EverAfterLand

From Bean to Brew - Touring The Coffee Fields and Factory of Marcala, Honduras

Coffee is not only a staple of North American pantries, it's become part of its culture, woven into the very fabric of life in the United States. 

What started out as just a plain ol' cup of joe, taken either black or with a little sugar and milk, has now become a bajillion dollar industry.  There's frappaccinos, mochaccinos, capaccinos, macchiatos, lattes, frappes and chocolatinos (OK, it's possible I made that last one up!)  We infuse our coffees with artificially flavored syrups, artificially flavored creamers and artificial sweeteners.  By the time Americans are through with their coffees, it bares little resemblance to the "cup o' joe" it started out as. 

But where does all that coffee come from?  Well, yes, it comes from a bean, but where do the BEANS come from?

We were thrilled at the chance join a group tour and drive a few hours to our west to visit a little town called Marcala, where coffee is the bread and butter of the community.  Join us on our little adventure....

Marcala is located in the La Paz department (similar to a "state" in the U.S.).  Like most of Honduras, the terrain here is mountainous and beautiful.

We rode down skinny dirt roads to reach a Finca de Cafe or Coffee Farm.  The plants that look like bushes are where your java comes from.  Banana trees are placed intermittently to provide a bit of shade to the growing fruit.

Arabica coffee is the variety that is predominately grown in Honduras (and all over the world).  We were told that the altitude is what gives the beans here such robust flavor.  Coffee grown closer to sea level is considered inferior, at least by the mountain growers!

This is the coffee fruit.  The berries are hand-picked when they are bright, cherry red.

Coffee plants don't last forever.  After about three years, they bear less and less fruit.  Consequently, there is a nursery full of young plants ready to replace the old ones.

After the berries have been picked, they are laid out in the sun to dry on the black plastic sheeting in this little area.

Once the berries are dry, they look like this...

Now they are ready to be processed at the factory! 

We drove back down those skinny, bumpy dirt roads to go a few miles down the paved, main street to a factory in Marcala where much of the coffee is initially processed.

Machines break open the dried fruit to release the coffee bean.  In actuality, what we call a "bean" is the "seed" inside the berry.  But I guess "coffee seeds" doesn't sound quite as cool.

The beans are sent down two conveyor belts.  As you can see in the above photo, the women sitting on either side of these conveyor belts analyze the beans as they slide by, and remove the "bad" ones. 

What constitutes a "bad bean?"  If they are the wrong size, color or malformed.  How different can a batch of "bad beans" taste?  I have no idea.  But we were told that one (ONE!) "bad bean" can ruin the flavor of the whole batch.

Still, you don't think they'd do something as silly as throw out all those bad beans, do you?  The factory still bags up these banished beans and sells them to lesser (read: "cheap") coffee brands where they are blended with better beans to create a decently flavored cup.

The factory only hires women for this work.  Men, they told us, do not have the discerning eye to spot all of the "bad beans."

We took this tour on a Saturday.  Which means that most of the women you see here work other jobs, probably full-time, during the week, then work an additional 8-12 hour shift on the weekends. 

The raw coffee beans are then put into large bags.  Roasting does not happen in this factory.  Some of these bags will be exported to other countries, most likely the United States.  Others will remain in Honduras, transported to another facility to be roasted and packaged for retail sale.

I managed to pick a couple of "good beans" during our tour.  They might be small, but they are mighty sweet!

Thanks for joining us on our Marcala Coffee Tour.  I look forward to seeing you on our next adventure!

 

Feeling The Burn - Health and Safety in Honduras

Here in Tegucigalpa, Honduras, there are two main seasons.

First comes The Burning Season.

Before The Burn

Next comes The Rainy Season.

And repeat.

We are currently shifting from The Burning Season into The Rainy Season, but let me tell you, that change cannot happen fast enough!

“What the heck is a Burning Season,” you are probably wondering.  “Does it have to do with the temperature being burning hot?”

Nope!  Nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with air quality. 

When they say “Burning” they mean actual burning - with actual fire - of the fields and the land as a way to get the earth ready for planting before that Rainy Season starts. 

I can’t comment on what the rest of Honduras looks like since the start of the burns at the beginning of March.  But here in Tegucigalpa we have been sitting inside a cloud of retched smoke and ash. 

The people do not burn only the fields intended for farming.  They burn everything.

Ev-ery-thing!

In the Heart of Burning Season

Empty lots in the city, stretches of unused land along the highways, any spot of earth that has a couple of weeds on it will be burned. 

Why?  To get rid of the weeds.

Yes, I know, they make a spray for that.  Or a lawnmower.  But why use a spray when you can permanently damage the pulmonary systems of people who can’t afford the medication?

Burning has been used in this capacity for generations.  The government would like to put a stop to it, but what can they do?  This is a system where, after fireworks were banned a couple of years ago, we can still hear our neighbors shooting them off for special occasions, holidays, or whenever they feel the urge to be obnoxiously loud. 

“Hey, it’s Wednesday!!  Let’s light a firecracker to celebrate!”

I don’t think the demise of burning is going to happen any time soon.

But hold your breath anyway, because you don’t want to inhale the contaminated oxygen we’ve got around here!

First off, there’s the smoke.  Many days out of the week, the entire city is smothered in an awful gray haze.  Some days, I misinterpret the overcast skies as signs of rain.  If we could only be so lucky!  And because many homes either don’t have central air conditioning, or none at all, windows have to remain open on a daily basis.  After a weekend of no housekeeping, our shelves and knick-knacks look like they haven’t been dusted in a year.  The grittiness can be felt walking barefoot through our wall-to-wall tiled house.  And on bad days, chunks of ash can be found in the outdoor laundry room and all around the patio.   

It is possible to get accustomed to all of the mess resulting from the burns.  Consequences to our health are a whole other story.

Since March, 7-year-old Miss Priss and 4-year-old Lil’ Miss Sunshine have had continuous mild chest congestion, a little hacking cough and runny noses.  And there is no amount of Claritin that is gonna clear that up!  Thankfully, we are only here for a couple of Burning Seasons.  Imagine if they had to grow up in this year after year? 

But there is a country-full of people who do.  And as I gazed up at the sun during its ascent one morning, looking like an angry orange ball as it tried to shine through a thick, nearly impenetrable blanket of smoke, I wondered why the people here had put up with this for so long.

And I prayed for rain.

9 Tips To Stay Sane While Hubby's Away - Advice From A Navy Wife

Being married to a military man all these ten long years (seriously, has it really been that long?) I have had my fair share of Hubby cutting out on me, leaving me alone with two monstrous children and a misfit dog.  We have made it through four deployments on a ship, one deployment on land and countless numbers of work-ups and work trips that lasted anywhere from a few days to eight months.  During all of these absences, I have picked up a couple of tips here and there that help me make it through on my own with some semblance of sanity and without strangling anyone.  Or running away from home.

Although I came awfully close a couple of times!

I pass my Survival Tips onto the rest of you.  Hopefully a few of them will help….

1. Close and lock all the doors and windows and draw the curtains BEFORE you put the kids in bed (preferably before it’s dark outside). – Security is the #1 issue for anyone that is home alone, especially a woman with her young kids.  Anyone who has watched a couple of ADT commercials or an episode of Law & Order: SVU knows that.  But I get it.  On a nice spring day, who wouldn’t want to have a few windows open?  Who hasn’t had kids run inside from an afternoon of play and not think to lock the door behind them (let alone wipe their feet)?  However, there’s nothing worse than coming downstairs all by yourself, in your dark, silent-as-a-horror-movie house, all creeped out that anyone outside could be watching your every move.  It won’t just keep you safer to make sure everything is locked before tucking the kids away, it’ll also keep you sane while the Hubs is away.
2. Keep your feet up! – I don’t hate all bugs.  Most of them I either don’t mind cohabitating with or feel completely competent squishing into oblivion.  But there’s one bug that is my Achilles heel.  Cockroaches.  (Ohmygosh, it makes my skin crawl just to type the word!)  When we first moved into our house in Virginia, we didn’t realize there was a whole colony of roaches in the crawlspace underneath.  Nor did we know that they were using an enormous hole below the bathroom sink as their portal into our home.  But we found out – right AFTER Hubster left on a deployment.  If you hate creepy crawlies as much as I do, make sure to stock up on the bug spray.  And be BRAVE!!!!
3. Do not fall asleep on the couch. – I really dislike going to bed at night.  In my heart, I am a Night Owl.  But in Real Life I am forced to be the mom who has to wake her kids up at 5:30 in the morning to get them dressed and off to school on time.  Even in the years before they went to school, my eldest had the habit of waking up at 6 am.  Every. Single. Day.  Do not discount a good night’s sleep.  Your rest is crucial!  A bad night’s sleep may mean the difference between keeping your cool under pressure, or screaming at the kids like a maniac.  I know it’s hard.  I know it’s cold and lonely in there.  Get your butt to bed anyway.
4. Plan on making kid-friendly, short prep meals. – First off, you should probably understand that I am NOT the cook in this family.  Hubby is the one who lives for the kitchen.  I live for chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven, and that’s about it.  But even if you are a chef du jour, I promise, by the end of the day you will be too wiped out to cook anything that takes longer than 15 minutes from start to finish.  And if you do have the wherewithal to cook an actual meal, make sure you’ve made enough to have leftovers for at least one more dinner (hopefully two).  And, when you’ve hit your wit’s end, I’ve got three little words that’ll not just save you, but make you a hero in your own home: Breakfast. For. Dinner.
5. Go easy on yourself. – It’s tough to keep up the same routine you have when Hubby is around.  The kids may not get their baths every night, you might use paper plates more than you’d like to, maybe you’ve hit McD’s often enough that your kids have duplicates of the same toy – it’s OK.  When Hubs is gone for several weeks or less, I consider the house to be in a state of Guerrilla Warfare.  You do whatever you gotta do to make it through the day, while also keeping your dictatorship from being overthrown by a coup.  Trust me, as long as those mini-monsters are fed, dressed and loved, they will be just fine.  (And they can always use their College Funds for therapy later – not that they’ll need to!)
6. Set the bar low. – Now is not the time to begin working on that new novel, decide to go Paleo, completely reupholster the couch by yourself or start on that quilt for your cousin’s baby shower, which happens to be next weekend.  Going from a two adult household to one is stressful.  The time you think you have for extraneous projects will be quickly eaten up by unforeseen events, or just plain ol’ exhaustion.  Not that it’s impossible to find time for extra activities when Hubster is away – it is!  It’s just that it takes several weeks for the family routine to adjust to the absence of those extra pair of hands.  Again, it’ll be OK.  I promise!
7. Don’t forget to feed the dog! – Same goes for taking out the trash, mowing the lawn, and whatever else it is the Hubs usually takes care of.  During Hubster’s last deployment, I taught myself (well, more like the wonderful store clerks taught me) how to clean and maintain our pool completely on my own.  For your Hubby’s household chores, you may need to hire some outside help.  Take a look at the finances and decide on what to do beforehand.  You really don’t want to figure this stuff out after the Homeowner’s Association has already left you a nasty notice because your weeds are waist-high.
8. Remember your support system. – I can’t tell you how many times other wives will say to me, listlessly, that their hubby has to go on a work trip for the first time since they had kids, and then add, “But I shouldn’t complain to YOU.  He’ll only be gone for a week, your husband leaves for months at a time!”  Actually, you absolutely should complain to me, because I know better than anyone what you are going through.  Yes, it could be worse, but just because it’s not at the level of “the worst” doesn’t mean that you should minimize your feelings.  Whether it’s two days or two weeks or two months, any amount of time apart that means something to you is completely valid.   And no, you never really get “used” to it.  You can get used to living as a single-parent family.  But I know I will never get used to feeling that half of my heart is missing.  Nor would I want to.  Things will get stressful and harried, and you will still fall asleep on the couch, even after I told you not to, and you will not always act like the A+ Parent you think you should be, but that’s how it is for everyone.  Make sure to talk to your trusted friends and family, the ones who will listen and try to understand (and know better than to throw a“well, it could be worse!” at you) when you are feeling stressed or overwhelmed. 
9. And please, please ask for help. – There are many people around you right now who would like nothing more than the opportunity to help you out with the kids or the groceries or the yard.  In fact, they’ve probably offered already.  Attempting to do this alone is not going to prove anything to anyone.  You are already strong.  Sometimes it’s a true show of strength to recognize when you need help.  It's like Blanche Dubois said, "I always depended on the kindness of strangers!"  Well, maybe not STRANGERS, necessarily (See Tip #1), but definitely the kindness of the good people you already know.

And that’s it!  Nine items to (hopefully!) assist in saving your sanity for however long your spouse is absent for.  Good luck!

Have a few "Home-Alone" tips of your own?  Leave them in the comments, I'd love to hear them!

A Squishy Mound Of Goo - A Diastasis Recti Story, Part 2

"Ohmygosh," I remarked to my husband, "it feels like just a hole.  There's nothing underneath."

I was laying on the carpet in a semi-crunch position, checking my diastasis recti a few months after delivering Baby #2.

The gap was wider than I had expected it to be.  Three fingers wide, which, now that I know I had been using the incorrect form (shoulders should stay on the ground) the gap was probably more like a four.  Not only did my stomach feel like a mushy mound of goo, I was horrified at the feeling of nothingness that existed inside that gap.  It felt like a bottomless chasm. 

What I later learned is that there's tissue that connects the two sides of the rectus abdominals (the upper layer of muscle or your "six-pack") right down the center called the linea alba.  As you can imagine, during pregnancy that tissue, along with the transverse abdominus, stretch to the max to make room for the little miracle setting up camp there.  That tissue, unfortunately, is not elastic.  So once it is stretched out, it can take time to return to a semblance of normal.  For many women with a diastasis recti and weakened transverse, that tissue never has a chance to rebuild.

In that moment, laying on the floor, it just felt weird.  Really, really weird.

Having given up on the Tupler Method book, subsequent Amazon searches helped me to find a new book.  Exercise After Pregnancy: How to Look and Feel Your Best, by Helene Byrne, was the book that made me feel confident that I could finally be diastasis-free!

The book starts off an easy-to-understand explanation of the anatomy of your abdominals - without scaring the snot out of you (like that other book). 

Then come three sets of exercises, starting with a sequence for beginners, then becoming progressively more difficult as strength improves.  The explanations for each exercise are a bit lengthy, but each move is accompanied with a series of photographs to help illustrate what you are supposed to do.

Of course, now I know that many of the exercises described in the book do not actually work your transverse in the best way.  Positions that instruct you to be on the floor on all fours, or want you to lay on your side or back are not the most beneficial for a weakened core.  I don't believe the moves would make a diastasis worse, but they're not necessarily making it any better.

I was oblivious to that information, though, all those three-odd years ago.  I used that book every other day, religiously, for months.  Eventually, I checked my diastasis again and, to my great relief, could easily feel the linea alba tissue underneath my fingertips.  I no longer had a bottomless chasm.

But I did still have a diastasis.  And it was hanging in there at around three fingers wide. 

The problem I had with the book was that I was unsure about when it was time to advance to the next level.  I didn't necessarily feel strong enough to move from beginner to intermediate, but after a month or so of the same exercises, it seemed like I should be moving on to something.

More importantly my tummy did not feel much firmer after months of half-hour core work every other day.

My search continued.....

The Week End - Such Is Life

I found this quote earlier today. It is exactly what I needed and what I am focusing on right now.

Thought I would jazz it up before sharing with all of you.

Enjoy!

 

 

Who Needs A Mall When You've Got A Mercado?

This week I thought I'd give you all a glimpse of a market in a more rural area of Honduras.

Welcome to Marcala!

Marcala is a vibrant little town located about a three hours drive west of Tegucigalpa, nestled inside a neighboring mountain range. 

Fun Fact - Honduras has the most mountainous terrain of any Central American country.  And, boy, do our carsick kids know it!

There is no shopping mall anywhere near here.  The streets of their "downtown" are where the locals in and around the area can find, not only a large Farmer's Market of fresh produce, but clothing, toys, kitchenware, shoes, and trinkets as well.

One of many Shoe Stores.  It's interesting to see so many flip flops for sale here.  In general, Hondurans that do not live on the coast don't really wear flip flops.  Given that the most popular mode of transportation is walking, the women prefer to wear either flats or strappy sandals that wrap around the heel.

Well, it's practically like being at The Gap, isn't it?  Except at this denim store, that man standing to the right in the photo was yelling at me to come in, informing me of how great I would look in a pair of these jeans.  When I replied with a polite, "No, gracias," he only yelled at me with more enthusiasm.  As you can imagine, the tactic resulted in setting me into a half-run/half-walk to get past this guy as fast as I could!

I can't blame him for trying.  After all, we looked like foreign tourists.  And foreign tourists = lots of dinero.

These boys took advantage of a weekend filled with hot Honduran sun to make some ice cream sales.  As with many families here, children work to contribute to the household earnings.  If they are not working directly to make their own money, they are assisting the family with their business.  However, education is still considered important to most families, and (from what I gather) most of these working kids still go to school.

I hope you had fun taking this little shopping tour of Marcala with me.  Stop by again next Friday to make more discoveries at the Farmer's Markets in Tegucigalpa!

31-Day Blogging Challenge: Week 2 Review

O. M. G. G.

(Which, if you don't know, stands for "OhMyGoodnessGracious!")

What a week this has been!  After surfing the high that was my Mother's Day post, I had big aspirations for getting all kinds of amazing writing and posting done!

But I was wrong.

Life interfered, throwing in a couple of events with the Embassy and the kids' school, that are not normally present in my week.  These additions threw everything off.

Still, I kept writing!  I continued posting! 

I had evil thoughts of skipping just one little night. 

"Who would even notice?" reasoned the devilish voice in my head.  "You're too tired, you should go to bed."

This was true, I was tired.  So I took a 30 minute nap on the couch, then planted myself in front of the computer. 

There was no way I was gonna let a little thing like "sleep" get in my way!

Besides, I was pretty sure there might be a couple of people who would probably notice.

And by "a couple of people," I mostly mean my mom. 

Hi, Mom!

Still, this was huge part of the whole reason for this challenge.  (I know, every other day I talk about another "point" to this challenge, it is multifaceted, just do your best to keep up!)

Life is always going to get in my way.  It's inevitable.  Not only is life just a snarky trickster like that, but being military (Go Navy!) we are extra-guaranteed to have multiple wrenches thrown into our gears at any given time.  After all, every two to three years we wind up in the midst of another move, where it feels like I am living inside of a snow globe that has just been flipped upside down.

By a toddler.

Who gives it several rough shakes for good measure.

And then almost drops it.

Anywhooo!  Getting into the habit of writing means feeling the need, the urgency, to have to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard!) no matter how turbulent my snow globe is.

So what are my goals for Week 3?  I plan to work on writing more in the morning.  Because these late-night sessions are starting to eat at my brain (turns out sleep is actually pretty important to me) and continue my efforts to write a day or two in advance of posting. 

And that's it!  But for your viewing pleasure, here's a picture I snapped of a painting in a little Italian restaurant just outside of Tegucigalpa. 

It's a replica of a painting by Colombian artist Fernando Botero.

And, unlike the ACTUAL Mona Lisa in France, this one was a LOT bigger, and I was NOT stampeded by a busload of Asian tourists in order to see it!

Enjoy!

History Is History

As I skimmed through the monthly Embassy newsletter on my computer, I ran across something I hadn't thought of before.

Living abroad?  Planning to eventually return to a U.S. elementary school?  Your child will be well prepared in everything except American History!

Of course!  Why would Honduras have any interest in teaching my kids U.S. History?  How had this not occurred to me already?

Our self-directed course teaches your child the major concepts required by the National and Virginia learning standards.  Includes games, historical fiction, non-fiction, art supplies, and an activity book.

Fantastic!  Where do I sign up?

I jetted over to a website called After School Plans to take a look at what the program involved.  I clicked on the section entitled "American History in a Box for Expats" and saw a list of programs separated by grade level.

American History in a Box, Grades K-1..........$299 plus shipping

Two HUNDRED ninety nine DOLLARS????

Holy Smokes!  For that price, my kids can just stay stupid.

What can U.S. History really teach them, anyway? 

I barely learned anything during my formative, and look at how great I....turned.....out......um, OK, you might have a point.

Our new plan is to make them watch The History Channel every day (instead of cartoons) and then read to them out of Hubster's collection of historical fiction novels, most of which center around The Revolutionary War, The Civil War, and World Wars I & II (instead of bedtime stories).

Education is very important in this family.

And we have totally got this covered!

All Walled Up - Health & Safety in Honduras

The first time my Spanish teacher came over to our new Honduran home, she recognized it right away.

"Oh, yes," she had said, "I was here, maybe, ten years ago.  This is such a beautiful house!  The walls were much smaller back then...."

The Walls.

Every house of every neighborhood that has two centavos to rub together has surrounded itself with a nine foot wall of solid concrete.  Top off with steel garage and front doors, and you've got yourself a standard home in Tegucigalpa. 

Don't misunderstand, these are not what I would consider "compounds."  Imagine one of the common "new construction" sites that you would see in the States.  The plots are long and skinny, with homes that are also long and skinny, two or three stories tall, with postage-stamp sized backyards, and within a few feet of the house next door.  The neighborhoods of Teguc are divided up in this similar fashion, probably because of the rocky, mountainous terrain that makes building a ranch-style home next to impossible.  So, much like how neighbors share a privacy fence around their backyards, we share walls. 

And our walls reach from the back of the property all the way to the sidewalk.

As with many aspects of life here, things didn't used to be this way.  Speaking with Hondurans who were born and raised here, they are quick to tell you that, ten years ago, life was better.  People were safer.  Walls were few.

I am now a Social Sponsor to another U.S. Embassy family that is new to this lost city.  After they had settled into their home, I remember candidly explaining to the wife, "At some point, you may feel a bit like you're in a prison.  That's totally  normal!  Living behind walls and bars starts to get to you after a while, but it'll pass."

What does not pass quite so easily is the feeling of division.  In a world where the chasm between Haves and Have-Nots is vast, these barricades act as yet another reminder of the separation that exists here. 

I'll stay on my side of the wall.  All you other people have to stay outside of it.

I have a new appreciation for the freedoms we have in that great, ol' U. S. of A.  Children laughing as they run through each other's front yards.  Waving to neighbors while loaded down with groceries or buckling kids into carseats.  The ability to look out into the street from the first floor of your house.

For now, the walls will stay put.  There is no evidence of them coming down anytime soon.

I can only pray that they don't get any bigger.

A Little Bit Giddy...

The Elvis Duran Radio Show told me my day would rank as a 10 (the best you can get) when they scrolled through the horoscopes this morning.

Boy, oh boy, they weren't kidding! 

All day long I have received many positive comments and several FaceBook shares of my Mother's Day post from yesterday.  And all of that is reflected in the stats on my blog, which is showing a record number of pageviews in one day (at least for me, anyway!)

My day is way more than a 10.  It's like a 10 bigillion-zillion!

And it's all thanks to my tremendous friends and family and all of their wonderfully kind words!!

But here's the kicker of having a post that garners me so much positive attention...

What am I supposed to write now???

If you recall, I'm still in the throws of the 31-Day Blogging Challenge (Day 12, actually, not even half-way through!)

Posts like yesterday's are tough for me.  It's difficult to put myself in a place of such vulnerability, always worried that what I see as deep or spiritual, others will see as corny or just plain wrong....and then tell me so.  Such an incident has never occurred (thank goodness), which is why I think I've become more confident about writing these sorts of meatier posts. 

So, OK, I get the post written and put it out there for all the world to see, and get some good feedback from friends and family, and here's what usually happens next....

Nothing.

When I write something that is meaningful to me, I find it difficult to switch gears and knock out some other post that can't be at the same caliber as that last one.

Let's face it, I can't write these types of posts all the time for always.  I am just not that deep!

Which is why, normally, I would head for the hills.  Like a seller of snake oil, I'd pack up all my things into a beat-up old suitcase and high-tail it outta here before anyone would have a chance to discover that my Elixir of Life was just sugar water and dye.

OK, that's maybe a touch melodramatic (I may not be deep, but I've got imagination!)  The point I'm getting at (wait, there was a point?) is that, in the past, a post like yesterday's would have left me struck dumb, probably for a week or more, scared speechless that whatever I posted on this blog next would be such an enormous let-down to anyone who came back to read more.

Which is why I SO needed this challenge!  My type of "writer's block" never had to do with a lack of words to put on paper...er, computer screen.  The thing that has held me back from being a writer - a REAL writer - was plain, old-fashioned fear.  Fear of failure.  Fear of success.  Fear of failing after a success.  You name it, I've been scared of it.

Part of this challenge was to conquer, once and for all, these silly little fears.  Pack them up in that old, beat-up suitcase and throw them in a river.

So, that's it.  The "Day-After" post is complete, and I'm still standing!  My fears may not be completely dissipated, but I definitely took a big chunk out of 'em.

But just in case, I'd better take a spoonful of that snake oil, you know, for good measure.