A Quarter of a Century Old. (And Valentine's Day).

Well, y'all. It happened. And by "it" I mean that I did in fact turn twenty-five years old. This past Friday to be exact. Yes, on Friday the thirteenth I turned a quarter of a century old. I couldn't believe it either. I'm not really sure when I did in fact get to the point that I was ready to be in my mid-twenties, but here I am. And you know what? I'm good with it.

I know, right?! I didn't see this coming either. I thought that I would have some giant meltdown  or something. I honestly didn't know how I was going to react. I mean, don't people usually have a mid, or in this case quarter, life crisis? Shouldn't I be freaked out and trying to "find myself" or something along those lines? I don't know. I'm probably ok with it, because I'm good with who I am. I know me and I'm happy with the person that I am. The way I look at it, as long as you're happy with yourself, than you're fine. Unless you're a serial killer, rapist, hurt children, or you know, Casey Anthony. Than you're not ok. And I want to punch you really hard in the throat. You know, just saying.

I've also never been one to celebrate birthdays. Don't get me wrong, Momma always made us a cake every year, but we never did the whole big shebang. I had a sleepover when I was in fifth grade to celebrate and that only happened once. And it was completely by my choice, because if we're being perfectly honest I didn't like having all those girls over invading my space. Even just thinking about it gets on my nerves. The next morning I told Momma never again, and I meant it.

I've just never been one to get excited about birthdays. But this one? This one just felt different for some reason. I couldn't tell you why, because I don't even know for myself, but it did. I didn't do anything in particular. In fact, Momma and I grabbed some supper and stayed in for the night. It was SO cold! And we all know how much I don't like to go out in the first place. But we stayed in and relaxed. It was great.

And did I mention how many people remembered my birthday? And Valentine's Day? Yeah, I'm pretty sure every single person I know wished me a Happy Birthday. Some sent me cards. Others candy. My very much (non)boy(guy?)friend even sent me flowers, chocolates, and a card. (No ones ever sent me flowers before, by the way). Greg and his crew came up the next day and took us out to dinner and brought me a giant hot pink stuffed dog. And finally, two cakes people. Two. Cakes. All in all, I'm going to have to say that I put it to a vote and it's been decided- I'm turning twenty-five again next year. Don't try to talk me out of it. Cake and flowers, I've made up my mind.

That time I did Zumba and almost didn't recover.

So, last Friday (the sixth) I did something that I never thought that I would do. I actually let Dani talk me into going to Zumba with her. Do y'all know what Zumba is? If not, I'll tell you. Actually, I'll let Wikipedia, because if I tell you it's going to have many more expletives. Just saying.

Now that you know what it is, can you really imagine me doing this? If not, you would be completely accurate. I was a, for lack of a better word, maniac. The fact that I have absolutely no arm/feet coordination was not a surprise to me. I mean, I haven't had it almost 25 years, so why start now? Right?! Everyone knows this about me. It's never by any means been a secret.

I ran into people. I followed the wrong steps. I shook my butt so hard at one point that I thought I was going to fall over. What can I say? I have alot of ass to shake. Also, can we just talk about how hot it gets in those places? SO. HOT. The class was 1.5 hours long and it was to raise money for the American Heart Association. And although I don't think that I will ever do it again, at least I have no immediate plans, I have to say that it was kind of fun. Hell, they let you dance to Bruno Mars.

After I got home from Zumba, my entire body ached, so I popped a couple excedrin and did a few shots, and then Momma and I went to Wal-Mart to pick up a couple things. And so I could have an amazing photo-op with a giant stuffed giraffe. That I named Steve. (Unknowingly after Bennett's brother. What?! I didn't know that was his name!) And when I woke up Saturday morning, I had to take more meds and drink, because- Ouch.  

When I agreed to tutor an 11 year old.

Have y'all ever ever been asked to do something and in your half-hackled inebriated self, agreed to do said thing?

I only ask, because I'm nosy I myself agreed to such a thing this past Saturday. Momma and I ran a little bit of everywhere over the weekend and during this time we stopped by Aunt Poot and Uncle Darrell's house to pick up a quilt that she had asked us to take to the laundromat with us for her (it's easier for us to use to big washers there than it is for her to use her small one).

She informed me that she needed to talk to me and frankly she look concerned enough for me to feel a bit worried. So, I sat down and she said- "Solae got her mid-term yesterday, her mom is pissed and throwing a fit, and if she doesn't bring her math grade up they're going to keep her in the fifth grade. I need your help, I need you to tutor her. I don't have anyone else to ask". My initial thought? Shit.

Followed closely by the endless list of guilt that I felt knowing that Solae and Aunt Poot needed my help. What do you tell two people that you love when they ask for your help? I assume you say what I said, which is- Yes. I knew it wouldn't be that bad. Afterall, she's a good kid and she listens to me. {Bonus: She doesn't give me lip, because I just tell her to cut the crap and she does.} But it wasn't until about an hour after I had agreed and we left that it dawned on me. What dawned on me, you may ask. Well, it dawned on me that I haven't been in school in almost seven years.

Yeah, that's right. Seven years. I was just as shocked as you are (No, you're not). See, I graduated high school seven years ago this May, and no I didn't attend college. I know, I know, but I'm good with it. I don't feel that I had to attend college to make myself happy, and I know that a lot of people would say- That's not the point, Katie! And to those people I say- Shut it. You live your life the way you want and I'll live mine over here on my own. Thanks.  
So, here I was about to start tutoring an eleven year old that really needed my help and I had agreed to do so and didn't even really know if I would remember enough to help her. I initially panicked and then did what any logical adult would do. I cussed and when we stopped at the store, I bought the book- Math & Pre- Algebra for Dummies. And I have no regrets. Sometimes you just need a little refresher course. And what this book couldn't teach me, I always had Google on my side.

The tutoring was supposed to be just every other day, but I went over to Aunt Poot and Uncle Darrell's Monday evening (for almost two hours) and yesterday evening (for about an hour)  to help her out and I have to go help her tonight. I think that I'll have Thursday and Friday off though. She's only got thirteen weeks off school left, so keep your fingers crossed!

Let's talk numbers. Let's talk all of the numbers.

There are 365 days in a year (366 in a leap year). There are over 7 billion people in the world. And there are 7.99765121 ounces in a cup. Numbers are infinite and possibilities are seemingly endless. Sometimes things seem to be crazy and you think that impossibilities are staring you straight in the face. But if you strip everything down and stare at the bare minimum number, it just doesn't seem as scary. It's almost like if it's in number form you can climb each hill a little bit at a time.

If you think about running a mile it sounds like a major feet. Unless you say there are only 10,000 steps in a mile. So, you walk those 10,000 steps and you're done with it. You eat the salad that is 210 calories instead of the 608 calorie bacon cheeseburger that you really want. That is, until the temptation just gets to be too much and you go ahead and eat the bacon cheeseburger. I mean, why not? Afterall, statistics show that you'll only live 1,044 months in an average lifetime. And that's only if you live the average of 87 years.

You're probably wondering what I'm getting with all of this, right? Well, I'll tell you. I am going absolutely nowhere with this. All of this is simply because a friend of mine said something to me last night that got me thinking. We were talking about when we were in school together and things we have done throughout the years. I jokingly made a comment and she informed me that distance is nothing. It is just simply "one of those things." I thought about this and realized that she was right. Distance is just "one of those things." It means nothing. It's like every other number.

Here are some facts about me: There are 320 pages in my favorite book. 163 words in that damned ole catchy song- Stay With Me, that I can't manage to get out of my head and I belt out at every possible opportunity. I still love the fact that I went to the state championship in 5th grade for the spelling bee and that I graduated Highschool with a 104 in English Honors. There are 480 calories in a bottle of my favorite wine.

And when I was 15 I went through some things that my 40 year old mother made better through her love and a 1 year old puppy that we adopted and has become one of the best friends that I have ever had. I'm 5 foot tall and love with 100% of my heart. I still talk to at least 3 of my friends that I worked with for 5 years and we tease each other as much as possible. Also, there are 2.1 carats in that diamond ring that my Aunt refuses to hand over, because it would look adorable on my tiny little munchkin hand.

Here are some instances: Perhaps your best friend lives 459 miles away from you and pretty soon she will live 650 miles away, because she is following the love of her life from Florida to South Carolina. It seems like she will be closer, but in all reality she will be an extra 191 miles away. She is leaving her life and everything she has known for almost 25 years to be with the guy that she fell in love with 2 years ago. You might have even known the guy that she loves when you were 16 and had 2 classes with him. And you are supportive of her and love her all the same.

Maybe the guy that you're still harboring unresolved/unrequited love for lives 983 miles away and you still can't bring yourself to just admit it and say it out loud, just like all of those years ago, which in turn screwed you over. I mean, what's he gonna do if you tell him, beat you up? Please, like you're scared of him anyways. You know how to take him down.

Maybe your Uncle is going to take 3 days and drive you to Chicago which is 183 miles away. And lastly, maybe your brother was married to a girl for 2.5 years, only for them to separate and him to meet a girl, fall in love, and help her raise 3 of her 5 kids (because the 2 live oldest with their dad 1,053miles away). And now you are flabbergasted to realize that you now have 5 godchildren, 4 nieces, 1 nephew, and your best friend wants 1 (or3) of her own.

Like I said, numbers are infinite. Just like possibilities. I guess we will all see what 2015 brings our way. 

Can we just eat pizza for Christmas?!

You know, for being such a grinch this holiday season, I sure am busy. Today is our annual company Christmas party. And while we don't get to get sauced like back in the good ole days, it's usually a fairly decent time and it seems to make Uncle Roger happy. Therefore if Uncle Roger is happy and decompresses for a minute then the world is a joyful place.

Last Sunday at Aunt Susi's get together: Momma and Aunt Poot looking adorable and mischievous. And Dani and Jayna decorating cookies (with my awesome frosting).

Aunt Susi also had that girls get together at her house this past Sunday and it was fun. We went over early to help her make things and set up. She had me make buttercream frosting in her pretty fancy mixer and not that I'm searching for compliments or anything, but it was delicious. We all decorated cookies, laughed, talked, ate and there was absolutely no fighting/arguing. Which is a rare thing for our family. Obviously it's the guys that do it and not us girls. All of us just wouldn't do something like that. Yeah, that's it.

Last years annual company Christmas party. This is me with Uncle Darrell (he's my homie/dance partner) and my cousin Jeremy.

We also played that 'dirty santa' or 'white elephant' (Which is a dumb name. Just saying.) And some people just don't show any mercy around these parts. And even though Aunt Susi ended up with the pretty scarf (you're not sorry) it's ok, because telling Ashley why she didn't need the scarf was hilarious. Also, Shantel sat in a bunch of blueberries and usually that would stain, but I scrubbed her pants with Aunt Susi's hobo soap and IT ALL CAME OUT. It's magic soap. Dani says it would be hippie soap before it would be hobo soap, but I'm sticking to my guns on this one.

Also, Bubba, Chrissy, Johnathan, Elizabeth, and the three kids are coming up tonight so that we can do "our" Christmas. We thought that we were going to spend Christmas at their house this year (because they invited us to), but come to find out they don't even get the kids back until noon and they go to her parents at one. And while her parents invited us over for Christmas with all of them, we've met them about twice and didn't feel comfortable with that. Hence, Christmas tonight. I think that Momma is a little upset that she won't get to see Greg on Christmas day, but I guess I'll just have to get a little spirit (or at least pretend to) and watch White Christmas and make it good for her. It'll all be good.

The Christmas season and I are just NOT gee hawin' this year.

I'll admit it. I'm a Grinch. I'm a t-total Grinch this year. Just give me a green suit and a Santa hat while I put some antlers on Tayder and James Earl Jones sings a song about me. That's how (un)Christmas-y I'm feeling about all of this. I've put up the tree, decorated, and bought/wrapped gifts (I still have more to do). All of us girls even got together at Aunt Susi's for a Christmas get together (that I'll write about someday) and still, nope.

I don't know why. I can't stand Christmas music, the thought of having to deal with decorations makes me just want to take a nap, and I haven't even watched White Christmas yet. People, White Christmas is one of my favorite movies of all time. I even watch it in July and it's just not happening. I think I must just be going through a Grinch phase.

Our work Christmas party is this Friday and all I can think is blah. Then Friday evening Greg, Chrissy, Johnathan, Elizabeth and the kids are coming up to our apartment to do our little Christmas and frankly I'm already tired. Don't get me wrong, I love my brother, but once again, Christmas. I haven't even put elf ears, bows, or bells on Tayder. I have yet to wear my Christmas socks. Not even Christmas cookies are appeasing me. I don't know, maybe I'll get in the "Christmas Spirit" in the next couple of three days. At least there's four days off of work next week to look forward to (Thursday-Sunday).

The levels of baking cookies with an eleven year old.

I got the bright idea to let Solae spend the night on Saturday and then she was all- let's do something fun!! Can we bake cookies?!! You're SO awesome. And of course I had consumed about a bottle of wine when she called me and said that I was awesome, so I was all- of course you can spend the night. And we'll bake cookies, and make things, and I'll cook you pasta, because I'm awesome!! I GOT THIS.

Cut to the next morning when I figured out that my Momma had actually already promised her all of this, while volunteering me, with me sober and I immediately regretted my actions. You would think it was the walk of shame with how much I was regretting said actions, but no. No, it was just the promise of having to do all of this. Ugh.

But I'm a good sport, and if nothing else, I'm fairly decent at keeping my promises, so I said- what's done is done and went to buy more wine. Because obviously I make great decisions while drinking. And then we picked her up around eleven that day to run some errands and get home to bake. And apparently make mustache pops and cake pops.

Level one:
You get together everything that you need or could possibly ever need to get things going. Eleven year olds have about the attention span of me a ferret on crack so you can imagine how well this step went. Once everything was gathered I realized that there were alot more things on the counter to make than I had originally agreed to and while no one was looking started hiding them odd places in the kitchen.

Level two:
The baking is going good by this point. You've got a crap ton of energy and are in a good mood. You're mixing and baking at such a fast rate that when the kid asks you if she can eat all of the sugar, you agree, because let's be honest about the fact that you're kind of an alcoholic and have already started drinking the half a bottle of wine in the fridge.

Level three:
You take a small bathroom break and when you walk out you see that the kid is standing in the living room, listening to Taylor Swift, throwing around the dish towel like she's Raphael from the Ninja Turtles. You ask her what she's doing and realize that she's so jacked up on sugar that her eyes are as big as tea saucers. It's also at this point that you decide to crack open your second bottle of wine. I can literally feel your judgement on me right now.

Level four:
By now the kid has come down off of her sugar high and you're stuck finishing the cookies, because she wanted to watch Captain America. Nevermind the fact that you want to watch Captain America, oh no, you're the adult so finish the damn cookies, make pasta, and frost the snowmen cookies, bitch! Also, you may or may not ask your Momma and Aunt if the tiny snowman cookies that she made look like little penises or if you're just slightly tipsy. PS, they looked like little penises and you frosting them white probably wasn't the best idea.

Level five:
By this level you're lucky you even survived. Especially if you hate the holidays, because you're a big, fat, fatty Grinch. Aka me. Now, you've cleaned the kitchen and you're sitting on the floor with your feet on the oven door, drinking the rest of the wine out of the bottle, sending pictures to your friend of your burnt hand, because you just knew that was going to hurt in the morning. And you finally peel yourself off the tile, go take a shower, and go to bed. Only to wake up at four the next morning with a sinus infection.

But guess who's awesome and totally still the favorite?!

#Thefinalride

Well played, Sutter. Well. Played.

And now?! I'm sad.

I have many things to be thankful for {A sappy (early) Thanksgiving post}.

What's there not to be happy about today? I mean, I get off at 11:00 today. I have the next four days off. Aunt Poot and Solae are coming over tonight for movie night (Expendables 3...whoop whoop!!). Momma is feeling pretty good. Aunt Susi is happier. Jayna is at work today helping to put up the tree. Me and Dani match in our Griswold shirts (by accident). Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Greg is happy. John is up here now. I've decided to watch Outlander on Demand (all eight episodes) while I'm off. And I'm losing weight. The world is good. My world that is.

Two year old me would like to wish you happy holidays!! Clearly, we know who the cute one was. My brother and cousins claim they were, but I mean, come on. Look at little ole me.

Things could be better I suppose. I reckon they always could. People always seem to talk about the things that could be better. However, I'm a drink the glass that way you don't have to decide if it's a glass half empty/half full kind of gal. I try to always find the silver lining and be optimistic. Noodle likes to tell me that I'm the ultimate eternal optimistic/hopeless romantic. I'm not really sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but we got that kind of love. I'll take it.

I have so much to be thankful for. So much. I'm in fairly decent health. It teeter totters back and forth between things sometimes, but for the most part things tend to go good. At least it's nothing I can't deal with as far as now. My Momma. The fact is that she's in poor health, but you know what? She's getting help for it. And it's getting better by the day. She will never be healed, however I'm hopeful that with time we can get her to that level. You know what 'that' level is. Tayder is still kicking and lugging around. Poor guy is grumpy, but he's the Walter Matthaeu of dogs, so I'm ok with it.

I like that he's still here to give me cuddles and kisses when I need them. I spend time with a few of my favorite people in the world- i.e. Momma, Aunt Susi, Uncle Roger, Aunt Poot, Uncle Darrell, Aunt Mary, Dani, Solae, Greg when he doesn't have a giant stick up his butt. And so on and so forth. I love spending so much time with Momma. And I love spending time with those I am close to. Work is good. Our apartment is good. Family is good, except for the buttheads, but you know.

I could complain. I really could. But why? So much has happened. There was so much bad in me that I didn't know what to do. I didn't know where to turn. I got to the point that I didn't want to do my favorite things. I didn't want to talk to my friends. Anybody really. I didn't want to read or watch tv. I didn't want to leave the house. I didn't even want to get out of bed or get dressed. I didn't really want anything. I went through the motions and that was it. I didn't know what else to do. I just laid there and stared at the walls. I cried without knowing why. I sat there without paying attention to the things around me. My life was going without me really in it. It's been like this for years. Since I was around fifteen, I guess. And then I started making changes. Big changes. And it helped. Don't get me wrong, there are days that I still have these feelings. Everyday I have at least a few of these feelings and don't really understand why. I've never known why. But you know what? Here it is. And here I am. I'm surrounded by people that love me, and even though I don't want to burden them with my problems, I know that if I needed them they are there. And that's nice. And for that my friends, I am thankful.

Happy (early) Thanksgiving.

I'm pretty sure that I am the absolute WORST at being a girl.

I have this thing where I go over everything in my head and I over analyze anything that I come into contact with. My conclusion to the fact that I am the absolute WORST at being a girl is no different. I feel like this is a true fact. I came to this realization somewhere between putting on my sweatpants/ butler bulldogs tee shirt and then going to my aunt/uncle's house to eat pizza and drink beer.

I know, I know, carbs and alcohol, SAY WHAT?! But I'm a rebel like that. My pants hate me for it.

Between reading through my favorite blogs, checking out random sites, and talking to people that I grew up with, it's enough to make you feel like you took a detour at the wrong crossroad. Most of them are in meaningful relationships, either married or on the verge. Most with children and some have even been with their significant others for years upon years. WE'RE TALKING SANDBOX LOVE, PEOPLE! And yet I'm just over here all- look at how cute my dog is!!

Now, being the type of person that I am, none of this usually bothers me, but every once in a great while I'll feel a ting of the green-eyed monster creeping up my back. Don't get me wrong, I have no desire to be married, and at the possibility of sounding like a horrible person, I don't want children. At least not ones to call my own. Neither of those two things have ever been a priority of mine. I love my independence and at the risk of sounding selfish, don't feel like I should have to have children to live up to some other persons standard of my happiness. But that's just one girls opinion on the matter. 

I hate drama. And I truly mean that from the bottom depth of my soul. I'm always here to listen to a friend/family member vent about their problems, but I don't voluntarily go in search of it. I rather like my peaceful, little existence and don't see the point in complicating things. Oh, having trouble with your cheating/unappreciative/psychotic/paranoid significant other? Well, let's not do the rash thing and break up with them so you can find happiness in the future. No, let's stick it out for another three or four years so that when the unavoidable implosion that is our lives comes to a head it's all that more ugly, emotional, and terrible. Makes alot of sense, huh? No.

I don't curl my hair and wear make-up every single day. I hardly even get out of sweatpants, loose tee shirts, or cotton shorts on weekends. Monday through Fridays {except on the days that the sun has smiled upon me and we don't have work on one of those days} I usually make myself acceptable looking. But then I have days like today where I felt that my morning time was better spent standing under hot water in the shower. And then I look like I do right now. No make-up sans for the leftover eyeliner from yesterday, and a messy version of hair that's so bad it can't even be considered a "messy bun". No, it's just it's very own mess. I didn't even fully brush it, because it just wasn't happening.

Also, I do not own a copy of the movie The Notebook. I know, if none of the other things got me, that one definitely will.

I'm living in the surreal house.

When I decided to uproot my entire life and move to Indiana I had some things going on that felt like they needed dealt with. My way of dealing with them? Saying- the hell with this!! And moving on. So, I did just that. And it worked. But it still feels a bit surreal to me. It's been two years this month, and for some strange reason it doesn't feel like I'm actually living here to me.

Don't get me wrong, it's great to be surrounded by family and for things to be more offset than they have been in a very long time, but still, there's something. Something that I just can't quite put my finger on. You would think after two years that it would be pretty well sunken in, but it's just not. It still feels off or something.

Maybe it's because I keep waking up expecting to walk outside and see a back road instead of a busy one. Maybe it's because I keep expecting to run into an old friend of mine at the gas station, that is inevitably never there. Maybe it's because I still expect to get out of bed, put on a pair of scrubs and head off to help someone ready for their third dialysis appointment of the week. I don't know. I just don't know.

I'm happy here. I'm content. I love my peaceful, little, undramatic existence. And I love the fact that I get to spend so much time with my mother, brother, aunts, uncles, and cousins. I love that Momma and I have a little apartment that we can call our own, and that Tayder is still lugging around and giving me snuggles when I need them.

But it's weird. It's weird going to a job completely out of my element. It's weird writing letters or sending text messages instead of seeing my friends. It's weird not having Grammy to talk to about stories that only a grandmother knows and to give me a hug. It's strange to me that all of this still hasn't sunk in for me.

I think it has something to do with the fact that I don't have my memories here. I mean, I have a few from when I was a little girl, but for the most part I was raised far away. I had my own friends, my own way I handled things, and I grew up in a way that others wouldn't necessarily find proper. And I love that. I love that I got to grow up somewhere that allowed me to form and find my own sense of self. I love the person that I am.

I'm not the best, but I'm not the worst by any means. When I love, I love with my whole heart. And when something makes me sad, I cry real tears. When I'm happy, I laugh, and sometimes I just can't quit. When I'm mad, I say why I'm mad out loud, and I don't sugar coat any of it. I have no filter and if i think it or feel it, you can pretty well guarantee that the world will soon know about it too.

And it's just me. It's just who I am. and right now, it just so happens that everything feels a little off key for me. But, it's ok, because it will all be figured out soon enough. Sometimes it just takes my mind a few extra minutes to catch up as opposed to the rest of me. Afterall, it's still trying to get used to these Indiana winters.

#Movingishard

Don't you just love that you can literally hashtag anything these days? No? Just me? Whatevs, I love it. So, as most of you know, Momma and I recently moved into our own apartment after living with my two uncles and little cousin for going on two years. And while that was fun {to begin with, but then one uncle became increasingly grumpy, and the kid turned into a teenager aka- jerk}, it's very nice to have our own place again. But I have made a discovery.

We've moved a million {figuratively} times in my life, and we always kind of liked to say that we considered ourselves nomads. It always made us sound cool, you know, to us. But now we have discovered that we detest moving, because it's hard, and if I'm being perfectly honest, neither one of us is getting any younger. Thank goodness that we had family that helped out with the whole process, but there are certain things that you kind of just have to do. We like to refer to it as- Lone Rangering it. Basically because, I love the new Lone Ranger movie. Yeah, I said it, WHAT ABOUT IT?!! That was a great movie and you know it. Sorry, back to the actual point.

I put in to have off yesterday like a month ago {before we knew we were moving- it all happened so fast}, but it just all kind of worked out, so I've just come off of a three day weekend. Don't worry, it wasn't as glamorous as it sounds. It was a whole lot of unpacking, putting up, arranging, then re-arranging, putting together furniture, and on and on and on. It's been really hard, but it's also been amazing to have our own space again. Tayder is loving it to.

Also, we finally have cable, and not only did I get to catch up on my Sons of Anarchy and Chicago PD watching {Thank you, Demand}, but we got to watch Dog the Bounty Hunter and like five episodes of Wahlburgers, which makes me happy, because Donnie Wahlberg is AMAZING. And I finally learned who sings the song- Classic, and I can't quit singing it, because it's awesome. Just listen to it you're welcome.