In which I don't want to join a denomination but I don't know why

For those of you that know me and even know Brian, we're having a bit of role reversal right now. I am usually the Planner and he is The Spontaneous. I am the one that works in "regular office jobs" while he gets the shakes if he has to wear a pair of closed-toe shoes. I am the one that manages our finances and "life" while he dreams the big dreams of what it all means. He is the Risk Taker and I am the one with two feet on the ground. He is the Play First and Work Later while I am the other way around. He is the Idealist while I am the Realist. So far, this has worked for us.

And now Brian wants to join a denomination and pastor an established church.

And I want to screw it all, start an independent community of fellow believers and just do church ourselves.

Isn't this going to be a fun journey?

Here's the thing: I really like that I don't belong to a denomination.

I love being a bit on the margins, a bit out of the box. I even like the occasional "cafeteria style" of my belief system - meaning that I pick and choose things I like from various traditions and denominations like the practices of Anglicanism, the beliefs about healing and the work of the Spirit from charismatics (heck, most of my theology is of this strain), the social justice of the Catholics and so on. I don't know if it's the postmodern in me that eschews labels and boxes and limits but I love my freedom. I think that's part of the reason why I've found a bit of a squatting spot with the Emerging Church - no denomination, lots of conversations and no one acts like they have the first clue what's really supposed to be going on.

My sister and I were christened in the Presbyterian church as babies; that is also where my parents first became Christians. However, very early in their journey, a charismatic/non-denom pastor moved in next door and, with the blessing of their Presbyterian church(!), they decided to enter the unchartered waters of belong to a "Christian Centre". We've been non-denom ever since. It used to bother me. People would ask "What are you?" and I'd shrug and say "Just a Christian". They hadn't heard of my church most of the time nor did they have the slightest clue what I believed. As I grew older, I came to relish that.  "Christian" has enough connotation on it; attaching a denomination to me would just put  me in a narrower box. Brian also grew up in a similar fashion (Presbyterian leading to a non-denom) so our stories are similar. He was more in another area of non-denomism that was heavy into charismatic gifts whereas I was raised more Word of Faith. But its a similar story. I've seen how drawn people my age are to our "non-denominationalism". They either have no background with Christianity or a bad taste in their mouth from their own journey or through what they see in politics etc. So they like and are drawn to us, because of our very "otherness" and our "outsider" status. Almost like we get it - we love Jesus but some of that church stuff freaks us out too.

So now here we are at a crossroads. Brian and I are preparing for our next step. We started out this phase of our life with the express purpose of church planting or starting a new church at the conclusion of seminary. We always assumed it would be how it's always been: gather a group of like-minded people and just get started together. But lately it's come out that maybe we need to consider joining a denomination.  We have grown to develop a deeper understanding of community. We aren't convinced that church planting is in our immediate future (still feels like it's there but maybe not right now). We think we still have a lot to learn. We think we need a mentor. We think that, if we did plant, we'd want a "parent church" situation. Basically, we've come to reject the lone-ranger-hero-complex that is common to our background. We have come to value the idea of being a part of a larger group, of part of a family.

Brian has met several people in a couple of different denominations that are interested in talking to us about pastoring again. So now that he's winding down with school, those talks are starting to develop legs. He's submitted resumes. Our phone is ringing and messages are being left by people with titles like "District Supervisor".

I'm scared to death about all of it.

I don't want to join a denomination.

There, I said it. I like our independence. I like our lone-rangerness. I like our hero complex. I really like the freedom of no labels.

Don't get me wrong: In my head (in my rare moments of rationality) I totally get it. I see why it's good and godly and necessary. I know that we need oversight. I know that there is a lot of good and godly people there. I know that doctrine and checks-and-balances are great. I know that systems and work has already been done. I know that we have so much to learn. I know that we are young. I know I know I know. I have hundreds of friends and family members that belong to denominations: they are godly people with freedom and intelligence, insight and irony. They have shown me the error of my stereotypes and shown me the truth that God's people are everywhere (even the United Church! Fancy that! *faint*).

But in my heart, I just get the willies when I think of it. Here's an analogy: I grew up in the prairies of Saskatchewan and Alberta, accustomed to big sky, sweeping winds and a long road out. I was used to SPACE in my life.  So when I went on an island, I felt claustrophobic and trapped, suffocated and surrounded. Sidenote: I watch those real estate shows about people that own their own island and I think: "They can have it." That's kind of how I feel when I think about actually joining a denomination...it's like a turtleneck that's too tight for me.

There are a lot of really good questions to ask about Church (big C). I feel an odd mix of hopefulness and disillusionment regarding it. But the big question I have right now is this: Is it better in the centre or in the margins? If the centre is the "denominational" world of well established doctrines and boards and systems, I'm drawn to the margins. Maybe it's because of my Word of Faith/Charismatic self backgound that was always left out in the back alley by the mainline denominations but I distrust too much authority, too much ecumenical "Because I said so", too much centralised authority. I have a sneaking suspicion that when it comes to church, I embrace the socialist NDP model. It's the credit union girl in me coming out, the prairie outsider that hates Toronto's suits.

 

In which I lose a friend

A friend of mine from Oral Roberts University passed away this week. I have to confess that I am strangely bereft even though we lost touch a bit these past few years. It is a reminder to me of so many things: how quickly life is passing, how important it is to live well and so on. But there is also a part of me that feels a bit "punched in the gut" over it all. And there is something here that just smacks of tragedy and unfairness, of the ongoing cry "Maranatha" - come, Lord Jesus! - and the truth of a life well lived.

Allyson Teter remains one of the brightest spots of my sophomore year of university. I was the RA on Lambda Phi even though I was just 19 (to most of the seniors on the floor, a baby and therefore, if not ignored, then fun to aggravate ). Allyson was short, slight and vivacious. She was pale with close-cropped dark hair and she rarely wore much makeup which differentiated her from the vast hordes of long blonde manes and fake tans that populate much of Tulsa. She was brilliant and funny, never cruel or mean. She was a fierce little conservative at the time, often wearing suits to her internships with Republican senators and congressmen. She was polished without being stuffy. And smart! My goodness. But what I loved best about Allyson was her openness. She never held people at arms length but lived in an attitude of hospitality, always welcoming people to her life. I can rarely recall her talking about herself. She was a big favourite because she always asked questions of everyone else (and we all know how we all love to talk about ourselves!). She'd listen, sympathise and even laugh at us gently. I had a lot of fun with Allyson that year, talking life and politics, Jesus and friends. We had both grown up "Word of Faith" and so we had a lot of fun hammering that out together. She introduced me to old movies and the first time I watched "Pillow Talk" was in her homey dorm room.  She graduated that spring, accolades and expectations of greatness surrounding her. She took some time to do mission work that was dear to her heart, working with teenagers and young people. She invited us over to her narrow townhouse near Riverside in Tulsa. (I was so awed by her place and started to dream of someday having my own little apartment with books and towels and kitchen tables. She seemed so "together" and like a grownup all of a sudden!) We stayed in touch when she moved out to CA in order to pursue her law degree. There was never any doubt in my mind that, if anyone could, Allyson would. I firmly expected to see her on the news someday, perhaps as a policy advisor or a press secretary, maybe a candidate herself. I think it was in 2000 that she emailed me about her MS diagnosis after months of doctors and tests and travel. She refused to step away from law school and was determined to fight. She sent updates and prayer requests, even photos of herself with neon pink hair.  Throughout the next five years, it became apparent that she had a very aggressive form of MS that did not respond to the usual treatments. She pursued natural methods that prolonged her quality of life. It seems "just-like-Allyson" to me that in the face of her deteriorating body, her mind and spirit grew stronger and stronger. She clung to Scripture, never wavering in her belief that healing would come. She became a strong prayer warrior. We lost touch as she became unable to email, eventually becoming confined to a wheelchair, losing her sight and speech. I heard updates about her condition over the past couple of years from mutual friends. It was hard for me to reconcile Allyson to her new life, knowing her vivacious potential. I was grieved and often prayed for her as she struggled, feeling helpless and almost trivial at times.

But last week, she received her healing. She went home, full of faith and hope, I hear. My friend, Brittaney, wrote this about it:

That's the thing with God. Our minds are limited to the options that we can conceive and understand, but God's ways are not our own, his plans for us are bigger than we can ask or think of. So to pray for healing and expect a specific result is somewhat small-minded. I know that some people wouldn't consider Allyson stepping through the door to Heaven as a "legitimate" healing, but I bet from the other side of that door she would beg to differ. We all die. Our time on earth is so finite. To us, 80 years on earth might seem long in comparison to 30 years, but compared to eternity 30 years or 80 years isn't that much of a difference. I like to think that dying is like being born. A baby in the womb may think that the womb is the whole world, because it is the only world he knows. He knows nothing of the world outside the womb. He does not know that the womb is an incubating place a place for him to grow and develop so that he can function in the world outside. And then the birth comes and in a way it is abrupt and somewhat violent like death seems to be. But just like birth, death propels us into our home. The place we were created for. Earth is just our incubating place. A place for us to grow and develop and a place where God molds us into what we will become in eternity. Allyson's life on earth may seem short from our perspective, but the impact of that life was significant, at least for me. I can only speak for myself, but Ally made a difference in my life just by being herself. She made a difference by being my friend, by her prayers and by her attitude. And I am very sad to lose her to this life. But I am so happy to know that she is now home and fully and completely healed. I can't wait for the time when I see her again. Knowing Allyson she will be the first one on the other side of the door to Heaven waiting to say hello.

Allyson's Memorial Site

 

In which we are in week...I forget...what was I doing?

Every woman has secret symptoms of pregnancy. Everyone knows about morning sickness and cravings. But every woman has one or two symptoms that are either unique to her or just flying under the radar for the general public. They are her secret symptoms so that before she even has to take a pregnancy test, she knows she's likely pregnant. Some people it's that they are grouchy. Others notice their hair growing very fast. Others notice a change in their body smell.

My two are a stuffy nose and a complete loss of memory. I should be able to tell you the day I conceive because I immediately get a stuffy nose and then I forget my middle name. So I perpetually am sniffling and snorting, blowing my nose and wiping throughout the entire pregnancy. And then I forget ...I'm sorry...what was I saying?

By this point (22 weeks), Brian is very used to me asking what Anne ate for lunch seven times before bed and telling the same story four times over. He remains abominably patient, explaining once again, that Anne had macaroni and cheese and then laughing at the same bit in the story over again.

So this weekend, I cut myself a few slices of mozzarella cheese. I cleaned everything up and then went on my merry way. An hour later, I wanted more cheese. But when I went back, it was gone. I turned the fridge inside out, looking for it. I figured I must have just finished it and forgotten that I'd finished it (i do this often). So I shrugged and said "Oops." Then a bit later, Anne wanted some cheese. So I went back to the fridge. By now, it's kind of bugging me that I'd forgotten that I'd finished the cheese. So I went to the trash to see if the cellophane that I'd wrapped it in was in the garbage. It wasn't. So I emptied the fridge for the second time, looking for the stupid cheese. Still no cheese. So I gave up in disgust, finally deciding to cut up an apple for Anne. I open the silverware drawer and there is my mozzarella cheese, resting comfortably on the teaspoons.

---

The baby now weighs almost one pound / 430 grams, measures nearly 11 inches/ just over 27 centimetres long from crown to heel, and is proportioned like a newborn, albeit a thinner version since her baby fat hasn't yet developed. Although she's getting heavier every day, her skin still appears wrinkled because she needs to gain more weight. The lips are distinct and the eyes are formed, though the iris (the coloured part of the eye) still lacks pigment. The pancreas, essential in the production of hormones, is developing steadily.

Even this early, the first signs of teeth appear in the form of tooth buds beneath the gum line. Before you know it, your baby will be born, and soon after, her first teeth will come through.

You've probably gained between 12 and 15 pounds / 5.4 and 6.8 kilograms. Starting now, you'll begin to put on weight more steadily, averaging about half a pound / 225 grams per week. You may crave certain foods - a normal part of being pregnant.

In which we are ONE BIG HAPPY FAMILY

I told this story to a friend the other day and then wanted to remember to write it down.

As soon we all sit down for a meal, she holds out her chubby paws and asks "Pray? Pray?"  So we all join hands and bless the food.

I think she likes it because after we say Amen, we swing her arms and chant "ONE BIG HAPPY FAMILY!" (rather cultish, I'm sure, but she loves it) before erupting into cheers. She just loves that part.

We used to do that in lieu of grace when I was kid. Then, when we became Christians, we'd say the blessing over the meal but still bellow out "ONE BIG HAPPY FAMILY!" as soon as it was done. And of course, erupt into cheers. So it's a family tradition to be carried on.

I am waiting for the day when she shows up at someone's house for supper and, after saying grace, she bellows out "ONE BIG HAPPY FAMILY!" before realising...hey...not all families do that....? 

 

 

 

In which we are in Week 21

We have crossed the halfway point and are well into it now. Overall, I feel great. No more nausea, no more headaches. But here's the thing...

I'm exhausted.

Perpetually tired. Always half asleep. In bed every day at 8 o'clock and asleep by 8:02 kind of tired. Even after 11 hours of sleep, I am in a mild coma.

I go down every day to this little room on the second floor called "The Quiet Room". It's a room filled with couches and chairs that does not allow food, drink, cell phones or conversation. It's supposed to be a sanctum of quiet for you to rest for your break. There are lunchrooms and amenities rooms for your unwashed masses...those of us that need quiet though can find it on the second floor. And anyone that has a toddler understands the fact that the Quiet Room is filled with harried young parents, desperate for JUST FIVE MINUTES OF QUIET. Yesterday, I almost slipped under my desk and fell asleep so I went to The Quiet Room to rest. I said to myself "I just need 15 minutes." 45 MINUTES LATER, I woke myself up...with my own snoring. I was snoring so loud that I woke myself up. Every other parent in the room was glaring at me like "this is supposed to be the QUIET ROOM, you snorer." And then I dragged myself back to my desk in disgrace and attempted for two solid hours to write a business case but when I was finished, it didn't even resemble a complete sentence.

The baby has been very active lately by contrast. Evidently any energy that I was supposed to get in the second trimester has been diverted to this little gymnast. It's very busy and we are having a good time getting to know each other. I like this baby already. They've got spunk.

---

The fetus now weighs about three-quarters of a pound/ 360 grams. Up until now she has been measured from crown to rump but from this point on the measurement will be from crown to heel. And from crown to heel she is approximately 10.5 inches/ 27 centimetres long. The eyebrows and eyelids are fully developed and the fingernails cover the fingertips.

Your baby can now hear your conversations. If you talk, read, or sing to your baby, expect her to hear you. Some studies have found that newborns will suck more vigorously when read to from a book they heard frequently in utero. If you want to try, pick a book now and read it out loud. Make sure you won't mind reading it over and over once the baby is here. It may be your baby's favourite bedtime story for a long time after birth.

You're probably feeling quite comfortable these days. This, in fact, may be the most enjoyable time in your pregnancy. You're not too big yet, and the usual aches and pains associated with pregnancy like nausea, frequent urination, and fatigue are for the most part gone. Relax and enjoy while you can. The third trimester is just around the corner and with it comes some mild discomfort from carrying a baby that is nearly full-term.

In which I have a word of advice...for the ladies.

Do you have any unfinished chores around the house? Say, spring cleaning? Yards that need weeding? Cabinets that need cleaning? Tub tiles that need scrubbing? Windows that need washing?

Get rid of your TV.

Your husband will be so bored that on Sunday afternoon - with absolutely no nagging or prompting - will take down all of the blinds, wash them in the bathtub and then wash all of the windows (including the frames where the dirt collects).

Trust me.

 

 

In which clothing is optional

You know summer is on the way when the signs for the nude beaches come out in Vancouver (snapped on a recent walk around Pacific Spirit).

Although, at this time of year, if someone was naked on the beach, I think I'd be more impressed than outraged. Brrrrrr....

In which I can have it all - just not all at once.

My mother gave me that very wise bit of advice years ago: "You can have it all - just not all at once."

I've been battling so much lately with our "next steps". I have been so inspired and challenged to make my life count. To do the things that no one else will do. To take the path less travelled. To work with the unloved and marginalized of our society. To live a life counter to the "middle class dream". I love living in the city in an urban neighbourhood. I love diversity, both in race, language and socioeconomics. I love people completely different from me. I am tired of being one or two steps removed from the needs. Tired of being the one that writes the cheque. I want my stability and security to be in Christ alone. I want a non-traditional, counter-cultural life. I want to travel.

But.

I also want my kids to have safety and security. I want a spare room. I want a play area. I want our kids to have a yard. I want that icon of stability - a deep freeze. I want my kids to go to school with their cousins or at the very least, to church together. I want that when they run away from us that they try to ride their bike to Auntie's house because "at least there, they love me!" I want a good school with a french immersion program. I want a safe playground that doesn't have needles or condoms littered around. I want a garden. I want to stay home with my kids. I want to be the mum on the block that is at hot dog day and helps with Brownies. I want everything that I had as a kid for my kids. I want to find Jesus in the suburbs. I want to be able to live missionally no matter where I am.

So these things have been brewing for years as Brian nears finishing school. Here we are, almost at the end of this season. And I've been so conflicted about our next step. If it was just me and Bri, it'd be easy for me to be a crazy radical. But now with our two kids, I crave another kind of life.

I figure, based on my grandparents, I'll live to about 80 if not longer. So that means I have another 50 years. I know that we all have been told "carpe diem" and "live every day like it's your last" but I wonder if that's Godly. I wonder if I am just starting to recognise the start of a new season in my life. My season as a young mum, first and foremost. If I have 50 years ahead of me still, but only a few years of that are with small children, I think I'd rather make them the priority. I think I'd rather have these precious few years with them and then be a crazy radical.

I am trying to recognise that the values matter, no matter where you are. Sometimes those are lived out in a different context.

It's hard because we both grew up in churches and traditions that really valued the hero. So it's hard not to be drawn to the heroic. But it's very important that we are obedient first.

Can you be a radical with a deep freeze?

In which I interrupt this blog for a special announcement

We are in the throes of potty training right now. Anne has her little training panties. She is quite adept at peeing during the day. She's still in a diaper at night. Only a handful of accidents so far this week. But this morning, she woke with a practically dry diaper. I was tired and so didn't run into get her, just letting her sing and play in her crib. I knew she had a diaper on so I kind of was like "She can just pee in that." But when I got up and got her dressed, she hopped down and ran right to the potty. She sat down and...

MY BRILLIANT CHILD POOPED IN THE POTTY!

She held it all morning waiting for the potty. What a kid. She's a genius.

 

In which we have abandoned the TV

The total average time per household (watching TV) in 2005-06 was eight hours and 14 minutes per day. -- Reuters (September 22, 2006)

What's that sound you hear?

Silence?

In my house? During primetime? Yep....

There's no longer a TV in my house.

We sold our TV et al to a young man in Chilliwack this week. We have effectively killed the TV in our house. (I have to admit that we pocketed a bit more money in the deal than I expected so that will nicely pay for Brian's class this summer. Plus we'll save about $1200 a year because we're no longer paying for cable. All good things.)

I'm not a big TV hater. I'm not a big culture/media hater. I actually really enjoy pop culture. And I'm not a big snob about it all either, like somehow its "below me".  It's just that I've never been a big TV watcher at all. My parents had very strict rules about TV in our house in terms of what we could watch and how much (30 minutes a day, max). We were the kids that were always outside or playing. I don't really remember having the TV as a big part of my life at any point. The first time I really got into a show was in university when we turned into Friends junkies. I even watched the first season of Survivor and loved it. But then it got boring and formulaic so I quit after Season 2. I liked The Biggest Loser a lot but I got tired of it. I know that the majority of people have a much stronger relationship with their entertainment - for instance, Brian points out that in the summertime, he came in every day at 11 to watch a show called Chips. There are people I know that plan their week by the TV, as in, "Thursday nights are ER, The Office, Friends and Scrubs...Friday nights are American Idol..." But in our house, we didn't actually watch a lot of shows. I even gave up on the one or two shows I had lately like The Office (just got too "out there" and unrealistic). Brian loves sports so we watched a lot of hockey and football.

When we first got married, we talked very seriously about not having a TV. We decided to buy one because Ray Bourque was making a run for the Stanley Cup with the Avs and we wanted to watch (goes to show how long ago that was...). Off and on, for the next seven years, we'd discuss either cutting cable or getting rid of it altogether. Then when Brian went back to school, we were going to get rid of it again. So it's not really a new thing for us.

I always thought we kind of kept it around because Brian wanted to watch sports. But he's really not as into it as he used to be. The past 2-3 years, he's stopped watching so much sports. Heck, even on Nebraska game day, he doesn't always watch or listen to the game online. He didn't even do fantasy football this year. He just seemed to shift from being an avid sports guy to a guy that likes to play and watch sports in moderation. So when he said, at the height of playoffs, "let's get rid of it" I figured he meant it.

We turned it off for a couple of weeks to see if we liked it. Or if we were being pretentious and weird. But we discovered we liked the extra time. We liked the quiet. We liked being outside. And we didn't miss it. but we were surprised at how much, for two people that didn't think they watched a lot of TV, it was on. We were surprised at how much we watched when we stopped. So after three weeks, we listed it on craigslist and sold it.

We finally decided to go for it and be "TV-less" for a season for several reasons.

1. We were sick of the TV itself. We just got tired of seeing it. Because we're in such a small, narrow family area, the TV seemed to dominate the room. It wasn't behind a cupboard or in the corner. It somehow became the focal point and I hated that. I just didn't like that, even when it wasn't on, it ruled the room.

2. We noticed that the TV would be on but no one was watching it. We'd turn it on and just leave it on. We didn't even have "our shows" that we loved and wanted to watch. But the TV was on almost every evening.

3. We didn't want Anne watching shows for entertainment or substituting shows for playtime. I didn't want her to grow up thinking that Dora is her best friend or greatest teacher. I don't really have a beef with Sesame Street or Mr. Dress-Up (heck, I'll probably buy a few DVDs and let her watch them on the computer now and again) but I just didn't want her day to revolve around "Hi-Five at 11, Clifford at 8:30...Mummy, I want cartoons on!" Plus I always hate when a kid has lots of "brand name" stuff such as when their room looks like Barbie Princess threw up in there or every toy from Dora has to be bought. I kind of hate the idea of brand names or TV-based role models like Hannah Montana etc.

4.  We got sick of paying for cable. When you're on one income in a high-cost-of-living area, every bit matters. And spending $100 a month on cable was pissing me off....

5.  ....especially because nothing is on! Seriously. We'd try to watch TV but I didn't like most of the shows. How many reruns of Friends and Simpsons can one watch?

6. We didn't want to invite anymore "consumerism" into the house. Being that I'm in marketing/advertising, I recognise that this is highly ironic. But I probably have an even higher sensitivity to marketing messages. The average person sees 4,000 messages/ads a day. I'd like to cut down on that in our home. I'm sick of this attitude that you have to spend money or shop or buy things to be happy. So I'd rather not see every ad.

7. Brian read this book called "Amusing Ourselves to Death" about how everything has to entertain. He didn't like that. They come to the conclusion that we amused ourselves to death . . . television, when it becomes commercialized and profit-based, tends to trivialize and dehumanize our lives. So I became interested in this idea of television as a two-edged sword, that it can be a great medium for spreading information and understanding between peoples, but when it's a tool of our slavish adherence to the incumbent philosophy that the free market is the God that we should all bow down to, it's a very dangerous medium.

8.  I got a bit tired of beautiful people and unrealistic expectations. Is there anyone acting that isn't a model?

9. 24 hours news stations are like fingernails on a blackboard to me. We simply can't stand to even see CNN or Fox News any longer, let alone watch it. It's crossed from the ridiculous to the horrible. Since when is war entertainment? Since when do we need to spend 4 hours on OJ?

10.  We want to have a home that encourages imagination and creativity. I have started to think that too much television might make me stupid. My mum has some pictures of me at about the age of 3 watching TV. My face is slack, my mouth hanging open, sprawled on the floor with a glazed look in my eyes. She always says that look is why she never let me watch TV. I think about it sometimes, how I must look when watching TV, and I don't want Anne or our other children to look like that. Like some mindless thing being fed the values of media.

11. From a Christian perspective, I guess I feel like I'm tired of having everyone else's values foisted on me. I'm not talking about anything lame like a "homosexual agenda" (who even says that?) but more things like consumerism and materialism. Unrealistic relationships. Stereotypes. Petty things being the focus. So on. The things I value are pretty different so why am I feeding my spirit with such things? 

12. Finally, I think it takes away from other things. I'd rather we read. I'd rather work on projects. I'd even rather chore around. I'd rather play with Anne. I'd rather be outside. I'd rather play games. Heck, I'd even rather be bored and have to think of something else. I just started to feel like it was a time-sucker.

I'm not saying we'll never have a TV in our house. Heck, we still own one (an archaic 27" in storage). But for right now, we just wanted a break. And it made sense for us.

I have a hunch I'm going to be bored. And I'll be surprised how much we actually watched the darn thing. But press on!