Well, it's been a little while since I've written...this week things have been busybusybusy, so I sleep when I can, and the rest of the time I'm either in class, making lesson plans or riding on the metro/train. Tuesday night I had one of those practice teaching sessions where as the whole lesson plan is falling apart before your very eyes, you hear your mom or high school English teacher say, "Remember, this is one of those learning experiences that will help build your character." Luckily I have the chance to redeem myself this coming Tuesday, and I'm hoping that I'm a Mighty Duck champion TEFL teacher who makes the most unbelieveabe triumphant comeback...I CAN DO IT!!!!

The people I hang out with are really cool, as in, I've managed to find yet another group of friends that loves complete randomness, and is random all the time. Take for instance my friend Michelle, who as we're sitting around having a glass of wine and there's a lull in the conversation, takes the time to confess, "You know, I'm really attracted to water bottles that are bigger than my face." Hmmm, never thought about that, never realized water bottle size was based on the scale of one's face, good to know.

Five years ago, my parents and I moved to Hyde Park, into a charming and quaint little house that my Grandfather built. It's a great place, heats on a dime, but only has a bathtub. No shower, nothing. It's impossible to take a quick bath, and the past five years have been an incessant nagging to get a new shower. Here in Italy, I get to take a hose. Taking a hose means standing in the tub that does not have a plug, and holding a shower head in my hand and literally hosing myself to get clean (oh yeah, and my bathroom has a wall length mirror next to the tub...awkward.) So now I have the worst of both worlds...I can't relax in the tub, I can't stand under a constant stream of water, but I can definitely hose myself off, scha-wing. The other morning we had no hot water, and I flashed back to the days of frozen pipes in Craftsbury, and heating oil running out...brrr. I was glad for the reprieve in that case, that I wasn't standing under a 50 degree stream of water, but other than that, this hosing system sucks. Oh yeah, and this morning the bottom of our sink fell out of the wall. My roommate decided that she wondered what would happen if she turned the water on anyway, and since you can SEE THE FLOOR through the drain, the water obviously sprayed everywhere...way to go, Einstein.

A girl that I sit next to in class have silently declared that we don't like each other. She dresses very artsy, yet has an unbelievable snob factor to her. She's got an unbelievable presumptious side to her. She's lived in Italy for five months, and thinks she's God's gift to this country (newsflash, I am, duh.) Anyway (and that was a joke, for those of you who still mistakenly take me too seriously) I mentioned that the water had zero heat, and she graciously took the time to tell me that cold showers were something I would have to get used to, that because she's lived here so long, she's obviously an authority on Italian utility systems. I'm not claiming that I am, but she should really think about the fact that she's still PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN, and she can't run away from the country she came from, no matter how much she hates it, and how hard she tries. I was explaining what it meant to her to have someone tell you that something builds character..."Oh yeah, you know, like, doing all those stupid chores when you're a kid, and you're parents tell you, 'Hey kid, this is good for you, it builds character.'" She reflected for a moment and then replied, "Wow, you must have had a very strict and conservative upbringing...my parents never told me anything like that." Yeah, I guess she would say that, due to her obvious lack of character that her parents never had her build as a kid. FACT. Well, enough about this.

For those of you who have read previous posts, the woman who feels that money buys freedom was robbed blind the other night...10,000 dollars worth of stuff, gone, from her apartment. She's having a difficult time coping with having to buy freedom all over again in the form of iPods, laptops, dvds, clothes, perfume, shoes, and her electric toothbrush, which they took, which is just gross if you ask me.

Tomorrow I'm headed to see the Roma soccer team play at the Olympic Stadium, and it's going to be amazing. It'll be a good way to start of my week of grammar tests, phonetics tests (or FUNetics, as I like to call them), methodoloy tests and receiving my TEFL certificate, which I'll hopefully be taking with me to Sardinia, once I hear about the job. So here we go, wish me luck!

This weekend was nice, except for the surprise attack on Saturday afternoon, that was not so cool. Basically I went to bed early Friday, I was one tired cookie, and I woke up late on Saturday, willing to take my time with the day. At about 1:30-2ish I was preparing to go into the city and visit some of the sights that I studied for so many years, but haven't quite made it to, and soak them in all by myself (solo touring is becoming a fave past time of mine, as I don't have to deal with other people and can sit when I want to sit, walk when I want to walk, and visit what I want to visit...I'm selfish with my historical viewings, just like my dad, what with his History channel and remote control...) So anyway, there I was, mapping out my route, reading a little in the tour book, when all of a sudden...and this came from absolutely out of nowhere...all of a sudden (I really mean it, I totally wasn't expecting this at all) all of a sudden, a nap came up from behind me and clocked me over the head with three hours of unconsciousness for the entire afternoon!!!! So I slept all day Saturday, caught up on sleep on Sunday, worked on my resumé, did some homework, and went to bed early, for just a little more sleep. It was nice, I like sleep.

JOB UPDATE: On Thursday a guy from a school in Sardinia (the island in the Mediterranean) is coming to visit our school, with the intentions of leaving with the two open positions filled with our candidates. There are only four of us (for some reason a lot of people are tied to Rome, I'm not so much, but that's to be saved for another entry) and one of my teachers has told me I have a really good chance. SO, keep your fingers crossed for me everyone, and I'll keep you posted. That is all for today.

P.S. Happy birthday, one day late, my Mae Sai hero.

As many of you know, I sometimes have a hard time thinking before speaking, so I often say things and then face the embarrasment of either laughter or offensive stares in my general directions. For instance, "Sara, when I call things gay I'm not meaning to be offensive. Really I just mean retarded or stupid." Yeah, I know. However, ladies and gentlemen, you can mark your calendars with permanent marker, I finally thought before speaking and avoided making a fool out of myself...twice. Let me explain. When I was in good ol' groovy uvy, my darling roommate Sara got me into the unfortunate yet hilarious habit of taking a statement like, "Oh look, a powerstrip." (Weird example, but hang with me on this one) and saying back, "I'll power your strip." Sometimes this is not the best humor technique, especially if you say it to your brother-in-law in front of the rest of your family. Whoops. How does this apply now? Well, two days ago, as I was waiting for my C.V preparation to start, my grammar teacher (a woman named Ester with a sort of in-your-face-no-bull personality) said to a group of us, "You guys all waiting for the C.V class?"
"Yes." we chorus in reply.
"Uh-huh...all you c.v-ers. Yep, getting ready for the big C.V."
My voice box started bubbling and my lips were starting to open as I prepared to say, "I'll c your v" when I stopped myself, thought a minute, and swallowed what would have caused a very awkward moment for yours truly.

But that's not all. I also stopped myself from saying, "I'll dipth your thong" (a personal favorite) this morning during methodology class. BOO-YAH!! Have I entered into a new stage of English speaking? Am I finally using this wonderous tool called the 'thought process'? Am I going to avoid making a fool out of myself forever and always?....SURVEY SAYS: Nah, probably not. But I have hope for the future.

Today I had C.V preparation. Let me give props to my sister Megan for writing me a fabulous resumé, I don't have much to work on at all before I can hit the streets that are teeming with other young go-getters like myself. Following the C.V work was the "Scare the crap out of you by warning that you'll be poverty stricken and sleeping in a gutter while trying to find a job" session. Holy crap, Batman, I am hanging on to good faith on this one. Some schools will only give a teacher 15 hours a week when they first start; at ten euros an hour that's 150 a week, with rent averaging 500 a month...woah. My pitiful reserve I built up at America's Number 1 Family Resort is being drained, and every day there's an e-mail reminding me of expenses back home: student loans, a cell phone I'm not using, credit cards I am most definitely using (simply to balance out the money I take out of the bank), and so on and so forth. This is where the Rudy Soundtrack comes in and I start thinking to myself, "Yes, Annie, you have the power. You may be thinking the odds are continually stacking up against you, but you start working hard, you start believing in yourself, and before you know if YOU WILL MAKE THE NOTRE DAME FOOTBALL TEAM!!!" But I digress. No, the important thing to remember here is that Notre Dame's football team isn't that great anymore, and I should really be trying for a better team like the Nebraska Cornhuskers.

What the hell am I talking about? Okay. So, the other fun thing I learned today, is that they get paid on a monthly period here. I had a hard enough time stretching out my pitiful checks from media services over two weeks...let's hope my budgeting genes from Mom kick in somewhere in the near future.

My culture lesson over the past 24 hours is that 'hamburgers' at the market are really 'meatloaf patties', or something of that nature. I have followed through strong and true on my father's motto that, "Enough butter, salt, mayo, ketchup and other various condiments will make everything taste okay." I also had a cappucino today...holy crap was it delightful, way better than the machine from the general store...waaaay better. Fact.

So while I've been really good about not going overboard with the gelato here, I am becoming heavily addicted to the hot chocolate at this café that's right near my school. The stuff is basically a Hershey bar melted down into a cup, and I LOVE IT. It's only 1 euro 60 too, which is very nice for a very budgeted person like myself.

Many of you will be pleased to know that I managed to successfully incorporate Kanye West's song 'Gold digger' into my lesson plan, and this was only my second lesson. I knew I was going to use it when my advisor said, "For your lesson with Andrea, I want you to focus on pre-nuptials." In that one instant I was transported back into 171 South Union with Emily, Sara, and Kelsey, wearing some ridiculous costume or another, shouting, "If you ain't no punk holler, 'We want pre-nup!' 'WE WANT PRE-NUP, YEAAAHH!!'" Ahh, the wonder years. My student was a 22 year-old guy who is big into body building, adores Vin Diesel, and spends all of his time modifying his car and trying to kill his cat. He also has three girlfriends, who he'd rather categorize as "friends." But the use of the song (that verse anyway) worked pretty well, and that is one more thing I can cross off my list of "Things to do for the short time that I'm a teacher."

Tomorrow we will be talking about resumés and the start of the job hunting process, I'm really psyched. I've decided that if I can get a job in Rome I'm going to take it...I'm not necessarily head over heels in love with the city, but if I can make money, I'm going to do it. Plus, I haven't gotten all of my historical sight-seeing done, so that's another plus to staying in the city.

Today's entry is short, as I've got some research and correspondance to take care of. Talk to you all soon, and if you're in Vermont, enjoy some of the fall weather for me...I miss it here.

so my charming yet overly dry and sarcastic sense of humor has gotten me into trouble...again. one of the girls here says things that i find extremely hilarious (like, "wouldn't it be cute to see a midget riding around in one of those smart cars?") but she doesn't find it funny that i find what she says funny. it's a vicious circle. so this blog is a declaration that i am not intending to pick-on this girl, i truly find her bright, interesting and fun to hang out with, and i hope that there are no hard feelings.

take dinner the other night: the cesano crew and i went out to dinner at a cute little pizza place that is run by a guy (the chef) his wife and his daughter. the fun thing about this place is that everyone eats outside, and there are a number of televisions with blaring speakers that broadcast past events of the day, csi: italy, stunts gone wrong, and other such programs. our table was having a good time, drinking some wine, laughing it up and drawing some attention from the table of military boys across from us. this is when my friend goes, "you know, we're kind of like the black people of italy." we all start laughing and she protests, "well it's true, we're acting just like they do back home!" what's funny about this is that most of the people i hang out with do not say phrases like these...or follow them up with, "well if we were in japan we'd really be the black people there." so i can't help but chuckle because though i know she is not racist, her quips like these make your ears do a double take. i think the fact that we've been laughing so hard at her serious statements has made her feel picked-on, and that all we do is laugh at her and make jokes stemming off from what she says in all seriousness. it's too bad that we aren't all on the same humor plane...but i guess this is just one of those learning experiences. but seriously, i'm not trying to make anyone in any way feel badly about themselves--i laugh at everything and make a smartass comment about it, that's who i am. i'll try to keep myself in check more often.

in any case, this weekend was a typical day of nothing, straight out of office space. we spent the whole weekend looking out the window at the rain and wind, watching arrested development, freaks and geeks, half baked, and robin williams stand up. we purchased a 5 liter bottle of wine, lugged it home, and there's still a third of it left--we're pretty happy about it. my roommate mark has been demonstrating his cooking skills and has been coming up with some tasty culinary delights with our limited resource kitchen. no more than one person can be in our kitchen at a time, the pots and pans are made out of aluminum and can be easily bent, and our drying rack for our sink is the cupboard above it with racks for dishes as opposed to shelves. saturday we wined and dined, talking until about 1...i had a great time, and saved so much money by not going into the city that this weekend i am trying to go to switzerland to see the honorable emily tully. i've been doing a lot of reading, and definitely recommend the book Deadwood by Pete Dexter. that's all for now...i'll try to come up with something funnier for tomorrow.

p.s. for all you people doing laundry in the states: it's six dollars per load where i am, not including drying. be thankful for what you have. that is all.

okey dokey...heeeeeeeere we go!

number one: i had my first german lesson today, and it ruled. i forgot how much fun it is to learn new languages (call me crazy...) but i really wish i could just learn new languages as a career, and not actually do anything that requires production or progress to make a little money.

number two: it's the weekend! so what am i going to do? get a few bottles of wine and spend my friday night at the apartment, because the transportation system is on strike at the moment, and i can only get home during rush hour, when they open the system to get people home. their strikes usually last about 24 hours, and they are always announced. it isn't a huge deal, because apparently they happen often, and they re-open the system to get everyone to work and back again during the peak rush hours. interesting.

number three: yesterday i saw a bunch of guys breakdancing in the trainstation...and it was cool.

number four: america really needs to get in on the european yogurt wagon. today i had cantelope flavored yogurt, and i know i have kiwi and watermelon back at the house. why can't we have cool flavors like that? i'm a little sick of plain, vanilla, french vanilla, and "mysterious fruit with stuff jelled on the bottom". plus, their hot chocolate here is damn tasty...like, you basically drink a cup of warm chocolate pudding, man oh man i want to go get one right now.

number five: so since i've gotten here, my ankles have swollen up the size of great-aunt mildred's, and i have had no way of icing them, since we have no ice trays, and they don't sell bags of it at the kwiky mart like we do. (in fact, they don't even have kwiky marts, really) a few nights ago, a moment of ingenuity struck me, and i put two small fying pans in the icebox of our fridge. my little ankles are looking like nicole kidman's at this point...sweet. speaking of ingenuity--the living room area of my apartment has two cots, which are supposed to pass for couches...i made it into a real couch when i put the mattress of one cot (that no one could sit on because the frame was bent) behind the other one. we've been spending our time watching arrested development on my computer before our average bed time of 10:00 + 2 bottles of wine.

number six: happy birthday one day early, joe. have fun at big n' rich with the rest of the fam.

number seven: that about does it, i'll be posting again after 48 hours of playtime. woot!

I am tired today. As soon as I finish e-mailing I'm going home to do my laundry and take a nap. Last night was the first night that I forgot where I was...I rolled over, kicked the wall (I am sleeping on a bonafide, genuine cot) and thought, "That shouldn't be there...oh yeah, I guess it should."

Last night I had my first observed teaching session, I think it went well. The girls I taught were 12 years-old, and were a lot better than any of us had been expecting them to be, which made the lesson more fun. Tomorrow marks the end of week 1...I've got a lot to do between now and then end of the course in October (like find a job and a place to live), but I'm not too worried.

I'm so tired I'm having trouble coming up with things to write right now, so I guess I'll leave it with one of my 'culture shocks' that has been really funny for me and my friends living in Cesano. There is a military base in Cesano, and though we're not sure it's related to this or not, every night starting at 10:30, a trumpet blares CHARGE, and does so intermittently for the next half hour. At 11 it switches over to a rendition of Taps, and that is what I usually fall asleep to. In the morning the entire brass band strikes up a cord and plays the Italian national anthem, starting at about 7:30...I almost feel as if I'm at a Civil War army camp. That's it for now, I need to summon the strength to get to the metro.

On the walk home the other night, a Chilean woman who is in the program with me asked why Americans are leaving their country. "Not all Americans are leaving" I replied.
"Yes, but so many of you don't want to stay there. Why do you leave when American is such good country?"
I laughed a bit, and said, "Well, I'm happy to have come from where I did, but just because America is America doesn't mean that I can't go out an explore the world."
"Yes, I just don't understand. It is strange to me why anyone would ever want to leave such a place."
"Most of them don't...a very low percentage of Americans even have their passports. I know I'll go back there one day, it's where my family is from and it is where I want to settle, but for right now, there's nothing tying me down to my country. That and sometimes the American culture gets a little overwhelming, people have the wrong perspectives on a lot of things, not all, but many."
"Oh." And that was pretty much it.

Fast forward to the next day, I'm waiting for an observation to begin and I sit down next to Kelly. A late thirty/early forty something divorcee who dragged her daughter here for the year, claiming she had empty nest syndrome after her oldest son joined the military. So I sit next to her on the couch...she smiles and asks, "I've completely forgotten who you are. What's your name again?"
"My name is Annie, Kelly, it's Annie."
"Ohh, uh-huh, right, and you're here because?"
"Well, I just graduated from college, and I don't want to go to grad school or get a real job yet, so this was the most productive, fun thing I could come up with to fill that void. I'm pretty happy with my decision."
"Okay, and where did you go to school?"
"UVM, I had a blast."
"Oh winter is such a terrible season." (Strike number one.) "So what did you do between high school and college?"
"You mean the summer? Uh...I hung out with friends and family, worked a little..."
"Oh you mean you went straight from high school to college?"
"Yeah, I'm only 22."
"22?!?!?!?!?!? Wow, I mean, huh, I just thought you were, you know, one of the older students." (Strike number two.)
"Well, I don't wear make-up, so I guess I look older than I'm supposed to."
"Oh yeah, well sure, that and you're...I mean, uh, you're maturity level is high."
"Yeah, I'm the youngest of four, so...you know."
"And what do you want to do, for this 'grad school' or 'real job'?"
"Well, I'm thinking about becoming a translator, probaby French because then I could most likely find a job on the East Coast or maybe even in Vermont."
"OH YEAH. Well, my sister's stepdaughter's cousin has a real-estate firm in Delaware, and she knows sign, and she makes probably $250 grand a year, I'm telling the truth you know."
"Of course."
"Well, all I'm saying is, that when it comes right down to it, you can do what you love, and you can do what makes money, and really, you should do what makes money, because money buys freedom." (STEEEEEERRRIIIIIKKKKKKEEEEE THRRREEEEEE!!!!! You are SO out.)
"Well," I reply after throwing up a little in my mouth, "uhhhh, I don't really think that way. I mean, I'm not heading out in the world to make a lot of money. If I do, great, but if not, I'm not going to be wishing my life away wishing I had. If I do what I love, then I'll be happy, regardless of my salary."
"Well, the thing is, you choose money, and then you choose to do what you love with that money, you buy your freedom to do whatever you want."
"Um, I guess I just define freedom differently than you do. And probably the same goes for wealth..."
"Well, sure, that's quite the opinion you have there."

I walked away from that conversation fuming. You do NOT BUY your freedom. My freedom is seeing my family whenever I want to. Freedom is listening to songs I choose to listen to, reading books I choose to read, and moving to other ocuntries for experiences like this. In fact, I can choose whether or not I want to ever speak to that woman again, as opposed to saying false praises or some bullshit like that. So for the Chilean girl who didn't know why Americans would ever want to leave their country: we leave because we can.

One thing: I messed up my phone number. In reality it is: 039-334-509-5218. There.

One of the greatest things about coming to a new country is immersing yourself in the day-to-day life and learning to adjust to it. I love watching the people on the train with me, sweating on the Metro with me, and who talk to me, showing comprehension of the jumbled words spilling out of my mouth. The gentleman at the cell phone strore was very patient with my inquiries about phones, and even helped me with my grammar. I accidentally said, "Ho scegliato questo" (I've chosen this one) and he very calmly said "scelto", as in I should've said, "Ho scelto questo." The little guy residing in my head threw on the DUHmeter, and I smiled while correcting myself. He patted me on the shoulder and said, "You're doing fine." I know this probably doesn't make much sense or seem that important to many of you, but it's so rewarding to be able to go somewhere and figure out that you have started to breakdown the language barrier that bars communication on a simple level, and espeicially that people are willing to help me as I make progress. I guess I'm just really surprised that I'm not dreading heading out in public, and suffering from headaches at the end of the day from working so hard to understand what just the shopkeeper was asking me.

Anywho, I have my cell phone now... Yesterday I tried calling Emily in Switzerland, but the number didn't go through. So I think, "Hmmm, maybe it's the phone...but it should be working fine. I'll call Mom and leave a message on the machine since it's only 2 o'clock there...she'll be so excited to have a message from me when she gets home from work." So I dial the number and it goes through, "Hello?"
I think, "Huh, why is Mom answering the phone? Maybe she took the day off? Nah, I'm an idiot and dialed the wrong number."
I say, "Uhhhhhhhhh....I think I dialed the wrong number."
Mom says, "Okay, goodbye" in her normal cheery voice. I realize at that moment that I doofed the time change, it totally makes sense for her to be home from school, and I did dial the right number, and that is definitely her voice.
"Wait...Mom?!?"
"click..........(dial tone.)"
So yeah, that was me last night, Mom. Hi from Italy!!!

P.S. Yesterday it occurred to me just how many suits, like, businessmen, fly around this city at mach 10 on mopeds--it's awesome!

So I've finally made it. I said my goodbyes (my four year-old niece made me cry), saw Little Miss Sunshine one last time, packed my extremely heavy suitcase and headed off to Italy for a year or more of teaching English/not facing the real world at home. I'd like to take this moment to say that today's entry is un-sponsored by the airline Aer Lingus, or better yet, Aer Dingus. My flight sat on the runway at JFK for two hours before take-off. So much for my one hour ten minute layover before my connecting flight in Dublin. "That's okay," I joked to the kid sitting next to me, "maybe it's a crappy enough airline that my next flight will be delayed too." We both laughed at the absurdity of the thought. Much to my surprise, my flight in Dublin was delayed, three and a half hours, in fact, so I did make the flight, phew. But back to why Aer Lingus is Aer Dingus. Apparently, the short tubby bald man sitting in front of me couldn't deal with his five miles of legroom that come with sitting in an exit row seat (lucky jerk) so as soon as the seatbelt sign was off, BAM, the seat was back in my face and I was inhaling the sweet fibers of airline seat upholstery. I had to laugh when I read the scrawlings of writing on the back of the seat that I guess the airline thinks will cause the passenger to think of Ireland (how about just sheer ire?) One of them was, "We are all in the gutter." Ain't that the truth. It was especially evident when they served 'dinner': pre-digested chicken, crap potatoes and some sort of cheesecustardcake, that I will never subject my mouth to again. I ate lightly that flight, and it's a good thing I thought to bring Rolos and Skittles. The other amusing phrase was, "Above the wailing of the rain." Now replace the word 'rain' with the word 'baby' and you've got this sentence: I could barely hear my iPod above the wailing of the baby. Oh yeah.

But enough is enough, this trip isn't about the flight. So I'm in Italy, living in a suburb of Rome called Cesano (which I would qualify more as a town, since we go through an awful lot of countryside on the train to get here). My apartment is very clean, and I live with people who all went to college with someone I know (Jessie S. and Jenna R.: you are two popular chickens). None of the girls living with me or in the neighborhood speak Italian, so I've had a lot of practice. I'll just say right now that Antonello, Paolo and Cristina did a fabulous job of teaching me Italian, and I owe them major props. I even remember things from their classes, "Oh that? That's Palazzo Venezia, the balcony on that brown building was where Mussolini gave all of his speeches from." I'm also far more comfortable speaking Italian here than I was (am) speaking French in France. None of the girls I've been hanging out with have been to Europe either, so I've had to work hard to keep my patience while they work through the "Oh my God there are other cultres than America's" phase. One girl stated in her Texan drawl, "I just don't think I'll ever get over their clothing. I mean, what is WRONG with them???" I bit my tongue so hard on that one it pretty much came right off. The good thing is my Italian has had a lot of practice, and today was the first day of school, so I'm getting to know more kids here who are a little more on my par of traveling.

La Bianca Notte (the White Night) is a one night celebration of the end of summer where everything in Rome stays open all night long. There are a lot of music shows, dance acts, poetry readings, markets, and comedy troupes to see. It was a little hard to attend these events, as most of them were in Italian, leaving my friends SOL. We stayed with the Happy Hour schedule though, and everything worked out fine. An Italain gentleman approached us seeing a donation for Amnesty International, and this guy Mike who was hanging out with us for the day simply replies, "Yeah, I'm against freedom." The Italian guy didn't pick-up on the sarcasm (it was pretty subtle), so he just hung his head and sighed a defeated "Oh" before turning away. I laughed pretty hard.
The other thing worth metioning is that while everything else is open in Rome, the transportation system is not. I ended up waiting for two and a half hours with the rest of Rome in order to catch the six am train back to Cesano. I am blessed to have an iPod.

That's it for today folks, I'll end with Katie Couric's new tag, "I hope to see you tomorrow." (Granted, that's being said through the eyes of my blog, Jethro.)