Sherrif Joe's Got Nothing On Me!

Welcome to Tent City. I decided these ladies had committed one too many offenses and it was time for some prison camp to teach them a lesson.

Let's see what the little inmates are up to right now, shall we?

What's this? WHAT is THIS?! Are you two making moonshine in your bunk?

Yeah. Busted! AGAIN!

Biggest Dilemma Of All Time!

So, I'm gonna' need your help on this one. What do I throw away? The games...or the children?

What Does The Future Hold?

SO! It has come to my attention that the New Moon soundtrack will be released in early October and more and more bands who will be featured on it are being announced each week. I have not heard from Summit or Chop Shop and therefore am safely assuming I am not going to be included on this soundtrack. In all honestly, I'm actually not that disappointed. I really love the bands who are included on the soundtrack. Well, not all of them, but MOST of them. Also, I did feel extremely stressed about all of the expectations that would come with being featured on this soundtrack, i.e. photo shoots, interviews, music video, etc. and with Zander due to arrive within the next few weeks, I did NOT know how I was going to pull this off. I'm not saying I'm glad I didn't make it on - just surprisingly not as disappointed as I thought I would be.

Now a lot of questions are being raised by friends, fans, my husband and I and, I'm sure very soon - band mates. I have spent several weeks contemplating my next move with the thought in mind that there was a possibility we would not make it on. The competition was stiff and not only are we only really known by a couple of thousand people worldwide, but we have no representation at this time. SO...it's just one of those things. The music business is tough. You have to really want it bad. You have to be willing to fight for what you want with everything you've got and, most importantly, you have to decide how far you're willing to go and what you're willing to sacrifice.

Keeping that in mind and knowing that the future holds many possibilities and nothing is certain, here's what I plan to do:

1. Put the two songs I wrote for New Moon up on Itunes (maybe I can make back enough money to at least cover what I paid in recording fees).

2. Go ahead and lay down the song I wrote for Eclipse and put it out there on youtube and myspace, etc. and go ahead and submit the press kit (there's a new director for Eclipse, so you never know) and probably just put it up on Itunes right now, as well.

3. Focus on recording and finishing up the writing on a full length album, which will be entitled "The Beginning Of The End", which will feature songs about relationships, the state of the world, etc. At least one track will feature a rapper, which is something new I'm trying, but I'm really excited about the outcome of it. And I can't WAIT to hear the drums Bertrand will put with this (his background is progressive hard rock, so that with my sound should be interesting - in a good way).

4. Promote myself and my band as best as I can without sacrificing my family.

I love my kids and they along with my marriage are my priority, so as long as none of them are being jeopardized and I can find the balance, I will get out and play publicly and promote as best as I can. I have often discussed with my husband whether or not I would ever stop writing music and really, I don't think I could if I wanted to. I will always write music and I will always share it with whoever wants to hear it. Whether or not I'll achieve big name status in the music business is yet to be determined, but music is my passion and it's a passion I share with my husband and we will always pursue it in some way.

In the meantime, Bertrand is very seriously considering going back to school for an eventual masters in criminal justice and hoping for a career in crime scene investigation and I am feeling compelled to keep moving the direction I am - transcribing as much as I can while raising four beautiful children and, of course, writing in my spare time - music and books.

I am so grateful to family, friends, and people I don't know from all around the United States and even the world who have supported and encouraged me and continue to do so. That's a big part of what keeps me going - especially when I have my down times, which do happen. Just knowing that people out there appreciate what I've produced so far is very fulfilling and I hope to continue writing music and stories that entertain for years to come.

My Baby Boy!

I know, I totally threw you off there. You thought I was talking about Zander. But, today is my firstborn baby boy's birthday - John.

I've decided today I want to take a look back on some funny and some sweet moments about John's life so far.

What's In A Name?

Before John was born, I knew I was going to have a boy. I wanted a boy first because I never had an older brother, but a lot of my friends did and I was so envious. I wanted a boy to lead by example for my younger children. I was thrilled to death when the ultrasound confirmed it.

Name intended for him: Wesley Owen Done (Yes, I tried to name him after Wesley on "The Princess Bride")

Name actually given: John Ammon Done, Jr. (His daddy wanted a junior so bad, he begged for it as I was pushing him out in delivery)

Name he wanted at the age of 6: Jackie Chan (John idolized this man as a young boy. He watched his cartoon, his movies and just really wanted to be named after him)

Names he wishes for now: Zoran or Tormund (He thinks they sound like good, strong military combat names)

My Favorite Phases

John has been through a lot of phases, but two hilarious ones that stand out to me are:

1. The Chinese phase - John used to lament that he wished he was born in China. He just wanted to be Chinese so bad (mostly because he idolized Jackie Chan). He wanted his room decorated in Chinese characters and pictures and he dreamed of being a Ninja. It was so hilarious to me, but I felt bad for him at the same time. I totally understood his dilemma. After all, I always wished I was born an Indian Princess who was then kidnapped. (Don't ask, I don't have an answer for that one.)

2. The spaceship phase - John was obsessed with aliens and spaceships and rocket ships for a while. I'll never forget the time he came home from kindergarten with a little booklet about shapes. Each page had a shape and it said, "It was a circle. Now it's a..." and each student had to think of something they could turn the shape into. John's book went like this:

It was a circle. Now it's a.... face.
It was a square. Now it's a....spaceship.
It was a triangle. Now it's a....spaceship.
It was a diamond. Now it's a...spaceship.
It was a square. Now it's a...spaceship.
It was an oval. Now it's a....(take a wild guess).

I started laughing and John was immediately offended. I felt so bad, but it was so hilarious to me. I laughed so hard, I cried. I really wish I would have kept that booklet. It was too cute!

The Chosen Path

Some of us have dreams for our kids - dreams of what they'll be someday. I've often wondered this about each one of my kids and tried to guess what they might become. John has always pondered on this subject and voiced his desires since the age of about 5. Here's how his career choices have evolved.

Age 5:
John - Mom, when I grow up can I be a garbage man?
Me - A garbage man? Really?
John - Yeah!
Me- Why, honey?
John - Because I like garbage trucks. They're fun to drive.
Me - Have you ever driven one?
John - Not, but I really want to.
Me - Okay, honey. If you really want to be a garbage man, you can.

Age 6: Ninja.

Age 8:
John - Mom, I really know what I want to be now when I grow up.
Me - Okay. What is it?
John - An Army field medic.
Me - A what?
John - An Army field medic.
Me - What is that? I've never heard of that.
John - It's someone who goes out in the field and helps wounded soldiers and takes them back to base to do surgeries on them and get them better.
Me - How do you even know about this stuff?
John - I read about it and see it on TV.
Me - Wow! Okay. But that's really dangerous. You could get killed on the battlefield while trying to rescue someone.
John - (Shrugging) Well, I just want to help people, so I've gotta' take that risk sometimes.
Me - (Speechless).

Age 9: Detective/Spy. He begged me to subscribe him to a Junior Detective magazine (and I did) that came with spy gear and he loved playing spy and detective.

Age 10: History professor. He's a HUGE history buff. He loves to read about history and he watches The History Channel on a regular basis.

Age 11:
John - Mom. I know I've changed my mind about stuff a lot, but I really, really know what I want to be now.
Me - You don't want to be a history professor anymore?
John - No.
Me - (Whining) But why? Honey, you're so smart and you know so much about history and when you tell me about it, it's very interesting and I want to hear more and I HATED history in school. You should really be a history professor. I think you would be great!
John - Mom. Listen, I know I love history and stuff, but I don't want to be a history professor.
Me - (Sighing) Okay. What do you want to do then?
John - I want to be in the Marines.
Me - WHAT?!?!?!
John - I want to go to Westpoint.
Me - WESTPOINT?!?!
John - It's a military academy.
Me - I KNOW what it IS! But WHY!?!?!
John - Because, mom. I just really want to.
Me - You have to work really hard in school and be an excellent student at the top of your class to get in there.
John - You think I can't do it?
Me - No. I KNOW you can do it, but...really?
John - (Annoyed) Yes!
Me - Okay, well it's gonna' be tough! I mean, they're gonna' work you over! Some nights you might be lying in bed crying for me and wishing you were back home.
John - (Rolling his eyes) Mom. Whatever. I'm not a baby.
Me - Grown men cry, John. The military is TOUGH!
John - I know, but it's what I want to do.
Me - WOW! Okay then! Go for it! You can do it!

He's stuck by this now for two years. Today he is 13. He approached me a couple of weeks ago and requested that I sign him up for Krav Maga classes. I had never heard of it. It's Israeli Defense Military Training. Again I asked him how in the WORLD he even knew about that. He does a lot of reading and research and watches a lot of military and history shows. So, we found the best Krav Maga studio with the #1 expert in the country, which fortunately happens to be right here in Arizona and we've spoken with them and they are going to give him a complimentary training course in six weeks and if it's what he really wants, we're signing him up.

He's still adamant about wanting to attend Westpoint someday. And he's still adamant about joining the military and working his way up through the ranks. According to the Krav Maga expert, having four years of extensive training in Krav Maga will look amazing on his resume and open up many opportunities for him. Apparently it's used in military and law enforcement, which is right up his alley.

Honestly, it's scary to think about my son out there involved in battle. I'd much rather see him in a nice, safe classroom teaching history to college students. But, if this is what he wants, and he seems awfully determined (he takes after me), then I have to support him in it.

Favorite Sweet Moment:

When John was about 6 years old, I was a single mom and the two of us lived alone in a new condo I had just purchased. I told John he was the man of the house - not to put pressure on him, but to try and make him feel important. He took this role very seriously. One weekend I became very ill. I think it was the flu, but it was an extreme case. I couldn't get out of bed - AT ALL! I couldn't move. I couldn't take care of my son.

John came into my room and said, "Mom. You sleep and I'll take care of everything, okay?"

I said, "Honey, it's okay. Just play with your toys and watch some cartoons and I promise I'll feel better really soon and come out and take care of you, okay? You let me know if you need anything."

He said, "No, mom. You let ME know if YOU need anything." Then, with that, he shut my bedroom door and I fell into a deep sleep.

I awoke a couple of hours later to John entering my room. He had a big tray in his arms with some cold cereal and some other food items on it. I can't remember what they were, but he said,
"Mom. Don't worry. I cleaned the whole house and I made you some dinner."

It still brings tears to my eyes to think about that day. My sweet boy has always been very thoughtful and caring like that. He's always concerned about everyone else and how they feel and what they need. I'm thankful for such a sweet, loving son.

I can't believe he's 13 already. These 13 years have been full of laughter and tears, joy and fear. I look forward to the next 13 and I am excited to watch this young man continue to evolve. Happy Birthday, John!

Sense of Humor Required!

I'm 35 weeks and 2 days along today. I have been dealing with extreme sciatic and ligament pain, as well as false, but very painful and debilitating contractions for about two months now. I swear with every baby the pregnancy becomes more and more difficult and the contractions and major end-of-pregnancy discomfort starts in earlier each time. (That's why this is my last).

Friday afternoon I was having a particularly difficult time. It was really painful to walk, the contractions were constant and I was desperate to find some sort of remedy because I just had a feeling this was not real labor. I struck a deal with my husband - I'll take the girls on a drive to the bank (40 minutes round trip) so you can unwind and play drums, and then I'll bring them back, you serve them dinner and bathe them while I go to my parents' house and relax in their pool to get some pressure off, and then you put the girls to bed, I'll pick up a nice dinner for us and we can eat in peace and relax and enjoy the evening. Deal? Deal.

Upon arrival at my parents' house, I dipped in the pool, floated around a bit, heaved big sighs of relief, started feeling REALLY good and decided "I need to exercise. I am just so huge and I haven't come here and exercised in a while." Feeling invincible, I proceeded to do some light water aerobics in the pool. I was feeling good. It felt good to be able to move around any way I wanted with no pain. I started working up to a rigorous pace and before I knew it, an hour had passed and I had performed a pretty good workout routine. Satisfied, I glided over to the pool steps, closed my eyes, and breathed in the peaceful night air. The darkness began to close in around me and there weren't any lights on outside (and I was completely alone), so I decided to get out and head home with that nice dinner I had promised my husband.

I stood up in the pool and began to make my ascent. The first step up was fine, the second one felt a bit heavy and my stomach started to cramp, I took the final step up out and fell to my knees in pain. Extreme pain! The cramping and contractions were heavy and I could barely breathe. "Oh no", I thought. "What have I done?" I proceeded to crawl along the pool deck, each movement agonizing, but there was nobody around and I had to get to a chair at least. I finally made it after several excruciating minutes and pulled myself up into a deck chair. Eventually I felt good enough to get up and try to walk. I stood up and the cramping and contractions were there, but had definitely eased enough to the point where I could at least hobble.

I let myself into my parents' house and placed an order from their phone to Applebee's for take out - a nice steak and potatoes for my husband, a light chicken and salad for myself. Finally, I arrived home about a half hour later, having suffered some pretty good, hard contractions on the drive there, but luckily this is my fourth and I know how to breathe through them so I didn't have a wreck.

I hobbled into the house, grunting and groaning and Bertrand helped me set up for dinner. Several minutes later, I had to stop. I couldn't eat anymore. The contractions were regular and seemed to be coming on harder. Bertrand asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital, but I knew from my past nightmare experience with Chloe's delivery that I didn't even want to go NEAR a hospital until I was 100% sure this was real labor and at 35 weeks I felt there was a chance this was just the horrid false labor pains that put me out of commission and I could probably stop them. I requested a big glass of water and put my feet up on the couch for an evening of TV to try to relax and get the contractions to stop.

Three hours passed. With each passing hour the contractions began to come on harder and more painful. Then the back labor started in. I was exhausted from the constant laboring and sick of lying in front of the TV. There were so many things I wanted to accomplish that night - three hours of reality TV was not one of them.

It was nearly midnight and my poor, exhausted husband, facing a day of work in the heat the following morning, just wanted his bed.

"Let's go to bed, Babe." He suggested.

"Oh, honey," I replied. "There's no way I can sleep like this. I'm in so much pain and I'll just keep you awake. Why don't you go to bed and I'll get some transcription work done."

"How are you going to work with contractions?" He asked with concern.

"Oh, I'll be fine. Really. I'll just breathe through them. Work will keep me occupied at least, but I know I can't sleep like this."

He shrugged his shoulders and reluctantly agreed and headed off to bed. I pushed myself up into a seated position on the couch and began to rise onto my feet. I had to stop midway because of a heavy contraction, but breathed through it and stood straight up. Then I took a step forward and nearly fell to the ground. The pain that shot down the front and back of my left leg was so excruciating, I could barely stand it. I cried out and Bertrand came running.

"Are you okay? What's going on?" He called as he ran back out to me.

"Honey, I can't walk." I moaned in pain.

He stood there looking me up and down. "Well, what are you gonna' do?"

"I don't know, but I seriously cannot walk." I started to sob in frustration. "I hate this! Why does this have to be so awful?"

"Well, it's the last one, Babe. You're almost done. Maybe the baby will come this weekend." He tried to reassure me, but the tears flowed harder.

He asked me where I wanted to go in the house and, worried that I might not be able to make it back there later on, I requested the bedroom. Bertrand began to turn around in circles and look about the house - trying to form an idea of how to get me there. There was no possible way he could carry me, so he mustered up his creativity to find another way.

His eye suddenly caught our overstuffed chair full of fresh, hot towels he had recently pulled from the dryer. He picked one up, eyed the tile floor and began to lay it out before me.

"What are you doing?" I furrowed my brow and thought, "Oh no. This isn't what I think it is, is it?"

"Hop on. I'll pull you." He offered.

I contorted my face and then burst out laughing. "Are you serious?" I giggled.

"Yeah."

"Oh my gosh! You're gonna' break your back, Babe. You can't pull my weight on that thing." Now the tears flowing from my eyes were from my hysterical laughter.

"What? You think I'm weak?" He teased.

"No, I think I'm fat."

He tossed the towel back onto the chair and began scratching his chin, looking around for another idea.

I had one. "Honey, how about I just hold onto your arm and use you for support?"

He instantly offered up his arm and I began to take a step. I cried out in agony again and froze. Heaving a defeated sigh I moaned, "Oh my gosh! This is really bad. I really cannot take one more step."

"I've got it!" He said with excitement. "John has a big walking stick in his room. I'll grab that."

"No, honey. I would have to walk. Remember? I can't walk. I need to find a way to get to the room without taking another step because my left leg just isn't going to work right now. I really wish we had a wheelchair or something."

Then it hit me. We have two office chairs on wheels. "Babe!" I called out excitedly. "That's it! One of our office chairs. You could push me down the hall on that!"

His eyes widened, "Perfect. Hold on." He grabbed my office chair and wheeled it to me. I sat down and he proceeded to push me down the hall, both of us laughing at how pathetic this whole situation was. I felt so stupid. I buried my face in my hands and moaned in embarrassment. "This is just ridiculous!"

Finally! 12:30 AM. After a glass of water and some pain pills, I situated myself in bed, trying to find a comfortable spot, breathed through a few more contractions and before I knew it, I was out...and so was Bertrand. I slept really well until 8:00 AM when my girls came bursting through the door demanding chocolate milk. I sat up and then stood up from the bed feeling no pain. "Wow!" I exclaimed. Then I proceeded to walk down the hall at a brisk pace, my girls in tow - NO pain. NO problems. AMAZING! It's so interesting to me that I go from a night of heavy contractions and unbearable nerve and ligament pain to being perfectly fine! (SIGH) Ah, the joys of pregnancy!

All I have to say is - thank GOODNESS we have a sense of humor around here!

Oh Yes, They Did!

Mmmm hm. This is gonna' be my next career - betting all my money on this game - me against you. I win. You lose! Happy Birthday to me.

I'm Not Really Sure What To Make Of This!

I just walked around the corner one morning and this was the bold fashion statement I beheld. I'm not really sure what she's trying to say with the naked, one-sock look, which, by the way, belongs to her 12-year-old brother...(the sock, not the look)

but when you're trying to outdo your former high-heeled boot, no pants look, you've got to get REALLY creative!
Or perhaps it was a tribute to Michael Jackson and his one-glove look, but she couldn't find a glove, so she went for the sock. Not really sure. Anyway, it's the gutsiest fashion statement I've seen so far and I wish her lots of luck.

So Helpful....sometimes.

Sylvie is my little momma in the making. She just wants to do all of the things that I do and, believe me - I want her to do all of those things right now too. Wouldn't that be fabulous?

Yes.

Yes, it would.

HOWEVER...
There are times I just have to smile and say, "Oh, wow! Thank you, ladies!" even though there's water all over the floor and they're not REALLY cleaning these dishes. (SIGH) if only this illusion were a reality.


And now - the big brag! My 3-year-old did this herself. I had no hand in this. I'm not kidding. She folded ALL of this laundry AND separated it into the piles. I taught her how to do this several months ago because she's always begging to "help" me and it's not really help at all. In fact, it usually just creates more work for me or prolongs the housework, which I hate with a passion and just want to get over and done with, so I'm begging her to "PLEASE not help mommy" all the time (If she were smart she'd videotape this now and use it against me when she's a teen and I ask her to help).

ANYWAY, she had a complete breakdown one day several months ago. She was just devastated that I would not let her help me, so I heaved a big sigh and called her back into my room and held her in my arms and said, "Okay, baby girl. I'll teach you how to fold." Her eyes just lit up and boy did she learn fast. She now folds the laundry for herself and Chloe, as well as folding papa's handkerchiefs, towels and washcloths.

Oh, and just to top it off - she hugged me and kissed me and THANKED me for letting her fold the laundry! HA! I should videotape THAT and show it to her when she's a teen!

Make It Yourself!

I've been trying to find fun summer activities that don't cost too much. The other day I found this bouncy ball kit at Fry's for $4.00. It has enough materials to make several small or a few large bouncy balls. You simply pour the colored crystals into the mold (either solid or mix it up a bit) and then hold the mold in cold water for a few minutes, let it dry, then pop your ball out and bounce away.

(This is Sylvie counting to 60. She counts to 10 six times and holds up a finger each time. As you can see, she's reached 10 so far...it's gonna' be a while...)

Now, they don't bounce as well as a regular bouncy ball, but they're pretty bouncy and just the fact that they made it themselves made it all the more fun. It kept my ladies occupied for a couple of hours and amazingly they didn't break anything in the house.

Well...that's actually because there's nothing left to break in the house. They've already broken everything. Anyway...

Chloe with her small ball.

Sylvie with her small ball.

Here's a shot of the larger one Chloe made.

Now THIS Is Creepy!

This is another ghost story, so if you don't like it, click away from this site immediately.

Last night I went to bed at midnight. Everyone else was in bed at this point and I walked into the kitchen for my usual glass of ice water and dose of pain pills before bed. The kitchen was clean. There was nothing on the floor. I took my pills, shut off the light, and went to bed.

Amazingly, I slept like a baby last night, perhaps due to the fact that I haven't slept AT ALL the past two nights.

This morning I awoke at 7:00 AM- the first one up, as is usually the case. I entered the kitchen and grabbed a glass for my morning glass of ice water. I opened the fridge to look for something quick to grab for my breakfast as I began my morning typing ritual (trying to crank out as many reports as possible before my children awake only to interrupt me every 5 minutes).

I found some already sliced cantaloupe, dumped it into a bowl, grabbed my glass of ice and turned to exit the kitchen. That's when I noticed something small and dark in the middle of the kitchen floor. I squinted my eyes and leaned in for a closer look. It was a cockroach. A smashed cockroach, right in the middle of my kitchen floor. I furrowed my brow. "Who would leave a smashed cockroach right there in the middle of the kitchen floor?" I thought to myself.

I set my bowl of fruit and glass of ice down on the counter and grabbed a paper towel, then scooped the cockroach and his guts up and threw him in the trash. Then I scratched my head and thought, "Oh well, I'll ask Bertrand and John when they wake up. Must have been one of them and they decided just to leave it there this time."

I then went back to work.

7:45 Bertrand arose. I asked him if he had gotten up in the night. He responded with "No, why?" I asked again, "Are you sure? You didn't get up and go into the kitchen at all last night?" Again he responded with, "No! Why?" I then explained about the smashed cockroach. He shrugged his shoulders and walked on.

8:30 John arose. I asked HIM if he had risen in the night and gone to the kitchen for anything. "No," he responded. "Are you sure, John?" I pressed. "You're not in trouble or anything. I'm just wondering about something. I'm just curious."

"Mom!" he insisted. "I didn't get up. I'm telling the truth. What's going on?"

I told him about the cockroach smashed in the middle of the kitchen floor this morning. His eyes got a little big and he said, "Told you, mom. I knew there was something in this house."

We have no pets and there is NO WAY my 2 or 3-year-old would have gotten up in the night, smashed a cockroach to that degree and not screamed. My girls don't get up in the night and leave their bedroom at all. I'm sure of this.

So, that leaves only one explanation, really - unless you can think of another reason why this cockroach would be smashed in the middle of my floor.

I do know that this presence we've all felt does tend to hang out in the kitchen a lot at night because that's where we hear most of the noise coming from. And I have spent a few nights on the couch in this house - the couch right by the kitchen - and have heard shuffling footsteps and things moving around on the counter.

I guess I should be grateful if it is in fact the ghost man we all sense around here. At least he's helpful.

I'll Make You Sorry!

This is truly a tale of horror!

Now don't go frantically grabbing at your mouse, trying to click out of here quick because you don't want to read another ghost story. This is definitely not a ghost story. It's a horror story of another dimension.

Let's just say, you definitely do NOT want to interrupt my shower. That is my ME time. My 5-10 minutes of peace...okay and singing practice time (I sound amazing in there, but I guess you'll never know as I won't be giving any concerts from that location).

ANYWAY, not a minute passed from the time I closed the bathroom door before I re-emerged, naked, pregnant body covered in soap with a pile of soapy hair on my head. Despite my pleas with my screaming ladies to PLEASE stop screaming and fighting because "mommy is trying to shower right now. I'll take care of your issue as soon as I get out. Give me two minutes PLEASE!", they insisted on screaming louder and I had Sylvie shouting my name incessantly at the bathroom door and pounding, accompanied by Chloe screaming.

"Oh that is IT!" I shouted. I smacked the faucet off, threw the shower door open, unlocked the bathroom door and whipped it open - revealing my pregnant belly in its naked glory. The look of terror on my girls' faces was PRICELESS!

Now, I'm not really sure how to define it. I couldn't tell if they were thinking:

1. Oh my gosh! We are in SO much trouble now!

OR

2. Oh my gosh! Is THAT what I'm gonna' look like when I'm a mommy because if so, I don't think I want to be a mommy anymore!

Either way, soaking the carpet in soapy water, I grabbed both girls by the arm and tromped across the hall to their room, set them on their beds and yelled, "Now you will sit there until I am done showering. THAT was RIDICULOUS! You can wait just a minute for mommy to shower! You stay on your beds until I get out!"

They've been laying low ever since. Good choice, my ladies. Good choice.