Amidst the Cacaphony an Aging Wannabe Jock Expects Very Important Call. Probably From His Mommy

We attended Boy-Child#2's softball game Saturday morning where our Dodgers played another team. A team with an obnoxious crew of coaches and assistant coaches. I don't want to say the name of this team out loud but let's just say it rhymes with Wan Biego Fadres (fee-fi-mo-Madres). This is boys softball through the local parks and recreation. Meaning: for fun. We intentionally didn't put our son in the hard core league and one major reason for that was to avoid exactly these kinds of adults. The adults who take it all a little too seriously. The adults who are reliving their glory days as a mediocre baseball player from high school PE class who didn't quite measure up for the actual Varsity team. Those guys. Their mouths? Never stopped moving. A constant barrage from 3rd base, 1st base, and the dugout of: Wait for it. Make it your ball. Not up here. At your chest. Take a couple steps toward the plate. Take a step back toward the catcher. Put your weight on that back foot. Loosen up. Take a couple practice swings. [as the pitch is in motion] Hit it! Don't hit that! (come on people we're talking about kids softball don't let your mind go there like mine just did) And my personal favorite: Don't worry about hitting the catcher (my son, thanks for asking) he'll get out of the way. Editor's note: You better hope he does.


(PSA: take practice swings away from catcher's head or risk facing the business end of my can of whoop-ass. It is epic. That is all.)

I'm not even kidding when I say that they. did. not. stop. EVER. This constant coaching is what practice is for. Now is game day. Let them show you what they can do.

As Mr. Farklepants has noted on more than one occasion (usually because I tend to give too much instruction to our son before he's up to bat), if the parents would just shut up and let the kids play it would take most of the pressure off of them. Because they're under enough of a burden just being out there in front of all of us in attendance. So says our very scientific study. A study we like to call: Parenthood.

P.S. The head coach of the Wan Biego Fadres (fee-fi-mo-Madres) wore a BlueTooth throughout the entire game. Which, according to Mr. Farklepants' keen eye, elevates him to a new level of douchebaggery.

The Post That Makes You Say Awwww....and Maybe Ack!

As you can plainly see, Friday was the Mother's Day Tea at Girl-Child's preschool. Not only that, apparently some are behind in paying their May tuition. And have forgotten socks. When Boy-Child#2 attended this same preschool some few years ago, we mothers were treated to a pedicure as our special gift. Not one for being taken off guard, when I dropped my daughter off at 9:00am, I asked one of the teachers the requisite question:

Me: "You don't have to tell me what you're doing here today just let me know if I should go home and shave my legs"

Teacher: "When in doubt, shave your legs"

See? I not only give advice; I seek and heed it. I wanted to be surprised I just didn't want to be surprised.


We enjoyed a spread that consisted of banana-strawberry smoothies and cinnamon toast. I had forgotten how much I love cinnamon toast. (Note to self: Make this)


Some of us enjoyed it more than others.

Second picture. Third glass. I had to hide her keys.


Mother and daughter. We're both wearing leggings because I like to dress like a four year old. It helps me feel younger. So does sitting my 5' 8", one hundred and lksdjf pound self in a chair designed for four year olds. Also? I don't have one of those cameras that adds ten pounds. My camera adds anorexia. I don't know what the hell my clavicle and my manubrium are doing here but they are very proud of themselves! (Note to self: Enjoy occasional donut)


Quiet Cozy area where your child can administer a massage. And when I say massage I mean jump on your back. By the way, there's a mother out there right now who would kick my ass if she knew this photo was here. Let's not tell her, mmmkay?


This is where the magic happened. I say magic because I was *this* close to paying for a pedicure last Wednesday but magically ran out of time. (Note to self: Bullet dodged)


The finished product. Bright pink (otherwise known as fuschia) polish over existing plumby red and also major portions of toes. And underneath. Look for it in magazines this summer.


Sunday morning, Mr. Farklepants hog-tied and duct taped the children's mouths shut kept the children quiet so that I could sleep in. Until a ringing phone woke me at 9am. I'm not going to say who it was that called that early on a Sunday morning but it was someone who was eager to hear a "Happy Mother's Day". Hint: not my mom.

School made gifts from my boys were a painted ceramic tile (Boy-Child#2) and a jar full of love notes from Boy-Child#1 that said things like: "I love you because you're nice", "I love you because you give me food", "I love your hair", "I love how you do my laundry", "I love pie", "I love you because you gave me a dad", and "I love you because I do". You know what Boy-Child#1? I love my hair too. And pie.

We here at Vintage Thirty (and by we I mean me) hope you thoroughly enjoyed your Mother's Day!!!

Updating the Blogroll and a Thank You

I've got a hundred few blogs favorited that I need to add to my blogroll. Also? If you'd like to have yours added leave a comment or if you're shy, drop me an email through my profile over there on the right! I've let this go unattended for way too long.

I'd also like to say hello to all of the people who stopped by here since Friday via Woulda Coulda Shoulda. The lovely Mir linked my site in her Friday entry and when I checked my stat count before I'd had my morning coffee, I was shocked to find the amount of heavy traffic that had been through here. So I was all, "um WTH? WHO is talking about me?" so I checked the referral list and it revealed page after page of the following:

1
unknown
2
http://wouldashoulda.com/2008/...ittle-pitchers-have-big-snark/
3
http://wouldashoulda.com/2008/...ittle-pitchers-have-big-snark/
4
http://wouldashoulda.com/2008/...ittle-pitchers-have-big-snark/
5
http://wouldashoulda.com/2008/...ittle-pitchers-have-big-snark/
6
http://wouldashoulda.com/2008/...ittle-pitchers-have-big-snark/
7
http://wouldashoulda.com/2008/...ittle-pitchers-have-big-snark/
8
http://bloggedy-blog-blog-saucy.blogspot.com/
9
unknown
10
http://wouldashoulda.com/2008/...ittle-pitchers-have-big-snark/
11
unknown
12
http://wouldashoulda.com/2008/...ittle-pitchers-have-big-snark/
13
http://wouldashoulda.com/2008/...ittle-pitchers-have-big-snark/
14
http://www.myembarq.com/google...0paste%20for%20wrinkle%20cream
15
unknown
16
http://wouldashoulda.com/2008/...ittle-pitchers-have-big-snark/
17
unknown
18
http://wouldashoulda.com/2008/...ittle-pitchers-have-big-snark/
19
unknown
20
unknown

And after that stellar bit of detective work, I was all, "it's probably that". I know, right? The CIA should seriously consider hiring me. Anyway, I was highly honored. You see, Mir's blog was the first "Mommy Blog" (to borrow the condescending air quotes used by Hoda Kotb on The Today Show) that I'd ever read. And it was through comments left on her blog from her readers that I found other awesome blogs that I still visit today. Another and? Leaving comments there brought new readers to me! Her blog also is what inspired me to be more personal and less generic in my writing. So, thank you, Mir! I don't think you know just how much Monkey finding my name hilarious really means to me! Hint: a lot.

Editor's Note: I know that Blogger was having an allergic reaction to comments yesterday. Hopefully by now its had its medicine and is operating at an acceptable level of functionality.

Tootsie Talks ~ Some People Listen

Tootsie's weekly advice column. She's no expert, although she's not really sure what constitutes "expert". If it involves school, she attended the school of Very Strong Opinions. Questions are welcomed. Answers may borderline ridiculous.


Vintage Thirty would like to apologize for the apparent haphazardness of todays post. Tootsie spent a good portion of her evening ignoring her family trying to visit the blogs of all the new readers that stopped by here this week. Then she spent the remainder of the middle of the night not having sex with her husband visiting the advice portion of her brain so that she felt confident that she was giving you her all and not short sheeting your beds. And then? She hit some key on her keyboard and the whole post went POOF! And it wasn't until after she rammed her head through the nearest wall that she remembered to simply click the "back" button and VOILA! Crisis averted.

Q: OHMommy, the super adorable host of Classy Chaos needs THE cream: "I turned thirty last year. I have three kids and three forehead wrinkles. I am really afraid of what my 40s will bring - I actually dislike looking in the mirror and seeing myself age so fast. I have vowed to take better care of my skin by drinking more water and moisturizing my face, neck, and chest every night/day, and using sunscreen. However, the wrinkles will not go away. Without spending hundreds of dollars on fancy creams and botox... what can I get at Target to start minimizing these prominent forehead wrinkles. I am desperately seeking help."

A: Funny how thirty just up and betrays you, isn't it? Although it is no laughing matter and I totally and completely know what you mean. That was around the time that I wished I had started taking better care of my skin when I was twenty. Check out this post for the ultimate skin cream. And really give that stubborn affected (effected? grammar is hard) area nightly massages with the L'Oreal Wrinkle Decrease (night). Because I'm convinced that along with the cream, simply rubbing it on a consistent basis is key. That's what she said.

Q: Shania of Craving Silence is attempting that quandary for the ages: "A question for your next advice session: I'm considering growing out my natural color. Any advice on how to make the grow out phase less painful?"

A: I have to admit that this one has me stumped. Timely too. I just saw a young woman yesterday, whom I'm assuming is an art student at the local Cal Arts college, who is doing just this thing. Her hair was jet black and her very natural mousy blonde roots were about five inches long. But? She's an art student I think and was totally pulling it off. In the event that you aren't also an art student or in some type of edgy profession where you can pull off a grunge look; I suggest investing in some cute hats, scarves, and perhaps cutting your hair as short as you comfortably can. And fortunately those wide headbands that tie all the way around your crown are in right now. So you can pull your hair back into a messy bun and wrap that band around the exposed roots. In the meantime there are mild semi-permanent colors out there (have it professionally done) that can help with the waiting period.

Q: Burgh Baby's Mom is representing the fashion portion of today's column: "Question for you--if I were to go drop $100 on some summer clothes for myself, what should I get?"

A: Now that you're famous spend more! ahem...I imagine you're like most women me and want to get as much as you can for that hundred dollars. I would try to get a few pieces that are mix and matchable thus garnering more outfits than you actually bought. For instance one pair of neutral pants and as many tops as you can with what is left over. You can get away with wearing the pants a couple of days a week and pair it with a different top each time. I don't know if you have a New York and Company near you but they have a great selection for just that sort of thing and their prices are pretty low. They also often have decent sales like 2 for 1 or buy one get one half off things that make you kind of shiver in places you don't like to admit out loud. At least in public. In front of strangers. Or here on a blog for anyone to see. You know what I'm saying.

Q: The San Diego Momma is no poseur: "Now back to my hair. Should I get it cut like Jackie on Work Out? Or is that a poseur cut?"

A: Can I just say that you would totally rock that cut? You would. Since Farrah Fawcett a shag has never been out of style. It may have evolved over the years but it's still a shag. The great thing about that cut is that you can make it into a different hairstyle everyday. Curl it, flat iron it, blow it under, flip it up, smack it flip it rub it down OHHHhh! And it's still long enough to pull it up on those days that it decides to be a bitch.

Q: Anglophilefootballfanatic Has a request and some advice of her own: "Oh, please Ms Farklepants, Ma'am, will you give us a grand finale post with all the pimped out products you've told us we need? Like for Friday even? I can't keep going back in time to see what I have been missing out on. Oh, but my big time recommendation? DHC's Eye Off Shade. It REALLY does make black puffy eyes look stellar."

A: Since you asked, I shall. In fact, I'll bullet point them due to their supreme awesomeness (because supreme awesomeness deserves a bullet point):

• L'Oreal Wrinkle Decrease (Night) ~ for the face
• L'Oreal Professionnel liss extreme cera liss system ~ for le hair
• Garnier Nutritioniste Ultra-Lift anti-wrinkle firming eye cream ~ um, your eyes
• Matrix Sleek.Look shampoo and conditioner
• Dove Energy Glow Daily Moisturizer with Subtle Self-Tanners ~ le fake bake
• L'Oreal Voluminous (not waterproof) mascara (I wear it in black)
• Proactiv Renewing Cleanser ~ just the cleanser. I find the whole system to be very drying of the skin which, in my opinion, accelerated the premature wrinkling of my skin
• Carmex lip balm ~ yes the one for cold sores but it only costs about a buck and blows everything else away for soft lips.
  
  I believe that includes all the products from past posts. My work here is done. For today.

In the Event Kathy Lee Gifford Stumbles Upon My Blog

Hello Kathy,

You don't know me and I don't generally take the time to watch you on network television because your perky demeanor makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a pitch fork and then rub the gaping bloody holes with lemons. And the only time I ever tuned into Regis and Kathy Lee was if George Clooney was a guest because the sight of him soothed the aforementioned impulse. It wasn't until yesterday that I was even aware that you were back on network tv delivering your patent brand of bubble headed ninnyness (just roll with it spell check). I don't know if it was your idea or if your producers were spoon feeding you through the receiver in your ear, but what was with perpetuating the idea that the Internet is an evil, scary place? What is the difference between Mommy Bloggers telling stories about their children and sharing pictures in a public forum, and YOU writing books about that very thing complete with pictures (which by the way, is a public forum). I'm assuming that you must have forgotten but you spoke about your children every day of the week, Monday through Friday, on Regis and Kathy Lee. How is this different than moms who blog TO A MUCH SMALLER AUDIENCE? Because I don't know of a single mommy blog that has millions of daily viewers like your network television show did. You also allow your children to be photographed at events and public appearances and subsequently printed in magazines and guess what? eventually ONLINE. ON THE INTERNET. I Googled "Cody Gifford" and Google delivered. OOOohhh DANGER DANGER Kathy Lee.

To quote YOU: "I have mixed emotions about it there's just something that worries me". Only I'm not talking about the Internet. I'm worried about your unabashed HYPOCRISY. However, my emotions about it are not mixed.

As an aside? The damsel in distress persona that you portray? Went out in the 1950's. And as my husband so pointedly noted you did nothing but make yourself look like an insufferable idiot.

**I realize this subject is probably being addressed ad nauseam (that's Latin spell check, seriously update already) around the blogosphere and I'm not usually one to jump on a bandwagon but this was one wagon I'm happy to slip on the assless chaps for. Because I am all about the cause.

I Seem to be Pimping A Lot of L'Oreal

liss extreme cera liss system. What is that? It is: masque lissant cheveux indisciplines. What? Vous ne parlez pas français? Me either. Translation: It is a smoothing masque for unmanageable hair. And it is from the L'Oreal Professionnel line. And it's not just the quality that separates it from the bargain line. So does the price and the language barrier. But trust me when I say that you want this stuff. See that little purple square on the right bottom side of the jar? That is supposedly all that you need per application. That's a fat lie. Or in French: c'est un gros mensonge. You need about 2 heaping fingertips worth, but still. The directions also say to apply to shampooed and towel dried hair but I don't have that kind of time. I mean, who washes their hair, gets out, towel dries their hair, applies a conditioning hair mask, waits 3 minutes then gets back in the shower? Not anyone with a job or kids or a blog or a life, obviously. So I wash my hair, wring it out IN THE SHOWER, and then apply and let it set while I do other things that involve liquid soap, a scrunchy, shaving cream, and a razor. Sorry, those are the only details I'll reveal. Then I rinse. When it's finally blown dry it's...it's... well, remember when you were a teenager and your hair was soft and bouncy? Yeah, me either. The 1980's were replete with home perms, crimping irons, too infrequent hair cuts, teasing, and excessive Aqua Net and Depp gel use. But I hear the youth have cornered the market on the touchability factor when it comes to hair. So use this and people will approach you and exclaim: vos cheveux sont impressionnants! That's right. It will inspire people to speak French. And you'll be all, "I'm sorry, I don't know what you just said" and they'll be all, "I apologize. I don't know where that came from. I don't even know how to speak French, how'd that happen? I mean, Your hair is awesome".


What is wrong with this picture? Aside from the fact that the mirror reveals that I have those God awful vanity lights in my bathroom? This is my blusher. No I did not drop it. I have used it down to the last right hand corner. This is Clinique Nude Nude Blush. And it is discontinued. Why? Who the hell knows. I mean, it's only the most perfect color for my skin tone. Ever! It's not too peachy, not too pink, not too brown, and not too bronze. So of course it makes perfect sense to just stop making it. And what's worse is that I've yet to find a replacement shade. I bought one that was too orangey and powdery when applied. Then another one was too pink and had some kind of sparkly crack in it that made me look like a hooker stripper $1000 a night call girl. And one was just too "mauvey" which translates into too 1985. Clinique, you've been put on notice. You would be dead to me except that I still rely on you for my City Base Foundation in Ivory Bisque. Do not fuck that up. I'm not opposed to slapping your staff.

It All Started Innocently With an ATM

Yesterday when I gambled with my chances of spending my afterlife in a fiery hell and went to the evil that is Walmart to replace my mascara, eyeshadow, and lipgloss; something occurred to me. I witnessed two elderly women -one in my line and the other at the check stand next to me- and their confusion using the card swipey thingy to pay for their purchases. Swipe the card. Debit or credit. Pin number. Enter. Yes or no. Sign. Accept. And each of these contraptions is slightly different in every establishment. I admit to hitting "clear" instead of "accept" on the touch screen a time or two because in one store it's on the left side of the screen, in another the right. And the checkers where more condescending than helpful when they just repeated the options in a LOUDER VOICE instead of actually, you know, helping these ladies out. I imagine myself just as confused and nervous if and when I ever hold an office job again and one of those Bizhubs are mocking my 1990's Xerox- all you want to do is make a copy?- self. This newfangled technology is intimidating. Seriously, I just learned how to text less than a year ago. I was all, "my phone does that?". Because I'm hip like that.

Then it was off to the in-store McDonalds to get Girl-Child a happy meal because I'm the type of mother that is all about NUTRITION and cheap plastic toys. One of the elderly women was in the line ahead of me with her cart full of purchases off to the side. She gestured for me to go ahead of her. I wouldn't hear of it because my very proper southern ancestors would roll over in their graves had I accepted. But she assured me she was going to visit the powder room (awwww) and it was perfectly alright. She was all the way to the restroom before I noticed she'd left her purse sitting right there in the cart. I couldn't just leave it there unattended. So I waited for her to return and it wasn't long before she came back, realizing her error. After she retrieved her purse and made her way back once again, I couldn't help but wonder how she was going to make it home. And I seriously hoped she wasn't driving one of those damn horseless carriages.

The Post Where She Talks About Her Hair. Again.

It could be love. I didn't mean for this to happen. It was just supposed to be a meaningless fling to satisfy a need. When I scheduled an appointment with this other woman, it was only meant as a one night morning stand. My hair grew impatient - and long with split ends and considerable root growth - while my steady hairdresser bonded at home with her infant daughter. But this new woman introduced me to things I'd never experienced before like less than thirty minutes to get all of the foils into my hair including highlights and lowlights. A deep conditioning with a trip under the hairdryer that turned my hair into silk. A cut that managed to keep the length and also allow for swingy layers. And the ménage à trois coup de grâce: She and her assistant, both armed with a hair dryer, working in unison to produce the ultimate blowout in record speed. A feat I'm sure they questioned was even possible after both remarked "um, you have a lot of damn hair". And just under 2 hours later, I approached the receptionist to pay my bill; apprehensive about the total since it wasn't until that moment that I realized I'd never inquired about the rates -and I think I can get an amen from the ladies about this because that price tag could easily be upwards of $300+ and who needs that kind of shock therapy or divorce fodder?- I nearly fainted dead on the spot when the total price was in the ballpark of $50 less than that of Steady Hairdresser. There was also some sweet talk about by the way bang trims are free just pop in whenever... which caused me to suppress some carnal urges. I see an It's Not You It's Me speech in the future. When and if Steady Hairdresser returns from maternity leave there will be an awkward conversation about how I strayed in her absence. And that I liked it.

(New hair and have you met my cleavage?)

*photo by Dorothy Z.

You Left Me No Choice but to Google

There were some outstanding comments this week! I loved reading the brief synopses of your labor and delivery here! (and I totally had to just look up the plural form of synopsis) The following comments regarding school dress codes sent me on a Google search:

Calicobebop: "Too funny. I've seen girls walking around in their Old Navy pj bottoms - and I know they're ON because I own them! Stacy and Clinton would faint.

Actually, it would be kind of interesting to see what Stacy and Clinton came up with in the way of school dress-codes wouldn't it?"

Katydidnot: "ooooh. calico has it right, get stacy and clinton on it, and we'll all be saved from the thong sticking out of the tooooo low jeans phenom."

Because I was all "who are Stacy and Clinton?". At first read I thought it was in reference to Hillary Clinton and her daughter and that perhaps there was some part of her presidential campaign regarding school uniforms or proper dress for young ladies. Then I was wracking my brain trying to remember her name because "Stacy" didn't sound right. Then I was all, "her name is Chelsea. Is Stacy a nickname I'd never heard of? Am I out of some loop?". So I consulted the omniscient Internets and they delivered What Not To Wear. So thanks, ladies! For bringing me up to speed on my pop culture trivia!

Lord Andrew of Goulding's (look who has a fancy name!) comment from my freakout session: "I really don't understand women. Aren't all your worries what bringing them into the world was for, that they'd become...adults?"

Your Lordship, it is probably just as hard to understand women in this matter as it is for women to understand men who are overbearing fathers to their daughters during the dating years. Sitting at home cleaning their shotguns, metaphorically and sometimes literally, and peeking through the windows to make sure that good night kiss is somewhat innocent. Except I understand it.

Apparently I Wasn't Clear

What I said: "We need to put some sunscreen on you so you don't get a sunburn"

What she heard: "I need it on my feet or else they catch on fire and I don't wanna get fire"

I'm starting to understand why she was terrified of the beach as a toddler.

Tootsie Talks ~ Some People Listen

Tootsie's weekly advice column. She's no expert, although she's not really sure what constitutes "expert". If it involves school, she attended the school of Very Strong Opinions. Questions are welcomed. Answers may borderline ridiculous.

Alternate Title: Miley Cyrus, WTH?!?

Seriously? What where you thinking? You're at the top of your game. A bazillion -give or take a few- young girls idolize you. No one in the world is more popular than you are, right now. What in the stinkin' Christ compelled you to agree to that Vanity Fair photo shoot? Haven't you heard of Britney, Jamie-Lynn, Lindsay Lohan, and one of those Olsen twins? Personally, I don't think the photos are any big deal BUT YOU HAD TO KNOW THE CONTROVERSY THAT IT WOULD CREATE! I don't know if you weren't thinking or just letting others do the thinking for you or if you were just getting a little too cocky. You gave the media gossip gold, sweetheart. They were waiting for exactly this and they didn't even have to wait until you were like twenty. You wasted no time. Who cares if your parents and handlers approved. They aren't you. They don't now have to live with the media circus that will become your life. They won't be stalked or chased down busy streets. Paparazzi won't be waiting impatiently to get that money crotch shot of them. You're on damage control now and unfortunately, I think it's too late. The media will follow your every move. Breaking news about where you shopped, how much you spent, and where you bought your coffee will replace serious issues like how many soldiers were wounded or killed in Iraq today.

So take a time out. Retreat. Stay out of the limelight for a while. And for the love of God, if you do nothing else, wear panties at all times.

Proper School Attire (Owl Optional)

I was perusing through some of the literature from the parent meeting at the junior high school and came across the following items in the dress code section:

2. No bare midriffs or chest. Clothes shall conceal undergarments at all times. See-through or fish-net fabrics, tank tops, halter tops, spaghetti straps, off-the-shoulder or low cut tops and bare midriffs are prohibited. Boys and girls shirts must have sleeves.

3. No excessively baggy or sagging pants/shorts are allowed. Pants and shorts must be worn at the waist. Belt tips may not hang. Pants and shorts with tears and holes are not permitted. Sleepwear (pajamas, etc.) may not be worn.

At first I was like "Really? No tank tops or spaghetti straps?". Because most sun dresses are the spaghetti strap variety and this is southern California; it gets hot. And I was flabbergasted that prohibiting sleepwear even needed to be said. Who wore their jammies to school? It's like the warning on a bottle of Windex: Do not spray in eyes. Who's that confused? Just seems like an unnecessary instruction. But then I recalled taking some evening courses at the local junior college and there were girls who showed up in pajama bottoms and SLIPPERS. So I guess the rule is warranted.

I also recalled the time that Mr. Farklepants and I were waiting in line at the movies and a minivan opened its sliding door and several 13-14 year old girls spilled out. They were all wearing big baggy sweatshirts. The instance the vehicle was out of sight, ALL of the girls removed their sweatshirts to reveal, well, a whole lot more than a girl that age should. One girl who was not related to this particular group was walking around in a skirt so short that it came just to where her ass met her thighs and she literally had to hold it down while walking. This was just before we found out we were pregnant with Girl-Child. Because we said, and I quote, "Maybe it's a good thing we don't have a girl". And then BAM, he slipped me the Extra Strength Estrogen sperm. Not right there in line because it was awkward what with holding the popcorn and drinks in that flimsy cardboard box they give you; but later as in eventually.

Where was I going with this?

Oh yeah. Dress code. Gonna have to give it a big thumbs up!