Happy Birthday to Me!

Yes, it’s my birthday. 
I’m 34 years old today.  Hard to believe.

I’ve been thinking the past couple of days what I would like to accomplish/become/see happen in the next year.  (I may add to this list as the day progresses.)

I want to become more peaceful.  During the Peace week of Advent, Paul mentioned that perhaps we need to bring more peace into our homes and the people who surround us.  I covet that.  But I feel like I often flail through my days in the middle of chaos.  I’m always hurrying.  Always striving.  Always doing.  Always spinning in circles.  I want to learn how to be.  Just be. 

I want to continue to spend more time just being with God.  That’s my Lenten fast, and let me tell you, it hasn’t been easy.  I’m failing at it more than I’m succeeding.  I’m still grumpy about it.  And instead of this experience bringing me closer to God, I feel like he’s retreated behind a wall.  I can’t figure it out.  I even told Him this morning, “You know, talking to you is like talking to a brick wall.”  He didn’t respond.  I’m still figuring out my relationship with Him.  Right now I’m frustrated.

I want to make more of an effort in my relationship with Matt.  I love him, but by the end of the day I’m spent.  We need more time together.  More deep conversations.  More hugs.  More, well, you know.

I want to carve out more time in my day to play with my kiddos.  I need to just let some things go.  I’m so driven by duty.  I want to just open my arms to the joy and innocence that saturate those two precious beings and give myself to them.

I want to write more.  I’ve been writing quite a bit lately.  Even when I’m not writing, I’m often composing in my head.  Sometimes those compositions make it to paper/the computer screen; often they don’t.  But just the act of writing–even if it’s purely on the screen in my head–makes me feel more alive.

I want to pursue my intense passion about birth and motherhood and become a doula.  I’ve started training to become a postpartum doula, and I should be ready for clients soon.  I’m almost done with the training part and then need to continue the study part.  Now I just need some clients to help me learn the practical part.  I’m also planning on pursuing certification as a labor doula.  I can’t be a labor doula at the moment, though, since little Jack won’t take a bottle and still nurses regularly.  If I can get my act together, there’s a certain someone who may have me be her doula in October.   

I want to pursue passion.

I want to figure out a place to volunteer.  I talk the talk of social justice, but I don’t really walk the walk. 

I want to continue my quest to go green. 

I want to pursue a more vegetarian lifestyle.  Last night, for example, I fixed pinto bean sweet potato chili and homemade wheat bread.  It was delicious!

I want to continue to exercise on a regular basis.

And of course, I want Obama to become President. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So how am I going to spend my birthday? 
Well, every four hours I’m going to wrestle Jack to the floor and give him a breathing treatment.  Yes, the little guy has a virus (probably RSV) and bronchiolitis.  Poor baby.  He’s perking up finally.  We have spent some precious moments the past couple of days with his little head resting on my shoulder as I swayed with him.  That seemed to be the position where he was most comfortable. 
Today for lunch a friend of mine (whose daughter, Carley, just happens to be Amélie’s best friend) is taking us out to Burger King.  We’ll get to sit and talk while the girls run and play in the indoor (albeit germ-infested)  play place.  Tonight we’re going out to dinner somewhere.  I’m not sure where.  Any ideas?  Matt and Amélie made me a cake last night, so when we get home we’ll have presents, cake and ice cream. 

And to make my birthday complete, I saw a robin today while taking Amélie to school  Spring, perhaps, is truly on its way.

4-year-old politics

I think they were just talking about McCain.

Hmmmmm?  I responded, tearing my eyes away from the newspaper I was reading. 

I think they were just talking about McCain.

Oh, really?  Why do you say that?

Because they were just talking about someone who was going to lose.

Ah, yes, then.  I’m sure they were talking about McCain.

Actually, I’m pretty sure they weren’t.  NPR was, as usual, humming along in the kitchen, and although Alex Chadwick must have been talking about someone losing, I don’t think it was McCain.  I don’t think he was talking about anything political at all at that moment, actually. 

I had no idea Amélie even knew McCain’s name.  She certainly knows Obama’s name.  She knows what he looks like and sounds like, too.  She is always pointing his picture out to me on the television or newspaper and can even recognize his voice over the radio. 

That’s my girl. 

She’s pretty smart, too, apparently, since she’s predicting McCain is going to lose.

Of course, she also predicted we would have a baby girl.

ridiculous

School’s ‘official’ policy on female refs at issue

St. Mary’s Academy under fire for banning woman from officiating basketball game last weekend

By Rick DeanThe Capital-JournalPublished Sunday, February 10, 2008Darin Putthoff used to consider St. Mary’s Academy a good place to officiate a high school basketball game. As director of basketball operations for the Topeka Officials Association, he once did whatever he could to secure game officials for the private school in Pottawatomie County.

But Putthoff sensed a different mood when he walked on the court Feb. 2 with his partner, second-year referee Michelle Campbell.

ST. MARY’S ACADEMY

St. Mary’s is owned and operated by the Society of St. Pius X, a priestly society founded by Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre that opposes changes made by the Roman Catholic Church during the 1960s. According to the school’s Web site, more than 750 students (kindergarten through 12th grade) attended St. Mary’s as of September 2003.

With a stated goal of forming “good Catholics and good citizens in such a manner that the whole person may be submitted to the reign of Jesus Christ in the spiritual, moral, intellectual and physical spheres,” St. Mary’s does not accept government or corporate funding because it wishes “to remain completely free from any interference in the Catholic structure of our programs.”

www.smac.edu, The Asssociated Press“

As soon as we walked through the door (during pregame warmup) we started getting stares and the cold shoulder,” he said. “I thought that was odd, because usually they’re very hospitable there. It’s actually a pretty good place to work.”

The reason for the climate change quickly became obvious to both referees when, just 10 minutes before tipoff, a clearly embarrassed school administrator asked that Campbell not work the game.“

He told us women were not allowed to referee there,” said Putthoff, who was asked to work with two male officials from the just-completed junior varsity game.“

I was shocked, immediately caught off guard. I said, ‘If Michelle has to leave, I’m leaving with her,’ and we all walked. As far as I’m concerned, I’m never coming back.”

The exact nature of the St. Mary’s Academy policy, and the rationale behind it, remains unclear. Repeated requests for an explanation were directed to school principal Father Vincent Griego, who didn’t respond to interview requests.

As of Friday afternoon, Griego also hadn’t responded to inquiries made by the Kansas State High School Activities Association, which could revoke the academy’s “approved school” status that allows it to compete against KSHSAA member schools, something it does only on a limited basis.

St. Mary’s Academy — unlike its public school counterpart, St. Marys High School — isn’t a KSHSAA member school, noted executive director Gary Musselman. Rather, it is on the association’s approved school list, meaning KSHSAA members are allowed to play the Crusaders even though the school doesn’t meet the KSHSAA’s member accreditation standards. Association members are allowed to compete only against schools that are members of a recognized state association or are on an approved list.

Musselman said the KSHSAA is attempting to learn more about the St. Mary’s Academy policy toward female referees.“

Our officials deserve the support of our organization, and the TOA deserves the dignity of a response,” Musselman said of concerns voiced by Potthoff. “We want to hear from the school about their policy and their rationale to see if it’s consistent with the standards we expect from our approved schools.

“We want to be fair and give them the chance to present their side of the story.”

St. Mary’s Academy, according to its Web site, is owned and operated by the Society of St. Pius X, an international society of traditional Roman Catholic priests. The society generally disdains the modern reforms to Catholic teachings and rites made by the Second Vatican Council.

Putthoff plans to ask his TOA board whether to continue providing registered officials for Crusader games. Based on his experience of last week, his inclination is to ask the TOA to suspend its association with the school.“

I’d be shocked if they remain an approved school,” Putthoff said.

Campbell, one of five female TOA members currently working high school basketball throughout northeast Kansas, said if she had known of the St. Mary’s Academy policy, she wouldn’t have accepted the officiating assignment that precipitated the controversy.

“This probably would have come up sooner or later, but I just happened to be the one who got involved,” she said. “I was dumbfounded when I learned of it.

“But I’ve gotten overwhelming support from other officials, and that’s helped. Right now I’m trusting that the association will handle it in an appropriate manner. All the facts have yet to be gathered.”

A former player at K-State under coach Judy Akers in the mid 1970s, Campbell recently retired from a 20-year law enforcement career in Albuquerque, N.M., where she worked her way up from street patrol to a position in the department’s homicide unit. A native of Westmoreland, she moved to Ozawkie after retirement and began officiating after learning of an officials shortage.“

She’s a qualified official who’s paid her dues and deserves to work,” Putthoff said. “She’s elevated her work to the point that she’s one of the better officials in northeast Kansas. I’d work with her on any level of varsity ball, any time.“

But this had nothing to do with whether she was qualified. This was a sad day for the kids, and for Kansas basketball. We will always keep in mind the best interests of the kids we serve, but we also have to defend our members.”

This isn’t the first time St. Mary’s Academy has confronted such controversy. In 2004, the Catholic school refused to play an eight-man football game against White City because one of the players on White City’s roster was a girl.

St. Mary’s Academy forfeited the game, and White City was awarded a 2-0 victory.

Rick Dean can be reached at rick.dean@cjonline.com. 

funny

This morning as I was slip-sliding along while taking Amélie to preschool, I passed a parked car with these words painted on the windshield: 
2008 STATE QUALIFIER!!
171 lbs
I had to laugh.  I know it must be for wrestling, but still, I mean…do you have your weight painted on your back windshield?  I sure don’t. 

miscellany

Matt found me sobbing this morning in the kitchen while listening to this.  I swear, I am this close to becoming a vegetarian.  Matt and I have talked about it.  Being the bleeding hearts that we are, it’s pretty much a wonder that we’re not militant members of PETA.  It’s just that, I like meat.  I remember considering becoming a vegetarian when we lived in LA (b/c, after all, everyone was doing it), but I couldn’t give up my In-N-Out Burgers.  But who, in their right mind, would ever give up meat for that taste of heaven.  They serve the best hamburgers and french fries on the planet.  I remember one time practically falling all over an unsuspecting Kansan wearing an In-N-Out Burger t-shirt.  I thought that we’d be instant friends when I ran up to him gesticulating wildly about his shirt.  He just thought I was…weird.  Apparently not all In-N-Out fans are as friendly as I am. 
But I digress.  I really do have a hard time eating meat.  I just have to close my eyes, hold my breath, open my mouth, and pretend that this meat I’m savoring is not, well, meat.  From an animal.  That had a face and feelings.  That was killed.  Truthfully, I eat the venison from my grandpa with not nearly the guilt I feel when I eat other animals that have been pumped with hormones and antibiotics and then tortured to death.  I know that the deer I eat have roamed free, eaten pure foods, and died a quick death.  I still can’t think of their limpid, beautiful brown eyes when I eat my venison burgers, but I can eat them. 
I’m really struggling with this.  My friend Megan has become a vegetarian, and we talked about it a lot when she was in town from Chicago a few weeks ago.  And my friend Rachel has a roommate who is Hindu, so she’s obviously eating a lot of vegetarian food (and she’s a fabulous vegetarian cook anyway…actually, she’s just a plain fabulous cook).  She butchered a hog this weekend, but I’m assuming it was hormone-, antibiotic-, and cruelty-free.
So maybe I should just eat meat that’s hormone-, antibiotic-, and cruelty-free.
I just don’t know.  It’s hard.  I’m not ready to make any permanent decisions yet.  I have been feeding us a vegetarian meal every week, so I guess that’s a start.
Anyone have any thoughts?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This morning, as Matt held me and told me he loved me while I was crying in our kitchen, I was reminded of why I love him.  He gets stuff like that.  And even if he didn’t, even if I were standing in the kitchen crying for absolutely no reason at all, he would have held me and told me he loved me just the same.  Yesterday when I was working out, the song “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol played on my iPod, and it just made my heart swell with love for him.  I remembered the afternoon he asked me to watch the video with him.  We sat there in the office and watched it, and I remember my heart being full of the beauty of the song, the beauty of the video, and love for him.  Of course, I totally ruined the moment by telling him that the guy should really be singing, “If I just lie here” rather than “lay here,” but then, I do stuff like that all the time. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not to ruin that sentimental moment, but your Monday morning needs to read this Christian Sex Toy article.  I was looking for the meat recall article, and I stumbled upon this.  You can listen to the segment here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And coming soon on my blog….

My venture into a group aerobics class and my pilgrimage into the dark bowels of Lent. 
(Those two are completely unrelated, btw.) 

My baby boy

It’s OK, really, that he has had 7 colds in 9 months and that his face is often snotty and goobery.
It doesn’t bother me that he expresses his love to me by yanking at my hair and poking at my eyes.
It’s OK that I have a hard time getting anything done because his favorite place to be is perched on my hip or cradled in my arms.
It doesn’t bother me too much that this morning as I was trying to get ready he unrolled toilet paper and paper towels.
It’s OK that he pooped a googly eye (although it scared me to death).
It doesn’t bother me too much that he gets mad when I try to sneak his mushy vegetables under a sweet layer of fruit.
It’s OK that I have to stand vigilant guard over bowls of dog food and dog water. 
It doesn’t bother me too much that he still wakes up at night craving milk and warm arms.

It’s all OK because I love him.
Because his smile has lit up my world.
Because he has filled to overflowing a Jack-shaped hole in my heart that I didn’t even know existed with buckets and buckets of fierce, beautiful, precious love.

I love you, little guy.  I can’t believe you’re 9 months old. 

(I know the sound is tinny and just pretty terrible.  Sorry.)

(I don’t know how many of you click the link to our family’s blog on my blogroll, but if you haven’t checked it out in the past few weeks, Matt posted his favorite pictures of 2007.  I think it’s the 3rd post down.)

Lent

Lent is sort of a new thing for me.  I guess it was too Catholic of an exercise for my church to follow as I was growing up.  The practice was even looked down upon, I think.  After all, those same people who gave up their morning smoke break or their evening Bud Light were the same hypocrites who spent Fat Tuesday chasing their nicotine rush with bottle upon bottle of beer.  Besides, Lent was too spiritually and liturgically scripted and ritualistic.  It couldn’t really be from the heart.  I mean, they shouldn’t be smoking or drinking in the first place, right? 

And then last year, Paul suggested that we give up something for Lent. 

The truth is, I didn’t want to give anything up.  And what would I give up, anyway?  I wasn’t smoking or drinking (I was pregnant, after all), and I had a terrible time thinking of something to give up that didn’t include an ulterior motive on my part.  My first thought was to give up sugar, but my subsequent thought was not how depriving my sweet tooth would bring me closer to God but how many pounds I might lose on this 40-day venture.  I considered giving up my daily Diet Coke/Diet Dr. Pepper, but did you know that drinking even one can of diet soda a day increases your chance of being overweight by 41%?  I knew that, and that’s what I would have been meditating on for 40 days.  I was stuck. 

One Saturday night after Paul’s message, however, I fell asleep pondering what I could give up.  And in the middle of the night, I woke up, and I knew.  I really knew.  I woke up with this sudden, deep knowing that I was to wake up early every morning and spend some time before God being silent.  Just me and Him.  I was to sit quietly and be and listen.  I felt such peace as I drifted off to sleep.

And then I woke up the next morning.  I burrowed my sleepy self deeper into my cozy, warm blankets, and decided that God would have never asked me to give up sleep, of all things, to grow closer to him.  The night before had been some sort of pregnancy-induced hallucination.  Maybe next year. 

It’s next year.  And it’s funny, once I noticed how the season of Lent was fast approaching, how I started dodging God. 

I know I could spend this time while Jack is sleeping talking to you, God, but I just got this new iPod, you know, and I want to listen to some music. We’ll catch up later. 

I would look at the calendar, see the words Ash Wednesday, and feel an inner tug.

God, I would whine, I’m so tired.  I have a baby who still doesn’t sleep through the night very often.  You don’t really want me to wake up early, do you?  It might seriously hinder my ability to be a good mom, and I know you want me to be a good mom.  It’s an important job!  I don’t do it very well when I’m sleep-deprived.

And then I made the mistake of telling Matt about what I thought God was telling me to do for Lent.  And then he had the nerve to ask me about it and to offer to encourage me to follow through.  The nerve.  Really.  How dare he? 

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday.  I wanted to go to our church’s service (at a mortuary, no less!), but Matt got home late, my tofu stir-fry wasn’t stir-frying fast enough, and Jack was fussy and demanding to be held every second.  Besides, I hadn’t gotten up early yesterday morning, and I didn’t want to be reminded of my failure. 

Last night, though, before I drifted off to sleep I asked God to help me get up in the morning.  My alarm was set for 5:00.  At 4:58 Jack woke up hungry.  He ate, fell back asleep, and I trudged downstairs.  I didn’t really want to spend those moments with God, but I did.  It was a little different than I expected.  I perched myself in my rocking chair and carefully placed my cup of coffee close by in case I started to drift off.  I just sat there.  I felt kind of stupid.  Was I supposed to say something?  It’s not like I expected God to appear to me in a vision, but I thought He might at least say something appreciative of the fact that it was terribly early in the morning and I was sacrificing one of my most precious possessions–sleep–to spend some time with Him.  I didn’t know what to do.  Was I really supposed to be silent?  I decided that some conversation was OK, as long as I didn’t start into a litany of requests, demands, and complaints.  I thought I’d start by discussing with Him my avoidance tactics of late, just in case he hadn’t noticed.  I got the distinct impression that he had noticed, that he understood why, and that he wasn’t all that mad at me.  After discussing our intimacy issues, I tried silence again for awhile.  Then I moved on to politics.

So, God, what do you think about Obama?  I know everyone thinks you’re a Republican and all, but from what I’ve been reading in the Bible lately I just can’t see how you would agree with tax cuts for the rich.  I was just reading in Zechariah yesterday your prescription for life: “Treat one another justly.  Love your neighbors.  Be compassionate with each other.  Don’t take advantage of widows, orphans, visitors, and the poor.”  Are you a closet Democrat?  If so, would you just tell those damn Republicans to….
Oops.  Obviously starting on a political discussion did not fit in with the criteria to be still, to be silent, and to listen. 
I tried again. 

It was hard.  I’m really opinionated, apparently, and it seems I have this burning need to tell God just what I need/want and just how to run things and just how the current aspects of my life that aren’t working too well could be altered with just a wee bit of divine intervention of his part. 

It’s going to be a long 40 days–for both God and me. 

[Check out the absolutely beautiful Lent-zine Melanie created for our church this year.  You, Melanie, are amazing!  I can't wait to pick up my copy!]

Obama drama…take two

What is up with this?  Every time I try to do something for Obama something dramatic happens to thwart my plans.  Tonight was no different. 

Matt stayed home with the kids b/c Amélie says she’s sick (who knows…but I’m glad she didn’t go).  I drove to El Dorado, where the civic center was packed with people (a majority of them Obama fans).  It was kind of fun…for awhile.  There was a lot of good-natured heckling between the Hillary fans and the Obama fans.  The speaker guy got up and told us what we were to expect during the evening, which included 30 minutes to get ourselves in the right camp and convince any undecided people or Edwards people (there were a few of them there!  Apparently they don’t watch the news….) to pick a camp.  Then, we were going to count off.  There was one little glitch, however. 
The electricity went out. 
It didn’t come back on. 
It was pitch black.  It was insane!  Then someone came in our room and told us we needed to start counting off b/c the fire marshals were there and were about to kick us all out.  So, people started counting off.  In the dark.  I was #84, I think.  Is that legal???  I mean, I could have counted off several times if I had wanted to.  I didn’t want to. I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible and drive home.  I drove home through blowing snow and sleet.  I could barely see in front of me.  It was insane.  Absolutely insane!  I’m so glad to be home!!! 
Now I’m obsessively watching CNN and drinking a beer.  I think I’m going to need more than one.

It’s Caucus Day! (and some other stuff)

Today is caucus day.  I’m so excited!  Can you guess whom I’m caucusing for?  Just kidding.  I know you know.  I made up a little caucusing for Obama ditty on Saturday morning in the shower, but based on Matt’s unenthusiastic response when I sang it to him, I think I’ll not put you through the torture.  I know it was bad, but it was kind of fun to make up.  I’m a dork, I know.  I think I’ll start a group called “Dorks for Obama.”  I would be the charter…and only…member.  I can’t help it. 

A correction from my last blog:  The funny line in Dar’s song, “Alleluia,” is “There’s got to be more to dead than surfing all the time” (not “more to heaven”).  I really ruined it.  The real line is way funnier.  I did correct myself this morning, but not before the millions of you who read my blog (OK, so maybe 50 of you) had already read the incorrect version. 

In other news, Jack is crawling now!  He started this new activity on Friday.  His inspiration?  the dish of dog food.  So far that’s what he crawls fastest towards.  As of yet he hasn’t made it to the dog food or water dish, but I know it’s only a matter of time. 

Have you had any days recently that just started…bad?  I had one of those days yesterday.  My alarm went off at 5:30 (which is bad in and of itself), and Jack woke up approximately one second later.  How was I supposed to get ready?  Frustrating.  At 7:15 I was in the bathroom putting on makeup while Jack was playing on the floor beside me.  Ed came in through the dog door and started acting rather funny.  This usually means that he has either gotten wet (he hates to get wet!) or that he has stepped in something.  Turns out, he had stepped in something.  Turns out, that something was poop.  As I was frantically (and grumpily) cleaning out from under Ed’s monstrously long toe nails and cleaning poop up off the floor (which, please remember, Jack is now crawling on and then sitting up and stuffing his fingers in his mouth), I heard the sound of pouring liquid.  There was Jack, who had crawled over to my hastily abandoned coffee cup and was pouring the hot liquid on the floor.  Thankfully he didn’t burn himself.  As I was mopping up the coffee mess, he crawled away, and what should be creeping up the back of his clothes?  Poop.  He had pooped up his back, so as soon as I had the poop and coffee cleaned up off the floor, I had to clean all the poop off of him.  And this was all before 7:30!  I so wanted to climb back in bed and throw the covers over my head. 

As I’ve been typing this Jack has been reorganizing my pantry.  I guess I should go undo the damage. 

How much longer until nap time?

In the meantime, I’ll leave you with a Super Tuesday Song I just heard.  Check it out!
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=18698214

So you want to know what’s playing on my iPod while I workout?

Oh, you don’t?  Oh well.  I want to share anyway.  I’m sort of obsessive about my music at the moment. 

“Alleluia” by Dar Williams.  Because this song is just funny.  I mean, donkey rides in heaven?  “There’s got to be more to dead than surfing all the time.”  I laugh every time I hear this song.  I just try to remember to laugh quietly while I’m at the Y.  (This is a horrible recording.  You probably won’t be able to make out the words.)

“The Christians and the Pagans” by Dar Williams.  Because it really would be nice if, more often, “the Christians and the pagans sat together at the table / Finding faith and common ground the best that they were able / Lighting trees in darkness, learning new ways from the old and / Making sense of history and drawing warmth out of the cold.”  I performed this song one time.  Some of you will probably hate it, but I love it.  This song is, in my opinion, brilliant. 

“Iowa” by Dar Williams.  Because if I had a lighter while I was working out, I would wave it in the air during the chorus.  Plus, I, too, ”long to fall just a little bit, to dance out of the lines and stray from the light.”

“On the Air” by Girlyman.  Because I like Girlyman, and because these three can harmonize.  I tried to pick songs that weren’t folky, but I just can’t.  I’m just lucky that I found some perky ones.

“Kittery Tide” by Girlyman.  Because it’s another perky one!  This is just a fun song.  Love it. 

“Closer to Fine” by Indigo Girls.  Because “darkness has a hunger that’s insatiable and lightness has a call that’s hard to hear.”

“Rise from the Ruins” by Pierce Pettis.  Because “we can walk / We can talk. / We ain’t yet pillars of salt / and we will rise from the ruins when we can.” 

“State of Grace” by Pierce Pettis.  Because “I am not ashamed / to make my home / in a state of grace.”  This isn’t really a very good workout song.  I’ll probably replace it soon.  I like it, though.

“I Know Where You Are” by Girlyman.  Because who needs a runner’s high when you have this song.  It’s not really a workout song, but it’s a beta-endorphin rush of beauty.  By the time I get to the end of this song, I just want to raise my hands in rapture and harmonize loudly.  If I have my iPod when you are around me I will stick you in a corner, make you close your eyes, and force you to listen.