is not our savior, his ideals and goals are one that I would also strive and sacrifice for. I believe that he has our best interests in mind and hot damn, he has a long road ahead. As with all other important things in my life, I try not to have high expectations – I believe he’s going to do the best he can while serving the American people.

Side note: The Obama schwag was top notch. 

Washington DC Set # 1 Washington DC Set # 2 Washington DC Set #3

Baltimore, MD

Amy (parahase): Baltimore was voted one of the ugliest cities in the United States – not really the city, but the people in it. I never thought I was hot, but when I walk into a bar, I’m pretty intimidating.

City of Scrapple, I hardly knew thee, but I would love to have you open up to me and show me what you got. Until next time…

Washington DC / Baltimore Set # 1

Many thanks to the Knoxville Crew: Liz, Chris, Travis, David, and Brian, DC Crew: Kara and Alex, and Baltimore's Finest: Amy, for being amazing hospitable; we are forever indebted to you.