St Patty's Day

No parade this year due to rain--but we definitely made do with shamrock cookies and grandma cookies--of course with soda bread on the side.  It was a bit of a bummer that we had to go to school on the Monday of St. Patrick's Day!!! (even Cale said he was surprised to see me at school since he knew it was a Scroggins Holiday)--hopefully this is the only time for that kind of crazy.  :)

St. Pat's 2013

We celebrated again this year by going to the Ft Worth Stockyards Parade--this time with the Kloses. We did the maze, the candy store, and the White Elephant as usual...then headed home for some Irish beer and Shepard's Pie--yum!

Slainté!

Grandpa Visit!

Memorial Day Service

Happy 90th Grandmama!

The Reynolds, Sroggins, and Tucker families gathered this afternoon at Times Forgotten in Nocona to celebrate Laverne's 90th birthday.  There were cards, gifts, and a beautiful three tier cake that all the little grandgirls decided they needed for their next birthdays.  From the glow on Grandmama's face though-I think she loved having her whole family in one place, even for just these few hours.  Many kisses and hugs later we napped this picture of the entire clan-cousins, cousins, and more cousins!

Celebrating Green

Per tradition, we celebrated everything Irish on St. Patrick's Day.  We started by preparing for the leprechauns-they did a number on the kids' rooms.  We also baked some shamrock cookies.  Grady still needs to work on his rolling and cutting out skills. 

And keeping the mouth out of the icing skills.

We invited a few friends over to help us celebrate, and I made official cornbeef and cabbage with soda bread on the side.  To everyone's surprise (including mine) it was a big hit!  People went back for seconds even!  of cornbeef!  Who knew?  Of course, we dabbled in the Irish beers a little, too-it just wouldn't be complete without that.

Grandpa

My grandpa left today. He'd been here for the past two weeks, and it was awesome. Just awesome.


As a kid, I treasured trips to Ohio to visit my grandparents, or their trips to see us-wherever that might have been. I would sit for hours in my Grandma's living room looking at her tiny knick knacks, and listening to her talk about dishes, home shopping, Ireland, and when "Danny was a boy." Simultaneously, I would giggle uncontrollably or cry hysterically as my Grandpa drew pictures of me, Mom, or Grandma with ridiculously big ears, or (gasp) a big belly. He'd label the pictures "Monkey Mommie" or "Me," tricking me into saying that the picture was indeed me instead of him. He'd slip king size candy bars into my pockets when we went to the grocery store, and made me promise not to tell my mom. He'd go on and on about his beautiful hair (never mind that he was bald), and go for long walks with his dog-or any dog. They were all "pretty puppies." And, at bedtime, he'd con kiss after kiss from me by refusing to receive those "poison kisses." I thought it was the most hilarious thing I'd ever seen. I thought he was the most hilarious person in the world.

And, I still think he's pretty funny.

He wasn't here ten minutes before he started drawing pictures of my kids with wacky ears or big tummies. They were beside themselves in hysterics and tears trying to make sense of all the doodling. He renamed them "Charlie, Ringtail, and Joe," which again sent them laughing uncontrollably. He went to basketball practice with us, and played golf with my dad-even spending a day with my 6-year-old giving a lesson or two. Everyday, he'd talk about how dad cheated with his golf GPS, and how it was impossible to win against such odds. I talked my dad into picking up the kids from school so Grandpa could spend a few more minutes each day with them. He just loves those kiddies. They're "his buddies."

And, they love him too. They fell in love with him these past two weeks, and every night after pie, they too would give him poison kisses. They soaked up his love, his joy, his sillyness, and his spirit. They treasured his visit, and I treasured the memory. Last night, as we were saying our goodbyes, I sensed a few tears around the room. I vividly remember that feeling, not wanting to say goodbye, not wanting to leave my Grandpa and Grandma. But, I'm so thankful for these past two weeks, for the pictures in my mind, and the doodlepads in my scrapbook. I'm a pretty lucky girl having such a great Grandpa, and my kiddies are pretty lucky, too.

And, don't worry Grandpa, I'm taking care of the little ones. They're polishing their own doodling skills for your next visit.

Saying goodbye to Sandy...

I wrote this over at Mom's the Word-but needed to post here too, just for our own little scrapbook, and here-I can say that it's been killing me how much I miss our Sandy.  :(  It's hitting me really hard, his passing.  I've been trying to work through it, wondering exactly why. As I looked at a picture of Sandy, Windy, and Ringo, and realized they were all gone, I wondered if I was sad for that time of our life being gone, too-the beginning part of our life, the puppy part of our life.  He was the last link we had to that-and I think that's what's making me so sad.  I know it's specifically Danielle sappy to say that, but it's true...and that's all I have to say about that, but here's what I have to say about Sandy....

just a boy and his dog

That's what my friend used to say when she watched them. They played frisbee, hide and seek, and tag. They walked to the mailbox together, cooked brisket together, and watched NASCAR together. They sang at the moon, raced to the phone, and swam in the lake. Man's best friend? Or Dog's best friend? Honestly, it was hard to tell.


He was a member of a family, a son, a brother, a friend. It sounds cliche, and I know completely sappy, but it's just so very very true. I know because that boy is Todd, and that dog was our Sandy.

We adopted him about eleven years ago, and will love him always. We had dinner plans at a friend's house the day we brought hime home, but instead of leaving him in a crate or the backyard, we brought him with us. He snuggled in our laps through dinner, and that small moment defined our relationship. He was never the dog that had to stay home, because he was always invited-always welcome to come along. We went on daily walks, picnics, roadtrips to College Station (and Decatur), Petsmart, and trips to the lake (complete with boat rides). He was more than a part of us; he was our family. He'd bark at me when I woke my husband for work, so much that the phrase "it's time to get up" would send him into fits. He'd run all over the house looking for the phone when it rang (mostly because I was running, too). He'd dump his food out everyday in the hopes that he would find a treat waiting underneath all that crappy dog food. He'd passively aggressively growl at other dogs only to practically smile at us when we caught him in the act. We called him the fun police, because he always had a handle on just how much laughing would be allowed. He'd "load up" in the car any time we asked, always ready for an adventure.

And boy, did we take him on an adventure. He met three newborns, and lived in four houses in his little life. He bonded with our old collie, the best cat in the world, and two other cats. He put up with other dogs that came in and out of his life, always opting for my husband or some other human for real companionship-because he was so much more than a dog. In our eyes, he was practically human, and he howled to let us know he agreed.

Eleven years is a long time in dog years, and I knew the end was coming. His health had been declining since this summer; he had arthritis and gingerly made his way around the house. He slept a lot, and had lost his hearing. He had stopped "loading up." I think he had a little Alzheimer's, too. We'd find him in odd places of the house-places he'd never hung out before, and when we did, he looked at us like we we were the crazy ones. But, he'd still play hide-and-seek; he'd still bark if I tried to wake my husband up for work. He was still our Sandy-until last Monday when, to me, his eyes seemed a little sad. We took him to the vet because we needed advice, and they diagnosed him with cancer-telling us that yes, he might be in pain, and we should think about saying goodbye.

We brought him home that night, watching and knowing we needed to make a decision, but just torn by how to do that. We didn't know it then, but before the night was over, he'd make the choice for us. The three of us spent the night in the living room, petting Sandy, remembering the life he shared with us, and shedding tears of goodbye. We were at the vet at 8 a.m. the next morning, and without saying a word, they knew. She asked me if I wanted to stay with him, and I managed to ask if they could come out to the car-we had a special place to bury him at home. Strangers hugged me, patted my shoulder, and looked at me with pain and understanding. We held him as he drifted off, thanking the vet, and silently driving home. We buried him next to our Windy, and each remembered our favorite thing about Sandy-the hide and seek, the howling, the dumping of food, the barking when we returned home. Todd and I remembered the day we brought him home the first time, how we instantly fell in love, and how he shared eleven years with us. We've been married only thirteen, so it's hard to imagine our life without him. I still look for him when I pull in the driveway, when I wake up in the morning, or when I'm running for the phone. I'm wondering if I always will; if I'll look around for the "fun police" when the kids are getting a little too loud, or if I'll expect to see him trotting beside Todd as he goes to check the mail-just a boy and his dog. I know he was a special dog, for a special time in our life, and he will live in our hearts-forever.

and then the weapons...

So, I promised more information on the weapon saga of Ohio 2009. Here you go....

I mentioned that dad bought Tanner a bow and arrow, Correct? The bow was wooden, very realistic looking, and the arrows were plastic, but fitted with suction cups on the end instead of piercing metal darts. In addition to this weapon, Tanner purchased himself a light saber. You know, because we don't have any of those around here. This is a picture of said weapons:

I honestly did not think twice before purchasing such weapons. I really didn't. Yes, I knew we had flown up there, and yes, I knew the airlines frowned on weaponry being carried on the plane. But I truly, in my heart of hearts, did NOT consider this fact when purchasing the items. For real.

My dad, the former airline pilot, decided to play things safe, and put the arrows in his golf bag to be checked with his luggage. I agreed it was probably a good plan, that way the arrows themselves would not be harmed during travel. The bow would be with us, on a different flight all together. The light saber would also be with us.

Tanner and I were the last to leave Ohio. My parents and sister were gone by 6:30 a.m., and Tanner and I were not due to leave until 1:30 that afternoon. But, since Tanner was so enamored with the airport in general, we headed over there early. About 10:30. Good thing. We hadn't planned on checking our luggage, saving the $15 fee per bag, and were properly packed according to all airline rules. We showed up to security with our ziplock baggie of 3 oz. liquids, our suitcases, and our backpacks. Tanner carried the light saber, and the bow was across his back like a real-live Indian. The first security check-point guard eyed the bow curiously, but let us through to the next level. We continued, putting our bags in the proper plastic containers, taking our shoes, jackets, and anything-else-resembling-metal off and placing it in the other (smaller) plastic tubs. We also sent the weapons through the x-ray, just to be safe. Upon passing the metal detector test, we were met with 2 security types, who asked me for my ID and boarding pass. They also told us to meet them "at the end of the security checkpoint" for review.

As this transpired, the x-ray technician confiscated a sealed water bottle we'd packed from the hotel. Tanner watched in horror as this person threw away the water bottle AND his apple-both of which Tanner was planning for an at-the-gate snack. Breakdown #1 ensued. I quickly tried to explain how water bottles and apples could be deadly in the wrong hands, and we just needed to abide by the airport rules so all passengers could be safe. Tanner looked at me like I was crazy, and in hindsight, I'm sure I sounded that way.

After acquiring our items, we met the other security personnel at the end of the checkpoint, who asked for my physical address and explained that since the weapons were "exact replicas of real weapons," they had to run a security clearance on me. Yes, the $2 light saber, and wooden bow (minus the arrows) needed to be checked out by this mom and kid in flight from Ohio to Texas. I quickly explained that both were toys, bought at a festival in Ohio, and that the accompanying arrows were ALREADY IN TEXAS ON A PREVIOUS FLIGHT. But, of course I agreed to the checkpoint, and we took our seats as they checked out our threat to National Security. Breakdown #2 was on the verge, because these security people, they TOOK THE BOW WITH THEM as they went into the back room to check out the "incident" (I heard them explain). Again, I was quick with the explanation of National Security and how it applies to water bottles, apples, light sabers and wooden bows. Tanner seemed to understand, and we settled.

Then, the security person came back. She told me the address on my license was not correct, and inquired as to why that would be the case. Bumbling over my words, I explained that we'd moved to Decatur, lived with my parents while we built a house, and only recently (albeit 1.5 years ago) had a new permanent address of our very own. I wrote down my new address, which she eyed suspiciously (that whole Hlavek Road thing), and disappeared into the secret room again. When she re-emerged, she explained we'd have to check the weapons at the ticket counter and then ESCORTED US THERE. Yep, we were the people being walked by a uniformed guard (with her holding said weaponry) throughout the airport, and back to the ticket counter to have the "incident" cleared up. Once there, I explained to the ticket agent the issue, also explaining that neither weapon would fit into an actual suitcase, hence the whole "carrying on" situation. I also explained that I'd already dealt with TWO breakdowns, and if those weapons-the super special purchased-in-Ohio weapons, were broken when we landed in Texas, I'd be dealing with Breakdown #3, and I'm not sure I'd be able to survive that. She nodded in agreement, and set about trying to find the "best solution for this unfortunate situation." Here's what she came up with:

She wrapped both weapons in plastic, and taped them with "fragile" stickers. Honestly, by this point I was so spent with the process, I just let it go. It was only later, at baggage claim, that I realized she didn't give me a claim ticket. So, if the weapons were lost or broken, I'd have no claim on them. Smart me. Luckily, this wasn't the case, and they made the voyage safely. After she wrapped the items, she looked at me and said...wait for it. "That will be $30 please." Yes, after all of this weapon commotion and mandatory checking, they planned on charging me for TWO checked items, the light saber and bow. You could have fried an egg on my forehead. I was that mad. But, being a Southern Lady, all I said was. "Are you sure?" She nodded that indeed she was, and I handed over my debit card, fuming. Now, God gave us a little break, and when the charge came through, it was only $15. I guess he thought we'd had enough idiotic safety behavior for one trip, and spared us that extra cash. Thank You. I'll be sure to put the extra dollars in the collection plate next Sunday.

So, we made it back through security. Back through the x-ray machine, the metal detector, and security guards. We finally made it to the gate, where we settled in for our long wait. I pulled out Tanner's Nintendo DS, and got him settled with a newly purchased $4.35 bottle of water. Then, I went to get my book from my suitcase. When I unzipped the outerpocket, I had to move my razor out of the way to get to my book. The irony. In that, I laughed and started calling all my friends and family to tell them the story of "The Security Clearance Checkpoint gone all wrong." Because, man...having that razor, a bow AND a light saber? Watch out world...here we come.

Ohio 2009

It's become a little family tradition that every year, during the first weekend in August, we trek up to Ohio to visit family. My extended family doesn't seem to extend very far, but what we do have is nestled in and around Columbus. We hang out with Grandpa, go to the Irish Festival, and participate in a Family Golf Tournament. We have it down to a little routine. A little routine of fun.

Since there is usually flying involved, we have to count our pennies and decide who is going each year. Most of the time it's just me, with a few exceptions. I took Grady when he was four months old-I wanted him to meet my Grandparents. A few years ago, the four of us drove up there, and made it a traveling Scroggins vacation. This year, I enlisted Tanner as my travel buddy. He didn't have as many memories of my Grandparents or Ohio in general, plus it was really his turn since Madison did all that skiing over spring break.

He was pumped.

I think he was mostly excited to ride on an airplane, but secondly, he was excited to be the ONLY kid around. No fighting for attention or goodies. Everything was all about Tanner. It was nice to be on this 5-day date with him, too. Those one-on-one times are hard to come by, but enormously wonderful and special when they do.

So, we arrived in Ohio and headed to Uncle Carl's house. Tanner thought Uncle Carl was pretty much the coolest adult. Ever. He had a game cube, complete with Sonic the Hedgehog-a new game to Tanner, but one he quickly mastered, and one he used to beat the crap out of Uncle Carl. Good Times. I mean, look at him:

Friday, before heading to the airport Mom and Patti (because the Miller clan can NEVER go anywhere together), we drove by Ohio State. Dad wanted to impress Tanner with its awesomeness, but Tanner was true to Aggieland, and said it was just "ok." From that moment, the rest of those Ohio People were putting on the Ohio State Sale, just crushed that Tanner was not in a state of awe. Gig 'Em.

After acquiring the rest of our family, it was on to the Irish Festival. I've mentioned this before, but my Grandmother was Irish-born in Ireland Irish, so when we hang out with those Ohio peeps, it's all about being Irish. The Irish Festival is part of that. We watch Irish stepdancing, drink Irish beer, and just in general sit around being Irish. It's superfun.

There's also your basic non-Irish things like funnel cakes, ice cream on a stick and cotton candy. All of which I think Grandad or Uncle Carl bought for Tanner. Result seen above. In addition to sugar in any form, there were weapons purchased for Tanner, weapons he's been in love with since that moment. (There's more to the weapon story-and I will elaborate on a later post.) Tanner met some cousins, played with his weapons, and slept in hotel rooms. It was his own personal form of paradise.

Sunday, we headed to the golf tournament, where he met MORE cousins, and had a BLAST. I didn't see him the entire time we were there, and when we left, he announced that those kids were his best friends (nevermind that he couldn't remember their names.) As the kids played, the adults laughed at "old times" as they always do. It's a weird walk talking with your parents about their childhood one minute, and then sharing a beer with them as a peer the next. It's a fun walk, but a weird one nonetheless. All too soon, it was time to leave. It always happens that just when we get in the groove, just when we relax and settle into the scene, we have to pack up. It's been like that forever. That's the trouble when your family lives states and states away. But, like always, we hugged and kissed our goodbyes with promises of seeing eachother BEFORE another year passed. We made tentative plans for future fun birthday parties and college football games. We promised to stay in touch.

And then we drove away. We settled into the airport hotel for one last night in Ohio, already reminiscing about the weekend with family. I sometimes wish travel was free for family to family-like cell phone minutes? Then we'd have a constant beaten path between our two homes. But, it doesn't work that way, and so we'll move on to start the school year with these fun memories fresh in our minds, and new email addresses fresh in our pockets.

Windy has Stormy Eyes....

Windy didn't make it through the night last night. She'd been doing moderately well since her surgery, but yesterday seemed to take a turn for the worse. She wouldn't eat, and by the end of the day, we couldn't tempt her with a drink either. I tried to tell Todd to prepare himself for what the Vet might advise us today, but he only wanted to focus on her recovery. We went to bed at midnight, and at 6 this morning Todd realized she'd gone to sleep never to wake up. It was a heartbreaking moment, and we both just sat with her for a minute before making "arrangements." We buried her up on a hill, between some trees, and in the shade out back. We figured she'd like that.

We went to breakfast and laughed about her little habits. She was stubborn, independent, protective, and so so sweet. She once licked Todd's face for 10 minutes. It was our idea. She was a lick-a-holic, and we wondered if she'd ever stop. She loved the lake. It was there she could be one with her water bowl. It was hilarious to see her swim along licking the entire time. She turned 47 circles everytime she layed down, most of the time, in a very large-ish hole she'd just dug. We reminisced about all she'd seen of our life. She knew us when we were cool-before we had all these kids. We took her everywhere. We'd pile in Todd's single cab truck with her, Sandy, and our cat. She'd put her nose in Todd's lap because she hated those car rides. We named her Windy Storm after our sheltie, Storm. We heard a song by The Association, and it was just too perfect. She helped our broken hearts heal after he went to doggie heaven.



Who’s peeking out from under a stairway
Who’s calling a name that’s lighter than air
Who’s reaching down, to give me a rainbow
Everyone knows it’s Windy

And Windy has stormy eyes
A flash of the sound of lies
And Windy has wings to fly
Above the clouds

Who’s tripping down the streets of the city
Smiling at everybody she sees
Who’s reaching out to capture the moment
Everyone knows it’s Windy

Windy has her own wings today, and although we are sad to see her go, she gave us 12 years of fun, along with moments of crazy. real. moments. of. crazy. But, we wouldn't have it any other way.

Pictures by Melanie

Yesterday, my friend Melanie had a photo shoot with my kids. She volunteered for the torture, wanting to get some different photographic experiences under her belt. She's working on starting up her own Photography Business, and I think these pictures speak for themselves. If she can make my kids look this angelic, just THINK what she could do for your REAL angels. :)
I'm so grateful to have a good picture of all 3 kiddos, and am more than happy to broadcast her info all over this little blog, with her permission of course. You can view more of Melanie's pics at http://www.flickr.com/photos/feetfirststudios/ or email her at mdsnitker@hotmail.com.

Irish Heather

Flowers were just delivered to my house! I'm a very girly girl in this respect and have always loved to get flowers. I know usually it's a waste, since they wilt and pass on to flower heaven and all, but it is so lovely to be suprised with some pretty petals. Today, my Grandpa and Aunt sent some Irish Heather in honor of St. Patrick's Day. I know my Grandma was on their mind as well; this was the first St. Patrick's day without her, and she loved being Irish. I found some lyrics below that seemed to fit both the flowers and the day....

A Sprig of Irish Heather

An Irish mother writing to her son so far away
Said "I meant to send a shamrock to wear on Patrick's Day
But the shamrock is a tender a plant, it's beauty soon will fade
So a spring of Irish heather I'm sending you instead"
cho: Just a sprig of Irish heather
That has seen all kinds of weather
It stood the heat of summer
And survived the winter's cold
I'm sending to remind you
Of the friends you left behind you
In Tyrone, among the bushes
In the days of long ago.
But remember Carradonough and the mass rock standing there
How we oft'times knelt together and you'd whisp a childish prayer
Many times since then I've wandered when the evening shadows steal
So I plucked this heather from the spot where once you used to kneel
But the years from me are slipping and I know I'm growing old
By the fireside lonely sitting, and the nights are dark and cold
But I know your smile would cheer me and make sunshine out of blue
So come back to me macushla, when the heather is in bloom.
(repeat chorus)
Just a spring of Irish heather, sent with love from long ago.
Recorded by Margo, and Declan Nerney, in Ireland.
BO'B
oct97

St. Patty's Day Fun

Green Mac and Cheese doesn't really take the place of cornbeef and cabbage, but as Irish as we are, I just can't stomach that particular dinner. :) The kids enjoyed their green lunch, and I did take them over to Mom's this evening for a true Irish dinner of ham and cabbage...a little bit higher on my yummy list.

We put on our green, made some shamrock cookies, and hope the leprechauns don't pass us by tonight! We're also starting to miss our Madison and Todd-just one more day and we'll be a big ol' bag o' fun again. :)

Today

Monday morning Stephen Blaylock was driving on HWY380, was hit by another car, and never made it home. The news spread across town, and many were saddened by his loss and the loss for his five children-especially so close to Christmas. Teachers rushed to their sides, community members set up memorial funds, and everyone prayed. Everyone is still praying.

I did not know Stephen well, but he was in our graduating class, and there is a certain bond you have with those whom shared that walk across the stage, or in our case the Decatur High School Football Field. It's not a daily bond-or even a yearly bond, but it is a lasting one. Hearing his name and the details of Monday morning overwhelmed me with sadness-as a classmate, a friend, a wife, and a mom. My heart breaks for his family, and I ache for his children.

Everyday we get up, get dressed, go to work, take the kids to school...pick the kids up, take them to soccer practice, cook dinner...everyday we go through the motions of our life. Sometimes we rejoice in those motions, or take comfort in their familiarity. Other times we are beat down by those motions-the marathon that we run each day. I've said this before, but it's times like these that I try to stop down, look around and realize I'm living my life. I'm living my life right now. Today. It sounds trite, but it's so easy to wish time away, to look for the next event, next vacation, or next thing on your to do list. It can be very difficult to cherish each minute. Each Second. Each second of daily chaos of kids, work, family, and friends.

But it can be gone in that second.

Vietnam Memorial

Last week Madison's class took a walking field trip to visit the The Moving Wall Vietnam Memorial. She was excited about the "once in a lifetime opportunity", but I don't think really understood the magnitude of the Memorial. Before her field trip, we discussed what the Wall was, and why the names were engraved on it. We talked about all the soldiers who have served our Country, including my Dad, her great grandfathers, and her cousin Colin.

When her class arrived at the Wall, a Veteran gave a brief history of how this wall was "healing" to so many people who could not travel to the permenant memorial in Washington, D.C. He discussed the Vietnam Conflict, and the structure of the Wall. He noted the crosses and diamonds next to each soldier's name. He talked about the soldiers that were still lost, and how this Memorial was our only link to them. When Madison felt those crosses and diamonds on the wall with her fingers, I think the idea of sacrifice became a little real to her. I know it did for me the first time I walked this Wall.

OOH-RA!!

As many of you know, I grew up a military brat-not just that, but a Marine Brat. There is a difference, and we Marine Brats are the most squared away. My everyday involved trips to the Base, listening to jets take off and break the sound barrier, watching MPs salute our car or my Dad, getting a Military ID, seeing men in uniform everywhere, driving by the Admiral's house, eating at the O' Club, going to Happy Hour (which I thought was a time for playing video games), moving and staying at the BOQ's, deployment, waiting in the Ready Room for dad to change out of his Flight Suit so we could go off base, looking at plaques in the Hanger, climbing on airplanes, shopping at the Commissary, watching the entire base pause while the Colors were taken down each night...

You can't grow up in that atmosphere without Patriotism being as much a part of you as breathing. While at the time I hated moving and being the "new girl", I know now how those experiences have given me strength in my adult life. I took for granted those everyday experiences, and now recall them fondly when discussing our Military or our Country.

Today is the Marine Corps Birthday. 233 years ago this segment of our Military was formed through courage and conviction. All those years have given rise to some great men who have served our Country and lived as Heroes. One of those men is my dad-so on this day, at 1100 hours, I wish him a very happy birthday. Go ahead-indulge in Happy Hour-I highly recommend the Pac-Man game. :)