Crazy or super?

Today a dear friend of mine titled a photo album: A day of being supermom, with the alternate title of: Channeling Cassie. I find that as a huge compliment. I’ve been referred to as a super mom by a few people before, though, I know there are women out there who do way more than what I do in a day. I simply refer to myself as crazy.

Yesterday, I got it in my head that I needed to do a project. Well, like four or five projects, but that’s neither here nor there. So, after the gym, the four of us trekked off to Lowes for wood shims, paint stir sticks and spray paint. Then we crossed the street to Michaels for craft mirrors, fancy paper, canvases and glue.

I got home, ready to start on my many projects and out of the three I wanted to do, I was able to finish one. ONE. Why? Because I didn’t get enough supplies at Lowes and Michaels.

The one I finished involved me putting decorative paper on the back of my ancient bookshelf. I needed to staple it closed in the back, because the kids had pushed the tacking nails out from putting their books back rather harshly, so I figured, why not make it prettier?

This involved me using a paint roller and a glue/water concoction. Perfect when you’re entertaining little humans.

I stuck Mae in the jumper, prayed that Luca stayed napping and gave Claire the task of wiping down the bookshelf, which she did willingly since it was her idea.

In the end, it turned out not too bad:

(The wrinkles actually worked themselves out when it fully dried. Woo!)

Then I started the project of making a sunburst mirror using wood shims. I didn’t really pay attention to how many I was buying and how massive of a project this was, so when I only had 60 shims, I realized I needed about 100 more. And more hot glue. Because this takes a shit ton of hot glue.

After Luca woke up, we went back out to Lowes and back out to Michaels. I came home, stuck on some music, got dinner started and attempted to finish the once good idea, now turned monstrosity.

I painted 3/4 of it stuck it on a board of wood and walked away. Why? Because I realized that I needed to get super strong glue to stick it to a wood backing and since I didn’t have said strong glue, I would have had to go BACK to Lowes.

I’ll finish it another day.

So. All that? Super.

Where’s the crazy?

This morning, Matt opened the curtains and saw this in the pouring rain:

To which he said, “You’re so scatter brained.”

Not really. I knew it was there. I was just plain tired and didn’t feel like cleaning that up. And for my slightly OCD husband, this is where the majority of our fights break out. He didn’t say anything this morning, but I’m sure he’ll have something to say tomorrow morning when it’s still sitting there.

Do I enjoy being a bitch? Yes. Yes I do.

Yesterday was the first day since we’ve become a family of five, that I’ve felt the true weight of three kids. I forgot something at the store. I needed to go back to get it. A simple 10 minute trip. BUT, I have to pile in three kids, make sure they’ve all peed (or have a clean diaper for Miss Moo,) make sure they aren’t hungry, drive to the location, unstrap Luca and Mae (thank GOD Claire can do this herself,) walk into the store, get a cart, listen to complaining, buy the stuff while telling Luca to STOP – FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT’S GOOD – HANDING ME THINGS TO RING UP, go out to the car, load up the goods, strap in the kids and then drive across the street to do the same thing. AGAIN.

And it was totally deja vu, because I had already done that 5 hours prior.

Going out in public with three kids, to me, isn’t difficult. I am tough on my kids so that I can do such things without fearing a tantrum in the store or obnoxiousness. Yes, it’s more work than if I just stayed home, but I need to have a life, too, and do normal things. So I just deal.

And having three kids and enjoying to cook and bake can be difficult. But another good thing about how I raise my children is that I also teach them to self-entertain. And not just by the TV. They imagine, create, play…all by themselves. I don’t hold their hands 24/7 in an effort to teach them about life in general. And so that they can be individuals without Mommy doting on them all the time. They need a backbone and imagination and room to think for themselves. It’s a win/win.

Yes. I like to make things from scratch. Not because it makes me seem pretentious, but because it just tastes better. I know that my pizza crust tastes better than the store’s and that I can make a whole bunch at once and freeze it. So I do it. I like my cookies better than Pepperidge Farm’s. I love nothing more than the smell of fresh bread baking. I like the feeling of having a home cooked meal that I worked damn hard to make.

Plus having this to look at while I bake is pretty fun:

See, I don’t have a full time job. Not on the books anyway. Aside from being a nurse one day a week, I have the hard job of raising human beings to be good, honorable, disciplined people. That someday knowing those kids’ll go out into the real world and perhaps raise kids of their own. That’s not an easy task. And it gets daunting. And frustrating. And while the majority of the time I love, love, love being a mother, there are times where I just need a break.

So I bake. I cook. I make crafts. I’m good at being a Mom. But I want to be good at other things, too. So instead of having my day be filled with kids, kids, kids, I fill my day with kids, fun, projects, baking, the gym, tantrums and hugs. I couldn’t imagine my life any other way.

I work hard at being a Mom and since I don’t get a paycheck, a home cooked meal, a cute craft on the wall and “I love you, Mommy,” followed by kids being attached to my legs is payment enough.

It’s just enough.

Creativity has no limits

I don’t make New Years Resolutions. I think they’re usually left unkept. So instead, I make goals and loose ideas that could possibly stick.

One of the things I am hoping will stick is trying out new meals for dinner. It’s no secret that I’m probably the world’s pickiest eater. And with having a husband who’s willing to try anything, it makes his life a bit boring. I’ve been on a food blog search for a while now and found a few that have promising ideas.

I started my food venture with making a Galette, something I’ve never tried before. And it turned out delicious. Even Claire liked it and she asks for it often.

But my problem with cooking is that I don’t measure, I delete ingredients and I don’t remember what I did to make it taste good.

Matt said he wanted sweet potatoes with dinner. He’s never liked them before, but recently found a love for them. So, tonight I made up dinner. And what do you know? It turned out good! So I’m writing it down here, so that I have reference to what I made. Because it was delicious. And I want to remember for future reference. And no, this won’t turn into a food blog… unless I keep making good food. It’s my blog, I do what I want.

Roasted Maple Dijon Chicken:

3 boneless, skinless chicken breasts cut in half
2 large sweet potatoes, cubed
4 or 5 carrots, in large chunks
maple syrup
olive oil
dijon mustard
ground thyme
garlic powder

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.

In a greased pyrex pan, place the chicken and veggies spread flat. In a separate bowl, mix together equal parts dijon mustard and maple syrup. Mix in about 2 tbs olive oil, a dash of thyme and as much garlic powder as you like. Whisk together and drizzle over top of chicken and veggies.

Turn veggies half way through cooking time. Cooking time varies. For me, it took 45 minutes. No one likes dry chicken.

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Also on my creativity binge, I have been taking things I already have and making them so much better. My grandpa made a table for me years ago when I first moved to Pittsburgh and when he made it, he was under the impression that I was going to paint it so he used black screws and such. I ended up leaving it unfinished for years and it got beat to hell. This summer I spray painted it a black lacquer. Spray painting leaves much to be desired, so I painted it with actual black lacquer and it looked a little better. The top needed to be sanded and I just didn’t feel like doing that. So instead, I turned it into an ottoman by upholstering it with leftover fabric I had from reupholstering the nursery glider and added batting.

I also am in the process of making a birthday gift for Carly and that will get posted after she opens it.

My ultimate dream would be to go to Construction Junction and find something REALLY AWESOME that needed the Cassie touch this summer. I’ll know it when I see it.

My summer project this year, though, will be to take our old dinner dishes and paint them and break them and then turn them into mosaic stepping stones. If that turns out, I’ll write down how I did it and share. Promise.

So… did you guys do anything creative lately?

It’s almost over!

Yesterday I over did it. Seems that’s a common turn of phrase I’ve been using lately. I don’t know what my issue is, but I just want to have everything done NOW. I’ve always been like that, just lately, because I’m told I can’t, I do. Gosh I hate myself.

I decided that since Luca’s new dresser came, I could totally put it together by myself. 35 weeks pregnant. Because I’m just like that. So I did.

2 1/2 hours later of nonstop – except to pee twice – action, I finished. I only yelled at the kids once. I was pretty impressed with myself.

Then I stood up.

And I hated myself.

What in holy hell did I do to my butt? I think I broke it. When you’re pregnant, your sacral-illiac joint beings to relax and separate. As time goes on, it gets more and more lax and more and more sore. I never noticed this with my first pregnancy, and I think I may have complained about it a few times the second go-around, but oh.my.gosh. this is horrible. I completely brought it upon myself, but there it is. I suck.

So I did what any normal, level-headed person would do, I put the kids down for their nap and laid on the couch and babied myself. But then, even still sore, got up a few hours later and made dinner, did this, a little that, some more of this and a whole lot more of that, and by the time Matt got home from work I was near tears.

This morning, I woke up at 9. NINE! I had no intention of sleeping until 9, but there you have it. Matt made sure of it, by putting Luca’s room darkening curtain in our window so I still thought it was midnight. But the kids don’t usually sound happy at midnight, so when I heard happy shrieks and Luca’s Tonka trucks being pushed on the floor, I knew it wasn’t so. NINE.

For that, I am grateful.

So I forwent the gym today and am still in my pj’s but I was productive! I decided it was time to finish Luca’s room.

It’s still messy and not quite complete yet…but here you go:

The Penguins logo by the light switch was from Luca’s hospital crib. Since he was born during the Stanley Cup playoffs, that was what they used for names. How original! So I mounted it on cardboard. I had extra duvet fabric, so I mounted that on cardboard as well and had these cute prints from Ikea that I never used, so that, too, got mounted on cardboard. (Gosh, you buy a dresser and have ample amounts of cardboard lying around.) I also am going to frame his foot prints from the L&D room. I’m such a Mom.

His duvet cover I made with love and the leaf canopy is something I’d have killed for as a kid. He’s so dang lucky, that little man. Also, the canvas on the walls are his original paintings that he made today. I won’t even begin to say how proud I am of him, because, well, it’s pretty obvious at this point.

The canvas on the wall, again, was painted by Luca and is my favorite. The toybox was made by my Grandpa and at almost 80, I think that’s pretty damn impressive. He got it for his first birthday back in May. The kids, of course, are goofing off with a football on a ladder. Because why can’t they just play in the middle of the empty room? Gotta make life more interesting.

Here’s an closer shot of Luca’s painting, and my favorite. Anyone who says that isn’t art can bite me. I get confused at why a blank canvas at the Carnegie Art Museum is considered art. A 19month old with a fist of fury sounds like art to me.

Here’s his other one.

And another.

So. There ya have it. Luca’s big boy room. Clearly, I’m not into the traditional Thomas the Train or Diego themes. I like it to be something everyone in the house can enjoy since I spend a lot of time in it, too. Claire’s room, over the years, has started to conform to her and her likes and that’s good. She has her flowers and sun and birds mural painted on her wall still and butterflies and pictures of the pets and herself and a black cat. She likes those things. She also has her own original paintings. I think it’s something that both my kids will appreciate when they get older. Of course, I’ll make sure to keep some for myself, but it’s something that they can have hang in their houses forever.

I try to raise my kids to be cool in their own ways. I think that by letting them express themselves through art is most important. Words are hard to come by and hitting or any form of violence (as we’re a no spanking house) is forbidden, so when they’re mad, sad, happy or indifferent, why not color? Paint? Draw?

But that’s just me.

Lastly, I want this:

The way I see it, if I’m pushing a tiny human out of me, I deserve it. Right?

I need a hobby

That’s what people tell me. They say, “3 kids in 4 years?!? You need a hobby.”

Then I got fed up with paying high prices for things I like. I like a more modern, funky style and of course, that comes with a modern, funky price tag. If I liked more traditional or country styles, I could shop anywhere and pay half the price.

So I figured with the thousands of hours I’ve logged in watching HGTV and Trading Spaces, I could totally sew.

And wasn’t I amazed to find out that I could?!

Because I could!

I started simple, making pillows for the house. Then I decided I could make curtains. That turned into the great duvet cover adventure, involving 6 yards of fabric and lots and lots of swearing. I don’t have a photo of it, since my phone won’t let me forward it to myself, BUT, I can tell you it’s awesome. You’ll just have to trust me on that. I also made those beanbag chairs for the kids. What a success that was, can I just say that? The kids love it and I made it to their liking.

I then decided that Luca’s new room needed something special. And what’s more special than IKEA fabric? Yup, that’s right. IKEA fabric. The happiest place on Earth.

Now, keep in mind, these pictures are rough. His room is in phase 2 of 4 phases. Phase 1 consisted of actually cleaning out the room and making it walkable. Phase 2 is put the few things we have together, together. Phase 3 will consist of having the dresser I ordered put together and the canvases I ordered painted on and put up. Phase 4 will include Luca moving in.

Phase 3 will be the coolest.

I’ll update more when his room is done, but for now, I’m pretty pleased.

Next project will be a baby blanket for a certain reader who is AWESOME. I’m just having a hard time deciding if I should use plain fleece or minky dot … decisions, decisions. And also, is there such a thing as too much pink?

Inquiring minds need to know.

one track mind? I wish

My brain is in about a million different places. Clearly. For example, today after the gym, the kids and I went to Satan-land (aka Walmart) because I needed potatoes and those Command wall hooks for the stockings. What I ended up getting was this:

*A small bookshelf for Claire’s room

*Five purple storage bins

*Dora Bandaids

*Lip balm

*Vicks humidifier syrup

*Room darkening shade and curtain rod

*A full sized mattress protector pad

Let’s review here. No where did I read that I got potatoes or those Command wall hook thingies. My receipt says that I suck.

Then, this afternoon, Claire’s new comforter and such came in the mail. She’s going to be moving into the full sized bed we have in the guest room and thus giving Luca the twin bed. He’ll be moving into the guest room. It’s already painted grey. Sweet. One less thing I have to do.

So, moving on, Claire said, “I want my big bed tonight!”

And I replied, “Daddy is going to do that on Sunday.”

“But I can’t wait that long! I’m ‘cited!”

“Fine.”

Then me, and my not so bright brain decided to move them myself. I’M SO SMART.

It was by far a lot easier than I had anticipated. Especially because I took the doors off the hinges.

Now her and Luca are playing in her room and I’m sitting on the floor of the hallway listening to Jason Mraz radio on Pandora and feeling the baby kick my butt because I wasn’t very bright.

Matt’s going to be soooo mad at me when he gets home. I can hear it now:

“Everything’s gotta be now, now, NOW doesn’t it? Huh? Why couldn’t you wait?”

“Because!”

“And did you forget that you’re 7 1/2 months pregnant!?”

“No.”

“So?”

“Yah?”

“Always now, now, now, huh?”

“Yup.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know.”

Perhaps I’ll just make him read this blog before he comes home so he knows he already yelled at me.

Nah. I like to give him surprises.

The kids must think I look so pathetic sitting in the hallway right now because they keep on coming out of Claire’s room and giving me hugs and kisses. I think I got about 50 so far.

It was totally worth it.

In other news, I’m totally done Christmas shopping. Totally, completely, finally done! I just have to finish stuffing Claire’s beanbag and the in-law’s pillows. Here’s a photo of Luca’s beanbag chair:

It’s about the size of twenty Luca-mans.

Gosh, I love being crafty.

 

(And see how this blog went a million different directions? See what I’m saying!?)

holy busy, batman!

I wrote up the September schedule out on our white board and stepped back.

Ouch.

I am completely booked every weekend from now until the middle of October.

On top of that, I have about ten separate projects in the works.

So enter last Sunday at my niece’s 5th birthday party. I was standing by the house on the driveway bs-ing with my father in law when my mother in law drove up. She opened her door and screamed, “Cassie! Come here! I need you!”

So I walked over there and she had that really sad look of desperation on her face. First off – her only daughter is getting married in a few weeks and she still hasn’t found shoes. I can dig that. Stress sucks. So she hands me this folded piece of paper that has a picture of a Roman Warrior on it. I looked at her confused, and she asked me if I could draw it a bit larger for a church event.

“So…how big does this need to be?”

“Um…” she hands me a roll of brown paper and says, “Six feet?”

“And…um…when do you need this by?”

“Yah, ah, a week? Two at the most?”

Here’s my dilemma. I’d do anything for any family member in need. But I haven’t drawn for real since high school. Maybe I did some post-high school. I can’t remember. Either way, it’s been forever.

So this morning, after I went to the gym and I plunked Luca down for his nap, I taped the roll of paper to the wall and sat quietly, in an attempt to channel my old high school art teacher Mr. Jones.

Remember those WWJD wrist bands that the cool Christians used to wear? Well, it became ridiculously popular during my tenure in high school. So we’d joke all the time and say, “What would Jones do?” He was extremely particular, and while he may have been an ass to me after I won first place, he was good. Very good. And believed in me. So we’d all joke around saying, “WWJD?” when we couldn’t figure out why our lines weren’t coming out right, why our grids didn’t add up, or why our paint wasn’t mixing right.

So there I sat. Facing my dining room wall and this annoyingly large piece of paper and thought, what would Jones do?

Well, I gridded the shit out of that paper. And I drew that Roman Warrior. Drew him right, damnit. And he’s on my dining room wall, taunting me, because I can’t find my charcoal to finish it. I just want to be finished. My mechanical pencil just isn’t cutting it.

It’s all drawn…I just have to darken it.

It’s still taunting me.

(Oh and to the right is Claire’s artwork. It’s almost Picassoish looking. I’m a big fan. I may have to frame it.)

So we took a break to make Claire’s birthday thank you cards. Sure, her party isn’t for another month, but I’m trying to get ahead of myself.

Then, I went out to the mailbox and found that the fabric I had ordered came. I almost peed my pants with excitement. Mom wants me to make her some drapes, because the ones I made for Carly turned out so well:

Yup. I made three of these.

So, I’m not completely incompetent and Mom trusts me to make her some curtains, too.

I also finished the diaper-cake-turned-wedding-cake for Melissa.

(For Bachelor Girl) I used foam rings and wrapped them with the chocolate ribbon. The inset is rolled up towels wrapped in brown fabric (from Melissa’s registry) and wrapped in cream ribbon.   It’s topped with her utensil caddy and utensils. I have a rose as an embellishment, too.

I’m running low on my creative juice. Just today, I think. I feel much better having done a giant brain dump on y’all, though. I’ve been busy…

Oh! And I was kind of sort of published today! I was asked to try some Greek Yogurt for my favorite heath blog: Fooducate! Here it is!

AND! Carly and I were recognized for being kinda cool by none other than Bluz! He’s way cooler, though. (Thanks, by the way!)

….

It’s still taunting me.

new baby means new projects

I had a revelation today. Baby #3 means a lot of things. One more mouth to feed, another car seat, another round of breast feeding, sleepless nights, irritated Mommy, tons and tons of pictures, bragging, moving Luca to his new room, and lots and lots of laundry.

I can deal with all that. No problem.

What does baby #3 really mean? I have to make another Christmas Stocking.

If you guys need a refresher: it involved lots of teeny-tiny sequins, beads and blood. I spent many a night hunched over the dining room table, swearing at my ill-conceived project idea.

See, my Grandma had made our stockings out of felt and sequins. Our stockings are the freaking coolest. And when I say ‘ours’ I mean mine, my sister’s, my two Aunt’s, my Mom’s, my step-dad #2’s and possibly #3’s, Carly’s dad, my three uncle’s, my two cousin’s (she stopped before the last two were born) and hers and Grandpa’s. I’m sure I’m leaving someone out. Final story – she made a butt load. I have made three. And I’m complaining?

Well, Grandma said mine were ‘fancier’ because I used the beads. I think ‘fancier’ is translated from ‘crazy.’ Because crazy I am.

See, I don’t believe one should stop short and simple. I never believed in the phrase K.I.S.S. (keep it simple, stupid.) I just use the last S – Stupid. I mean, if you’re going to go through all the effort, why not make it awesome? Amazing? Fantastic? Ridiculous?

Yup, that’s me.

The worst part? I can never understand the instructions. So I just sort of start sewing. I look at the front picture as my guide and sew and stab and complain. I’m pretty sure I’ve turned it into a fine art. I should write a book titled, “Make a Christmas Stocking and Swear.”

Apparently, the stocking brand I use calls for some pieces to be stuffed with batting. Um, really? I hang these things up for like 2 weeks. And that would require me to go all balls to the wall? OK, so I’m crazy, but I never said I followed the rules. That’s just insane. Last time I checked, my name wasn’t Martha Stewart.

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My current project, however, is really fun. I’m making a quilt for Claire’s birthday by taking her favorite shirts through the years (yah, I can say years…she’s going to be THREE! Tear.) and sewing them together. It looks pretty cool so far, I won’t lie, however, that’s the fun part. Putting the squares together. Then comes the boring, mundane parts. Ie: the finishing touches. Batting, backing, border. The three b’s I hate the most. Interesting, I hate the most important part. I’ll just blame it on my Dad’s side.

(See, my theory is, all my bad traits and faults are obviously from my Dad’s side of the family.)

I’ll post pictures when it’s done. If my sanity is still intact.

Until then, I’m dreading making a stocking. The saddest part of that statement? I won’t have to make it until next year. However, if I know myself like I think I do, I’ll procrastinate until November, like I did with Luca and then continue to procrastinate until December 20th.

I’m such a bad mother.

(DISCLAIMER: I simply meant bad as in I’m so bad to the bone. Rebel. Nothing more.)

how you like me now?

I was painting (yes…AGAIN) the trim around the front windows this morning while Luca napped. I had my computer inside against the windows blasting (but not obnoxiously) my favorite tunes.
So there I am, on a 10 foot ladder…shaking my ass. Now, I’m not the queen of coordination, but I am somewhat balanced. Still, I was impressed, that is, until I fell into the bush.
But no worries, no worries. I landed as graceful as a chick in mismatched paint clothes, too small flip flops and an ’80 style headband could. My neighbors must think I’m a nut.
What was on my playlist, you ask? Well here you go!
1. Bad Romance: Lady Gaga
2. How You Like Me Now: The Heavy
3. Roxanne: The Police
4. Unfold: Jason Mraz (Live)
5. London Bridges: Fergie
6. Gimme Shelter: The Rolling Stones
7. Mercy: Duffy
8. Planet Claire: B-52’s
9. Let It Ride: BTO
10. My Sharona: The Knack
11. Girlfriend: Matthew Sweet
12. Best of You: Foo Fighters
13. Let it Be Me: Ray LaMontagne

How you like me now!?

So the music list is a little eclectic. But that’s how I like it.

Lastly, here’s Sophia’s birthday present. It turned out a lot better than I thought it would…

Lastly, I made Luca a new door sign. His temporary one was made out of cardboard and was pretty sad looking. The picture on it can be interchangeable. This is the one I happened to have laying around.

I think I’ve gone over the edge.

It all starts so innocent. An idea. A thought. A plan. Then it turns into something huge. Something bigger and badder than anything before it.

At first, I thought, well, what the heck. Let’s try this out. Let’s start with our food. I’ll make most everything from scratch. Easy enough. In a pinch? Better read the label. I don’t want any preservatives, chemicals or grossness in it. So the sickness begins…

Then I thought, why buy new? I can just fix up the existing and make it better.

It started with the stools. I took off the backs, painted and reupholstered them. They look great, I feel great, and I saved a lot of money.

I started to look around the house. What can I make better? What can I do next? Searching, scrounging, drooling at the mere thought of a home improvement project. And then it hit me. The front door.

We live in a housing development where all the houses look pretty much the same. If you don’t know me well enough by now, I hate being like anyone else. Hate. I like to go with the flow, march to the beat of my own drum, be original. A free spirit if you will. So living here in my cookie cutter house tends to cramp my style. But I LOVE my house. Love it. I’ve slowly been turning the inside into our own space in the world. But the outdoors leaves much to be desired.

So the front door. It was white. It was probably the cheapest door in the history of front doors. Aluminum with a small 3×3 window with a gross yellow lattice detail. The previous owners had a door knocker on it. Matt had gotten tired of being the Halsteads for about a year, so he removed it, and I purchased a new one. However, the sizing didn’t match up, so we had a hole and a lot of scuffs from where the old one had been.

So I got a big idea. (Bad….bad….bad….) I was going to revamp the front door! I painted it a color called Iced Tea, frosted the glass for privacy, added a kick plate and spray painted the door knobs (they needed a lot of lovin’.) But I didn’t stop there…no! I decided the trim needed a paint job, too. I want our house to be pretty. To be deserving of it’s awesomeness.

I bought a paint color called Pumpernickel. It is true to form. When our little house’s trim is done being painted, it’ll stand out on our block for sure.

(This is before we put the kickplate on. But you get the idea. I enjoy my crown molding detail. I know, I know. I’m lame.)

My sickness is now growing into an addiction. Haven’t I mentioned my issues with addiction before? Oh yah. I did. My little niece is turning 1 next week. What do you get a one-year-old on their first birthday? I thought a nice home made gift from Auntie Cassie would do well. So I’m going to make her personalized name blocks. Why buy them when I can make it, right? Sick. Me. Sick.

Just you wait, my blogging friends. I’ll show pictures. Unless they suck.