silly

my sister oriana and I earlier today- (doing what we do best!)

follow me

“Follow me and be my disciple,’ Jesus said to him.
So Matthew got up and followed him.”
Matthew 9:9

I recently read this verse and was struck by the simplicity and clarity of it. Jesus saw Matthew at work, collecting taxes. He called Matthew to follow him, and Matthew did!

The tax collectors were not well liked, as they collected everyone’s money... and maybe even some for their own pockets. There was nothing particularly special about Matthew. He was just a regular guy.

Until Jesus walked by, saw him, and said, ‘Come follow me!’ So Matthew went. No delay. No hesitation. No questions asked. Did he know who Jesus was? It wasn’t like the story of Simon, James and John, who caught many fish when Jesus joined them, and then they dropped their nets to follow Him. Matthew was just at work at his tax collectors booth. Jesus called, Matthew came. In Luke, it says, “So Levi (Matthew) got up, left everything, and followed him.” He left everything. I wonder what everything was... His booth? His family? Friends? His money? His life? All of the above?

He calls us to many things too. We see from the stories in the gospels that he calls us to: caring for many- healing the sick- miracles- outcasts- overcoming obstacles- the dead- hurting friends- prayer- servant hood- lepers- adulterers- the cross- the mountaintop, and back down.

And it’s important for me to remember-Jesus called Matthew, who was ordinary. He didn’t boast any special skills or training. Neither did the others that Jesus called and hung out with. So when I feel unworthy, unqualified, lost, and like there has to be someone else, I have to remember this. I can’t use these to disqualify myself from what Jesus has planned. He calls me, in the middle of my day- my work- my leisure- to follow just as I am. In the middle of whatever I am doing.

I want to be this quick to follow when Jesus calls. I am not talking just about the big, life-changing things that He calls me to. I’m also talking about the little, day to day simple things-

to caring for people- to being friendly- to giving just a little more when I am tired- to generosity- to giving up my time for something more important than my plans- to radical faith- to being intentional with people I love and people I have a hard time loving- to giving away my money as I am called to- to gentleness and compassion with my patients- to finding ways to serve- to hard work and risk taking- to seeking out the lonely- to growing myself for the sake of serving Jesus-

I want to also leave everything. I want to just follow- not worrying- not doubting- not wondering if I should- I want to follow God and trust I can be His hands to the world. Even when it doesn’t make sense.
Even when it’s different from the call of those around me.
Even when it’s hard or seems impossible.
Even when I have to leave things that I love,
or give up something I find important.
Especially in all of these things.
Because He calls me-
and what could be more important than that?

running in eugene

the half (eugene, oregon may 4)... in prep for the full... in 35 days! yikes!

the topless mermaid

Lately I have been ranting... in my head, out loud to some friends who were willing to listen, to God....

At church on Sunday the message was titled, “Lord, save us from Your followers” after the provocative new movie which explores the collision of faith and culture in America. Basically it’s a documentary in which a guy named Dan Merchant, a follower of Jesus, travels around the country talking to different people about their views and stereotypes about Christians and Christianity, and tries to find out “why the Gospel of Love is dividing America.”

My ranting began when I got home that night and saw a short clip on the evening news. Starbucks is going downhill, it said, and is attempting to get back to the basics of coffee. This involves switching back to it’s original logo, the oh-so-controversial one that it began with when it originally opened in Seattle in 1971. The original logo has not only the famous green mermaid face which adorns every paper cup, but also her topless body and two tails. “Many Christian groups are protesting this decision,” it reported, “and have decided to boycott Starbucks as a result.” I couldn’t believe it! REALLY?! A tiny cartoon topless mermaid on a paper cup is now something that is worth protesting?! I guarantee that the average customer doesn’t even notice the difference, but that isn’t the point, is it? America is at war, thousands have died recently in natural disasters in Asia, there are homeless on the street of every city.... and Christian groups have chosen to protest the topless mermaid!

Many followers of Jesus today are hesitant to use the word “Christian” to describe themselves. I am one of them. It’s not that I am ashamed or embarrassed to follow Jesus, it’s that what many unbelievers associate with the word Christian, I don’t always identify with.

“Christians” to many, are ultra conservative and closed minded. They judge people who don’t have the same views as them. They don’t have fun because they don’t drink alcohol, don’t dance, and judge those who do. They are boring. They are anti-gay, anti-abortion, and anti-feminist. They stand on the street corners and shouting about going to hell if you don’t follow Jesus. They’ve got to be a bit crazy, right? They think that they have everything “all right,” and everyone else has it “all wrong.” And now they find Starbucks too provocative.

Of course, not everyone who follows Jesus is closed minded, conservative, or agrees with my above statements, but I think you understand my point. Yes, these are stereotypes. Yet they have hurt a lot of people.

The pastor quoted St. Augustine, who said, “The Church is a whore, but she’s still my mother.” I thought this was an intense statement, and I found it fascinating the more I thought about it. It’s true. The church has been unfaithful, and hurt people in the process. It has often not called it’s people to a more countercultural way of thinking. Those who love God have often damaged His good name by their mistakes. God’s children are not living up to what they have been called to.

Yet, we need the church. The church brings us back to the beginning; “she” has taught us about Jesus. The Bible says Christ loves the church and gave himself for it. Through the church we grow together as the kingdom of God on earth. We grow together in community, which Jesus says is important. We hold each other accountable, we support each other, worship together, and we break bread and are reminded that Christ died for us. Yet, we must not confuse the organization of church with the kingdom of God. The organization will fall, as we are fallen. Yet the Kingdom is the way we were meant to live, what God has ultimately called us to. This is a difference, which we cannot confuse. We must form the organization, but only the things that we do for the kingdom are what matter.

But what really is my point, you might ask?
Well, in my process of ranting, I was humbled.
Sure, I would not be part of the Christian group protesting the topless mermaid. I think it is ridiculous. I think that it takes away from some things that REALLY matter to Jesus. I think that there are plenty of things that He cares so much more about. This silly protest made me angry.

But I am a part of this fallen church. I have been unfaithful to God, and haven’t lived up to what He has called me to. Who am I to judge?! Here I am, angry at these Christians for standing up for something that matters to them. I am far from perfect. I have done plenty of things that cause Jesus pain. I have neglected to stand up for things that really matter. Isn’t it all the same?

As I thought about this, Matthew chapter 7 came to mind. I don’t think Jesus could make it any more obvious or clear. I think anyone, both those who follow Him and those who don’t, might identify with what Jesus has to say here...

 "Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.
Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye.” (Matthew 7:1-5).

For those who don’t follow Jesus... we all really aren’t what you might think of when you think of the Christian stereotype. Really. Ask questions, hear more of the story. I’m sorry if you have been hurt or judged by a Christian. We all mess up. We have been given grace to start over.

For those who follow Jesus... let’s remember those who don’t...as well as those who do...not in judgment, but as our brothers and sisters who each have their own story, a past we may be unaware of, hurts we don’t know about, and a story to tell about where life has taken them. We may understand it, or we may not- but I try to remember that the judgment is not up to me.

it's not so far away

Below are thoughts from my friend Tim, in his post entitled
CAMBODIA: SEATTLE REINTEGRATION, at
http://timmatsui.com/blog/2008/03/21/seattle-reintegration/

When I read this blog entry for the first time, I cried. I cried because I understood some of what he wrote about because I have seen it. I cried for the exploited women and children of Cambodia. And I cried because I am continually inspired there are people who care enough to speak out, to leave the familiar and comfortable to travel and investigate what goes on in some of the darkest corners of the world. Indeed, there is hope for the future.

I am inspired by those who give up their time, money, resources, and reputations in order to learn firsthand, and then in turn spend their time telling the stories of the oppressed.

TIm speaks in this blog of his experiences working with local anti-trafficking and other NGOs in Phnom Penh, those he worked with, and the emotions of getting to know the victims of these crimes, and the jabbing knife that hits your heart and stomach when faced with friends and strangers who don’t want to hear about it because it’s too painful.

We agreed, though, that it is important to share these stories anyway.
I found that I identified deeply with many of his thoughts in this post, and think that he relays them beautifully. He gave me permission to share them with you. Please check out his blog for further inspiration and information.

“What is our capacity to understand? What is just another day in Cambodia, Nigeria, Burma, Somalia; what is just another day when you live it? My stories are nothing compared to cataloging corpses for a genocide trial; nothing compared to the everyday life of kicking in doors, shooting people and getting shot at; nothing compared to the experiences of some of the people I’ve met.

Yet by my second night in Seattle I’d already had moments where I’d stare into the past and start speaking about something I saw. I often falter when I do this, snapping back to the present to find concerned looks of people whose evening I might have spoiled. In Cambodia, it’s just another day.”

“Phnom Penh is rich with stories, as are many other parts of the developing world. Roslyn is going to another UN post in Kandahar. Gillian to Sri Lanka. Romy is thinking about Africa. Others are re-upping their contracts, staying another year; things in Phnom Penh are mellowing out, creature comforts more prolific, but there is no shortage of work for the well intentioned. It’s just a little less likely you’ll be shot off your motorbike, fight a second assailant, then drive off with bullet holes in your forearm and ass. It sounds odd, but it happens.”

“Sometimes I wonder what people really want to hear. I might reply “intense, frustrating, emotional, beautiful, satisfying” and smile that empty smile. Because maybe in that moment I’m thinking of the story about victims of acid attack. It’s about the stench of burned flesh; the sound of rapid, shallow breath; the sight of a semiconscious woman and the deflated, resigned look of her adult children. It’s about her grand daughter, who at three years died in the attack. Five days later the woman died too.
It makes me think about Cambodians as victims, but also Cambodians as survivors. There are some who seek to heal, to move into that realm where trauma no longer controls them. I made portraits of acid attack survivors, of women so scarred it was difficult to look. But the more time we were together, the more I saw their confidence as survivors. They laugh, they flirt, they are feminine, they will look you intently in the eye–those who still have them–as if to say “I am a person, see me as one.”

“I know some people don’t like the intensity and immediacy of this kind of experience; I think it’s offensive that I might expect others to want it. Not everyone wants to face the frustration, bureaucracy, religion, corruption, or the feeling of impotence in the face of great need. And who am I to judge? I’m still on the edge, peering in. Indeed, it would be easier for me to check out, to work a ‘regular’ job, to challenge myself with seemingly important social dilemmas, financial gains or athletic pursuits. Here, in America, it’s hard to see your impact and much easier not to care.
But I met a rescued girl whose brother was sold for labor by her mother to pay the girl’s “debt” now that she’s not turning tricks at the brothel. At a shelter a teenage sex trafficking victim held me in goodbye; just as I was beginning to feel uncomfortable she looked up and said “do not forget about us.” And yet another girl, who always put me at arm’s length, ran to her room at the last moment. She came back with the tackiest pink rose in a sea of fiber optics. It now sits on display in my living room, flashing its multi-hued colors.”

“I watched a village chief, proud of his TV, proud to feed me the fish he caught, brush his teeth in water full of fecal contaminant. There was the couple, forcibly relocated by the government, who showed me their wedding portrait. It hung in a palm-frond hovel squeezed into rows of similar shacks.
And then there are the people committed to the betterment of others–simply because. The younger, the more idealistic, but even the jaded and cynical seem to keep at it. When “Cambodia Wins Again” they get back up, brush off the red dust, and go for another round. They throw themselves at the world, they do some good, but ultimately get spit back, scarred from the fight. It could be hopeless, except in those moments one makes a difference. And that is the immediacy; there are people willingly fighting for survival, for justice, for opportunity. The difficulties are complex, but there is hope, there is success, and there is more we can do. Now, in this moment.”

“I am spinning down, readjusting to what “normal” is here in the States, and sifting through all that is swirling in my head. As I struggle to produce a coherent story I realize I float between two places: on one side are the people who cannot engage in the reality of Cambodia–it’s too much–and on the other are people who live a greater horror every day, casually, and for them these stories are inconsequential.”

how many stops was that?!

MOM~
HAPPY MOTHERS DAY!!
Just a photo reminder of the most fun we had this past year....
(may I mention that the only stop that was MY idea was the one in the mountains?!)
I LOVE YOU!

today I miss...

regardless

I ran by this sign the other day on the sidewalk outside a church in my neighborhood. It made me think. I appreciate and value the message conveyed, and it doesn't surprise me that this sign would be outside a Portland church. But why do we need the sign in the first place?! I wish these things were a given.

5:25 am

Prize for anyone who knows the meanings of these silly acronyms which fill my brain and documentation while I work...
TBI
PPH
SBAR
GVHD
VRE
CSA
MUD
MONA
CDB
OU
FK506
CMP

additional workout

These are "the stairs" which Katie introduced me to soon after I got to Portland. They are found at one of the entrances to Mount Tabor Park, a great hilly park near my apartment. The picture doesn't do the experience justice; there are 250 stairs total, and I still can't run them all....however 6 trips up and down them quickly proves to be quite a workout! One day I will make it to the top running....

spring

once again, I'm a nurse!

I have recently been reminded that I am a capable nurse...it took about five 12 hour shifts back on the bone marrow transplant unit and now I feel like I'm back. Since I haven't worked on a hospital unit for about 8 months, when I did come back last week, I felt like it had been a lot longer. I found myself thinking, "wait, how did I get this job?!"

It's not that I didn't think I was capable. It's just sometimes the responsibility just hits me and it is really humbling. I don't think about it too much though, because then it is scary.

It really is a job filled with craziness. oddities, and lessons.

In the past three night shifts, I have given blood and platelet transfusions, had patients getting continuous chemotherapy with all sorts of frequent monitoring, had some critical labs values called in to me at 2:30am, donned a hepa filtered air mask (conveniently over my entire head!) complete with a gown and gloves, to protect myself from a respiratory virus as well as the room filled with the mist of a continuous medication tent in which "the long term effects have not been established"... but do warn of potential birth defects.

"You aren't pregnant, are you?" a co-worker asked. No.
These, I learned,  are the important things to note when you breathe in chemo fumes as well as have contact with all sorts of other toxic things working in oncology. Working with the substances that not only kill cancer cells, but other things too; sometimes I wonder if it's just as harmful to the staff as it might be to a fetus.

But I like it enough to come back. Sometimes I think I can learn something from my patients' amazing attitudes and perspectives. One, having just been given a stage 4 metastatic cancer diagnosis while he is still in college, I overheard talking to a friend on the phone... "I'm not dying..." he stated very matter-of-factly, as the chemo dripped into a port in his chest. It made me stop and wonder what kind of words would I speak, and what would nurses think of me if I were in that place? I can't say for sure, but I wonder if I would be so positive.

I had a seemingly perfectly healthy patient who was back in for this third transplant, having relapsed after both of the others. He was in getting the first round of chemo; again. Yet his quality of life is good, so for him, it makes sense. He is strong in a way I don't know if I would be.

I found a razor and shaving cream in one of my male patients rooms. "Did you shave today?" I asked him. "No, I am going to in the morning." he stated. "I'm sorry, we can't allow you to use that razor while you're here... how's that for a rule?" I teased him. I went on to explain that a small cut could cause bleeding that might not stop, due to his lab values. He just nodded in agreement. "I'm sorry..." I told him.

How awful. We don't let many of our patients shave, brush their teeth, or use normal mouthwash. We sometimes assist them to shave off their hair. We make them get up and walk in the halls or on the treadmill a few times a day, even if they don't want to. We wake them up at 4am to take their vital signs and watch them even in the bathroom. We ask them all sorts of questions about their bowel habits. We shine a flashlight in their eyes and mouth. To me, these things are normal and make sense. But what an odd experience for those we care for.
  
Last night I watched one of my patients like a hawk because I just had that feeling something wasn't right....he kept mumbling in his sleep and shaking a little, along with some worrisome lab values and other potential problems. But every half hour or less when I donned all the appropriate gear and entered his room and woke him up to make him answer another one of my questions, he woke and told me the correct answer to everything I asked. He stuck out his tongue and squeezed my hands hard enough. Complete with stable vitals signs and other appropriate findings, I couldn't find anything exactly wrong... so I just kept staring in through his window.

I wonder now how he is now, and what the doctors found out about him today. Yes, I will back in a few nights, but obviously a lot can change by then. Although one of the things I like about my job is that I don't take it home with me in a traditional sense, yet almost every shift, I take something home. A prayer for someones particular situation, hope that my patients will be well cared for after I leave them in someone elses care, disappointment in the way some situations end up, sorrow at family members lack of understanding, sometimes anger at the doctors and the way some situations are handled.

Despite the fact it can be stressful, busy, chaotic, difficult, and sad...I am happy to be back in the hospital. I am grateful I found something which challenges me; and each time I go to work I have a new experience and get a natural "in" in someones life. Even if I sometimes wonder how I got this job, I am glad that I got it, and am happy to be back. Let the chaos and craziness continue. And may I remember that it's not normal to be woken up at 4am...

Hillsboro family helps rescue Cambodian sex slaves

I met James during the last few weeks I spent in Phnom Penh. This was on the news here in Oregon just a few weeks ago, and I am so thankful that injustices like this and the people who do something about them could be on the news here; and therefore raising awareness and educating more and more Americans. Please read this article!

11:09 AM PDT on Monday, March 17, 2008
By WAYNE HAVRELLY, for kgw.com

As the Pond family sits around the dining room table playing trivial pursuit, they appear to be the typical American family.
They’re not. Anything that was typical changed forever after watching a Dateline NBC investigation four years ago. The story about Cambodian children being sold to sex peddlers touched the family so deeply, James Pond, a father three, quit his six figure sales job and traveled to Cambodia to see what could be done to help.
“We were seeing pedophiles walking up and down the riverfront purchasing kids," James Pond said. Pond knew he could make a difference, but only if his family wanted the same thing. “We were trying to teach our kids you can do more in life and we should all be helping others, but we really didn’t have an outlet for that before this,” his wife, Athena, said.
It was a unanimous vote, so the Ponds sold nearly everything they owned and moved to Cambodia to open a transitional housing center for girls rescued from brothels. Fourteen-year-old Srey Neth was sold by her mother for $300.
“Her virginity was sold a week later for the same $300 she was sold for. After that, she was forced into a brothel where she saw 10 to 20 men a day," said James Pond. Neth was rescued. After two years with the Pond family, she's now working for their Oregon-based charity called Transitions Cambodia. “She's not just our voice, she's the voice of every girl that’s ever been through something like this,” said Pond. Transitions Cambodia now provides shelter, support and vocational training to about 20 rescued girls each year. The Ponds run the charity from their Hillsboro home. They have a staff of ten running the program in Cambodia. They recently moved back to the US to raise awareness about the child sex issue. They hope that will lead to more financial support, which will enable them to open even more shelters in Cambodia and other countries around the world. They said what started out as an idea after watching Dateline NBC has turned into a lifetime commitment. They hope to create awareness on a large scale starting in Portland and spreading all across America.

For more information go to the charities website at:
Transitionscambodia.org

xoxoxo!

Can anyone give me their opinion?! Hugs and kisses...XOXOXO... No, the question is not, "which is better?" (am I allowed to say both?!) But when you write XOXO before your name on a card or letter, which is which?! I have heard a number of arguments for each... still not sure which is correct... but who says, anyway?! Any thoughts?! Comments please! (and yes, I AM a physical touch person... no one else would write an entry about something so silly!)

mangoes

Today I stopped at a farmers market on my way home from work. I was excited to buy mangoes, since I hadn’t eaten them for awhile. Before I left Cambodia they weren’t quite ripe, and as the kids ate them green and dipped in chili and salt, I never found it to be quite the same!

I found them in a basket; soft, ripe and perfect. As I peeled one earlier, I thought about Cambodia. Mango season is in full swing. It’s a lot hotter than it is here. I miss it.

Cutting up a mango reminds me of the way I sometimes felt when I was there. Sometimes my life seemed perfect on the outside.
(well maybe not perfect, but almost!) Cutting it open, with a bit of a struggle, it got messy, sticky, and difficult to get rid of the peel. Many of my days reminded me of these things in myself. I was faced with my own shortcomings, sin, weakness, and messiness in daily situations. This was difficult and sometimes discouraging. My peeler wasn’t sharp enough and I needed a knife. I felt like sometimes the Lord had to use more difficult things to break me when His more gentle efforts didn’t work, and I was left discouraged, broken, and tired. My hands were a mess, but I soon had the mango cut apart and ready to eat. The mess was worth the sweetness of the fruit, and I am already excitedly awaiting my return to Cambodia.

voting and good friday

Today I went down the street to the Multnomah County Elections Office and registered to vote in the state of Oregon. I had been previously registered, but needed to update my information. Reregistering was actually a bit symbolic, because this time I was excited as I walked out of the office. Let’s just say I was never particularly excited about registering to vote the last time I did, or excited about voting itself for that matter. I think it was done a bit more out of obligation.

If you know me well you know that I have never been much into politics, or interested in elections or keeping up to date with a lot of things going on in the world. I hate even admitting this. I don’t know why it was not important to me, but I admit it was not. I am happy to say this is different now. I am not, by any means, claiming to be an expert or all of a sudden miraculously informed and totally up to date with all of the current events in the world. But now my mindset has totally changed, and for that, I am excited.

Today we celebrate Good Friday, the day Jesus died for us.
Yes, the connection. I’m getting there.

I felt like my time in Cambodia made the world look totally different to me than it previously did, which you might think is a given. Well yes. But I realized in a new- more clear-way through interaction with Cambodians and other people from all over the world the power of the United States. The decisions we make as a nation and as individuals matter to people in the furthest corners of Asia, the Middle East, Europe, South America, Africa, and on and on and on around the world.
Again, this is an obvious fact, but for some reason was only recently made very real to me.
Our decisions DIRECTLY affect these people that Jesus died for!
How can we NOT be concerned about the decisions our nation makes?!
I am not advocating support of the democrats or the republicans, or even getting into some of the issues of importance. I am just making the connection. The United States controls the world on many different levels, and as citizens of this country, the least we can do is stay informed, pray, and help to make decisions on behalf of those who don’t get the opportunity to do so, but whom our decisions directly affect. It seems so painfully obvious to me now I feel awful it took me twenty five years to finally get it.

Jesus died for you, for me, and for the woman I passed on the corner today holding a “homeless with a child” sign. He also died for the genocide victims and perpetuators in Darfur, for the soldiers and civilians in Iraq, and for those in Asia worshipping Buddha. I might not know these people or ever be directly involved in their lives. But if Jesus cares enough for each of them to die, I think He commands me to care, too. He died for each of us in the midst of our sin and selfishness, so who I am to judge my neighbor? At the very least I can be informed, so as to be involved in making decisions independently and with my nation that make a direct difference in the lives of those Christ died for. And most of all, so I can serve them better in prayer.

Lord, give us soft hearts to care about the world and individuals the way You do. Forgive the times our egocentrism, judgment, apathy, and ignorance prevents us from loving and caring for Your children. Amen.

“Teacher, which command in God’s law is the most important?”
Jesus said, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your passion, prayer, and intelligence.’ This is the most important, the first on any list. But there is a second to set alongside it: ‘Love others as well as you love yourself.’ These two commands are pegs; everything in God’s Law and in the Prophets hangs from them.”
Matthew 22:36-40 The Message

post secret

I was in a bookstore the other night, and came across the book “Post Secret.” I couldn’t resist sitting down right there in the aisle and paging through it. Although I had seen it before, I had forgotten how fascinating it was. It is an artistic book that was started as a community art project in which people write their secrets anonymously on one side of a homemade postcard and mail them to "post secret," with an address in Maryland. It has been an ongoing project ever since it began in 2005, with new postcards recieved every day. People disclose all sorts of secrets: some easy to understand or relate to, and some not. One of my favorites said something like, “Sometimes I steal little things from my friends’ houses so I can hang them up and be reminded of how much I love them.” (I don’t steal things from my friends, but I thought that was so sweet! :)
I discovered there is a blogsite for Post Secret that is updated once a week. I added it to my links~ check it out!

my best friend's wedding!

yesterday my little lamb got married!
what a fun day!
i love you my best friend...
(and your new, very sexy name... ;)
congratulations!

gratitude

today I am thankful~

the newspaper~ never ending new good books to read~
a morning vanilla latte~ voice mail~ friends~
lunch at a random hole in the wall~
hanging out in the afternoon with nothing to “do”~
great conversation~ angel food cake and diet coke~
meaningful e-mails~ running in the rain~
the smell of the woods; damp and fresh~
good music~ time~ opportunity~

running in Portland

Views from Washington Park, one of the best places to run in Portland... seemingly endless miles of trails through the woods... the only killer is the hills! But I'll take them over traffic any day....