The other night I came out of the bathroom and had the following conversation with my husband.

“You know, one of the few times I feel comfortable anymore is when I’m sitting on the toilet.”

“Oh, really?”

“Sometimes I just continue to sit there and do nothing.”

“You might not want to do that for too long.” He began. “You’ll get hemorrhoids.”

“No, you’re not getting it! I’m not doing that. I’m doing nothing. I pee and then I just continue to sit there. It’s really comfortable.”

“No, you’re not getting it. Just sitting on a toilet for extended periods of time can give you hemorrhoids.”

“No way. You’re making that up.”

“Am not. It’s true. Something about the way American toilets are made and how we sit on them.”

“You’re telling me that if I sit on the toilet for too long, even if I don’t actually do anything while there, I can get hemorrhoids?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

“Is there ANYTHING safe and relaxing to do while pregnant?”

Murray eats a lot of food. He prefers Merrick because it’s wet and gooey and comes in flavors with names like California Roll, Grammys’ Pot Pie and Thanksgiving Day Dinner. He eats really fast. He eats so fast, when he’s finished eating his face is usually covered in wet cat food.

Murray eats dry food as well. We used to feed all of our cats Iams. But when I found out that they torture animals I stopped supporting them immediately. Since we have two other cats that are nearing obesity, we now feed them Wellness Lite, which means Murray eats Wellness Lite as well.

Murray is small. We’re pretty sure he’s going to be tiny all his life. The morsels that make up Wellness Lite are about the size of a hard pea. Normal sized cats have no problem; they just take it in, chew it up (or gulp it down) and swallow. But Murray’s mouth is too small. He takes a piece or two into his mouth at a time and tries to chew it. And I’ll be honestly with you; I really don’t see how any of it is actually going down his throat and into his tummy. It’s just like watching Cookie Monster eat cookies. Cookie Monster doesn’t actually have an esophagus or any insides for that matter. He’s a Muppet. His mouth is actually sewn shut and so the cookies he so ravenously consumes fall around his face and onto the floor like a great big crumb waterfall. That’s the way it looks when Murray tries to eat the hard stuff. And that’s why our bowls always look like this:

When we first got Murray I used to actually smash up the dry food for him but he always went for the other bowl, the bowl with the larger morsels because, while he has a small mouth and tiny teeth, he’s still a cat with entirely too much dignity. Plus, Tobyjoe threatened to have me committed. So I stopped.

Living with Murray has made me realize more and more that I may have jumped into this motherhood thing a little too soon. Because I’m not sure I have the stomach, head, or heart for it.

I went ahead and had Tobyjoe take some belly shots. Here is my fantastically massive belly at 30 weeks. Here is my belly at 23 weeks. And finally here it is at 15 weeks, 4 days. (Back then, even the days mattered. Now I seriously can’t even remember what week I am let alone how many days I have left in a week.)

On Tuesday the FDA approved a birth control pill that will suppress monthly bleeding indefinitely. I don’t understand why this is a medical breakthrough. What is wrong with having one’s period? I can’t imagine why women would want to take a pill like Lybrel. Someone please explain this to me.

I said to Tobyjoe last night, “If this pill takes off, I bet the number of miscarriages goes up over the next 10 years.” (Some people believe that miscarriages are linked to long-term pill use.) My statement may be based on little to no fact, but something makes me think that this pill will bring with it unforeseen side effects.

Wyeth’s press release (From May 8, 2006.) The drug was approved yesterday.

Edited to add: Here’s a pretty good article about Lybrel.

To all those people who own houses: How did you do it? How were you able to buy your first one? (If you wish to remain anonymous, I am OK with that. Use a fake name if you leave a comment.)

The house you see above is for sale in our neighborhood. It was listed at 700 thousand dollars. The advertisement read: “Needs to be gutted and entirely redone.” Don’t worry, even if I had the money I wouldn’t buy this house. But every time I see something like this, I can’t help be become more and more discouraged about ever being able to afford a place of our own. Here’s our dilemma: If Tobyjoe wants to keep his job (which he really likes) it means we have to live in or near New York City. We can’t afford to live in Brooklyn. In order to do so I would have to get a job making at least 65,000 dollars a year and we’d have to pay someone to raise our kid. (Call me old fashioned, but I don’t feel right about working 60+ hour weeks just so I can pay someone to raise my son.) We certainly can’t afford Manhattan. Upstate New York is an option but we’d have to go pretty far out to afford anything. And if we do that we run the risk of raising a child who never sees his father because he’s commuting all the time. Jersey is an option we’re looking into, but houses are still quite pricey and taxes are high.

I took a walk today to get some decaf coffee from my new favorite bistro, which is located on Driggs right before Driggs crosses Manhattan Avenue. I took my camera with me to try and capture the number of massive developments going up in a very small area.

(Descriptions are above each picture.)

A sliver from a map of Greenpoint. The red stars represent buildings that are already occupied or buildings currently being erected. The yellowish stars are those to come. (Meaning, they are currently applying for permits, being bulldozed, etc.)

See number 1 on the map above. The building shown below is the most perplexing of all. The top floors not only have a view of BQE traffic but its inhabitants get to inhale the toxic fumes from it as well. The bottom floors get to see underneath the BQE where the car service guys hang out 24/7, the crackheads get their fix on, and the trash piles up like filthy tumbleweeds.

Pricing: Here is the building. Cheapest unit is listed for $249.000, most expensive is $389.000.

See number 2 on the map above. OK, so the building below is one of the first and it’s pretty tame considering. We were kind of intrigued by this one at one point because the roof deck looks amazing. Plus, I think at the time we moved in it was still affordable.

See numbers 3 and 4 on the map above. I have a huge crush on the one on the right. (Yes, you may not be able to see it here, but these are two separate buildings.) Anyway, I dreamed of having a place there because it overlooks the park. There isn’t a chance in hell that the city will give up that view to another developer, which also explains why the prices in this building were so high. (I used “were” here because they sold out in seconds so I’ve been told.)

Pricing: 297 Driggs Avenue: The building features one-bedroom units starting at $569,000 and two-bedrooms with private outdoor space going for up to $1.1 million. Twelve of the 14 apartments will have balconies overlooking McCarren Park.

See number 5 on the map above. They put up permits recently and the businesses that were once there have moved out. So now the folks who purchased a place in either of the two buildings I showed previously will lose their back views.

See number 6 on the map above. This building is pretty modest. They also have killer roof decks. They sit directly across from the park. I envy a lot of these people for that very reason.

See number 7 on the map above. Going up on Eckford and Manhattan Avenue. Found this blurb about pricing:

Pricing: “The 32-unit luxury building by Tahoe Development contains 28 two-bedroom rentals going for $2,500 a month, and four duplex penthouse condos asking $1.2 million each. Occupancy is scheduled for fall 2006, the Post reported.” (The Real Deal.)

See number 8 on the map above. Lots of windows on these guys. They kind of look like beach condos to me. Not sure why.

Pricing: “49-61 Engert Avenue: Traditional two-bedroom units from $649,000, two-bedroom garden duplexes from $725,000 and three-bedroom penthouse units starting at $955,000. Slated for occupancy in December, the building has already sold 19 of its 24 units.”

See number 9 on the map above. To be honest, I didn’t’ even know these were being built. There are so many of them, I must have gotten them confused with another.

See number 10 on the map above. Again, didn’t know about these and they are a few blocks from where I live.

See numbers 11 and 12 on the map above. I didn’t walk all the way over to these two. They are monsters overlooking McCarren Park. They are a bloody fortune so I’ve been told. Last Thursday, someone had rented a giant spotlight to lure the eye of the masses – the rich masses of course.

See number 13 on the map above. This is a 13-story condo being erected in our back yard. Our evening sunsets are a thing of the past. I don’t know who would want to buy a place that costs so much and has a view of the BQE on ramp. No idea how much these will run. The space is entirely too new.

See number 14 on the map above. Not a great shot because (as you can see) I was in the middle of the one of the deadliest streets in Brooklyn. But these monsters are going up on the other side of the BQE.

If anyone out there knows the exact prices of the condos shown above, please do share them. I will try and find the information out on my own, but I get a little overwhelmed with this sort of thing. I am not even sure where or how to begin looking for that type of information. (I found some, not all, but some.)

Murray has ringworm, which was the catalyst that started The Great Cleanse of 2007. (I know some of you may be wondering if this whole ringworm thing is OK for me since I’m pregnant. I have spoken to my doctor about it. Ringworm is harmless for me and the unborn baby.) After Toby dunked the little guy in a sulfur mixture, we scoured the floors with bleach and water. We washed every piece of clothing we own. We stripped down the bedding and washed whatever we could, and boxed up whatever we couldn’t. One of the items we couldn’t wash was our bedspread. I washed it twice before (because I’m a moron) and the second time it nearly came undone. So I’ve stopped washing it, which means it needs to be boxed up until I can figure out a way to get it clean. (Or until the ringworm spores die, which I believe takes a month or so. Oh, and by the way, ringworm is not a worm.)

Well, all of this has left us with one of the most schizophrenic looking bedrooms I’ve ever seen. Because I’ve had to make due with an old duvet and its cover, which doesn’t go with the red and gold curtains. It’s not pretty. And the whole ordeal has me looking for new bedding.

Here is a shot of the only duvet cover we currently own. (Ignore the cat. She just likes to sleep in my pregnancy pillow whenever I am not.)

Here is a picture of our curtains. (Ignore the cat hair all over them. How embarrassing.)

Here is a picture of our sheets.

Here is a picture of Murray sleeping on my belly. (This has nothing to do with the post, but it’s freaking cute, so I had to share.)

I was going to buy a new duvet cover from Overstock yesterday, preferably one to match our curtains and sheets (also the cheapest way to solve this problem) when I realized that even though the Eastern seaboard seems to be fighting it right now, it’s going to be summer soon. Buying a new duvet cover for our existing duvet seems a bit silly right now, doesn’t it? I mean, we do usually use the AC in the summer and I am always cold from it which means on any given night you can find me snuggled beneath the covers as the AC blows cold, Arctic air onto our heads. Meanwhile, Tobyjoe is usually flopped down on top of the comforter, legs thrown about, arms spread as if he surrendered to the heat. Point is: I often need blankets even in the dead of summer and Tobyjoe is often annoyed by them. I’m starting to think that a duvet might be a little too much and sheets aren’t enough.

What do you do about this sort of transition? Do you have seasonal blankets for your bed? Do you use a duvet as well because it looks good? Do you strip that duvet down at night and use a blanket for warmth? As simple and trivial as it may seem, I have no idea what to do about our bedding situation. And obviously this is the single most important aspect of our lives right now. I am willing to send you cookies if you can make this work. What do you do about your summer bedding?

I had my 30-week checkup yesterday. Everything seems to be going just fine. We went over my bloodwork and all of that is right on track. Even my weight gain is fine. Chemically, I am doing well. I’m crossing my fingers that the next 8 to 10 weeks bring me much of the same where health is concerned.

Honestly, I don’t have a lot of room to complain because (for the most part) my pregnancy has gone pretty well up until this point. Sure, I was sick in the beginning. I battled a couple of vicious migraines, dealt with an excessive amount of saliva, and I fought with general nausea – the kind that runs through your blood, the kind you simply cannot not shake. But overall, things have gone pretty damn well, that is up until last week.

My body is finally starting to break down. I can no long walk very well, instead I wobble and my hips ache 24-hours a day. My belly itches and the muscles below my breasts – you know, where my abdominal muscles are currently splitting apart to make room for the baby (yes, that happens) – feel like I went to a pilates class after being punched in the gut repeatedly by Mike Tyson. My face continues to break out and there are dark spots forming on my nose and forehead, dark spots on top of the freckles I usually have. My back hurts. Last night I woke up to a wicked muscle strain in my right calf. I read the muscle pains are pretty normal for pregnant women in the last trimester and, given the amount of weight our legs suddenly have to endure, that makes sense. (Seriously, you try putting on 22 pounds in less than 7 months.) But that calf pain is excruciating. It’s so bad, Alberto Gonzales should consider using it when he tortures people.

I can’t sleep past 4 AM and when I finally force myself back to sleep again at around 6 AM, I wake up feeling hungover at 8 AM. And the dreams! The dreams are downright bizarre. If they’re not something taken directly from the mind of David Lynch, they’re sexually explicit in nature, almost disturbingly so.

My hair is thinning and that became even more obvious recently while getting my hair done. Oh, and I feel like I smell funny.

I am having trouble breathing, which is worse at night after I lie down. I purchased some of those nasal strips and that helps. But I also forget that I have them on so when I inevitably wake up in the middle of the night (3 to 5 times) to relieve my painfully full, baby-sized bladder, I immediately think something has gone very wrong with my face. It takes me a few seconds to figure out it’s just the glue strip holding my nostrils apart.

My heartburn, already an untameable beast, has gotten worse since my belly grew bigger. My stomach no longer has the room it once had. And it doesn’t always happen when I overeat. It happens at night no matter what and it happens on an empty stomach as well. My heartburn severity advisory system looks like this:

I can no longer eat ice cream. Like, I’ll probably never eat it again. About two weeks ago, I decided to consume an entire bowl of chocolate and vanilla ice cream smothered in dark chocolate and peanut butter chips at 10 o’clock at night. I then proceeded to vomit up that bowl of ice cream in my mouth over and over again for about 3 more hours. It was like having a hot, black and white, acid reflux flavored milkshake repeatedly. I haven’t been able to eat – no, think about – ice cream since. I have almost an entire gallon left if anyone wants to come over and finish it for me.

And my heart pounds now. I read that a pregnant woman produces 45% more blood by the time she reaches the third trimester and that the heart pumps 10 more beats per minute taking in about 30 percent more blood with each and every beat. So it makes sense why my heart is working overtime. It makes sense that sometimes I feel like I’m going to faint when I stand up too fast. It makes sense that my heart races after I’m startled awake, I sit up too fast, or I spend a long day walking through the hot streets of New York City. (Hello, yesterday.)

I spoke to my doctor yesterday about my physical ailments. I said, “Doctor, my body is starting to hurt everywhere. I’m starting to have some trouble moving around and breathing – you know – stuff I need to do in order to live.” To which she replied, “If you think it’s bad now, wait until week 32. That’s when things really start to take their toll.”

Awesome

The good news is I haven’t put on weight since my last doctor’s visit. In fact, I lost two pounds since my last visit. To celebrate, I left the doctor’s office, hit Balthazar, and ordered a piece of coconut cake, which made my heart beat 11 more times each minute spent loving it with my mouth.

If there’s one thing I can say about myself it’s this: I am fiercely loyal. I have my weaknesses, for sure. I’m terrible at saying goodbye. I am terrible when it comes to emergencies. I don’t like to attend parties, large social outings, or public events. And I can be pretty lazy as well. If it’s not laziness that beats me down, I have some mental hurdles I struggle with, which means sometimes I say I’m going to be somewhere and then something happens inside of my head and I simply cannot go. I’m also not one for making large convictions because I find I’m easily swayed and sometimes standing by said convictions proves difficult. A gal can change her mind sometimes, right? (There are some exceptions to this, of course. Some convictions make up who I am.) Anyway, I do have my issues; I have my many, many, issues.

But I am fiercely loyal. So much so, sometimes I get into trouble because of it. I have no regrets for harboring such a trait. I stick with and by my friends no matter what. If they have been wronged, I too feel wronged. If they feel jilted by someone, I too feel jilted. If I need to stand up for them, I do so, even if I haven’t been asked to do so. I can’t say much positive about myself and actually mean it, but I can say all of that. I’m loyal. (It’s pretty easy when you keep so few friends.)

Now I’ll get to the point.

I first heard about JPG Magazine through Heather Champ back in 2004. She and Derek wanted to create a photography magazine run by its members. I bought the first issue, sent in my own contributions (via email) and did whatever I could to get the word out there. In September of 2006, I signed up for JPG 2.0 where members were given the ability to upload their pictures to a crisp new Web site. The community grew to mammoth-sized proportions. It was awesome to see both Heather and Derek’s dream come true. I could not have been happier for them.

Truthfully, I love what JPG Magazine set out to accomplish. But that goal runs secondary to my loyalty to both Heather and Derek especially since that goal was conceived by the two of them. They have been nothing but gracious and kind to both Tobyjoe and me over the years and have worked doubly hard for the Internet community. So it came as a huge surprise when I received Derek’s email yesterday letting us both know that both he and Heather would no longer be a part of JPG Magazine.

I won’t go into details about what happened on here. You may read about it in Derek’s own words and Heather’s as well. There’s even a discussion surrounding said events taking place over on Metafilter. I will say that I’m terribly sad for the both of them because they have done nothing but awesome things on and for the Internet. I wrote Derek personally letting him know my thoughts about the whole situation, but I feel compelled to write about it on here as well. After all, I wrote about how awesome it was last October. I feel that it’s equally as important to let people know that JPG Magazine is now without its original, two founders.

I don’t say much with conviction (see that first paragraph again) because I have been known to fail and absolutes scare the shit out of me. But when the two traits collide – the negative bit about me being flip-floppy with the loyalty I have for my friends – that fierce loyalty always seems to win.

All that said, I will not be taking part in JPG Magazine any longer. I’m not asking that others follow suit, that would just be silly. JPG is, after all, a pretty awesome resource. But I want people to know what has taken place and how I feel about it. I want people to know why I deleted my account. I want people to know that what 8020 Publishing did to both Heather and Derek is just not right.

I’ve been having a rough time lately. Mentally. Physically, things are wearing down a bit as well, but I can handle that sort of thing. I have been feeling a bit frustrated by the sheer lack of control I have over everything taking place around me. And it’s an exhausting state to be in while living in New York City.

I get upset over the fact that people don’t stop at stop signs. I get upset when the patrons of Maxim (quite possibly the worst gym in all of New York City, but that’s an article in the works that will go live at a later date) ignore the “Cell Phone Free” signs that hang directly in front of them as they gab on and on while using the elliptical or walking on the treadmill. Can’t these people go an hour without a phone? Some gym patrons don’t wash off the equipment when they’re finished with it and I don’t understand that either. I don’t understand why people litter under the BQE. I don’t understand why people have to smoke in parks and then toss their butts on the ground below. The color green is dying. And line cutters send me into a fit of rage. I have written about the rage before. I can’t stand when people run red lights or fly through intersections where the speed limit is 25. (In Greenpoint along Driggs Avenue, which cuts through two lovely parks, I have seen cars doing 55 in a 25-mile per hour zone all the time.) I don’t understand why everyone is in such a hurry all the time and why he or she has such little regard for all those around them. And clearly I need to stop driving.

I don’t understand why a developer has leveled the gas station behind our house and has decided to build another 13-story condominium in its place. A condominium where a 450 square foot apartment runs about 700 thousand dollars and its inhabitants get a view of the on ramp to the BQE.

Why would someone build something like that? And then who are their buyers? Either way, our view of lower Manhattan and my much cherished evening sunsets are quickly becoming things of the past.

And I can’t control that either. I’m totally useless here, a speck of dirt on this city.

Driving down Manhattan Avenue makes me curse like a tourettic trucker – people double-park, walk out into the middle of the street between two parked cars pushing their strollers out in front of them. Manhattan Avenue is quite possibly the second worst street in Brooklyn second only to Flatbush Avenue, which is how I imagine anarchy to look like. The violent, fast drivers are usually men and I want to sit them down and talk to them about it. I want to speak with their mothers, wives, and children as well. I want them to slow down or lose their right to drive.

I used to love New York City. But I love the idea of leaving it as well. It could be the fact that I’m 30 weeks pregnant and my hormones are raging. It could be the fact that I’m terrified of bringing a little boy into this not so even world. Truthfully, I am not sure what it is, but lately I’m having trouble coping. There have been moments that make up my day where I simply want to throw my arms up and ask the strangers around me, “What’s the matter with you?”

But really, a better question might be: “What’s the matter with me?”

I stupidly began reading about my birthing options yesterday evening. Gave myself nightmares, I did. My birthing classes don’t start for another month but I figured I’d read up on some stuff, get to know it a little more, figure out what, exactly, might happen to me on the day I go into labor. Is it too late to turn back?

I like the idea of a natural childbirth. I really do. I give a great big round of applause to all the ladies who have done such a thing. Giving birth to a baby in a great big tub of water using nothing more than a relaxing breathing technique and some yoga chants, well, that just sounds awesome. (And a little crazy.) But I’d be kidding myself if I tried to be one of those women. I’m entirely too terrified of the whole situation, which is why I’m going for the epidural.

So, last night I read up on it. I knew they inserted a needle into a woman’s back but I wasn’t aware of how big the thing was. And I wasn’t aware of the fact that they leave a tube inside of you much like what’s done with an IV. And had no idea they give you a catheter. It makes sense, given you’re basically numb from the waist down. And since I sneezed the other night and peed myself, it’s probably best the doctors regulate such a thing. Certainly, things will tear and bleed down there during delivery. I read somewhere that some women poop themselves, which sounds downright humiliating to me. Also humiliating is that if the epidural makes me numb from the waist down, I read that the doctors, nurses, and significant others will have to move my body for me. All of it makes sense when you actually think about it, but I never really thought about it until last night.

Sometimes, when I’m standing in the middle of Grand Central Station, I’ll think, “So much happens here. So many things come and go at once! How does this place function at all?” That’s how I picture my body during delivery – like Grand Central Station.

But I’m still too much of a pussy to go through this naturally.

When we first found out we were pregnant, we were running potential names by everyone we talked to. “What do you think of these three boy names?” We’d ask. We’d get all sorts of responses. Some people would say, “I like your girl names better.” or “So, how are the cats?” And my favorite type of response was, “Well, I always thought David was nice name.” You wouldn’t believe how many people out there will silently (or not so silently) judge you about the future name of your baby. Over time we realized that it was going to be impossible to please everyone so we started to become tighter lipped about our brainstorms. That decision was further solidified after having dinner with Darren and Kathy.

At the time we had dinner (about three weeks ago), Darren and Kathy were five days away from giving birth to their first baby. They decided very early on in their pregnancy that they had had enough of the weird responses. They decided that they would tell no one what his name was going to be, not even their closest friends or their family members. Kathy had said, “We’re not telling anyone until his name is on that birth certificate and it’s too late!”

Tobyjoe and I have had our list narrowed down to about 4 or 5 names for a while now. (Although, only 3 of them are real contenders at this point.) That list hasn’t wavered one bit, which leads us both to believe that our son will eventually end up with one of the names currently on that list. We just don’t share it with anyone anymore. And it’s easier that way. The next time a person hears our son’s name – whatever name it may be – they will either be next to him or staring at an actual photograph, a photograph of a perfect little baby boy.

Besides, the name Ndugu Cleatus Boudreaux doesn’t need anyone’s approval anyway.

My older brother and I grew up on these. I think we were introduced to it for the first time at YMCA camp. That’s where I learned the name of it, too. There’s a brunch spot here in Greenpoint called Enid’s where you can get one of these. Enid’s refers to it in the same way that I do. But I have learned over the years that there are several names used to describe dippy-egg-filled holey bread. What’s yours?

P.S. If you haven’t ever had one of these, you must do so immediately.

I have put on 22 pounds since getting pregnant. 22 pounds. This is troubling for me. I know I’m supposed to be putting on weight, but 22 pounds, man. Here’s how I think: since my baby currently weighs (at most) 1.5 pounds and will probably weigh 7.5 pounds when he’s born, I’ve got at least another 6.0 pounds to add to that total. That means I can depend on gaining 28 pounds by the end of this. And that doesn’t include the other stuff: fat, water, placenta, or boobage. At the rate I’m going, I’m going to have put on well over 35 pounds by the time this is all said and done.

Oh, and I can no longer see my crotch. Shaving my legs has become a comedy routine. I have great difficulty rolling over and sitting up in bed. When I do, I resemble one of these creatures. (Video clip.) My hips ache. I pee constantly. This list is endless.

Tobyjoe and I built another Web site last week. When Schmitty was sick, we looked all over the Internet in search of a forum devoted to pet health and pet bereavement. We were both shocked to discover how few sites there are out there, so we built our own. The site is called Sick Pet Support and it’s mean to offer just that: support.

My hope is to gather some content over the next couple of weeks, and, hopefully, eventually, it will grow to fill that void. We hope people visit, write, talk about their pets, discuss treatments for their pets, whatever. As long as it’s pet related, the site remains open to anything, run by people who simply love animals. No post is too long, too personal, or too nonsensical. When it comes to our furry companions and the way in which they live, anything goes.

I will answer any questions people may have here in the comments section. For more information about our goal for the site, as well as how it came to be, please visit “About SPS”. Remember, the site is still in Alpha and may have a few bugs. Kindly report any such matters so we can fix them. (If you don’t like to leave comments, you may email me.) Also, please feel free to pass this along to anyone you feel may benefit from it or help it grow.

Again, I am going to write more about the site in the comments sections, mapping out how to leave links, what will change over the next couple of weeks, what we’ll be adding to its functionality, etc. And, as always, if you have any suggestions as to how to make it better or more usable, please do let us know. We really do cherish feedback. We take it very seriously.

Stop by when you have the time.