WHATEVER

I cannot believe my husband would dare to write the post below. Single blogger my ass. A couple of measly, ill-begotten comments and he fancies himself Blog King.

Well.

I admit my posts have been a touch spotty lately. And for that I apologize. But hand over the creative reigns of this blog...I will not. As for his contention that I am sitting around watching ANTM (a FANTASTIC show, by the way), FALSE! If I am not recording these "meaningful moments"...might it be because I am out HAVING THEM? Then, after creating these "touching events", I am tired.

Plus, "blogging team together"? Please! Johnny-Come-Lately-Butler scribbles a few lines and now this is a group effort? Look through the posts, I beg you. Count them and see. Numbers don't lie.

And so now, husband-oh-mine...I throw down the gauntlet. Get out your speed typing mister. The challenge is set. In the next three weeks, lets just see who reigns supreme. It ain't gonna be pretty.

E-Single Blogger

So, I figure it's now about officially official. My wife has left this blogging team and I am now resigned to being a "Single Blogger". I kept up hope for a while that we could keep the blogging team together- but all that has faded now. I guess life just got to be too much for her to continue with an activity as trivial as..... leaving a record of the most meaningful moments and touching events in her family's life. It may sound important, but let's be honest...can any one's life really be as significant as which model Tyra is going to kick off the show this week? Obviously not! My apologies to any people who read this blog expecting to see Les' witty banter or insightful analysis of child rearing. You are now condemned to follow my more direct, play-by-play style reporting of the facts of our lives.

E-The Waiting Game

We, those who chose to chase the firefighting jobs, live in a weird sort of limbo that few people can understand. We are all driven by a strong desire to get hired as a fire fighter and are willing to put up with a lot of stuff to make that happen. However, the many hours (and dollars) spent training, studying, testing, working-out, volunteering and filling out applications are the easy part. You figure out pretty quickly what is required to have a realistic shot at getting the job, and then you do it. The hard part, at least for those of us trying to do this at an older age when you have more commitments, is to deal with the uncertainty that is inherent in this process. It starts with the application process itself. When will departments start accepting applications? Will you make it through the first stage? Second, third stages? Will you get an interview? Great, you made it down from 400 applicants to the final 30 who are getting interviews. The problem, and hence the uncertainty, is that probably only 6 will get jobs. Waiting for the phone call. Still waiting. Lots of time to mentally review all the things you didn't say or could have said better. It seems like forever because you really want to get the call promising you a job. On the other hand, you are dreading the call because a "no" feels like a slap in the face and reopens the long void until the next process begins. Maybe next week you will be set on the path to a dream job, that is stable, has great benefits and gives you lots of time with the family. On the other hand, next week you may be heading off to another interim job (hopefully not driving a recycling truck) wondering how many months it will be before you get the privilege of beginning the whole process over again.

UPDATE: The waiting game is over. I got the phone call from Coquitlam. "Hi Eric. I've called to tell you that you did well on your interview, but others scored higher than you and therefore we will not be offering you a job. Please apply again next year." That's it. No feed back or advice on how to improve. Certainly no justification for the decision. I'd like to say that I have learned from each interview experience I have been through but I can honestly say I know less now than ever about what a hiring board is looking for.

Arnold comes to town

E- Conan the Environmentalist

Wow, it's been a really busy couple of weeks and Les and I are feeling like blogging flunkies for our lack publishing. In fairness to us though, one of the weeks was spent down in Point Roberts where our connection to the world consists of hoping the wind blows in the right direction (south) for our cell phone to pick up some sort of signal. We had a great time down there and gloated about the fact that the weather was quite a bit sunnier than in Vancouver. We built a 60 foot fence (long not high) across the front of our property and put a trampoline in the back yard. As my friend Joey would say, it's looking pretty "festy" with the huge trampoline, hammock, swing set and sandbox. We have our eyes on a gazebo next, to house some comfortable lawn furniture.

Since coming back, I have either been working or doing my first aid course. This leaves Les with 3 kids, which is less than an ideal blogging circumstance. Work is pretty much the same every day for me- the tunnel gets built and I take care of any injuries that may or may not occur. However today was pretty different. Our premier Gordon Campbell and Govenator Arnold Schwarzenegger decided to use our work-site for a meeting/photo opportunity because it is a good example of a public/private greenhouse gas reducing project. There was a lot of excitement around the place as a couple of hundred press and hangers-on inundated our suddenly unproductive place of work. They each spoke for a few minutes and I was surprisingly impressed by Arny and his ability to concisely and poignantly answer questions. Us workers (by that I mean the guys doing the work building the tunnel, and me) got to meet Gordon and Arnold and pose for a few pictures. I even managed to throw Arnold for a loop when I greeted him with "Gruss Gott". It took him a second (probably because my accent is sooooo bad) but he eventually replied with "Gruss Gott,
Wie geht's". Not much of a conversation, but I didn't do much better at the local grocery store in Austria either.

The scene turned even more surreal as the press decended on us after the "stars" had left and peppered (I alone had 6 interviews)with the most juvenial questions. "What was it like to shake Schwarzenegger's hand? Was he the same in person as you thought he'd be?" Although I definitely answered the questions concisely, I can't say I displayed any of the poignancy that I had just witnessed and admired.

What's with this? I am apparently half Asian, half B-list/never heard of "celebrity" .



I don't know if there just aren't as many celebrity male faces to choose from, but it looks like Eric was facially predestined to be an athlete. Maybe we can come up with some "long lost brother" scam to extort money from Nowitzki...

E-Happy Mother's Day

It's Mother's day and I am neglectful on two accounts. Firstly as a son. Secondly, as the father of 3 toddlers who are fairly helpless at organizing anything on their own, I will be noticeably absent from the day's activities. It's a beautiful (sunny and low 20's) late Spring weekend in Vancouver and I am sitting in a classroom doing a first aid course for 18 hours. And I have 2 more weekends coming up! So apologies to the Mothers in my life who will just have to know I'd rather be waking up early to serve breakfast in bed than learning how to put in nasal airways. Instead the girls are in charge of breakfast in bed. They have been instructed to come down stairs when they get up and make sure they don't wake Les or Lucas. I will leave out cereal, milk and some donuts for them to take up when the time comes. There's even a little gift for them to give their mom. They are pretty excited about the plan and in theory it sounds alright. Not exactly gourmet, but alright given the circumstances. However, the executioners of the plan are 4 and 2 years old. I wouldn't be surprised to hear that they run into our bedroom at 6 am and spill milk and cereal all over the bed. Oh well, they'll probably enjoy it either way.

Late nights

Finny has an incredible power. In much the same way that a camel is able to retain water against a not-rainy day, Finny is capable of turning a thirty second nap in the middle of the day into a long, drawn out night time of bedtime negotiation and stalling.

Ordinarily, she is a terrific nighttime sleeper. Her head hits the pillow; she's out. But let that little kid snooze for a fraction of a minute in the car...game over. Instead of instant sleep...oh, the delays, the questions, the tactics and ploys. I feel sorry for her because obviously she can't help it. You don't go from that good to that bad just for kicks. She has some funky sleep-o-meter that replaces the first three hours of night with a snore and a half in her carseat. I don't get it, but it happens every single time.

The result of this bizarre hardwire glitch is our absolute terror of mid-day sleeps. If Finny's eyes start to go half-mast during the day, Eric and I turn into freakish clowns. We will make the biggest fools of ourselves in an effort to keep the Fin alert.

Today, we lost that battle.

Sleep was achieved briefly while we were enroute today. It was a long evening getting that tiny girl to sleep tonight.

At one point, I asked a tearful Finny what she thought would make me happy (strongly hinting that her going to sleep would be high on the list). She thought about her answer for a long time. Then, this: "Flowers, Mummy? Me make you flowers?" I told her that was a nice thought (and one that her father might want to arrive at once in a while).

A Sea of Tears...

There are innumerable ways in which parenting supplies joy of an unrivaled quality.

Then there are the ways in which parenting can make you feel like the best possible option for your pulsing head is for it to shoot off of your shoulders into a million pieces, because then maybe you won't be able to hear the skull shattering wails that follow you around your home.

There are currently four people in this small space. Three of them are crying. One is crying on the inside (speaking crossly on the outside...). Here is a small indication of the issues of the day:

1. Molly.
Molly is upset because one week ago I brought home some foamy stuff you can mold like playdough. In a 23 second burst of creativity last Wednesday, I formed a tiny bird's nest and a wee baby bird. It has sat on our table for seven days. Today, Finny mashed it up a bit.
Type of crying: Whiny, with a tinge of anger.

2. Finny.
You may remember from an earlier post that our recent trip to the dentist resulted in a considerable amount of vomit. The puke was on everything, including her new raincoat that had a sticker from the dentist on it. When we got home, I threw the coat in the washing machine. Obviously, the sticker was removed with the puke. Finny just remembered the sticker.
Type of crying: Broken hearted big, fat tears. We are now trying to tape the sticker remains together...

3. Lucas.
Sheer neglect has caused him to collapse into a puddle. All he needs is a cuddle.
Type of crying: Red-faced wail...with a back note of "It doesn't matter how I cry, you won't pick me up anyway..."

And how am I dealing with this saltwater onslaught? By blogging...hahaha!

And since I sat down to type (with Lukey in my lap, so don't call Children's Services or anything), they have sorted themselves out. Victory!

Clean house and clean teeth

We went to our very good pediatric dentist today: Dr. Millenaar. The girls got a clean bill of dental health. And they did a great job of being cooperative and helpful, which apparently is not always the case with kids at the dentist. Molly, who because of past experience has some trepidation, was immediately put at ease by the dentist who employed her as his assistant in counting Finny's teeth. He would point at a tooth and then pretend he was unable to remember how to count. Moll was all over it. She was very proud to be able to inform her dentist that four did in fact come after three. Less impressive to me, she didn't question that her dental health professional was that dumb...I think a good patient would inquire at that point how he possibly managed to graduate from dental school without knowing his numbers. If I were her, I would have been suspicious.

Finny was a great patient. The hygienist commented that she was the best under three year old she'd ever dealt with. Which was possibly true until about five minutes later when Finny puked all over both of us. She was a trooper about it, especially considering I don't think she's ever vomited before. Still, a messy situation. Might have knocked her a couple of notches down the under three list.

We came home and as I was in the kitchen, I heard Molly reading Finny a story. I came in to see this:


Oh, and Lukey says "Go Canucks Go" for this evening.

Cleanliness is next to Godliness

Lucas on a CLEAN, CLEAN FLOOR!

Those of you who have been to our home will know that I am not the most skilled homemaker. I can tidy with the best (ok, maybe not THE BEST) of them. And I declutter on a regular basis and vacuum every day. However, my most reviled chore of them all is...honestly, all of them. Solution? We have just gotten ourselves a cleaning lady. Since the cleaning lady we have (which is me) pretty much sucks.

Today was the first day May, our spotless saviour, has come to clean. Within twenty minutes of her arrival, the kitchen smelled of Mr. Clean. The back of the sink, the edge of the sink basin, behind the spice rack...you know all the places where guck lingers. Gone. It was magical. She spun her scrubbing spells everywhere. Places I didn't even know were dirty looked strangely different and...clean.

Molly and Finny were very impressed. They took a happy tour of the house pointing out all the things that were sparkling. Although, after May left, Molly pointed out that the mirrors in my bedroom hadn't been cleaned. That comment scared me a bit because I couldn't help but wonder what other secret observations she makes on a daily basis in that wee little head.

Off to bed, the girls were pleased to see all their animals and dolls lined up on their pillows. Molly said her bed was so nice she didn't want to get into it.

So clean. So nice. So worth it.

Night out on the town

The scene: Sanafir restaurant on Granville Street...trendy crowd of Vancouver sophisticates.

The cast: Eight girls (and me) from high school

Sore thumb: Me. Wearing brown cords and a puffy vest. The hostess, while leading me past countless beautiful people clad in dry-clean only clothes (not a single one with spit-up stains), managed to say this with a straight face: "May I check your VEST this evening?" I refused, simply because I was unable to picture my puffy vest flanked by Chanel and...oh my god, I can't even think of another fancy label. That's how sad I am.

Having said that, the mild embarrassment of wearing an Eddie Bauer sweater to an urban hotspot was more than worth it for the company of eight interesting women. Plus, the food, which comes in trios based on meat, was very good. The only obstacle was nine women trying to be polite as they split tiny bowls of food into equal portions. It isn't easy to divide a prawn nine ways. But hey, the breastfeeding mother (i.e. me) was not afraid to snag the last tidbit of braised savoy cabbage or breaded fatoush. Ain't too proud to beg.

The trip to Ontario was great. Lucas was a terrific travel companion to my mum and me. We had a really nice time celebrating my grandmother's 90th birthday at my aunt and uncle's house in Picton. It was great to see family and see how the next generation is growing. Plus, there is no more lovely place to spend a spring weekend than Aunt Mary's house. It was a blissful interlude.

I also have to say that all mothers of new-ish babies that are second or third children should take them away by themselves for a short trip. I really missed the girls, but it was a rare treat to have Lukey alone for while. We were able to get acquainted on a slightly different level than is permitted by routine life. And the good news is...I like him even more.

Almost a whole week away from the girls was a tiny bit hard. I was definitely ready to see them again. I was missing little arms around my neck. The honeymoon period was brief, though...oh so brief. I went to surprise them at the swimming pool. When I got there, I could hear them in the changeroom. I started to knock on the door, which terrified Finny that a stranger was trying to break in. She started to bawl. By the time she figured out it was me, there wasn't so much joy that I had returned as relief that I wasn't a hairy, ravenous beast pounding on the door. Eric told me that it was the most annoying homecoming ever.

Awesome.

E-No break for single parents

As one of two parents, raising 3 children, life often feels like it consists of a continual series of things that need to get done. However, as a single parent, I can really see how difficult it can be to ever find time for myself. Alright, in the spirit of full disclosure, it has only been two days, I now am only responsible for 2 children and I have family help in town. Never-the-less, it is a good glimpse into how challenging it must be to raise kids alone, especially if you don't have much support.

The girls and I enjoyed a nice Spring day yesterday, riding bikes and playing in the court yard. Well, at least Finny and I enjoyed it. As soon as we were outside, Molly, surrounded by friends, toys, balls and bikes, decided it was time to loudly repeat over and over "I'm bored. I'm bored Daddy." I couldn't figure out why she was saying this. She had just about everything she could want. Then I remembered that earlier I had told her, that after playing, we would walk up to Shopper's Drugmart to see her friend who works their, Sandy Posnikoff. Sandy, apart from being a sweet lady who is always ready to greet the kids with smile and a hug, is particularly popular in our house because she often gives the kids treats when they visit. I get a lot of requests for "let's go see Sandy". Anyways, my point is, this behaviour yesterday was a good insight into the psyche of a 4 year old. While games, sunshine, toys, bike's and friends are pretty good on their own, when compared to candy (and Sandy), they are pretty "boring".

A Broken Family

Sorry I am weak with the pictures. But it is 11:45 and I'm tired.

I had to add this little tidbit, though.

I am leaving for Toronto tomorrow. The girls aren't coming with me. So, as I was putting them to bed tonight, Molly was lamenting being left behind. When I gave her one last cuddle, she whispered into my ear, "Are we a broken family now?"

What? What have you been watching, Moll? Then I realized that in "Lilo and Stitch", Lilo and her sister are called a broken family because they have no parents. That's a bit heavy. So, I sat back down on the bed and we had a little chat about the permanence of family...blah, blah, blah.

Out of that conversation, Molly revealed that she wished she had a magic mirror so that she could look in it and always see where I was. Holy crow, that's out of Snow White. Hmmm, is it possible that I need to take a second look at our video collection and maybe give Disney a bit of a rest?

A Quiet House

I am sitting in Vancouver, and a quiet house surrounds me. Lukey is asleep and Eric and the girls are in Point Roberts. I came home (almost) by myself tonight, after the Canucks game (go Canucks, go) because I have to go out to UBC tomorrow morning to participate in a study and I had to submit an article I just finished for a trade publication. Seems weirdly silent here. The girls are quiet when they are sleeping, but somehow even their silence sort of fills the place. Lukey is breathing away here, but his little breaths don't seem to have the same volume or girth.

Poor wee Finny had a mini-breakdown tonight before bed. She was up pretty late, so was a tad fragile. But as my mum pointed out, sometimes it is easy to forget that she is still so little. Sure, her speech is fairly ridiculous (if you haven't heard it you will think I am being cruel but you'll just have to take my word for it). But really, she is a very together toddler. In fact, that word toddler just feels stupid for her.

Her night was capped of by breaking one of my new-ish shoes. It wasn't a big deal and it wasn't even her fault, but she snapped. She collapsed into my mum's arms and proclaimed that it was a "Dammit day!", followed by a bunch of dammits. Wow. Not really what you want coming out of a two year old's mouth, but fairly descriptive. She was bummed. She was sharing that emotion with all of us. You know what? Fair enough. There will be plenty of time tomorrow to explain that we don't really want her saying that (particularly at the top of her lungs...say, in a supermarket, where I will incur death glares from judgmental grown-ups). In the meantime, she was having a Dammit moment. Alright little Finny, alright.

Sleep it off, kiddo.

E-A typical day at Alli's house

A friend from England just sent me this picture of Alli, the girls and my Mom. Although the girls will soon forget, I wanted to post this picture to remind them of their trips to Aunt Alli's. My Mom did a fantastic job of including Molly and Fin in Allison's life by going out there an average of one or two times a week. They would watch movies and read stories together, go for walks and then give Alli a back rub before her afternoon nap. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon.

Last Sunday I went 15 hours without sitting down, but somehow managed to get no sympathy from my wife. Steve Hall came down and spent the night at Point Roberts on Saturday. We woke up at 6 am Sunday to join our Dads for a game of golf at the local course. Despite a little rain at the beginning, it turned out to be a great Spring day where we had to worry more about mosquitoes than getting wet. Although none of us shot particularly poorly (keep in mind I consider a 116 not that bad because the course is over 6,000 meters long and I haven't touched a golf ball in 2 years and am pretty unskilled to begin with), it still took us almost 5 hours to finish. This posed a little bit of a problem because we were having people over for Easter in the early afternoon- and I wasn't finished until 12:30. Oh well, I knew Les had some helpful toddlers at home to help get everything ready. I managed to buy the beer, get some ice and still make it back before anyone had arrived.

The afternoon's activities were mostly outside based around the bonfire. This in itself was quite the activity, as the fire took almost an hour to really get going despite the use of large quantities of paper and gasoline. Maybe Fire Fighters (and wannabees as well) are better at putting out fires than starting them. Nah, we'll just blame it on the rain from the night before.

With the fire roaring and the beer flowing, we brought the toddlers out to play, and set up a backyard Easter egg hunt. We were smart enough to keep the eggs well away from the fire.......we definitely didn't want to see any good chocolate melt. The ham, buns, chips and vegetables went over pretty well, for a little while at least. I noticed consumption greatly slowed down over time, and I figured everyone had had their fill. However, around 8 in the evening, when I finally stopped tending the fire and helped myself to a sandwich, I got a closer look at the food. Apparently what goes up must come down- and the large plume of smoke that carried up most of the organic waste from our garden, eventually lost momentum and settled down over our table. At that point in the day however, after so many hours on my feet, with very little to eat, I figured a little extra ash wouldn't do anything more than add a smokey flavor to the sandwich. And I was right.

The Definition of Stupidity....

...is taking three kids for shots on the same day. They each had four. Bad idea.

The good news is that they were all in all, very even tempered about the whole thing. I breastfed Lukey and honestly, what guy wouldn't be placated by the presentation of a naked breast? Molly was her typical sensitive but cerebral self. She was feeling the pressure to be brave after the silly display of mind over matter put on by her sister. Finny went into some "pain free" zone and managed to come through the whole experience completely unscathed. In fact, when we got back to the car, she came out with this:

"Shots are super fun, Mummy."

Really? Apparently a shiny sticker and a short memory are golden.

Roots

Molly, Finley, Lucas. Here is a picture of your Dad's, Mom's Mom-Doris, Dad-Garnet Hamblin and Doris' parents Annie and George Williamson.



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E-Ode to a modern mother

It wasn't that long ago that, while the husband went off to work, the wife was expected to stay at home, look after the kids, make pastry and keep a clean house. Life is pretty different in our home, with a lot fewer expectations of what is normal, and a lot more experimentation of what works best. And this is where I have to give Les her props- she is very creative and willing to try new opportunities which are now available over the internet. I don't know where she finds all of these things? I think Craigslist.com is probably a starting point for her, but I suspect she has many other sources too.

I would say that this behaviour started a little less than two years ago when we arrived home from Europe. The first venture I can recall was "Mystery Shop" where Les got paid for mailing some envelopes with the Post Office and then filled out a questionnaire about the level of service she received. Ever since then we receive a couple of emails a day with different opportunities for us to make a little cash by visiting a local retailer. It wasn't a big money maker and Les doesn't do many any more. However, every once in a while, when she wants a free basket of BodyShop products or what have you, Les once again dons her mystery shopping hat.



Perhaps a more profitable but time-consuming activity, is selling things on Craigslist. We picked up a $3 "saucer" for toddlers at a thrift store last year and Les was able to sell it for $35 on the first day she posted it on Craigslist. Not a bad return but pretty labour intensive. The article Les had published in the Globe and Mail came through the internet, as was a recent job offer to write for a trade magazine. Les is great at getting free things on the internet too; whether it's passes to a show or a Starbucks gift card. Lately I have noticed that a lot of the events we take the kids to, stuff going on in the community, are things Les heard about on-line.

However, having said all this, I still think last night's activity was the coup for her. I rushed home after work so she could go out to another of these mystery events. It turns out that somewhere on the internet, Les found an invitation to a catered buffet dinner at an upscale local hotel. In exchange for eating this meal (which she described as "fantastic" note: she rarely says this about my special breakfast dinner I prepare for her) and sharing what she knows about Flaxseed oil, Les was paid $60 for her time. Now, I know what Les knows about Flaxseed oil,and this does not seem like a fair exchange. However, the man who is starting the Flaxseed Oil company seemed happy enough, so everybody came out a winner. You've got to love the internet- and my wife too of course!

E-U.S. housing market

With all due respect to Bryan, I realize that he just bought a piece of American real estate, and this probably isn't the video he would like to see. However, being a relatively recent purchaser of US property myself, I feel entitled to put this video on our blog. I have no idea how accurate these statistics are but I thought it was a cool representation of the housing market.

Meow!

Molly told me she was a cat this evening as I was putting her to bed. I'm not sure if this was a tactic to prevent bedtime (ie, some argument that cats don't have beds, or bossy mothers, or they can't understand English, or she's a cat that doesn't sleep...whatever). We tucked her into her kitty basket (oh man. who am I? I don't even like cats. I love Molly. Really don't love cats). Stroked her silky cat fur...etc.

I came downstairs and settled in for the evening. And Molly settled into her evening routine: twenty minutes of stalling and chatter. Tonight, she told me she needed to go to the bathroom. Fine. I heard her get up. Then she kept talking. I couldn't hear her exactly, but sometimes, at the end of the day, patience is low. I told her I was done talking and so was she. She hesitated. Then there was this:

"But Mummy, I just wanted to tell you that the cat is in her kitty litter..."

I laughed. Mixed message, I know. But it was funny. I didn't even know she knew what a kitty litter was.

E-Welcome neighbours

We'd like to welcome our new neighbours in Point Roberts, Bryan, Judy and PJ McKnight. (Although PJ is not officially on the owners certificate, I am pretty sure we'll be seeing a fair amount of him considering that he now has access to the American sub-50 cent beer market that every 24 year old Canadian has to love!) For over a year, the McKnights were quietly on the look-out for the right opportunity to buy a place on the Point. At the beginning of March, the perfect place became available- a beautiful lot on the beach, with a small, rustic cabin that over-looks Georgia Straight.

Bryan and I drove down to the Point yesterday while Les and the kids went to a morning Art/Dance class at Arts Umbrella and an afternoon Swim lesson at the Arbutus Club. I had my first tour of the cabin and opportunity to lend a hand. That's the thing about recreational property- there's always work to be done. But who can really complain about work when it's outdoors in the sunshine with a view like this. And there's always a cold beer waiting for you! Later in the afternoon we tackled some work at my place. It finally felt like Spring as I power washed away the 6 months of "waterlog", that was our winter, from our decks and driveway. The only part of the day I didn't enjoy was cleaning out the pond/stream in the front yard. It is pretty much a cesspool of scum this time of year that has to be pumped out. The highlight of this activity came at the very end, when the water was pretty much all drained and only a thick brown sludge remained. With the thickness of the "liquid", the pump wasn't working well and needed some adjustment. As I rotated the base of the pump, the hose disconnected, sending a powerful wave of sludge right into my face (not to mention pretty much every other part of my body). Thankfully I had a partner looking out for me who decided it was time to call it quits, grab a beer and get home in time to watch the Canucks win their 46th game of the year.