My Real Life

November 12, 2018

Doctor Who?

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am

I believe I have documented the fact that this family, well, this family minus Real Man, are big fans of Dr. Who.

We started watching the show a few years ago and we quickly binged every episode from it’s 2005 reboot with Christopher Ecclestone.

It’s quirky and humorous and touching and we have just always loved it.

Especially episodes with the Daleks.

Am I right?

We fell in love with Ecclestone’s doctor and were sure we would never enjoy the show the same way when he left and David Tennant showed up, but it turned out that we loved Tennant even more.

Then when Tennant left and Matt Smith arrived as the new doctor, we said there was no way he was going to be able to fill those shoes. And yet…

Matt Smith and Karen Gillian were the absolute best. The best.

When Matt Smith left and Peter Capaldi came in, we truly did not love the show as much as we had with the other doctors, but the storylines still captivated us and we remained true fans of the show, even if we weren’t huge fans of the new doctor, himself.

And then Peter Capaldi left and we had our first female doctor, Jodie Whittaker.

We weren’t sure how we were going to feel about Whittaker’s take on the doctor, but we were willing to give it a try, as we had been proven wrong before.

The week before the premiere, BBCAmerica had a Dr. Who marathon where they showed every episode of the David Tennant and Matt Smith years and we went through and recorded all of our favorites and spent hours reliving those moments.

It was a good week. The three big kids and I joined together in the living room to watch those episodes and remembered little phrases that we used to repeat to each other and small moments in episodes that we have talked about throughout the years.

And then we gathered to watch the premiere of the new season.

This season is a really new season, as the entire writing team changed.

And, this is a new season, might I add, that unveiled the first female doctor…EVER.

That’s a big deal.

People have an image of who the doctor is and what HE should be.

Except now HE is going to be a SHE and that excites me for little girls everywhere.

And then we watched the show.

Eh.

We are now six episodes in and I gotta tell ya…we still aren’t loving it.

I don’t think that there is necessarily an issue with Jodie Whittaker, herself.

She’s quite delightful.

I think it’s the storytelling.

It’s slower than we are used to. There’s not much action. They aren’t really traveling much.

And, if you are a Dr. Who fan, you know that one of the best parts of the show is the banter between the doctor and his/her companions.

It’s quick, it’s funny, it’s engaging.

And from this season of the show…

It’s lacking.

There’s no humor and the storylines are slow and serious and just not…getting it.

I almost didn’t write this post because I’m not into complaining and publicly bashing things and people.

But this isn’t a bash. It’s more of a “c’mon new writers…lighten up” request.

Because, you know, I’ve just got a ton of screenwriters who actually read this blog.

It’s hard when things change. When things you are used to morph into something new.
And it’s early, yet. It’s still possible that the show could hit it’s stride and suck us right back into our Dr. Who obsession.

But right now?

Not so much.

 

November 10, 2018

Saying Goodbye ?

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 8:53 am

Yesterday, we had to say goodbye to Gramps, our hermit crab.

Gramps’ buddy, Shelly, lost his (or her…we were never really sure) battle with life in the crabitat a few months after we purchased them in August 2017, and Gramps has been going it solo since then.

We don’t have pets.

Instead, we have four kids.

So we’ve never had to flush a goldfish or put a dog to sleep, etc.

Our children have never had a close relative die or even a close family friend, and so they haven’t really ever had to deal with death beyond when their character in a video game dies.

Which, of course, then respawns, so even that isn’t real experience with death and totally messes with a child’s expectations of what happens when a person dies.

So, yesterday, Real Man catches my eye in the kitchen and gestures toward the crabitat where I see Gramps’ shell turned upside down, his dry little legs extended over the edge, unmoving and completely dead.

My first thought was “Oh crap…I forgot to spray down the crabitat with moisture last weekend. I killed him,” because, (and this will come as no surprise to the moms in the group) despite the fact that he’s the kid’s pet, the responsibility for keeping him alive falls on MY shoulders.

But then I remembered that I certainly had taken care of Gramps last weekend, and that a year and a half is a pretty good life for a hermit crab living in a plastic cage in northern New Jersey.

Real Man and I took the shell out of the crabitat and put it on the counter. We touched the legs to make sure they were really not moving, and they weren’t. We talked about what to do and we decided we would flush the body and clean out the shell to either add to the shell collection in the bathroom or in case we ever got more hermit crabs.

Real Man had a paper towel and pulled on the legs and they separated from the shell and from the remainder of the body. The big claw and legs were now in the paper towel and the other big claw and legs were still in the shell. We’d have to dig it out.

But, right then is when Tiny came into the kitchen and asked what we were doing.

So, we told him Gramps had died and he cried and cried.

I took him to the living room where we sat on the couch and reminisced about the good times we had with Gramps.

“Remember when we made Gramps and obstacle course out of blocks?”

“Remember when Shelly used to try to climb out of the crabitat by standing on Gramps’ shell?”

“Remember when we used to make funny voices for Gramps and Shelly and make up fake conversations for them?”

(All of which happened about a year ago, because it’s a hermit crab, which is not a fun pet, and which the kids really never paid attention to after a few months)

I told Tiny that Gramps was probably happy to be reunited with Shelly in hermit crab heaven which he quickly refuted with “Shelly isn’t in heaven…she’s in the sewer…you flushed her!” which was a point I found myself unable to argue.

As I comforted Tiny, Real Man poked his head around the corner and gestured for me to come back in the kitchen with big eyes.

I left Tiny in the capable hands of his brother who was reminding him of other fun times with Gramps (“Remember when Mom was cleaning Gramps crabitat and put him on the counter and forgot about him and we found him in the laundry room the next day?”) and went to the kitchen.

“So,” Real Man began, “I don’t think he’s dead.”

“Excuse me?” I answered. “You just pulled half of his body out of the shell!”

“Yeah…but…” and he held up his phone and showed me an article he had Googled about how sometimes hermit crabs molt their old legs off and grow new legs underneath.

And he picked up the shell and showed me what we had thought were other legs but weren’t, in fact, fresh, new, pink legs.

Which were moving.

Are. You. Kidding. Me?

I immediately cleaned out the crabitat and refilled the water and the food and we set Gramps right in the water dish and he started to rock and roll.

And I was so excited, there were tears of joy in my eyes.

They definitely were not tears of I had already imagined the counter where the crabitat sat being clear, for once, and the freedom of not having to remember to feed and water that thing every weekend.

Definitely not those kind of tears.

And we went in the living room and said “So, guess what, Tiny? Gramps isn’t dead after all!” and we explained the whole thing and so now Tiny thinks life is like a video game where, if your legs get cut off, they’ll grow back and if you die, you might not really be dead…the doctor might have just made a mistake and so death isn’t really a permanent thing, despite our very thorough explanations that we just got it wrong the first time.

So, yeah.

Thanks, Gramps.

October 12, 2018

That Time I Almost Won on The Price is Right

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am

The town we live in has an amazing community theater.

When I was a kid, it was this old run-down theater that showed old movies.

The owner had two Dalmatians that used to guard the doors and you always had the feeling like the ceiling was going to fall down on you at any minute, and so you wind up staring at the ceiling more than you would be looking at the screen.

But then someone got the idea to fix the place up and donors spent millions and the result is now a legit theater that attracts real celebrities, shows, and amazing events.

So, when the calendar of events comes out, each year, I always peruse it with great excitement. I don’t get to a lot of the shows, but there’s usually at least one that I really want to see.

My parents get tickets to a lot of the shows, but then one or both of them winds up being tired and so we wind up with the tickets, so I’ve seen quite a few things that I didn’t know I was going to enjoy and wound up loving.

This August, when the catalog came out, I saw that The Price is Right Live was coming to town.

And I almost passed out with excitement.

Let me give you a little background.

Growing up, The Price is Right was my jam.

My Mom loved the show and my Grandma loved the show, and so, if I wasn’t in school at 11 am, I was in front of the tv with Bob Barker.

By 7 years old, I could tell you the both exact price of Mop-n-Glo AND guess the price of a Chevy Chevette within a dollar.

I loved all the games they played. I dreamed of punching out paper circles and grabbing cash, of watching the mountain climber climb the steep incline, and spinning the big wheel.

However, the big draw…the game I loved more than anything else…was Plinko.

Those big, round chips.

I just wanted to hold them and climb the stairs to the top of the Plinko board and drop the chips down, watch them make their way through the maze, and drop into the $500 slot at the bottom.

Oh, how I longed to play Plinko.

One summer, I found a board and I nailed long nails in a maze pattern, drew dollar amounts on the wood, and spent hours with my friends dropping my self-made chips down the board. (I’m looking at you, Gail and Erin)

Anyway, we wound up with two tickets to the show and my parents had two tickets. But, my Dad wasn’t feeling well, so Monkey Girl and I took our tickets and my Mom and Baby Monkey (who is twelve and totally not a baby, but when you name someone on a blog when they are three, it sticks) went with my Mom.

What a show.

We watched people get called down, we saw clips of the show from the past 40 years with crazy antics as people got called on down. We cheered, we laughed. It was awesome.

Person after person was called on down. In between, people’s names were drawn and they won Amazon gift cards. I didn’t care that they weren’t calling my name. Monkey Girl and I were having a blast.

And then it was time for the last round of people to get called, and they called one name and then I heard it.

“Amy Bozza! Come on down!”

What?

I jumped up and screamed and yelled and ran down the aisle.

Along the way I saw one of my students and her mother and we waved and screamed at each other.

We had to sit and wait while the people who were before us made their bids, and then we were able to watch one guy win a trip to Hawaii.

And then it was our turn.

We got up to the stand, Mark Walberg said “hi” to all of us, (no, not that Mark Wahlberg…this is the one who is the host of Antique Roadshow, but still pretty darn cool), and rolled out the first item up for bid.

An electric guitar and amplifier.

The first thought in my head was $1,200, but then the people next to me started to bid.

They bid low and I started to second guess myself.

So, when my turn came, I said “$850.”

And then Fran, who stood to my left, said “851.”

And immediately, I knew she had won.

I said “Fran,” in a voice that my own children would have recognized immediately as my tone of exasperation and I slapped the podium in front of me.

Walberg laughed and told the audience that I was mad at Fran and then said “She didn’t come here to make friends, Amy,” which I knew to be true, but still…dammit Fran!

And, of course, the electric guitar and amplifier was $1,150, and would have been mine if not for Fran.

So, the producer gives me a t-shirt and I go back to my seat and I watch Fran and Mark banter on stage and then they open the curtain and Fran gets to play…

Yeah, you knew it.

Plinko.

Fran had to guess the correct number in four different products to win four Plinko chips.

Fran got three right.

From my seat, I got all four right.

Fran climbed the stairs…my stairs.

Fran dropped the chips…my Plinko chips.

Fran won about $1,500…my $1,500.

So, yeah, I didn’t get on stage and I didn’t win the money, but I won a t-shirt and I had a great, great time.

And tonight, I’m setting the DVR to start recording The Price is Right while I’m at work, because I need to study.

Because next year…the Showcase Showdown is all mine.

September 1, 2018

Christopher Robin

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am

I see a lot of movies. I can’t help myself. I just love them.

And, over the years, I’ve instilled that love of movies in my children.

While we are happy to curl up on the couch with a good movie we’ve borrowed from the library or paid a buck for at the Redbox, the truth is, we would all rather be in the theater, price be damned.

I’m a fan of the action, the horror, the drama, the romance, the comedy…heck…I’m a fan of it all. And I thoroughly enjoy them all. I have favorite scenes and characters and moments and I find myself thinking about the films I watch far after the closing credits have rolled and the lights have come up.

Most of the time, I am entertained. I rarely see a movie that I don’t enjoy on some level. Even when everyone around me is shaking their heads and muttering at the two hours they will never recover, I leave with a smile, because I’ve found something redeeming in the film.

Yet, every now and then, there’s more.

It’s the last day of summer, today, as I go back to school on Tuesday.

My big plan was to take a day trip to the beach and give a proper farewell to #summer2018, but when I awoke to the rain hitting the roof, I figured it was best to change the plan.

So, I bought tickets to see Christopher Robin.

I can’t pass up a movie about Winnie-the-Pooh, as I have a lifelong obsession with the little guy.

We honeymooned in Disney, and I came back with more jewelry and articles of clothing bearing his likeness than any adult should ever own.

I taught a class at a summer camp called “The World of Pooh” where we read stories, colored pictures, and sang songs, all from the realm of the Hundred Acre Wood.

And when the monkeys started coming along, the nursery was decorated, from top to bottom, in a classic Pooh theme.

(…and often, they decorated themselves, top to bottom, in a classic poo theme, but that’s another story)

So, when I hear Winnie-the-Pooh, my ears perk up and I give whatever it is my full attention.

And so, on this rainy August afternoon, Monkey Girl, Baby Monkey, Tiny and I headed to the theater to see what this film was all about.

As you might imagine, it was predictable. If you’ve seen the trailer, you realize it’s a story about a man who has forgotten how to play…how to live.

Much like Robin Williams grown up Peter Pan in “Hook,” (another favorite of mine), Ewan McGregor is an adult Christopher Robin. A very busy, distracted, business-oriented, family forgetting adult.

And through a certain set of circumstances, he comes to be reunited with his friends from the Hundred Acre Wood who help him save the day, save his family, and save his soul.

Tears flowed…hard…as Christopher Robin left behind his friends.

Every day…for years…Pooh returned to the door through which Christopher Robin used to crawl to visit the Hundred Acre Wood. And his shoulders would slump as he would realize his friend wasn’t coming, and I heard the sniffles throughout the theater and realized it was hitting all of us hard.

Exactly as the filmmakers knew it would.

Predictable in every way.

And yet…

I saw much of myself in the character of the adult Christopher Robin.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m playful, I’m youthful, and I love my monkeys.

But, I’m human, and at times, I’m very much an adult who is busy and doesn’t have time for the silly.

Who doesn’t make time.

I have lists upon lists of things that need to be done, and the truth is, they are things that actually do need to be done.

And as I complete one thing, I am already thinking about the next thing to be done.

But the result is that I am often distracted in the moments where I would truly rather be present.

One of my favorite lines is at the end of the film.

Winnie-the-Pooh asks Christopher Robin what day it is, to which he replies, “Today.”

Winnie-the-Pooh responds, “Oh good…today is my favorite day.”

I love it.

And in a year where I continually find myself focusing on the future…

(Mourning a daughter who is leaving for college in a year, but is still here right now, is a perfect example)

…I want to embrace that philosophy.

So, this year, I’m adding a mantra to my life.

Number one is, and will always remain Be as Kind as Possible, as Often as Possible

But, mantra number two?

Today is my favorite day.

August 27, 2018

School Shopping

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am

The thing I remember the most about Back to School shopping is the smell of my new shoes.

I’d open the boxes over and over again, and I’d just inhale the scent of the new leather.

I’ve never forgotten that smell, and when I catch a whiff of it again, it takes me right back to my childhood.

When I was a kid, back to school clothes shopping was done in Ohio with my Grandma.

Every summer, because my parents worked, I would spend about 2 weeks at sleepaway camp, and then I would be shipped off, from NJ to Ohio, to spend about a month with my grandparents.

They were four of my favorite weeks of the year.

I’m pretty sure I’ve talked about my Grandma Lawrence before. She was my world when I was a kid, but I didn’t get to see her often enough at all because of where we both lived. So, when I would go out there for that month in the summer, we spent every second together.

We played cards, badminton, sat with the Avon lady and bought little perfumes and lip glosses, read books, watched tv, played board games, drove the Bookmobile, and I’d sit on the basement stairs and watch her do the neighbor ladies’ hair in the remnants of the beauty salon she used to run out of her house.

And every year, she took me shopping for my back to school clothes.

As a kid, it never dawned on me that she was doing this to help my parents out, financially. That it eased a heavy burden that was on their shoulders, as my Dad was working full time, but was also pursuing a degree in the city, and my Mom was working two jobs.

It probably wouldn’t have mattered, even if I had known, because as far as I was concerned, Grandma buying my back to school clothes made them…magical.

She would take me to the only department store that Ashtabula, Ohio had, at the time. Carlisle’s.

I can still remember exactly where the children’s and juniors sections were in that store, and the thrill I would get when we would walk through the doors.

She never said anything about whether she liked what I was buying. She just smiled and said “Are you sure?” and I’d consider and sometimes I’d say “No” and put it back, and sometimes I’d say “Yep” and move on.

I was careful not to buy more than I thought that she could afford, but she always encouraged me to pick up “one more thing” and I would happily do so.

White jeans with rainbow pinstripes.

Legwarmers.

Any 80’s kid clothing you can imagine, if I had it, it’s because my Grandma bought it for me.

And then there were the shoes.

The kids shoes were upstairs in this weird little alcove.

As much time as we spent in the clothing department, we spent double that in the kids shoes.

I could get one pair of sneakers and one pair of dress shoes and one pair of “other” shoes.

One year, the “other” shoes were capezios.

Another year they were jellies.

Yet another year, they were saddle shoes.

And for a few years, the “other” shoes were bucks.

I’d never wear them out of the store.

In fact, I’d never wear them until school started.

I kept the boxes shut tight, as if by keeping them closed, I could preserve the memory of shopping with my Grandma, knowing once they were out and on my feet, I was home and too many miles away from her.

But once school started, I wore them all, and was grateful to have them.

Now, my Mom and I take my kids clothes shopping, and it’s different.

First of all, Grandma lives three minutes away and they see her all the time.

And the mall where we shop is a mall where we shop at least four or five times a year.

Just like when I was a kid, my Mom takes them shopping to help me out with the expenses, and because she just loves “doing” for these children.

Maybe because it’s four of them at once and no one wants to wait while someone else is browsing.

The boys sit and feed dollars into the massage chairs in the mall while Monkey Girl searches for just the right thing in a few stores.

Monkey Girl browses on her phone while the boys try on endless pairs of pants, because long legs and tiny waists are hard to buy for.

Inevitably, someone gets grumpy, someone cries, and someone (I’m looking at you, Tiny) is always hungry.

But, that’s life with four kids.

So, yeah, it’s different, but the experience that my kids are having with my Mom has it’s own type of magic.

Every trip ends with cookies as we exit the mall, which is a part of the experience they ask about before we even get in the car to start the trip.

There are smiles and jokes and memories that are made, and reminisced about, every year.

“Remember when that guy tried to sell Monkey Girl a hair straightener and Grandma said ‘I’m the Grandma!’ in that crazy voice to the guy?”

Different memories than I had with my back to school shopping experiences, but cherished memories for my kids, nonetheless.

So, while the experience may be different, because times are different, and they are different, when they get home, these kids who normally don’t seem to know where their closets or dressers are, suddenly are hanging their new clothes, reverently, to preserve them for Day One.

And their new shoes?

They sit, preserved in their boxes, until that first day of school; I like to think, preserving the memory of the time spent with Grandma and Mom that one day, will be far in the past.

 

July 2, 2018

Hello, Dolly!

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 11:21 am
I consider myself to be a fairly fearless woman.
I face challenges head on, I relocate big spiders outdoors, I am good in an emergency, and I teach 8th grade.
However, when I was 10, the movie “Poltergeist” came out, and it was the beginning of my love of horror movies.
Yet, it was also the beginning of my fear of both clowns AND dolls.
That scene, in the thunderstorm, with the clown at the end of the bed…yeah, you know the one I mean.
That scene completely did me in for the rest of my life.
The clown thing, I’ve learned to live with.
I mean, let’s be honest, you don’t often run into a clown in the street, and you can choose not to be where clowns will be present.
But dolls?
That’s not so easy.
Dolls are kinda everywhere.
And I think we can all agree that porcelain dolls are the worst.
The. Worst.
—–
When I was in high school, my handbell choir went on tour to Virginia.
My BFF, Kim, and I were roommates, and host families would put us up for the night, in each town we visited.
So, one night, we finished our concert and got in the car and were driven to this lovely couple’s home.
The woman opens the bedroom door and, on a shelf, that went all around the room were about fifty porcelain dolls.
Watching me.
So, what’s a polite teenage girl to do?
I smiled and said thanks, and as soon as she closed the door, turned to Kim, who just said, “Yeah, I know.”
And then Kim, in the way only a high school BFF can do, let me share her twin bed, and held my hand until I fell asleep.
—–
When I graduated from college, I used to housesit for a few families.
The first time I went to one of the houses, the woman was giving me the tour and when she got to my room, she opened the door and said “I hope you don’t mind sharing the room with these ladies!”
Two guesses as to what was seated on the bed, the rocker, and shelves on the walls?
Yup.
Porcelain dolls.
Watching me.
I was an adult now, and owned up to my fear, and the woman looked at me a little strangely, but said, kindly, “Well, I’ll just put the in the armoire while you’re here,” to which I blurted out “NO! Then they’ll be mad at me!”
Not sure how I didn’t lose that job, but for the next few years, when I housesat for that family, I slept on the couch in the family room.
—–
Over the years, my porcelain doll phobia has grown to include porcelain figurines.
They just creep me out, and don’t ask me why, because I don’t know.
But they are right up there with clowns and porcelain dolls.
Last week, I chaperoned my daughter’s handbell choir tour.
And we returned to Virginia.
After the concert, we met our host families and I was paired with a truly lovely woman, who was in her 80’s.
We drove to her house and I sat with her, in the kitchen, and chatted, while she had a glass of wine.
I enjoyed our conversation thoroughly, but I started to feel tired and decided it was time to hit the hay.
She said “You’ll he sleeping in the basement, it’s this way,” and then began to lead me through the, previously unseen, rest of the house.
 
Are. You. F&#*ing. Kidding. Me?
In an effort to not be rude, I asked if I could take pictures of all of the figurines because, my mother was into porcelain.
This may have been a teeny bit of a lie, but photographic evidence was a necessity.
So, I took the pics, went downstairs and immediately text Kim, Erin, and Michaela, who respond in the following way:
Because adult BFF’s are not as supportive as high school BFFs.
Probably because they have 30 more years of dealing with my BS under their belts.
So, I finally climb in bed and lay there, eyes open, for, what felt like, hours.
I knew they were out there…right on the other side of the door.
Waiting.
Watching.
But, in the morning, I woke up and all was well.
I mean, except for the texts from Kim, Erin, Michaela and Real Man.
‘Cuz they’re all reaaaaaaaaaal funny.

April 11, 2018

Guess Who Went to Florida? – Part Three

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am
I’m not going to go day by day for this part of the adventure. We were in Orlando for five days, and no one needs five more blog posts about this trip.
However, it should be noted that Monkey Girl was our tour guide, despite never having been to Universal before.
If we needed to know where to go, we’d simply call out her name and she would guide us.
She called up the app on her phone and gave us real-time line wait times so we knew where to skip and where to run.
Coming into the parking garage, the attendants would ask where we were from and what we were visiting and direct us on our way.
We got a chuckle out of a woman I named “Gina” (because that’s what I do) who was dancing and motioning and getting everyone to the right spots in the parking lot, and it was evident, right from the get-go, that this was going to be a good day.
We decided on Universal Studios before Islands of Adventure, and our very first ride was Jimmy Fallon’s Race Through New York.
Because why not travel 20 hours to ride on something we could do 30 minutes from home?
This ride I recommend to everyone.
Much of Universal and Islands of Adventure is made up of 4D motion simulators. There are very few actual, old school, rides.
Many of the rides are a mix of motion simulator and short bursts of movement within the car.
All six of us LOVED the Jimmy Fallon ride. From the waiting area where riders were treated to clips of his funniest moments, to live performances by the barbershop quartet and Hashtage the Panda, to the actual ride itself, it is entertaining all the way through.
As an aside, lines are something that Universal does well.
Yes, you may need to wait for an hour to get on a ride, however, there are fans and mist and tv screens that suck you in to the story that goes along with each ride.
And while I won’t spoil the stories and surprises of each line, I will say, Universal keeps you entertained while you wait.
And, in the areas where they don’t, there are ways to entertain yourself.
For example, the six of us played Rock, Paper, Scissors, or another hand game called Shotgun, or Heads Up on my phone to keep busy.
Heads Up kept us AND the people around highly entertained.
I’m a little competitive and I yell when I play games, and several times as I was trying to guess what my screen said I was, the kids said “Mom…you don’t have to yell! People are staring!”
Which did not make me stop yelling.
Anyway, from Jimmy Fallon, we moved to The Mummy.
I’m a sucker for all things Egyptian history, and I love all the Mummy movies.
Five of us loved this ride intensely.
One of us, who is seven, most intensely did not.
It was a little scary if you’re little.
And this, my friends, was a rookie mistake of ours.
Because Tiny spent the next four days being afraid of rides.
And so we took turns sitting out the rides with him while everyone else went on.
Which is fine. Because it’s what parents do.
But, if we could do it again, that boy would not have ridden The Mummy.
I don’t remember the order of everything we did, but I’ll tell you some of our favorite things we rode and saw.
In Universal Studios, Real Man, Monkey in the Middle and Monkey girl rode the Rip Ride Rock-It, which is a large, loopy coaster that they all deemed amazing.
The highlight of the ride, for Monkey Girl, was that you were able to program your head seat with your choice of music for the ride.
The Shrek 4D ride had the potential to be fun, but no one’s 3D glasses were working, so, as Real Man said, it was more like a 2.5D show.
The Men In Black ride brings you on as a trainee for the program, and as you ride the ride, you are responsible for shooting aliens with your laser gun.
At the end, your cart is graded as to how many aliens you killed, and although Real Man and Monkey in the Middle were highly accurate with their shots (according to their personal scores) the rest of the cart brought our score down to “Bug Bait.”
Throughout Universal Studios, there are shows to watch, impromptu and planned, and we enjoyed the fish throwing acrobatic show that took place in the middle of the park, and Tiny and I enjoyed the 3:00 parade through the lot while everyone else rode the Transformers ride.
Transformers was a good ride, as per Baby Monkey who has seen every movie and knows every robot/car/and character.
Meanwhile, I enjoyed watching the parade characters try to elicit a smile out of Tiny, who apparently feels that smiling at strangers is not allowed, and stared them down.
And while we were enjoying the parade, Real Man and the big monkeys were watching their own drama, in the Transformers line, where the woman behind them was on her cell phone, with her boyfriend, who was giving her the news that something or someone had killed her cat the night before.
Because why wouldn’t you give someone that information while they are on line at a theme park?
At Islands of Adventure, the park is broken into “lands” that are themed. There is Toon Town, Superhero Way, Harry Potter’s Wizarding World, Dr. Seuss Land, The Forgotten City, Kong’s Island, and Jurassic Park.
We spent the next three days at Islands of Adventure, running back to Universal once or twice along the way.
The first ride we hit was the Hulk ride (pronounced ‘Hoke” in our family, because Tiny commonly mispronounces things, and those then because the official pronounciations for our squad.)
Monkey Girl and her parents decided to ride this, and with a 30 minute wait, Monkey in the Middle offered to stay in the shade across from the entrance with the younger boys.
Unfortunately, about 30 minutes into our wait, the ride had a bit of a malfunction, and the wait time became over an hour and thirty minutes.
But, we were in it, and had already waited 30 and didn’t know how long the rest of the wait would be, so we stayed.
With no phones to contact the boys, because you had to check your belongings.
Side note: Another thing that Universal does well, is offer free lockers to store your belongings while you ride the rides.
The digital locks are updated with the wait times for the rides, and it is free for approximately 30 minutes longer than the line time plus the actual ride time.
Locks are unlocked with a fingerprint.
Which, by the way, is also how you enter the park with the Park to Park pass. With your finger print.
Real Man noted that the CIA has nothing on Universal with regards to a database of the fingerprints of people traveling in the US.
And, I should mention that we are not entirely sure that Monkey Girl IS, in fact, Monkey Girl, as her fingerprint didn’t work in either park after the first day.
She had to show her driver’s license every time, as the scan of her finger came up with a big, red X.
When we finally got onto the Hoke, it was a quick, but super fun ride with loops and twists and speed.
I probably wouldn’t have ridden it if I had known the line would be that long, but I’m glad I did.
In Toon Town we rode the Simpson’s 4D ride/simulator, and those of us who were fans of the show enjoyed every second of it.
It actually made me want to go back and binge-watch from the beginning.
The Spider-Man ride was another favorite of mine. Another mix of 4D movie/short bursts of track/and motion simulator. Really a cool one.
Tiny wanted his picture taken with just about everyone and everything he saw, and why not?
While Real Man and the big kids went to ride Kong (which they deemed HIGHLY entertaining) I took Tiny to Seuss World.
We rode the Carousel and the Seuss sky train and One Fish, Two Fish (in the rain)
Perfect for a little boy who was afraid to ride everything else.
Speaking of a little boy…
This kid kept us in stitches the entire trip.
For example, as the youngest of four who is much younger than the other three, he hears a lot of teenage talk that he doesn’t necessarily understand.
But, he wants to desperately to be like his siblings, and so he repeats things in the way that HE understands them.
Like “Roasted!”
You know, which is said when you verbally burn someone.
Except, Tiny says things like “Hey Dad! The Giants are gonna win the Super Bowl this year! ROASTED!”
And then he does this thing with his hands and his leg and his face and it’s freaking hilarious.
So, the week was spent with the rest of us saying things like “Hey Monkey Girl…your hair looks really pretty today! ROASTED!”
Or
“Mom…thanks for remembering to pack my retainer. ROASTED!”
Here is Tiny and Monkey Girl in full Roasted form.
Back to the fun…
We basically rode every single ride there was in the park. The only thing we missed was the ET ride.
But I need to talk about my favorite two lands in Islands of Adventure.
Because I need to.
Monkey Girl and I read the Harry Potter books together when she was a little girl.
Correction: We devoured those books.
Read. Re-read. Couldn’t put them down.
And when Baby Monkey was old enough, we introduced him to the story. And he, too, fell in love.
So, she and I have been waiting to visit Harry Potter Wizarding World since it was built.
And as we walked through the gates, into Diagon Alley, we held hands and gasped.
In Universal Studios, they have Diagon Alley, and you can take the train to Hogsmeade, (with the Park to Park pass) which is in Islands of Adventure.
Both are exact replicas of these locations in the movies, and the music from the movies are being piped through the park.
The stores are the same, some are just store fronts and some you can enter.
You can buy a wand from Olivander’s and there are places you can use that wand to make things happen in the shop windows.
We bought Butterbeer (loved by Monkey in the Middle and Tiny, but getting an “Eh” from the rest of us), rode the Escape from Gringott’s ride, and just soaked in all of the Harry Potter essence we could.
Monkey Girl and I agreed that it was cool, but it was the most packed part of the entire park, and it was too easy to lose the magic of the place as you were jostled around and turned around.
So, while it gets a thumbs up from both of us, we also felt a little disappointed in that particular part of the experience.
As a segue into the last part of the park that we visited, I need to explain that my #1 favorite movie of all time is Jurassic Park.
Not Jurassic World (although that is definitely in my top 10) but the original Jurassic Park.
That movie captivated me in a way that I cannot explain.
It is perfection.
I read the book, loved the book, but the movie?
Yes, please.
And, I should qualify this statement by saying that I was never a dinosaur kid. I don’t really even like dinosaurs, and was pretty grateful that none of my kids were ever really into dinosaurs either.
I have no idea what the difference between a brontosaurus and an apatosaurus are, nor do I care to know.
So, it’s really the story of Jurassic Park that captured me.
And as we walked through the gates of Jurassic Park, my heart started to beat faster.
It’s the sounds of the rainforest mixed in with the occasional, faint growl or thump of an unseen beast in the wild.
On our first day at Islands of Adventure, Real Man and the big kids went on the Jurassic Park river ride, and the kids got off and said that I would love it.
So, on our last day at the park, I got my turn.
And I loved it.
To be more clear, I actually started to cry a little as the boat began to move through the ride, because damn…I love me some Jurassic Park.
We needed some lunch, and entered one of the Jurassic Cafe’s (and ran into people from home while we ate!) and when we were finished, Baby Monkey said “Are we leaving? Why aren’t we going downstairs?”
I had no idea there was a downstairs, but he led the way, down the stairs and into the interactive discovery center.
By far, one of my favorite parts of the trip.
This discovery center had a lab that was a replica of the lab in the movie where they stop the tour and jump out of their seats to go in and look at the dinosaur eggs.
The kids got called over to see a baby dinosaur being hatched, and they thought that was supremely cool, even though they were aware it was just a puppet.
We x-rayed dinosaur eggs, we created our own species, we looked at fossils, and made a dinosaur talk.
An hour later when we re-entered the real world, we decided to do the Raptor Experience, where your family could interact with and have your picture taken with a “trained” velociraptor.
As we waited in line, one of the guides came over to tell everyone that this was not a ride, or a game, but a photo experience with a raptor, complete with hand motions that quickly became another integral part of our family’s language.
As we watched family after family have their photo taken with the raptor, a few things became clear.
  1. Tiny needed to be told that it was a person in a suit, and not a real raptor in the cage, in order for him to stand for that picture
  2. My hair was going in that raptor’s mouth
We had a family shot and a kid shot, and it was awesome…
In general, I can’t say enough about how much we enjoyed the parks, and the staff and the entire Universal experience.
At the end of the day, we would leave the park, find a local place to eat, then hit the hotel, maybe swim, maybe pass out, or maybe watch some tv. But every day, we were ready to go back.
Universal gets twelve thumbs up from this crew.
It needs to be noted that throughout the trip, everyone got sick.
Except me.
There were 101.2 degree fevers, sinus infections, upset stomachs, and coughs.
But I kept everyone medicated and they all powered through like troopers.
So, on day five, it was evident that what was needed was rest.
So, we visited Wonderworks Orlando, which my three road-trippers and I visited in Syracuse and loved, and this one did not disappoint, either.
We spent four hours exploring all of the hands-on fun, and then headed for the theater where we saw Ready, Player One.
This movie might deserve it’s own post.
It’s my favorite YA novel, and they did a wonderful job bringing it to the screen.
When the movie ended, we went back to the hotel, packed, and hit the hay.
The trip home was uneventful and we decided to do it in two days instead of three so we would have a full day at home to recuperate and shop and do laundry before a full week of school.
I’ve always tried to be truthful on this blog. I’ve tried to make sure that I share the good, the bad, and the ugly.
So, believe me when I say that despite the illness and the waits and the achy feet and legs and sibling fights (which amazingly were few and far between) this was probably my favorite trip I have ever taken with these people.
They all embraced the car ride, took care of each other, showed empathy to a 12 year old who was vomiting into baggies for 10 hours in the car, rolled with the lines in the parks, made sure everyone got to do what they wanted to do and see and ride.
Real Man’s feet and legs were killing him all day, every day. But he walked and stood and never complained. Even when his own stomach was hurting or his sneezes were so powerful they were almost throwing out his back with the force. He kept us laughing in the car, like when I started to cry while, listening to the Hamilton soundtrack, explaining that Eliza Hamilton opened up an orphanage after Alexander died, and how she saved all those little babies and children (I’ve got a thing about kids) and he asked “Oh, so Hamilton is the prequel to Annie?” Which immediately broke the car into hysterical laugher, cuz that’s how we roll.
Monkey Girl shared her joy and wonder with her little brothers and kept us on track and not lost and reminded us when there was something we had wanted to do but hadn’t gotten to yet, making sure that nothing was missed or left out.
Monkey in the Middle stepped it up and went to the front desk to get things we needed, spoke to waiters and adults to get things done for us, and basically acted (sometimes…not all the time) like a third adult on the trip and warmed our hearts and gave us glimpses of the man he is becoming.
Baby Monkey powered through some really crappy circumstances, and kept Tiny entertained, and rolled with the punches more than anyone else. He cracked jokes while he puked and when he was better, “Wherever you guys want to eat is fine,” or “Whatever you guys want to ride is okay with me” were his most-used phrases, and he showed a patience that we all needed to remind ourselves to use, at times.
And Tiny…he just kept us in stitches the whole time.
Again, I try to keep it real here, but aside from the usual family BS, this trip…this trip was it.

April 10, 2018

Guess Who Went to Florida? – Part Two

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am
I’m a weird mix of spontaneous and planning.
I’m all up for an impromptu road trip where we throw some clothes in a bag, hit the road, and go see the sites of the billboards that look the most interesting, or wherever the Roadside America website tells me I’d love.
But, if I’m planning a trip, I’m planning the &%$* outta that trip.
And over the course of the next month or so, I emptied a bin of holiday decorations that would house the snacks and water for the car and the hotel, booked our hotel in South Carolina on the way down and back, and booked the hotel for Orlando.
Side note: my hotel booking rules for any trip are as such
  1. There must be free breakfast
  2. There must be an indoor pool (if we are traveling north) or an outdoor pool (if we are traveling south)
  3. The WiFi must be free
I made sure to book at an extended stay hotel so we could have a kitchen and not have to OD on fried food from the park all week.
Monkey Girl, who has inherited my list-making, planning genes, researched the parks and typed up an adorable, hysterical, thorough list of all of the rides and attractions our family must hit, based on each family member.
“Mom will LOVE this one. Tiny will never forgive us if we miss this!” Etc, etc, etc.
We were ready
Except, it’s not really possible to ever really BE READY when there are six of you, and as we packed snacks and water and clothes and games and books and homework, Monkey in the Middle had a sinus infection.
A fourteen year old boy with a sinus infection produces a LOT of snotty tissues, so immediately, extra garbage bags for the car were added to the mix.
We all went to school, that Thursday, and after school, Monkey Girl went to work, and as soon as I got home, I packed the car.
At 5:30, I picked up the girl, Real Man got home, added his suitcase to the car, and off we went
We drove a whole five minutes to McDonald’s, where we picked up dinner to go and started driving.
This first leg of the trip went quickly and we arrived in our Aunt Beth and Uncle Warren’s house. There were hugs, kisses, and exclamations of how tall people had gotten, and the kids (and I) headed to bed and passed out while Real Man shared family pics that had been scanned to a flash drive with his family.
The next morning, we woke up, ate breakfast, chatted for awhile, and then hit the road, once again.
Another one of Amy’s Road Trippin’ Rules is, “When in Rome,” meaning I prefer to hit local restaurants instead of chains. I like to feel the local flavor, and support local business wherever I go.
In fact, the book that started my love of the road (and my love for blogging, as it’s non-fiction writing in the digital era) is a book called “Blue Highways” by William Least Heat Moon, who left everything behind but his car and a map, and traveled the country, taking only the back roads.
He ate at local diners and chatted with the regulars, and often stayed the night in their homes.
Amazing book, people.
But, I digress…
Day two of the drive was uneventful.
Lots of traffic, which extended the trip about two hours, but there was homework getting done, books being read, logic puzzles being solved, and Mama’s music being blasted.
A colleague had lent me a portable DVD player with two screens (because we are also the ONLY FAMILY who has a car that doesn’t have a DVD player) and the kids also watched a few movies as we went.
On a road trip, we try to stop as little as possible, which means there is a lot of potty dancing in the car, but we seem to make it work.
At one point, I couldn’t hold it any longer and pulled off at a local gas station.
Side note: I’m not sure how I do it, but I seem to have a tendency to find the filthiest bathrooms in the country when I’m on the road.
And as we all reconvened in the car after one such potty break, we discovered that one of us had their phone fall out of their pocket into the toilet.
Post-pee.
So, I immediately went into Mama-mode, found the closest convenient store (an interesting, barely lit Mom and Pop operation) where I bought Ziploc bags and rice.
The phone stayed in the rice for two days and came out working just fine. This is life hack that works, folks.
Back to food…when we got to Florence, South Carolina, I looked around for local fare, but the hotel was right off of 95, and the result was that it was all chains.
We decided to hit a Ruby Tuesday’s simply because it was possible to get a vegetable and possibly some fruit there, as opposed to the chains.
In we went and were greeted by our lovely waitress who immediately began to take our orders in her thick, southern accent.
It’s at this point that I need to remind long time readers about one of my very first posts on this blog. (Found here)
In 2009, when we took the three monkeys to Topsail Island, NC, we ate at a Waffle House after driving all night.
We were all a little punchy and when the waitress arrived at the table and asked if we wanted bacon with our eggs and pancakes, Baby Monkey said (right in front of her) “Mama…why she say BAYcon?” Which sent us all into hysterics.
That story has been repeated so many times in our home, that when the Ruby Tuesdays waitress began to take our orders, the kids all began to giggle, and when she walked away, Tiny, who wasn’t even a twinkle in my eye at the time of the NC trip said “Why’d she say BAYcon?”
And then we waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Our food took forever, and when it arrived, it was not particularly appetizing.
But we were starving. We had snacked through lunch out of the food bin, so we wouldn’t have to stop, and ate every bite of every thing that was placed in front of us.
So, of course, we all ordered dessert.
And then waited.
Again.
After (no lie) 20 minutes, my dessert came out, but the rest needed to still wait. For their ICE CREAM. Our guess was someone was running to the Piggly Wiggly to pick up some more.
Then it finally arrived, we ate and hit the hotel.
The Disney channel was showing Zombies (which I have been waiting to see) and everyone watched from their beds or fold-out couches, except for me, who feel immediately fast asleep.
The next day when we woke up, we began to suspect that the waitress had heard us giggling about the bacon story and thought we were making fun of her accent, and had told the kitchen staff to add a little special something to our meals, because no one was feeling very well.
Particularly Real Man and Baby Monkey.
This leg of the trip was slated to take six and a half hours.
Without going into too much detail, I will tell you that this leg of the trip actually took about ten hours.
In addition to traffic, we stopped at approximately every other exit for someone to hit the bathroom, and stopped at yet another convenient store so that Baby Monkey had baggies to vomit in.
Which he did.
For Ten. Straight. Hours.
We got to the hotel, finally, blessedly, and were ready to collapse, but some of us were hungry.
So, forgoing local fare, we had Papa John’s deliver some pizza and four of us ate and two of us went to sleep.
But people, we had made it.

April 9, 2018

Guess Who Went to Florida? – Part One

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am
We have four kids.
This is not a surprise to anyone.
It’s crazy and chaotic and headache inducing and awesome and everything else all at the same time.
And while there are benefits to having four kids (they’ve got a built-in support system for life) there are certainly some things that hold us back, as well.
For example, we’ve never taken the kids anywhere other than the Jersey Shore for a vacation (except for one week, when they were little and there were only three of them, when we traveled to North Carolina) because six plane tickets is more than we can swing, AND because their age span is such that there was always someone in diapers, in a stroller, in need of a nap (the latter not always being one of the kids).
However, this year, I’ve felt a certain sense of impending loss as we begin to search for colleges and discuss what life will be like with Monkey Girl away.
The result of that loss is that I keep fighting the urge to hold on tighter, but that I also keep thinking about the experiences I want us to have, as a family, before she goes.
And so, one night in December, I said to Real Man, “I think this is it. I think we are finally in the sweet spot. Tiny doesn’t need a nap or a stroller or a diaper. You’ve taken Monkey in the Middle to hockey tournaments and I’ve taken the other three on road trips (to South Carolina to see the eclipse, up to Vermont to see a dear friend), so we know they can handle the car for long stretches of time. Monkey Girl is going to be mentally checked out next spring. I think this is our year.”
And so, a road trip to Universal Studios Florida was planned.
Because, you know, our kids are the ONLY kids who have NEVER been there. (I know, don’t even bother…I’m aware of the falsehood of that statement.)
Three days in the car to break up the driving.
Leg one to Maryland to visit Real Man’s beloved aunt and uncle.
Leg two to Florence, South Carolina.
Leg three to Orlando Florida.
I went online and found discount ticket websites for tix to Universal, and settled on the Undercover Tourist website, and the four day, two park passes (which I was positive were four day, three park passes and didn’t realize my mistake until we got to Florida…live and learn) with a fifth day in Florida to do whatever local fun we found.
And then we waited.
Patience is not my virtue, folks, and from the moment I pressed the “Pay Now” button, all I wanted to do was tell the kids.
However, I know Tiny well, and was well aware that the sooner we told him, the sooner we would have to start a countdown of how many sleeps until we left and we would have to answer the question, “Is it April yet?” approximately fifteen times a day.
So, we sat on it.
Until dinner one night in February when the kids began to talk about the spring break plans of their friends and Monkey Girl said “Hey, Dad…can you get a day off during Spring Break and we can hit the Liberty Science Center?”
Real Man played it cool and said he wasn’t sure that he could get the day off because it was a busy time, and the kids all started buzzing about the break and possible day trips and plans, and Real Man and I connected eyes over the table and realized that the time had come to share the plan.
As everyone started to get up from the table, I said “The first kid to get their dishes in the dishwasher gets to pick the park we visit first in Universal over Spring Break.”
Silence.
All four kids were frozen in their places.
Monkey in the Middle was the first to break.
“This is a den of lies,” he said (because my kids are nothing if not dramatic).
“Den of lies? What do you mean?” I asked.
“NO way are you taking six of us to Universal. We can’t afford it.”
“Well,” I responded, “We can’t afford to fly, but we can swing it if we drive!”
Monkey Girl was just staring with huge eyes, at this point. “I can’t decide if you guys are joking or not. And let me say, if you are joking, this is NOT funny.”
“No joke, baby,” I said, and she began to cry.
This girl has been waiting for this trip since she was teeny tiny and I was right about the sweet spot. The trip was happening just in time for her.
Baby Monkey just kinda sat at the kitchen table, smiling, taking it all in in the super cool, unfazed way he deals with everything, and Tiny said “I’m so excited! What’s Universal?”
The countdown began.

February 7, 2018

My Mom Knows What You Did

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 5:30 pm

Every time I visit my parent’s house, whether it’s a long visit or just popping in to say “hi,” my Mom sends me home with crap.

Now, granted, it’s all my crap, but it is crap, nonetheless.

I’m not sure how it’s taking up much space in her house, and I definitely don’t have space for it in my house, but I can foresee the day when I’m trying to shovel my grown children’s crap out of this house so I take it with a smile.

A few weeks ago, my Mom asked Monkey in the Middle (who will be 14 in not so many days from now) to grab a large cardboard box out of her basement and put it in the back of my car. He’s a good boy and does what Grandma asks, so before I could protest, it was on the way home with me. I haven’t, however, had the time to look through it, and so it has stayed closed and in the car for weeks.

A few days ago, we had a snow day, and so I took it as my opportunity to open the box and see what treasures awaited.

As it turned out, it was full of books from college. There were books that I read for pleasure and there were the kids books that I read as part of my Teaching Reading class. I’ve been selling everything around here that isn’t nailed down, so when I looked at the pile of books, I saw dollar signs.

Once I had removed the books, I found the real treasure in the box.

My high school and college journals.

Jack – freaking – pot.

I spent the next three hours reading my daily thoughts and actions from ages 15-22, and taking pictures of certain passages and texting them to Kim, which resulted in a lot of laughter and a lot of cringing.

In examining these journals, cover to cover, I came to some conclusions.

—–

First

I say it all the time and I’ll say it again…

I am so very, very, very grateful that I did not grow up in the age of social media and cell phones.

I was a good kid. I really was.

I wasn’t perfect, and I made a few wrong turns along the way, but compared to what a lot of kids at the time were doing, I was a good kid.

But, I when I imagine the mistakes I made magnified by a Snapchat story or an Instagram post, it makes me shudder. Yes, they live on in those journals and in my memory (although, if I’m honest, I had forgotten quite a bit of it along the way) but I could burn the journals and never speak of what is in my memory and the world would never know.

Not the case for kids today.

—–

Second

My Mom read my journals.

So, to anyone with whom I interacted in any way, shape or form from 15-22…

My Mom totally knows what you did.

Quite frankly, I had completely forgotten that I had even written these journals, so, over the years, when my mother has made small, insightful comments, I’ve always thought to myself “Wow…she is SO perceptive. How did she pick up on that?”

Because I KNOW I never told her any of the things I wrote about.

So, the conversations that went like this…

Mom: “I always thought X was interested in you,” or “Didn’t you tell me this happened at X’s house?”

Me: “What? No. Why would you say that?”

Mom: “Just a feeling that I had.”

…suddenly make a lot more sense to me.

—–

Third

High school is hard for everyone

Even the kids who seem to have it all together

At our most recent high school reunion (25th, if you have to know) there were people who said to me “You always seemed to have it so together, Amy.”

And I laughed and laughed and laughed, because no…I most definitely did not.

But, I guess I had forgotten the extent to which I did not have it together, or just how much I worried about how I stacked up next to other kids my age, until I read those journals.

The angst. The drama. The boys.

Reading this helped to put some of the angst that I hear from my students into perspective.

I can be quick to write it off and say “Let it go,” but reading my own words yesterday reminded me of that ache and that sick feeling in your stomach.

My students will say, “He clearly opened my Snap, but hasn’t responded! Who is he snapping instead of me?”

In my journal I wrote, “I’ve called him three times in the last hour, but it’s busy. Who is he talking to?”

The examples like this are endless, but they remind me that some teenage issues are timeless. It’s only the medium that changes.

If you have any of your own journals, diaries, or whatever from your high school years, I highly suggest you peek through them.

It’ll give you a good laugh, and will remind you of how awful and amazing those years were.

And, again, if you were someone I interacted with from the ages of 15-22…good luck looking my Mom in the eye next time you see her.

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