Adventure 534: Baddeck, Nova Scotia/ Ceilidh/Post H

All friends are welcome.

Wow! The world is a place of such riches. Glad I am that I get to experience some of it. Tonight, we went for a Ceilidh (Pronounced Kay Lee). The Scots of old would gather in homes for evening visits, which they called Ceilidh. Stories were told, music was played, food was shared. Evenings were spent as social gatherings, a chance to spend time with friends and relations after the long hard days of work. The tunes were built on joy (jigs), on melody (waltzes), and on songs that helped make the drudgery of work a little more palatable. There were weaving songs, milking songs, rowing songs, haying songs, tilling songs: songs of life. The Ceilidh kept traditions alive, kept families together, kept communities tight. Tonight, we were entertained by three local musicians. Two we heard a few days ago, Derrick and Melody Cameron, at a pub called the Red Shoe Tavern. The third, an astounding guitar player named Brian Doyle, joined them this evening. More than two hours passed with the fiddle and the guitars sending notes dancing out among us. Our feet stomped, our spirits rose, our hearts filled. They told stories; they made jokes. I took rapid notes as they played, much like the medleys we heard. The Baddeck Ceilidh, a seven nights a week event, began twenty-one years ago  at the behest of of local gal named Nancy McClain. Most of the tunes are born of the old tradition, and if they have names, the musicians didn't bother telling us. They did name a few. One of my favorites of the night was called "Flat Water Friend", which was written by a Scottish musician named Bill Cunningham. As a sailor who enjoys a little rough water, I could ponder the idea of a "flat water friend" for quite some time. It's better, I think, to have friends who will stick by you when the going gets a little bit rough. At one point, Derrick Cameron took time to tell us how the night would work. He said he and his wife Melody, the fiddler, usually didn't make a plan. Usually, he said, "We just do what the fiddler wants". He said this October 1st would be he and Melody's twenty-fifth year of marriage, mostly he said, "Because he does what the fiddler wants." The crowd laughed. Then the stage was given to Brian Doyle so he could play a "guitar thing". Brian played an exquisitely elaborate (All with his eyes closed) top speed ditty that sounded something like waves of hard rain peppering a metal roof, and then it changed to sound something like playful squirrels chasing each other up and down trees. He sounded almost classical, like Segovia, if Segovia had ever suffered through a stiff Cape Breton winter. Doyle's music pounded like surf, but in a joyful way like ponies galloping. After the audience gave Brian a well deserved ovation, the band members played a short game of "Name that Tune." They played an American country tune named "Faded Love" which was made famous by Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys. A lady in the audience knew the tune, and she won the big prize (The pride of getting it right). Which brings me to another aspect unique to Celtic music. It's cooperative, not competitive. Here again Derrick made mention of what it takes to stay married long term. He related a story: The husband said, "I want to keep the hedge". The wife replied, "I want to take it down". In the end they compromised: they removed the hedge. My favorite tune of a night, a medley Melody called "The Warlock Set", set my mind ablaze. These words poured out as I listened. The warrior's bright eyes simmered with a fervor as he listened to the wizard's chant. Suddenly, the wizard threw a puff of powder into the fire. The flames leaped, searing the night sky. When the powder burst into flame, the warrior's soul burned hot for the coming battle. The next day he entered the fray;  a long cruel fight ensued. At day's end, the battle torn warrior stomped heavily, but triumphantly home. That night the wizard smiled as he watched the warrior dance a merry jig. And as his simmering eyes cooled, the warrior realized that life was good, especially today.

 Ten bucks a head seven nights a week.

 They call this the "Bobble" lamp because it bobbles when the musicians play. In Celtic music, time is kept with foot vigorous foot stomping.

 Brian Doyle

 Highly skilled, but more than that, a man truly in love with his art.

 Derrick Cameron, keeper of the rhythm and faithful husband of Melody, the fiddler.

Melody Cameron, fiddler and step dancer extraordinaire.

 Sitting at the edge of her chair, fiddle bow flying across the strings, her feet constantly in motion.

 Her right foot stomped out the beat.

 Her left scuffed back and forth.

 For a finale, she performed a step dance, Cape Breton style.

 John Berk, our host, kept us all in line.

The three played (And talked) for over two hours. They wanted us to get our money's worth.

The view from our deck. Good wishes, Baddeck. We hope to come again.

Adventure 533: Baddeck, Nova Scotia/Post G

We wish you a thousand welcomes.

I feel much better after yesterday's purge. To end further temptation, we've started a  group "kitty". Anyone mentioning the name Trump has to immediately give Judy a dollar. Fortunately for me, we didn't start the kitty until after my rant. My debt would have run into the hundreds. This morning's drive, a scant fifty-five miles through a pounding rain, finished cleansing my spirit. Though damp, the pristine surroundings have a quieting effect. What's more, I'm taking the advice of a good friend who suggested I throw away my trump cards in favor of loving the people I'm with, the new experiences we're afforded, and the down right lucky fact that we're alive and well. The only unfortunate event today was the fact that due to the dense fog, and window washing rain, we couldn't see the Atlantic Ocean way below the cliffs. We couldn't even hear the surf due the high rpms of the defrost fan. But no worries, we managed a safe arrival to Baddeck where we're staying for two nights. This restored home, owned and managed by a Japanese family is so clean, I'm not even sure our normal clean up after ourselves procedures will come up to snuff. We were met by "grandpa" (James), a spry elderly gentleman who gave us the orientation tour, many smiles, and the promise that if we needed anything, he's be right behind the house in his thirty by forty single room home. Baddeck is by far the most "touristy" village we've come across on the trip. It's situated on an inland sea that has two outlets to the Atlantic. The town has a hospital, a large secondary school, several restaurants, some shops, more than a few churches, and a large harbor. Our B & B is just a few miles outside of town. We have a view of the bay that is pleasant, but not as unencumbered as our last place (Boo Hoo, poor babies!). The weather, which has been socked in for the last two days promises to clear up tomorrow. That will be nice as it will allow us to get out and enjoy nature. Not that reading and lounging was all bad. I've managed to throttle the Wiley Cager several times so far, even going so far as to skunk her on two occasions. And I know this will be hard for some of you to believe: I'm not cheating! We also played a rousing game of Mexican Train, which promises blessed relief after only ten rounds. Needless to say, life is good, especially today.

 True, a less suspicious world would be welcome.

 We have this "wildcard" rule (one per day-no carry over) in which anyone in the car can yell "Wildcard!". At first chance the driver must turn around, no questions asked. Today, Judy had us back track to this North Coast bakery. This savory puff pastry filled with spinach and feta may be the best pastry I've ever tasted! Good one, Bunny.

 Dinah, I thought you might enjoy this.

 And the description.

 This bay freezes over in winter when the "big ice" flows from the North. All of these boats will be moved to land within the month.

 This old freight shed has been remodeled into a tourist Bistro. The food, while a bit expensive, was quite good. No worries, Judy paid the tab.

 We enjoyed fish chowder, quite rich, buttery, and filled with ample bits of seafood. We also enjoyed crab cakes and salad.

 One local said the inland sea water was "brackish" due to a mixture of fresh water runoff from streams and rivers as well as the ebb flow from the Atlantic. We're close to the end of the season here. In a week, there will be a ten day Gaelic Music festival. After that, the island shuts down for the season. Winters are harsh and cold.

Our abode for the next two days. Hopefully, the sun will peek out long enough for us to enjoy the deck. That's grandpa James peeking out the window in the back.

Adventure 532: Ingonish, Nova Scotia/Post F

Mrs. Drouin's Breakfast Scramble

Our adventure found us snuggled up under warm blankets reading to the sound of the rain peppering the metal roof. It's nice to take a breather from our normal routine. Occasionally, I look up from my book to notice the shifting shapes on the water below, a body called Williams' Cove (No wonder I feel so calm). I've also taken some time to flesh out some personal concerns. I've discovered over the years, that if I write things down, either clarity, confusion, or an addled sense arises. In any case, I believe seeing what I'm thinking on the page helps me understand, just what I'm not sure. Part of my dream last night had me playing bridge, which I've not done since college. Truth be known, my fascination with the game put a definite crimp into my grade point. Nonetheless, I've used the memory to "write think" about things that concern me.

 A good place for reading, but dangerously heavy eyes often arrive.

Because of the bugs (and the rain), I did the form in the living room this morning.

(Disclaimer: Feel free to ignore the "write-think" below).

Part 1: 7 NO TRUMP: Bridge is Just a Game

Part 2: And Then Some

In light of the last election, the current state of discourse in the country, and the looming importance of 2020, my thinking lately has been informed these books, blogs, podcasts, documentaries, a small dose of cable news (both sides) and of course, I review my news feed, although in that I’m mostly a headline reader, refusing as much as I can to succumb to “click bait”. 

It’s my reading selections that mold most of my thought. Here’s a list of my recent reads.

1491, 1493 by Charles C Mann…the Americas before Columbus

Guns, Germs, and Steel by Jared Diamond..the fates of human societies

Being Mortal by Atu Gawande

White Fragility by Robin J Diangelo

Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson

Dark Money by Jane Meyer

The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander

What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Blacker by Damon Young

The Heartbeat of Wounded Knee by David Treuer

Undaunted Courage by Stephen E. Ambrose

Becoming by Michelle Obama

Who Can You Trust? by Rachel Botsman

After the Fact by Nathan Bomey

Hillbilly Elegy by J. D. Vance

Superpower by Ian Bremmer

Deep South by Paul Theroux

The Road to Character by David Brooks

Out of the House of Bondage by Thavolia Glymph

Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates

Dixie Be Damned by Neal Shirley and Sarape Stafford

The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom by Ruiz, Don Miguel, Janet Mills

All of Lee Child’s Reacher books.

All of John Sanford’s Prey Books

All of David Balducci books

All of Daniel Silva Books

All of Vince Flynn’s books

Redeployment by Phil Klay

All of Jim Lynch’s books

All of William Kent Krueger’s books

Ali: A life by Jonathan Eig

Less: A Novel by Sean Andrew Greer

A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving (A re-read; it’s my favorite book of all time)

Back from the Dead by Bill Walton

Boys in the Boat by Daniel James Brown

Jayber Crow by Kendall Berry

The Lords of Discipline by Pat Conroy

Sugar Run by Mesha Meran

Freak Kingdom: Hunter Thompson… by Timothy Dinevi

Daily podcasts

NPR: Up First

New York Times: The Daily

Pod Save America (Although their pompous arrogance turns me off somewhat despite the fact that I’m in their choir).

Blogs

Random political blogs.

Frequent reads from Law and Liberty

Documentaries

Hale County: This Morning, this Evening

I Am Not Your Negro

Who Put the Klan into the Ku Klux Klan

An Uncomfortable Truth

Operation Wetback

I’ve compiled this (incomplete) list to check how my reading choices in the last two years have conspired to formulate my personal bias, my bedrock principles, and my ever evolving world view. After all, like any who will admit it, I operate on Ben Franklin’s idea that “…a rational man can make up a reason for anything he wants to do…” In addition, I’ve long been interested in the notion of equity, coming as do from a a single parent upbringing on the lower end of the economic ladder. Despite my humble beginnings, I feel as though I’m living proof of the “American Dream”. I was persistent, lucky, and diligent, so it’s easy for me to accept the notion that I’ve earned my privilege. That is until I realize, almost instantly, that I owe most of my success to grace or fate or genetics or luck. Who knows? I do find myself at nearly seventy to be in good health physically, comfortably well suited economically, and well loved emotionally. Lately, because of the state of the country, I find myself basking in the privilege of my "European white man" status. I didn’t earn it. It’s merely an accident of fate, and while I’m often embarrassed by America’s long history of  imperialistic  hypocrisy, I'm also grateful to live where I do. So while I bask in the benefits of white privilege and good life, I’m critical of my own existence. What I wish is that everyone had a chance to play this game on, as they say, “a level playing field”. It’s simply not the case. All men are not created equal. Not all are free to pursue life, liberty, and happiness. Prosperity is not within the reach of everyone. People are subjected to discrimination based on whatever “otherness” those in power choose to define. It’s all legal, all self-serving, and all morally corrupt. The question I’ve been asking myself  is “To what degree am I complicit?” Following that, “What can I do other than what I already do—contribute to causes, take care of my friends and family, try to live an honest, straight thinking life.” What depresses me is how many of my fellow Americans seem to be driven by ideology. This next election will define us as Americans. Trump’s forces will push their fascism under the notion of patriotism. They will rail against the "socialist" left, the America haters. The Democrats will ring so many alarm bells that people won’t be able to discern what’s truly important. So, if Trump wins it will point to a dark, morally indefensible period. That will truly be sad. On the other hand, if the voters of conscious come forward in 2020 and prove that our system works by removing the vile hater purveyors from office, I will then be encouraged. Time will tell. 

Part 1: Bridge is Just a Game

1 NO TRUMP: Dishonesty

I’ve been trying to figure out what detests me first and foremost about President Trump. I’ve come to the conclusion that he can’t be trusted. Everything coming out of his mouth is couched in half-truth, disinformation, or flat out lies. As a model for living, a bedrock belief for me has been this notion, it’s an old one: My word of honor. I spent thirty-one years in education teaching students to learn how to learn, how to think, how to write. I modeled good character and integrity. I respect good character. I respect honesty. My first bid in the game of NO TRUMP is flatly this. He can't be trusted.

2 NO TRUMP: Cruelty

Secondly, he’s a crude, rude, and arrogant bully. He ridicules others; he calls people names; and he incites others to do his actual dirty work, so as to claim his hands are "clean". It’s mystifying to me that so many of his “best people” have been indicted, jailed, or ruined. Again, right thinking people do not espouse belittling others, for any reason, especially not for personal gain.

3 NO TRUMP: Greedy

Third, his bedrock value seems to be based on money: personal gain through personal wealth—wealth amassed at any cost. It’s all about greed. In his mind there are winners and there are losers. Those not of his ilk are losers, plain and simple. He seems in no way to be guided by a moral compass. In that vein, he holds a position only so far as it will add to his bank account. His record is rife with flip flops and lawsuits . As he says, it’s all about the big, beautiful baskets of cash (“I love the Saudis; they pay cash”). Now, this is America. There is nothing wrong  with financial success; it just should come as a result of individual industry as opposed to “advantages” over others.

4 NO TRUMP: Slimy

Fourth, and this is almost said in awe. He’s masterfully manipulative. I told my friend, Ed Drouin, months before the 2016 election that Trump would win. I based that on the fact that though I find nearly everything about him revolting, I could still feel the emotional power of his words. He’s one of those salesman who constantly measures things against the bottom line.  He will say anything, do anything, reverse suddenly, back track, attack, slip, slide, deflect. His favorite tactic is to attack others for the very things he’s currently practicing as a “disgrace”. Again, the record is rife with examples of this. One recent example, (soon to be fleshed our more fully in the 2020 election), is his attack on the Democrats, calling them hateful un-Americans incapable of loving their country, framing them as SOCIALIST left wingers who present a clear and present danger to the true patriots in our country. This country, ironically, was based on a rebellion against tyranny. What could be more tyrannical than trying to vilify those of disagree? 

5 NO TRUMP: Conceit

Fifth, his conceit knows no bounds. “I could shoot someone…”; “When you’re a star, they let you do it…”. However, the worst facet of his narcissism is that nothing is ever his fault, and EVERY successful event is a direct result of his actions. I live in the belief that pride comes before the fall and that humility is recognition that I’ve had and require help along the way. As Trump claims, "I alone can fix it."

6 NO TRUMP: Goose Stepping

The most difficult aspect of America’s history for me to reconcile is that our early European ancestors left for the New World in search of religious and economic freedom. We then proceeded to build our country on the backs of genocide and slavery solely due to the pressures of exacted by profit, personal comforts, and white privilege. Racist, suppressive acts are not new in this country. Ample evidence is available that documents the institutional inequality in this country. So, even with the heat of this racist stick Trump is stirring the pot with, it’s not new. I hope it’s not even representative of the true nature of America (See 2020). I believe in the notion that everyone lucky enough to be born in America or come to America should have the opportunity to earn their own dream. I find segregation distasteful. I find institutional racism, though legal, to be patently unfair. I think the immigration problem, for example, could be solved simply: Make the creed written on the Statue of Liberty our mission statement. Simply say, “Welcome to America. Here’s your number to pay your taxes. Go and prosper to your ability”. And of course, as part of the reparation for our past inequities, there should be a path to citizenship. Unlike the president and his minions suggest, I do think our path should include social services that serve citizens (Social Security, Medicaid, etc.) but not as a free ride. No one wants a hand out. Everyone appreciates a hand up, and each of us should contribute to the process (Fair taxes) Finally, I think it’s our diverse mosaic that makes us different. Inclusion is good. We should make it policy.

7 NO TRUMP: Teflon Don

It’s beyond my comprehension, other than a desire for unadulterated self interest, that nothing seems to stick to Trump. Though I have no real evidence for this, I’d imagine that the American oligarchs are just fine propping Trump up. Money trumps all if you’ll pardon the pun. My greatest fear is that Trump will deflect, distract, inflame, indulge, lie, cheat, and steal with impunity (See Ukraine). The real test for this will be decided in 2020. If the country chooses to ride the Trump train, I fear he’s a man who will be unable to get enough power or influence. If enough people abdicate their moral courage with their vote, I believe we’d be far along the yellow brick road to making him the Grand Wizard. If we turn Trump into an emperor, we can indeed strip off our clothes because any true human wouldn’t be able to stand the stench of them, but of course, that would open those who choose to stand up as targets. Lynching, bombing, discrimination, rape, pillage, and murder could be the reward. Who will risk it?

———————————————————————————————————————

Part 2: And Then Some

My real complaint has nothing to do with President Trump. I wouldn’t go across the street to meet him. As often as I can, I merely ignore his existence. Unless he blows the whole thing up, I don’t think he will matter in my daily life. As the very tired trope says, “My bed is mostly been made”. No, my real problem is myself. And the questions are forcing themselves into my psyche.

What am I willing to risk?

What am I doing to fight for my view of America?

How am I helping the oppressed?

Is my money, literally and metaphorically, where my mouth is?

What am I willing to do?

What am I able to do?

What is enough?

Where is the focus?

Why shouldn’t I just focus on my family and those I love?

Digression: These talking cable news pundits, diligent teams players on both sides, accomplish nothing. There is only one vehicle we have: our vote. If I were either party, I’d be consolidating my argument. The bad news for the left is that the right’s position, born of a long oppressive American history has a clear message. The democrats and the leftists are fractured. As I see it, there is only one answer: vote, vote you conscience, have a conscience, be human, accept differences, share like a kindergartner is suppose to. Love one another as you love yourself. As you treat the least of these, so do you treat Me.

Back to my problem ( I’m so selfish). What am I will to risk?

(This question derives from Alexis de Tocqueville's work Democracy in America in which he posits that Democratic despotism arises when the people, too occupied by their petty private concerns, neglect politics and so let themselves be ruled by an unworthy government that ends up forcing things on the people that they do not actually want.)

In truth. I'm dominated by my "petty private concerns". Oh sure, I’ll volunteer once in a while; I’ll write a check, but I’m less willing to act on my conviction than I am to try and define what I actually think so as to crystallize my views in some coherent way. I often find myself lost down some irrelevant rabbit hole, some off Broadway cause, some historically insignificant digression. So I do nothing, really because there’s nothing in it for me. It’s the old WIIFM? The answer is not much. Because I’m often cynical, I really believe that even the small amount of volunteer work I’ve done, and the causes Judy and I support, amount to very little. Our reality allows us to live comfortably. We’re privileged in the sense that most problems don’t touch us. We’re not homeless; we’re well fed; we live in a comfortable home; we have recreational income that manifests itself into travel and other casual recreational pursuits; we’re able to support our children; we support our church; we care for my father; we consider ourselves good people. I'm struggling with the real question: Is any of this enough?

But when I finish beating myself up, I realize I’m lifted up by the people I meet traveling. If all I did was watch cable news, it would be easy to believe the narrative that everything in my petty little world is falling apart. The people I meet, good humans all, present a different view. They give me hope, just as young parents do (It takes faith to bring new life to this world). And life continues, so while I think it’s important to consider the threat the “robber barons” present, and I find value in questioning my own motives, I don’t believe the “sky is falling”. As I’ve believed forever, God has a plan. God is good. And finally, I’m NOT in charge of anything but my outlook. Therefore, I continue to enjoy life, believing that IT is good (and worthy), especially today.

Adventure 531: Ingonish, Nova Scotia/Post E

Five days in, our adventure takes on a certain rhythm: wake, drive, eat, gawk, eat, walk, unlock the code, gawk, eat, drink, be merry, name that tune, repeat. Enjoy the photo diary:

We stopped for a prayer moment at St. Peter's church. The church, built in the late eighteen hundreds out of stone pushed across the frozen channel and later remodeled with fine, expressive frescoes, stands as a center piece of the community.

Fresh from our prayer vigil, we immediately stop for sweet treats at the local French bakery.

 We bought date bars, croissants, cookies, bread, scones, and dollop rolls made from the soft loaves shown above.

 On our way, we took a bumpy side road to discover a fabulous beach.  Deb took time to clean the water of fisherman debris. 

 We stopped at a local eatery in Ingonish called "Salty Rosies". Judy and I enjoyed a snow crab sandwich beside a cup of carrot soup.

 As a sculptor of wire art, I was intrigued by this local artist's use  of "found"materials to display his carved wooden art.

 Along the way, we stopped at an ancient Acadian village, whose people clung to the edge of the water long enough to establish a long and proud culture.

 Art shot of the day: Pacman rocks smoothed by the surf of the Prince Edward gulf.

 The Acadian settlement was established between two different rivers that flowed from the local mountains.

 Eventually, the colony moved its buildings to a place less ravaged by the sea's surf.

 We took a side trip to where John Cabot is reported to have landed, the first white man to reach the continent. Sorry Christopher.

Cabot's vessel, which included his son and eighteen crew members, put to anchor in this bay.

Later, we took a three mile hike along the middle fork peninsula. The views were dramatic, the cliffs sheer, and seals frolicked in the surf below.

 The description of the hike said it was mostly flat. Not so much.

It did prove to be a fine spot for practicing the form.

Not too much later, our ladies, Judy and Deb, worked to prepare a version of home made seafood stew.

Yum!

The view from the deck of our Air B and B, home for the next two days.

Tomorrow's venue for my Tai Chi practice.

Adventure 530: Cheticamp, Nova Scotia/Post D

L'Auberge Doucet Inn

What a day! Beautiful blue sky, light wind, a warm last breakfast of fresh farm eggs, fresh toasted wheat bread, served beside an especially nice cantaloupe at our spot on Marble Hill in Port Hood. After breakfast, we did our extra good guest (It's all about the review) clean up, said good bye to our new friend and neighbor, Alec, who grew up just down the road. He can see his boyhood home from his deck. He joked, "I grew up here, but then I moved away" (Which meant he bought property a quarter mile up the road). After sweet good byes, we took a not too long and winding road through the bucolic pleasantness of Nova Scotia to our first stop, the jam packed (For good reason) Dancing Goat Bakery and Cafe. We bought sweet treats, lunch sandwiches, enjoyed rich hot coffee, and then we were off to our 9 KM hike along the Acadia Trail, which climbed a thousand feet along a path of sharp rocks and vine like roots. The path followed a soft, burbling creek, whose soft sounds matched the serene light flickering through the trees. The trail eventually crested to a gorgeous view of the Gulf of St. Lawrence where we enjoyed our sandwiches, the view, each other, and the warmth of the midday sun.  After the three hour hike, we arrived at our inn in Cheticamp, freshened up a bit, and dined at a restaurant on the water called L"Abri where we relished fresh chowder,  pan fried haddock and chips, and cold beer. Actually, only I had beer, but I loved it nonetheless.  And now, while writing this,  I've just finished off a sweet bit of lemon bar (Purchased at the "Goat"), topping it off with a wee little titch of Grand Marnier. I'm sure the calorie balance is in favor of my waistline since I did walk six miles today, but who really cares at this point. I'm enjoying the magic carpet ride of luxury, basking in the pleasure of new experiences and good company, which means, of course, that life is good, especially today.

My Bunny enjoying her last warm morning in Port Hood.

 The troupe in formation along the Acadian Trail.

 The view was worth the climb.

 
The trail up followed the brook; the trail down was mostly a grassy slope.

 Scrumptious lunch served by the Dancing Goat.

 Excellent food, an anachronistic MoTown sound track, and an amazing setting.

 Where's Willy?

Fresh pan fried Haddock, a squeeze of lemon, a bed of crispy fries, and a wisp of coleslaw. Yum!

Seafood chowder. I mean who would eat at Mr. Chicken when this offering is possible?

 Good night, sleep tight.