weekend excursion

Thursday was a pretty rough day for me, obviously.  Nothing bad happened, is the thing; I just have a day every once in a while where I feel especially awful and sad and crazy, and Thursday was one of those days.  I've been forbidding myself from blogging on those days, because no one really needs to read about me feeling like a crazy person, right?  But I did decide to publish that blog post on Thursday night for whatever reason, so I'm not going to take it down.  I do feel like that sometimes, and I do think it's normal and healthy and part of moving forward.  And just to clarify, I don't feel that way all of the time - not even most of the time - and I am definitely moving in a positive direction, emotional well being-wise.  It's just a very slow process, and it's two steps forward, one step back, that sort of thing.  So no one needs to be overly concerned about me or worry that I'm miserable or anything like that.  I'm generally okay, and getting better.

Ok, enough of that.  Yesterday, a carful of us drove up to Tomales Bay, to this little oyster shack where they fish the oysters out of the bay and serve them up to you on ice.  You choose whether you want them cooked or not.  So we got 24 raw oysters for the 5 of us, served up with white wine vinegar and herbs, and we brought our own bottle of wine and some crusty bread and cheese.  It was tasty!  We also got 4 grilled oysters, which each had a dollop of melted chili butter in them, and they were super good, but I might have been mostly into the butter. ;)

Grilled oysters with chili butter.  Image by Emma Christensen, at TheKitchn.

So at this oyster shack, they have communal picnic tables, and while we were finishing up our tasty lunch, this older Filipino couple came and sat next to us.  They were really cute, and the guy was just talking up a storm.  Talking talking talking, he wanted to be an 'agriculturalist' in the Philippines, but he wound up getting an accounting degree instead, Tagalog is the easiest language in the world, this is how you plant a pineapple, one time his son did this one thing, yadda yadda yadda.  It was fine at first, but we were all about ready to leave, and he just. kept. going.  Then he started to talk about how the only presidential candidate he believed in was Rick Santorum, because he watched his facial expressions, and he was the only one speaking truly from the heart.  My friend's husband said, "That's because he's crazy."  And we got a good laugh out of that, but it was clearly time to get going.  Thankfully (?) I was getting pretty sunburnt by that point, so I was like, "Man, I really have to get going, I'm going to be a tomato tomorrow!"  And they thought that was hilarious, so it was a semi-graceful exit.

Anyway, on the way back, I snapped some shots of the landscape from the car window, some of which turned out decent.  It was a gorgeous summer day, and it was so, so nice to get out of town, see some countryside, and have a little adventure.

Oh, I forgot about our pitstop.  On the way back, we stopped in this teeny tiny little town to check out the bookstore, and most of us picked up a little souvenir.  I got a $3 calendar that has beautiful pictures of coffee drinks, and for each month it details the history of coffee drinking in a particular country, and gives a few recipes for a traditional coffee drink from that country.  Jevon got a book published in 1827 that was written by a former slave, and it has a bunch of household tips, tricks, and handyman-type things, like how to make 19th century style recipes, or how to mix your own stain for woodwork, weird stuff like that.

When we came out of the bookstore, we saw this little market across the street, and we went in looking for snacks.  We ended up getting some chocolate, coffee, and amazing strawberry peach crostadas, and then we sat down at the picnic table in front of the market to snack for a bit.  Well, there were three of us on one side of the table, and two on the other side, and when the other two stood up, the table tipped right backward and dumped us on the ground.  It was really, really scary for about half a second, and then once we realized what had happened and we were all okay, it was really, really funny, and the guy sitting behind us got a really good laugh out of it too.

Well, it's 11:00 and I could probably use a shower.  Then it's time for groceries and reading, then maybe some dog walking, and then some frisbee this evening.  Love to all, and I may even see you soon - barring unforeseen circumstances, the plan is to leave on our road trip in about a week and a half, which puts us in Illinois sometime in mid-July.

Some Sundays are pretty perfect.

I have no complaints about today.  I have few complaints in general, really, but today is pretty fantastic so far.  I had something like 20 people over last night for homemade deep dish pizza, and it was so fun.  I hope everyone else had a good time, because I had a really good time.  I love cooking for people, and I have the greatest friends in the world, and the pizza was pretty delicious, if I do say so myself.  The funniest part was probably that almost everyone who came brought a six-pack of beer, so the entire bottom half of our fridge was full of beer, but we worked our way through most of it over the course of about 6 hours.  And 5 pizzas!  5 of 'em!  Grad students are a hungry, beer-guzzling people, it turns out.  I was also really pleased that the dogs were overall quite well behaved.  A lot of the people here were dog people, so they seemed comfortable with them and were good about petting and patting them when they deserved it and telling them to get their noses away from the food when they deserved that, and the dogs were so happy to have so many people here.  I think a good time was had by all.

So despite all the revelry, I was really good about drinking lots of water, and I woke up feeling weirdly good this morning.  I did about 6.5 miles up in the hills yesterday, and we're playing frisbee this afternoon, so I didn't want to overdo it, but I felt better than I expected to, and I did a good, quick little 5.5 miles with the dogs this morning.  It is a gorgeous day out.  The sun is shining and there's a nice, cool breeze, and it's somehow beautifully warm and cool at the same time.

Now I'm home and I made myself some coffee and pancakes and I put on some new music I treated myself to - the weekend before last, after frisbee, one of my friends invited me to an impromptu concert thing in San Francisco.  And despite the fact that it was Sunday night I had plenty of things to do, I went anyway, and I was so glad I did.  So anyway, I bought the EP by the girl we saw, and it's really nice Sunday morning pancake music.  I don't think she was intending that, but it works.

I'm starting to get really pumped for Napa Valley.  This is almost certainly premature, because it's in a little over 5 months, but I'm starting to get really excited about marathon training again.  I didn't know if that would ever happen again, because after each marathon, I've been ready for a mental break from running for a while.  I love it, but those 4 hour runs really cut into your life.  The thing about a 4 hour run is that it's a whole mental journey.  The physical exhaustion only really kicks in for the last 2-3 miles or so.  It's making yourself head out the door when you know you're going to be gone for 4 hours, and making yourself keep going when you get kind of bored and tired of running, that's the hard part.  And after you've broken through the mental barrier of knowing perfectly well that you are capable of running 26.2 miles, you don't even really get the mental charge that comes from the accomplishment itself anymore.  It almost becomes a bit of a chore: "Aw man, I'm supposed to do another 20 miler this weekend," like "Aw man, I really need to tackle that pile of laundry."

Anyway, now that it's been over a year since my last marathon, I'm totally ready and anxious to do another one.  It's been a long time since I ran 20 miles, long enough that I miss it.  There's something so meditative about settling into a pace and just holding it for several hours.  Your mind drifts all over the place, and then you get to the end and it almost feels like waking up from some weird dream.  Running that far is definitely a completely different experience, physically and mentally, from normal everyday runs.  And I have to be in a certain mental space to actively want to do that, and I am suddenly feeling like I'm in that mental space again.

I think it must have to do with how busy I am this semester.  It's my whole momentum phenomenon; now that I'm back to doing a lot of school work all the time, I'm just feeling generally more hard-core and like running 20 miles is probably a good idea.

Also, I really want to go run through Napa.  It's going to be so gorgeous, and the idea of running through the countryside early in the morning is just so appealing to me right now.

Running, running, running.  I didn't think this post was going to be about that.  I thought it was going to be about how I'm leaving for San Diego and Boston a week from today and I'm not ready for either of those conferences quite yet, but in a way this post is about the fact that I'm in a very good place, mentally, right now.  I have a lot to do, but I feel really good about it, for the most part, even though I could easily be freaking out if I let myself.  It's a good feeling to be at a place in my life where I can think about all the stuff I have to get done and just be ready to buckle down and do it without worrying about whether/how it will get done.  It will get done.  And I will do it.  But I'm not going to worry about it in the meantime.

And so some Sundays are pretty perfect.  You wake up without an alarm clock, take your dogs for a run through the Berkeley hills, fix yourself some coffee and pancakes, listen to some lovely piano music, and then you plan the rest of your week before you head out for some frisbee with your friends. I can't really think of a much better day than that.

Food

I've been hesitating a lot about whether to write this post, but I decided to just do it.  So here we go.

I love food.  I love food.  All kinds, really, and there's nothing I wouldn't try at least twice.  I say "twice" rather than "once" because there are plenty of things that after having tried them multiple times, they've really grown on me.  An example is the second big tub of yogurt I have in my fridge right now.  I got the first tub last week only because it was on sale - $2.99 for 16 oz. of full fat, plain and unsweetened whole milk yogurt from a local dairy, where the cows are actually raised and grazed in pastures.  Now, I love me some plain, full fat yogurt, but the first few bites of this stuff were too much for me.  It was very sour, and tasted more like a cow than I usually like my yogurt to taste.  I figured I wouldn't be able to finish the rest of the tub, but I stuck it back in the fridge anyway because I hate wasting food.

Over the next day or two, I tried it with a little sugar mixed in, and with a little sugar and vanilla mixed in, and with some strawberries and a dusting of sugar, and it just kept tasting better and better, until I was quite literally licking the tub empty before throwing it away.  I had to go back to the grocery store yesterday, and it was still on sale for $2.99 and I bought a second tub with no hesitation.

I love to eat, and I will eat anything, and I get great pleasure out of it.  I am also a great proponent of the adage "all things in moderation", and I'm generally pretty good about sticking to that.  The thing is, I regularly eat more fruits and vegetables than the average person, I think, but I also eat a lot of crap, because I love sweets.  This was a minor problem being in France, because while the fruits and vegetables are out of this world, so are the pastries and breads.  And cheeses.  And everything, really.  And when you're only there for a relatively short amount of time, it's very easy to convince yourself that you need to try a different pastry every day, because darn it, there are so many pastries to try!

The upshot of my time in France is that upon weighing in on my return - and I mean that in the literal sense - I had gained a good 10 pounds from where my weight usually is.  I will make a slight digression here and say that I used to be quite overweight.  Now, I will also say that I tend to carry weight fairly well, because I build muscle easily, so I think I usually weigh more than people might guess.  The most I ever weighed was probably in the 8th grade, when I topped out somewhere in the 170s.  And for a 5'3" female, it doesn't matter how much muscle you're carrying, 170+ is overweight.

When I transferred to Uni High, I worked really hard to get in good shape.  I've written about this before, but I started running and kept it up every day the summer before I started there, and I started actually paying attention to what I ate.  The weight came off pretty easily by just cutting out junk and watching my portion control, and over the course of about 5 months, I probably lost about 40 pounds.  That sounds like a lot, but that's exactly what it should be, now that I look back on it: 8 pounds a month is about 2 pounds a week, which is what doctors recommend, so yay for me.

Anyway, this was hard, because I got a lot of flak for it, to tell you the truth.  I felt great, and I was so healthy and eating really well, and people kept asking me if I had an eating disorder!  It was kind of unreal, because for the first time in my life, I was actually eating really well, and that's when everybody started scrutinizing my food intake.  But after I got my weight down around 130, I gradually quit paying attention to what I was eating, and my weight's been relatively stable ever since.  This is largely due to my running; as long as I put in some decent mileage every week, I can basically eat whatever I want (within reason), and I tend to stay somewhere between 128 and 135, which is within my healthy range.

Before I left for France this last time, I was creeping up towards 135, due to eating more and running less than usual.  I go through periods where this happens, so I wasn't really concerned about it.  A little bit of diligence and I would stop gaining weight.  Well, 6 weeks' worth of pastries later, I get home, step on the scale, and I'm at 142.  That was a bit of a shocker, actually!  I don't think I've weighed that much in at least 7 years, or maybe since high school when I first slimmed down.  The number doesn't lie.  Time to actually reign things back in.

So how to regain some control with my eating habits?  The "all things in moderation" thing clearly hasn't been working, because my idea of "moderation" has gotten far more lax over time.  "Moderation" had come to mean a treat every day, and the caloric toll of my treats has been increasing such that they're not actually very moderate anymore.  Add to this the fact that there's a fair bit of research coming out suggesting that bread products are probably pretty bad for us, and the fact that it makes intuitive sense (to me anyway) that our bodies are probably not designed to deal with the amount of sugar we throw at them.

At the same time, I do not like extremism.  I am not a fan of "diets".  I would never claim to be an "-an" or an "-ist" with regard to my food intake, because I think we should eat some of everything.  In moderation.

Except maybe bread products.  Maybe that does mess with our insulin response.  The idea has always made some sense to me, but I've always been too attached to bread products to test it out.  However, having gained a good 10 pounds in the past few months and somewhat gorged myself on breads and sweets for the months of June and July, I'm ready to let the pendulum swing back in the other direction and see what happens.

For this reason, I have decided not to eat any baked goods or other wheat products for at least one month.  I started last Friday, meaning I've completed 8.5 days of this experiment thus far, and I must say, it's going smashingly well.  I'm back down to 137 pounds already - so almost back into what I consider my healthy range - and I'm just not nearly as hungry as usual.  It's pretty amazing, actually.  I'm eating a ton of fruits, vegetables, eggs, and yogurt, and I'm feeling really good; I think my body is responding favorably to the higher fiber, lower sugar, and corresponding even blood sugar levels.  I'm already reaching the point where sweets and junk just don't sound very good anymore.  And I'm eating so much delicious food that I can feel really good about.  Here's what I remember eating yesterday:

scrambled eggs
mushrooms sautéed in butter
coffee
a mango
big bowl of blueberries and yogurt
several slices of watermelon
salad of chopped zucchini, tomato, avocado, butter beans, and parmesan cheese
few handfuls of nuts
iced coffee with milk, vanilla, and a sprinkle of sugar
salad of kale, red onion, dried cherries and cranberries, sunflower seeds
more watermelon
beef jerky
2 big mugs of tea (one red, one black)
large bowl of popcorn

The reason I decided to actually make this post is two-fold.  One is that if I write it down, actually putting it in a public forum where people can see it, I'm much more likely to stick by my resolution.  It's very tempting for me to keep it a secret that I'm not eating bread, because I generally think such resolutions are weird.  Because I don't subscribe to what I feel are arbitrary diet rules, it makes me somewhat embarrassed to be sticking by one, for once.  But I feel it's a worthwhile experiment, and I'd like to actually carry it through.  July 22nd was my first breadless day, so I'm going to keep going until at least August 22nd and re-evaluate once I get there whether I'd like to keep the experiment going.

The second reason is that I'm hoping people will be sympathetic, and maybe even supportive, if they know what I'm doing and why I'm doing it.  I'm headed to Illinois next week (August 3 - 10), and I'm still not sure whether I'm entirely wedded to the idea of sticking by this thing while I'm there.  It'll be a challenge, and I really don't want to be That Person who appears to be looking for attention for their weird dietary practices and restrictions.  I hate That Person, I really do.  But at the same time, I'd like to challenge myself in this way, and see whether I can really stick by it.  So I'm going to try it and see what happens, and I hope people won't think that I'm being That Person, and I also hope I'll stick by my resolve to keep this experiment going despite my fear that people will think I'm being That Person.

I'm tired of talking about this (and I also need to quit typing and take a shower).  But let it be known, once and for all, that I do not have food issues, and that this is an experiment in regaining some self control when it comes to sweets, and also in just seeing what happens if I'm forced to replace the bread products in my life with more fruits, vegetables, and protein.  Nothing more, nothing less.

ZZZzzzzzz...

If last week was all about the "ahhh" sound effect, this weekend has definitely merited a "zzzzzzz".  (But not in a boring way - in a good way!)  I am ready for a nap, but instead I'll type up this blog post while I wait for my tapioca pearls to boil.

My conference went great!  It was fun, and I got to meet a lot of cool, interesting, smart people and hear some very cool talks.  I'm really glad I got to go this year, and I think I'll definitely go back to this conference sometime in the future, but it's not quite the conference for me.  I guess I knew that going in, since it's called "The CUNY Conference on Sentence Processing", and I don't really do sentence processing, I do sound processing.  There were a few more phonetics-oriented talks, and I got some good feedback on my poster and saw some other cool posters on bilingual speech processing.  Man, bilingual research is totally the way to go.  It's just so fun.

Anyway, I was lucky enough to be able to stay with a friend in Palo Alto on Friday night, so we kind of had a psycholinguist girls slumber party.  It was great, but I didn't get too much sleep, and then I went to a birthday party last night and didn't get home until ... 4:00 this morning.  (!!!)  I left the party at a somewhat reasonable hour (around 2:00, probably) with two friends who live somewhat in my neighborhood of Berkeley, and the three of us walked the 3 miles or so home, since the bus service is so limited late at night, the weather was pretty nice, and a walk just sounded good.  And it was a nice walk, with nice people, and we stopped to talk on the street corner for longer than I realized, and pretty soon I was walking in the front door at 4:00 am.  I crashed right away, but since I just can't sleep in anymore, I woke up around my usual time, at 8:30, and couldn't get back to sleep.

So today has been lazy and long and sleepy, and I took the dogs for a really long walk late this morning, listening to NPR news and wandering around Berkeley in the cool breeze.  Then I decided some bubble tea sounded good, so I went to Berkeley Bowl and bought a bunch of tapioca pearls, but it turns out there's a difference between instant tapioca pearls and, I dunno, infinite cook time tapioca pearls.  These things have been boiling for like an hour now, and they're still not done.  And I want my bubble tea, dagnabbit.

Speaking of culinary adventures, though, I made the greatest pear tart yesterday, in about 50 minutes flat.  While I was sitting in the conference, my mind kept wandering back to the tart pan I splurged on this past week.  A good friend of mine just bought an apartment in Chicago, so I sent him some French-style café au lait bowls as a combination housewarming/early birthday present, and while I was picking them out, I saw this great tart pan.  A tart pan is one of those things that you don't need, but they're just so pretty, and every once in a while, I want to make something that would work much better in a tart pan.  So I got it, and I must say, it was an excellent purchase.  The pear tart I made was pretty dang good, if I do say so myself, and just so impressive with its fluted edges and browned top and crumbly crust, even though it wasn't hard at all to make.  I wish I had a picture to show you!  But I'll be making one again soon, so maybe I'll get a picture then.

Well, bubble tea is done, so I think I'll try to get some reading done, unless I fall asleep.  Today might be a lost cause...


Completely unrelated P.S.: I think I'm taking Portuguese this fall and am starting to get kind of excited about it.

Ahhhhhh...

That is a happy, contented sigh.  My goodness, I feel positively lovely right now.  What a fantastic day this was.  I spent more of the morning than I would have liked reading and re-reading my poster, changing a word or two here, adjusting the formatting a tiny bit here and there, and then finally around 1:30 I decided it was time to be done with the thing.  There comes a point in time where there's just no way to make substantial improvements.  You've really read and re-read the thing so many times, and there are maybe a few tiny things that you're not altogether satisfied with, but it's really a matter of diminishing returns.  You get to the point where no matter what you change, it's not going to improve the thing.  And at that point, you're just wasting time and driving yourself crazy.  So I sent it to the printer on campus, which means it's literally out of my hands, and promptly started checking Facebook every 15 minutes or so.  That got old pretty quickly, and a friend of mine and I were essentially having a conversation on each other's Facebook walls, and come on, that's a little silly, especially when he lives about a 15 minute walk from here.  So I texted him and we went to this little tea shop on College Avenue in Berkeley.

I may have mentioned it before, but this place is so cozy.  So ridiculously, perfectly cozy, with these little tables and chairs and cushions scattered about, with houseplants and photographs and paintings on the walls, and little bookshelves with books and tea and tea settings.  It's like going over to your grandma's house, if your grandma were a spritely little Japanese woman with cupboards full of different kinds of teas who put interesting subdued music on in the background and left you to your own devices.  They have a huge tea menu - overwhelmingly huge, really - but we settled on a green one, and you don't even pay when you order.  You just pick a tea, find a corner to park yourselves, and they bring you all the tea equipment on a platter.  Every table has this cool Japanese tea hot plate thing, so you turn it on and set the kettle on, and it keeps the water at the exact right temperature.  Then you can just keep re-infusing your tea for as long as you like, or until it's really spent, and then you can ask for some more.  It's way easy to spend a few hours there, sitting on the floor Japanese style, shooting the breeze and figuring out the best English-French/French-English translations for things.  It is so nice to be using my French again - it's like a long lost friend!  It's like a part of me has been missing, and it's been missing for so long that I even forgot that it was missing.  It probably sounds silly (and you're probably sick of hearing about it, but this is my blog, so I can beat a dead horse as long as I want to), but I really feel more like myself now that my second language is coming back.  It's like I spent so long acquiring that thing - really sinking several years of my life into learning it, and getting to the point where I felt comfortable using it, and making it a part of me, and of my brain - that it's a non-negligible part of my identity.  This sounds... snobby... and oh-look-at-me, and whatever (but again, my blog), but there's something really cool about feeling like a real honest-to-goodness bilingual again.

This is a term I've been thinking about a lot lately, due to the direction my research is taking.  What do you call a kid who grows up speaking only Chinese at home until age 4, and then starts preschool and acquires English at breakneck speed for a few months?  By the time he's 4 1/2, he can have a pretty decent conversation in English, let me tell you, but he sounds a little weird and there's plenty of stuff he says that you have no hope of understanding.  Is that kid bilingual yet?  He'll certainly be bilingual very soon, and if he grows up in the US, by the time he's a teenager, he'll probably be far more comfortable in English than in Chinese.  He might even not claim to speak Chinese.  But he's certainly not a monolingual English speaker (although I would consider him a native English speaker by that point... just not a monolingual one).  What about me, do I count as bilingual?  I don't usually feel like one, because we think of bilinguals as people who grow up speaking two languages at home, I think, and I definitely haven't felt very bilingual for the past few years, since I got back from France.  And yet when I'm having a perfectly normal conversation in French and even get to the point after a few minutes or so where I don't notice what language is being spoken anymore, I can't help but think back on it and realize that that probably qualifies me as bilingual.  If I think of a non-native English speaker who had my level of French when speaking English, I would consider them bilingual, to be fair.  This is not to say that I'm anywhere near a balanced bilingual - that's another story completely.

All of this is so interesting to me on a scientific level, too, really, and it gives me insight into the types of questions I want to ask in my research, going forward.  I experience all these weird phenomena that make me think about how the brain works, and that make me much more aware of... the nuts and bolts and machinery behind language processing, in a way.  When you only have one language (and also when you're a normal person and not a linguist), I think you're not very aware of Language in general.  You just talk.  And it usually comes out fine.  And you think about ideas and conversations, and not all the backstage calculations that go in to making a conversation work, because they're so natural.  But at least for me, when I have two languages to juggle, it's just really interesting to see what my brain does with it.  There's this one extremely bizarre and jarring phenomenon where my brain freezes up and I can't come up with a word in any language.  It's not like the tip-of-the-tongue phenomenon, where you know there's a word you want, but you can't quite think of it.  This is like being some primordial infant who has only a vague concept or feeling and no way to express any aspect of it.  It's like someone pouring a bucket of ice water on your head, and all you can do is gasp and sputter and wait until things start working again.

Anyway, tea.  The tea was really great.  And then I wasn't even hungry, but we were in a very lovely part of Berkeley, where there are lots of cute and yummy restaurants, but where I don't normally go because it's a bit of a trek to get up there.  Maybe 30 minutes by foot, so totally do-able, but far enough that I don't do it very often.  But we were right by this Italian restaurant that one of my other friends always raves about, so we thought about giving it a shot, and we walked in to ask how long the wait was and were just bowled over by the smell of roasted garlic and warm bread and everything delicious in the world.  So it was kind of like, well, we obviously have to eat here now.  And we did.  And oh my god.  It was so. so. sososo good.  Probably a good thing it's a bit of trek from my house, because I definitely don't need to be eating there as often as I would like to!  Easy way to go broke and gain 10 pounds!

Well, it is late.  And I am full, and starting to get a little sleepy and maybe ready for bed soon.  But my oh my, what a nice day this was.  Spring break is off to a great start!

(Post re-edited slightly on Tuesday morning, just for kicks.)

I am a caricature of myself.

Probably homeless woman in the grocery store parking lot: Got a few extra bucks?

Me: (lying uncomfortably, as I always do) No, I'm sorry...

PHWITGSPL: (looking at my groceries, then at me, somewhat disgustedly) You don't smoke cigarettes, do you?

Me: ... No.

It is true. I had a grocery cart full of fruits and vegetables, and I'm wearing running shorts and Chacos. I do not smoke. This was apparently quite obvious.

This reminds me of a funny conversation I had with some friends a few weeks back, about how it sucks to realize you're just part of a "demographic". We were talking about how we love Trader Joe's, but we hate that we love Trader Joe's. TJ's is a grocery store (the one I was at today, actually) that sells what I would describe as cutely packaged, fun convenience foods for a generation that revels in Americanized ethnic food.

"Why yes, Trader Joe's," I concluded ruefully. "I am a 20-something white person who likes bright colors, convenience, and Thai food. I cannot resist you."

It's weird to realize how much the culture you've grown up in has shaped your identity, and also the fact that there is an entire super market chain directed at you and all of your friends.

Time to go play frisbee!