As you read this, I am snuggled under a blanket, sipping hot water with honey and lemon, hopped up on cough syrup. A vapourizer huffs and puffs beside me. By the end of the day, the house will likely smell of sickness - a smell I can't stand. I have had some sort of cold virus all week, which has led to my first ever case of laryngitis. Hold up...before you leave, this isn't going to be one of those posts (or uber long Facebook statuses) outlining all of my symptoms and lamenting on all of the things I cannot do because I am sick. I'm not asking for your sympathy (hell, I know I've got that already, what with all my secret posts about the man who has led me to believe he's my father.)
So here I am, all full of laryngitis. Yesterday, I woke up feeling a little hoarse (as opposed to feeling a little horse, which would have been way cooler.) My dad came to visit and commented on how ridiculous I sounded with my "new laugh" - a high-pitched yet throaty squeak.
"Stop laughing like that," he demanded. "You sound silly."
"I think I sound kinda sexy," I relented. "I wish my voice always sounded like this. Now where do you want to go next? Home Depot? The book store? We've got a lot of shopping to do and then we have to go home and hang my flower baskets and put up my new curtains and I have to put fresh sheets on the bed. What do you want to talk about now? Have you heard about Fifty Shades of Grey? It's this super-erotic new book that everyone's talking about. I think I'm going to buy a copy."
This morning, the Universe is telling me to just go ahead and shut the hell up.
The only sound able to cross my lips is a whisper. According to Dr. Internet, I have acute laryngitis, and I should try to rest my vocal chords today - not even whisper. Which also means no coughing, singing, reciting poetry, or yelling at my teammates during the softball game tonight. Do you have any IDEA how hard this is for me?
You know who's going to be sitting pretty though? The roomate.
After waking up this morning and making the startling discovery that I was temporarily mute, I texted him to tell him the tragic news.
Me: OMG. It's gotten worse. I can't talk at all now. NO SOUNDS WHATSOEVER.
Him: OMG. DREAMS DO COME TRUE!
You guys? You know that Honeymoon Period, which usually lasts from the first three to six months of a new relationship, causing everything to appear rosy and no harsh words to be spoken between two lovers?
I think ours is officially over.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
Keep calm and carry on
Right now, about 30 kilometers from the centre of Timmins, the biggest forest fire in the country is burning. And people are starting to panic.
The fire started on Sunday and has grown to a monstrous size. Firefighters and water bombers from British Columbia, Manitoba, and the East coast have been called in to help put it out. It is scary - I won't lie, but this event has really brought home how quickly rumours can spread and things can get out of control.
Yesterday, because of strong winds, smoke from the forest fire started to roll into the city. By mid-afternoon, a thick layer of yellowish grey smoke coated the sky and blocked the sunlight. I was at work, and at first I didn't really think anything of the smoke (except, "It's just smoke from the forest fire.")
Then, the fear-mongering started. Patrons started coming in in a panic. "The fire is 15 kilometers away from the city!" one said. "They're going to be evacuating us soon," said another. That's when the pit in my stomach started to grow. I looked at the sky, and the smoke looked completely different than it had a minute earlier. It somehow appeared more ominous, oppressing, and was that just a hint of flame I saw up over the horizon oh my god EVERYBODY OUT NOW WE'RE BURNING UP!
You see how quickly it can happen? Especially to basketcases like me? We feed off of each other's fear, and suddenly the whole city is convinced we're going down. I pictured myself running through the streets haphazardly shouting "TELL MY DAD I LOVE HIM AND MAKE SURE MY SISTER GETS THAT LASAGNA RECIPE DOWN GOD ALMIGHTY THAT WAS GOOD LASAGNA!!!"
Yesterday afternoon, the City of Timmins did declare a state of emergency. But they also made it clear that this did not mean we were in danger from the fire. Yes, the smoke was thick and officials were advising people to close their windows and try not to breathe it in. But the State of Emergency status is a way to get extra resources from the government. The mayor stated it was a precautionary measure so that everything was in place if the worst was to happen. EMPHASIS ON THE 'IF'.
I called my dad, who I knew would put things into perspective for me. This is what I hope to do for all of you. Here is what he said:
1. When travelling in a car, 30 kms does not seem like a far distance. But for a fire, this is far away. While people are saying this fire is fast-moving, it's not fast like you're picturing it. It would take a long time to reach the city.
2. Fire needs fuel. Right now, it has oodles of it (I added the 'oodles,' my dad would never say 'oodles',) with all of the timber in the forest. But once that fire reaches areas with not so much timber, it will slow very quickly. It will most definitely not sweep through the city during the night while we lie unsuspecting in our beds dreaming of Leo topless and rubbing suntan lotion on our backs.
3. There are lots of people fighting this fire right now. Professional people. This is what they do, and they know what they're doing. "It's like us plowing snow," he said. "They are professionals and they are good at what they do, and they are doing everything they can to tackle that beast."
4. If worse comes to worse, officials will tell us to leave. If no one's told us to leave, we're ok. They won't let us burn.
All evening, we checked reliable news sources. The local media has been doing a wonderful job updating everyone with (for the most part) accurate information. Social media sites, not so much. I've decided to stay off them for the next couple of days - to avoid the panic and drama of it all. A medium where people can post whatever they feel like is ok when it's all "Hey, did you hear about Esther's cat that can play the piano while baking a cake and crocheting an afghan," but not so cool when it's all "WE'RE ON FIRE AND WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!" People like drama, and it's easy to get caught up in it. But really, it doesn't do us any good.
So let's not add fuel to the fire, people. Today, it is raining, which we're all so thankful for. That rain is supposed to continue all weekend. Let's just keep calm and carry on. We'll be ok.
The fire started on Sunday and has grown to a monstrous size. Firefighters and water bombers from British Columbia, Manitoba, and the East coast have been called in to help put it out. It is scary - I won't lie, but this event has really brought home how quickly rumours can spread and things can get out of control.
Yesterday, because of strong winds, smoke from the forest fire started to roll into the city. By mid-afternoon, a thick layer of yellowish grey smoke coated the sky and blocked the sunlight. I was at work, and at first I didn't really think anything of the smoke (except, "It's just smoke from the forest fire.")
Then, the fear-mongering started. Patrons started coming in in a panic. "The fire is 15 kilometers away from the city!" one said. "They're going to be evacuating us soon," said another. That's when the pit in my stomach started to grow. I looked at the sky, and the smoke looked completely different than it had a minute earlier. It somehow appeared more ominous, oppressing, and was that just a hint of flame I saw up over the horizon oh my god EVERYBODY OUT NOW WE'RE BURNING UP!
You see how quickly it can happen? Especially to basketcases like me? We feed off of each other's fear, and suddenly the whole city is convinced we're going down. I pictured myself running through the streets haphazardly shouting "TELL MY DAD I LOVE HIM AND MAKE SURE MY SISTER GETS THAT LASAGNA RECIPE DOWN GOD ALMIGHTY THAT WAS GOOD LASAGNA!!!"
Yesterday afternoon, the City of Timmins did declare a state of emergency. But they also made it clear that this did not mean we were in danger from the fire. Yes, the smoke was thick and officials were advising people to close their windows and try not to breathe it in. But the State of Emergency status is a way to get extra resources from the government. The mayor stated it was a precautionary measure so that everything was in place if the worst was to happen. EMPHASIS ON THE 'IF'.
I called my dad, who I knew would put things into perspective for me. This is what I hope to do for all of you. Here is what he said:
1. When travelling in a car, 30 kms does not seem like a far distance. But for a fire, this is far away. While people are saying this fire is fast-moving, it's not fast like you're picturing it. It would take a long time to reach the city.
2. Fire needs fuel. Right now, it has oodles of it (I added the 'oodles,' my dad would never say 'oodles',) with all of the timber in the forest. But once that fire reaches areas with not so much timber, it will slow very quickly. It will most definitely not sweep through the city during the night while we lie unsuspecting in our beds dreaming of Leo topless and rubbing suntan lotion on our backs.
3. There are lots of people fighting this fire right now. Professional people. This is what they do, and they know what they're doing. "It's like us plowing snow," he said. "They are professionals and they are good at what they do, and they are doing everything they can to tackle that beast."
4. If worse comes to worse, officials will tell us to leave. If no one's told us to leave, we're ok. They won't let us burn.
All evening, we checked reliable news sources. The local media has been doing a wonderful job updating everyone with (for the most part) accurate information. Social media sites, not so much. I've decided to stay off them for the next couple of days - to avoid the panic and drama of it all. A medium where people can post whatever they feel like is ok when it's all "Hey, did you hear about Esther's cat that can play the piano while baking a cake and crocheting an afghan," but not so cool when it's all "WE'RE ON FIRE AND WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!" People like drama, and it's easy to get caught up in it. But really, it doesn't do us any good.
So let's not add fuel to the fire, people. Today, it is raining, which we're all so thankful for. That rain is supposed to continue all weekend. Let's just keep calm and carry on. We'll be ok.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Regrouping
It's Wednesday morning, and I'm still recovering from the weekend. To my credit, it wasn't just any weekend - it was the annual May Run crazy wild chick-a-palooza at Nellie Lake. This is the weekend we ladies look forward to all year round. The countdown starts about 6 months prior to the Victoria Day weekend. When it finally arrives, between 10 and 20 women make their way to a nearby lake. We eat pretty much continually. We bathe in the sun (or shiver in our bush jackets, depending on the weather.) We drink copious amounts of tequila. We laugh.
We've been meeting for about 6 years now. There have been additions to the group and there have been subtractions. The location has changed. One thing that has always stayed the same, though, is the way we feel when the weekend is over. Recharged, rejuvenated, empowered. And I know right now you're all, ok, go eat some more granola and talk to the leaves, but it's totally true. Last year, in a moment of pure exhileration, we all burned our bras. Although some of us woke the next morning and realized we'd burned our ONLY bras, it didn't matter, because there were NO men to see the puppies we were smuggling under our tank tops.
Over the years, the annual rendez-vous has been a chance to catch up and let each other know what the happs are in each other's lives. Through the rest of the year, a quick visit here, a wedding there, a few emails and texts don't really do us justice. The weekend is like an intense, all-in, concentrated regrouping - and it feels amazing. The weekend makes you want to break up with crappy boyfriends, quit dead-end jobs - basically anything that makes you feel as great as you did over the (booze infused) weekend.
This year, Franny made an observation that made me take a step back and think (it might have been the 7 shots I had prior, but I'm pretty sure it was Franny's observation.) She said "Wow. So much has happened in the past year. So much has changed. We've all grown a lot. PASS THE DUTCHIE, MON."
It's so true. This year, my sister and Franny uprooted their domestic life in a small city and moved to Toronto. They are having the time of their lives. Two of the girls got engaged. One was pregnant. Then she wasn't anymore. I fell in love and moved in with a boy. There have been break-ups, accomplishments, career changes, and heartbreaks. People have come and gone. The sun has shone, the rain has come and snow has covered the ground. And through it all, over the years, we've always gathered to celebrate, to support, to cry, and then laugh until we can't breathe.
It's so comforting for all of us to know that no matter what happens throughout the year, we still have this weekend. Our May Run sisters stretch across the province, and no matter what time of year it is, we can feel each other's love and hear each other's giggles across the miles.
Here's to another wonderful weekend, ladies. Until next year, keep it real chitkas.
We've been meeting for about 6 years now. There have been additions to the group and there have been subtractions. The location has changed. One thing that has always stayed the same, though, is the way we feel when the weekend is over. Recharged, rejuvenated, empowered. And I know right now you're all, ok, go eat some more granola and talk to the leaves, but it's totally true. Last year, in a moment of pure exhileration, we all burned our bras. Although some of us woke the next morning and realized we'd burned our ONLY bras, it didn't matter, because there were NO men to see the puppies we were smuggling under our tank tops.
Over the years, the annual rendez-vous has been a chance to catch up and let each other know what the happs are in each other's lives. Through the rest of the year, a quick visit here, a wedding there, a few emails and texts don't really do us justice. The weekend is like an intense, all-in, concentrated regrouping - and it feels amazing. The weekend makes you want to break up with crappy boyfriends, quit dead-end jobs - basically anything that makes you feel as great as you did over the (booze infused) weekend.
This year, Franny made an observation that made me take a step back and think (it might have been the 7 shots I had prior, but I'm pretty sure it was Franny's observation.) She said "Wow. So much has happened in the past year. So much has changed. We've all grown a lot. PASS THE DUTCHIE, MON."
It's so true. This year, my sister and Franny uprooted their domestic life in a small city and moved to Toronto. They are having the time of their lives. Two of the girls got engaged. One was pregnant. Then she wasn't anymore. I fell in love and moved in with a boy. There have been break-ups, accomplishments, career changes, and heartbreaks. People have come and gone. The sun has shone, the rain has come and snow has covered the ground. And through it all, over the years, we've always gathered to celebrate, to support, to cry, and then laugh until we can't breathe.
It's so comforting for all of us to know that no matter what happens throughout the year, we still have this weekend. Our May Run sisters stretch across the province, and no matter what time of year it is, we can feel each other's love and hear each other's giggles across the miles.
Here's to another wonderful weekend, ladies. Until next year, keep it real chitkas.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
How to make me fall in love
It’s a Wednesday morning. I don’t have to work until noon and the roommate is off today. We plan to grab breakfast and pick up a few
enthralling goods including a bath mat, coffee, and toilet paper. The roommate
comes out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam whooshing out behind him. His hair
is wet and curly and he smells like soap. He walks by and yells
“WOOOOOO!”, a loud whoop, right from his belly.
“What are you so excited about?” I ask, giggling.
“LIFE!” he answers.
I glance in his direction. He’s totally serious.
His happiness about everyday things like breakfast and
errands is contagious. It’s spring, and the sun is out. The smell of coffee
brewing wafts through the air. We are cozy in our little apartment. Right now,
in this moment, I am completely happy and carefree.
I take this moment, fold it up, and tuck it away. My little
savings bank of bright, shiny moments, so that I never forget how it feels - to
fall in love.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Happy Mama's Day
Happy Mother's Day to all of you amazing mamas out there.
Happy Mother's Day to you young mamas, who are stuggling, who aren't sure how things are going to turn out, but who love your babies so much it hurts.
Happy Mother's Day to you new mamas, who are just beginning to experience the wonder.
Happy Mother's Day to you pseudo mamas, who take over when the real ones can't be there. Friends, aunties, neighbors, who have taken your turns making supper, giving advice, shopping for prom dresses. Who make sure our teeth are brushed, our dance costumes fit just right, we've practiced our piano. Who promise us you'll talk to our dads and explain just why we need our curfews extended by an hour. We love you more than you know, and you will always be our family.
Happy Mother's Day to you aging mamas, who not only have to worry about your health, but now also the health of your children, as they themselves begin to age. To you I say congratulations. You've done it. Your babies and grandbabies have grown up happy, successful, and you should be eternally proud. Your wisdom and strength continues to inspire us. You created your families from the ground up. You are the reason we are here to celebrate this bright, sunny Spring day.
Happy Mother's Day to you expectant mamas, who love the heart and soul growing inside of you now just as much as you will love the two year old tantrum throwing toddler, the 10 year old explorer, the 25 year old dreamer, and the 40 year old who is now a mama herself.
Happy Mother's Day to you hopeful mamas, who may not be mamas yet, but who are so close. Every day that you wish to be a mama, your heart grows more complete with the raw, uninhibited love only mamas hearts can hold. Your passion is not being ignored - it will come. The universe will answer your heart's firey calls in some way, if you just hold on a little longer.
Happy Mother's Day to you papas who, against some pretty tough odds, have been mamas too. Although you surely doubted your abilities, you never showed it. You made our lunches, did our laundry, cooked us dinner. You traveled on busses full of dance moms and cheered as we won medals, gratuated university, and started our own lives. You taught us how to bait our fishing hooks and split wood. You have been the perfect mix of mama's love and papa's tough, no-nonsense discipline. Most of the decisions we make are based on what we think you would do. You have shaped our lives more than you know, and we have no idea where we would be today without you.
Most of all, Happy Mother's Day to the mama who I miss every single day. Even though I haven't seen you for 14 years, I still feel your mama's love washing over me through the wind that whispers across the lake, through the trees, and gently tickles my face. Although this day could be mournful, it doesn't have to be. We only have one, true mama, but we are surrounded by dozens of amazing ones, whose mama's love doesn't discriminate by race, gender, religion or biology.
Happy Mother's Day to all of you amazing mamas out there.
Happy Mother's Day to you young mamas, who are stuggling, who aren't sure how things are going to turn out, but who love your babies so much it hurts.
Happy Mother's Day to you new mamas, who are just beginning to experience the wonder.
Happy Mother's Day to you pseudo mamas, who take over when the real ones can't be there. Friends, aunties, neighbors, who have taken your turns making supper, giving advice, shopping for prom dresses. Who make sure our teeth are brushed, our dance costumes fit just right, we've practiced our piano. Who promise us you'll talk to our dads and explain just why we need our curfews extended by an hour. We love you more than you know, and you will always be our family.
Happy Mother's Day to you aging mamas, who not only have to worry about your health, but now also the health of your children, as they themselves begin to age. To you I say congratulations. You've done it. Your babies and grandbabies have grown up happy, successful, and you should be eternally proud. Your wisdom and strength continues to inspire us. You created your families from the ground up. You are the reason we are here to celebrate this bright, sunny Spring day.
Happy Mother's Day to you expectant mamas, who love the heart and soul growing inside of you now just as much as you will love the two year old tantrum throwing toddler, the 10 year old explorer, the 25 year old dreamer, and the 40 year old who is now a mama herself.
Happy Mother's Day to you hopeful mamas, who may not be mamas yet, but who are so close. Every day that you wish to be a mama, your heart grows more complete with the raw, uninhibited love only mamas hearts can hold. Your passion is not being ignored - it will come. The universe will answer your heart's firey calls in some way, if you just hold on a little longer.
Happy Mother's Day to you papas who, against some pretty tough odds, have been mamas too. Although you surely doubted your abilities, you never showed it. You made our lunches, did our laundry, cooked us dinner. You traveled on busses full of dance moms and cheered as we won medals, gratuated university, and started our own lives. You taught us how to bait our fishing hooks and split wood. You have been the perfect mix of mama's love and papa's tough, no-nonsense discipline. Most of the decisions we make are based on what we think you would do. You have shaped our lives more than you know, and we have no idea where we would be today without you.
Most of all, Happy Mother's Day to the mama who I miss every single day. Even though I haven't seen you for 14 years, I still feel your mama's love washing over me through the wind that whispers across the lake, through the trees, and gently tickles my face. Although this day could be mournful, it doesn't have to be. We only have one, true mama, but we are surrounded by dozens of amazing ones, whose mama's love doesn't discriminate by race, gender, religion or biology.
Happy Mother's Day to all of you amazing mamas out there.
Friday, May 11, 2012
The Hockey Mom
Recently, one of my friends asked me to write a poem for her. Her son's hockey team had suffered a tragedy when one of the team moms passed away from cancer. She asked me to write a poem to be published in the program for a tournament that weekend. Here is what I came up with.
The Hockey Mom
by Kate McLaren
It's 6 a.m., most still in bed,
Once again to the arena they've all been led.
The morning's early, dark and cold,
Emotions run high as they go for the gold.
In the stands she sits, with a steaming cup,
On the edge of her seat, she's not giving up.
Her son grabs the puck, and skates down the rink,
Her smile grows wide, her cheeks rosy and pink.
"Go Pierre!" she yells, "Shoot for the net!"
The puck flies past the goalie, a tiny black jet.
They've captured the title, the fans all rejoice,
He skates to his mom with tears in his voice.
"I'm glad you came mom, it sure means a lot,
I know this past week you weren't feeling too hot."
His mom hugs him tight, and bends to his ear,
In the crowded arena she wants him to hear.
"There's no other thing I'd rather do today,
I'm so proud of you, in every single way."
His team pulls him away, a mountain of cheers,
Her little player's passion eases her fears.
She knows the future holds some not so nice days,
But with his team by his side, he'll make it ok.
Proud, strong, encouraging and fair,
She'll watch from wherever her journey takes her.
A true hockey fan, from beginning to end,
Mom, teacher, wife, teammate and friend.
The Hockey Mom
by Kate McLaren
It's 6 a.m., most still in bed,
Once again to the arena they've all been led.
The morning's early, dark and cold,
Emotions run high as they go for the gold.
In the stands she sits, with a steaming cup,
On the edge of her seat, she's not giving up.
Her son grabs the puck, and skates down the rink,
Her smile grows wide, her cheeks rosy and pink.
"Go Pierre!" she yells, "Shoot for the net!"
The puck flies past the goalie, a tiny black jet.
They've captured the title, the fans all rejoice,
He skates to his mom with tears in his voice.
"I'm glad you came mom, it sure means a lot,
I know this past week you weren't feeling too hot."
His mom hugs him tight, and bends to his ear,
In the crowded arena she wants him to hear.
"There's no other thing I'd rather do today,
I'm so proud of you, in every single way."
His team pulls him away, a mountain of cheers,
Her little player's passion eases her fears.
She knows the future holds some not so nice days,
But with his team by his side, he'll make it ok.
Proud, strong, encouraging and fair,
She'll watch from wherever her journey takes her.
A true hockey fan, from beginning to end,
Mom, teacher, wife, teammate and friend.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Reminder
I just got off the phone with my Dad. The conversation went like this:
Him: Hi.
Me: Hi, how are you?
Him: Listen, have you been writing about me?
Me: What? What are you talking-- who is this?
Him: Don't bullshit me.
Me: Who told you?
Him: The lady at the library. She reads your blog. Something about poetry.
Me: How did she get a hold of my blog?
Him: I don't know, she saw it on the TV or something.
Me: HAHAHA! Dad! It's not on TV! It's on the Intern---
Him: I DON'T CARE! I told you not to talk about me!! AT ALL!
Me: Ok, it was just about how you used to read us poetry as kids and how that's why we like poetry now. (I did not mention the fact that I referred to his farts as "majestic.")
Him: I don't want you writing about me!
Me: Dad. Seriously. This is the price you pay for having your daughter be a writer! What do you want me to say? That my father abandoned me when I was four years old and I have no recollection of my childhood? That my parents were gypsies, or that I was chained to the furnace in the root cellar as a child and don't know who my parents are?!
Him: Any of those scenarios would do just fine.
Again, I remind you: If you see my father out and about, DO NOT mention you read about him on the Internet (or the TV, as he likes to call it.) Some appropriate topics of conversation are:
1. Gardening
2. World Wars I or II (or both, but be prepared to be there for a while.)
3. The Toronto Maple Leafs (but unless you yourself are a fan as well, I would stay away from this one.)
4. Toronto (and how much you hate it)
5. The weather (this will buy you about 3 seconds as his general response is "no use complaining about something you can't change.")
Why do I keep writing about him, you ask, if he dislikes it so much? First, I'm a terrible daughter, but also? He's the most hilarious person I know - and that really needs to be shared. He'll thank me one day when he's sitting pretty on his brand new John Deere tractor acquired through funding from my first book deal.
Him: Hi.
Me: Hi, how are you?
Him: Listen, have you been writing about me?
Me: What? What are you talking-- who is this?
Him: Don't bullshit me.
Me: Who told you?
Him: The lady at the library. She reads your blog. Something about poetry.
Me: How did she get a hold of my blog?
Him: I don't know, she saw it on the TV or something.
Me: HAHAHA! Dad! It's not on TV! It's on the Intern---
Him: I DON'T CARE! I told you not to talk about me!! AT ALL!
Me: Ok, it was just about how you used to read us poetry as kids and how that's why we like poetry now. (I did not mention the fact that I referred to his farts as "majestic.")
Him: I don't want you writing about me!
Me: Dad. Seriously. This is the price you pay for having your daughter be a writer! What do you want me to say? That my father abandoned me when I was four years old and I have no recollection of my childhood? That my parents were gypsies, or that I was chained to the furnace in the root cellar as a child and don't know who my parents are?!
Him: Any of those scenarios would do just fine.
Again, I remind you: If you see my father out and about, DO NOT mention you read about him on the Internet (or the TV, as he likes to call it.) Some appropriate topics of conversation are:
1. Gardening
2. World Wars I or II (or both, but be prepared to be there for a while.)
3. The Toronto Maple Leafs (but unless you yourself are a fan as well, I would stay away from this one.)
4. Toronto (and how much you hate it)
5. The weather (this will buy you about 3 seconds as his general response is "no use complaining about something you can't change.")
Why do I keep writing about him, you ask, if he dislikes it so much? First, I'm a terrible daughter, but also? He's the most hilarious person I know - and that really needs to be shared. He'll thank me one day when he's sitting pretty on his brand new John Deere tractor acquired through funding from my first book deal.
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