The Great and Wonderful Snorkle

A little over 7 years ago, I nearly ran over a little orange ball of fur. I started this journey by shooing my cat Squeek out from behind my tire, but I did not know anyone else had crawled under there. I pulled out of our driveway at the old house, making some sort of gasping sound when my lights crossed over an orange ball sitting in the driveway. It had looked far too soft to be a toy so I got out and looked.

'It' was a kitten of undetermined age, though clearly very young. It's eyes were sealed by goop, it's nose sealed by snot and it could only breathe out of it's mouth. Without a second thought I scooped up the little creature and plopped it gently on my shoulder and headed inside to the computer room near the back of the house.

Chris greeted me. "What is that?"

I muttered. "It's a kitten," quickly followed up with, "I'm going to make it well and then find a home."

Chris obviously didn't believe me as he admonished me. "We're not keeping that. Don't name the kitten, don't fall in love with the kitten."

"Sure," I said. "I just want to make it well. I promise." I handed the little fur ball to Chris and headed back to the store where bottle feeding options, wet food, and Vaseline to clear the goop from his nose were obtained. 

I came back to find the kitten on Chris's shoulder and couldn't help the smirk that crossed my lips. During the clean up of the kitten, I discovered it was a he. I fed him and made him as comfortable as possible.

Tired, I went to bed and was awoken a short time later by Chris who shoved the kitten into my face and proclaimed, "Meet Snorkle!"

In my sleepy state I had asked. "What happened to not naming the cat, not falling in love with the cat and not keeping the cat?" Apparently he had changed his mind. Obviously I was totally OK with that.

Snorkle couldn't meow. His voice was either damaged by the illness he had when I found him, or it never developed properly. Instead, he booped. It was the cutest and funniest sound. He would let us know things, with his boop. It was fantastic. He had petite, but incredibly strong paws, and his tail was fabulous and fluffy. 

Snorkle had slept in the crook of my knees for a while, but one night Chris stole him and snuggled with him. That started a bond between the two that was very strong. Every night Snorkle would go to bed with Chris and snuggle under the covers with him and made sure to groom him. He purred so loud I could hear him through the thick blanket from over a foot away. During the day he would sleep in my lap when Squeek wasn't there.

If I had cheese he would get a piece and he always escorted us to the refrigerator. He had to inspect it of course because it was his thing. Chris discovered he loved cheese puffs, french fries and popcorn, much to my chagrin, and would feed him french fries any time he had them; all under my looks of disdain. Snorkle loved it and would often help himself to the bags with fries in them if we weren't careful. For quite a few months he would sit on our shoulders until he just didn't fit any more. When he couldn't fit there, he would sit on the desk, or the back of Chris's computer chair much like Snoopy sat on his dog house. It was cute. I called him Snoopy Snorkle when I saw him doing that.

Sometimes he would lay on the floor, in the middle of a pathway, on his back with his back legs spread apart and front paws in the air. It made me laugh. He discovered how the door knob worked and if his paws didn't slip off, he would have been able to turn them! He opened cabinets, got under covers, and generally did as he pleased. If he hit his nose by accident, he would sneeze like crazy. When I fed the cats he would stand on his back legs, front paws up as high as he could get them and he would try to see what I was doing, sometimes tapping me or the counter. He was well behaved enough, but when he was in trouble his daddy had to call him out, he ignored mommy.

The boy was completely obsessed with boxes. Eating, Sleeping, fighting from within. If any new boxes entered the house, no matter how small, Snorkle would try to claim them as his. It was hilarious when the box would be tiny by comparison and he would still do his best to try and fit in one. He was crazy and so funny.

Any time I went to the bathroom he was there with me. Generally he was there to drink from the faucet. If it happened to be my shower time, he would hit me as I was trying to get in to warn me about the water. If I managed to get in before he could warn me, he would sit at the back of the tub and watch with his head inside the shower curtain. He was my little protector.

He came when Chris called "Boy!". Snorkle would follow Chris to the back door and go out exploring the yard while Chris smoked. He was there at the door when we came home and often he would escape outside just to go roll on the driveway or dirt. That was one of his favorite things. He would eat a little grass and come in unless I made him come in sooner.

When Chris came home there would be games; hide and go seek was a favorite of the two. Snorkle would sit in Chris's chair and Chris would go out to the hall and Snorkle would look for him over the top of the chair. Or they would play attack the hand. Chris would slide his hand or a finger over the top, or sides, of the chair and Snorkle would seek and attack. It was really fun to watch and for a cat he was quite good at the games. There was also the scooping up of Snorkle into Chris's arms to have a tickle fight of sorts. Snorkle would growl and kick but they both knew it was for fun.

When I became pregnant, Snorkle was there for me constantly. He would lay on my belly and purr loudly. He would lay with me for hours unless I had to go to the bathroom. Even then however, he followed me around. He sometimes hung out in the crib until we had to block it off completely cause Remy kept trying to eat the sheets.

After the baby came, Snorkle would hang close by but he wasn't sold on the baby. Eventually he started letting me know when something was up and he even started sitting in my lap with the baby there too.

I noticed Snorkle started breathing hard and coughing. Turns out these were asthma style attacks and very serious. When Snorkle was feeling at his worst he hung out, even when Fenris was kicking and ended up kicking him (gently) a couple of times. After a vet visit we gave Snorkle medication and he seemed to improve. A few weeks later he started having to open mouth breathe and I called the vet. We started him on steroids which helped a bit but eventually it started getting bad again.

I took him to the emergency vet the Saturday after Thanksgiving because I just couldn't watch him breathing like that anymore and to me at least, he looked swollen, or just 'off'. They immediately took him and put him on oxygen. That freaked me out but I was told to go home and they would call with news. I called 4 hours later and he had been doing better. When I called back again after another 4 hours he wasn't doing as well.

I was starting to get a bad feeling about the situation. Deep down I was struggling to keep my cool. Fenris was showing signs of being unwell. Handling a sick and crying baby while I was crying inside was difficult to say the least.

The vet did x-rays, and called us back to tell us there was fluid around Snorkle's lungs. That certainly explained why he looked swollen. After more conversations they withdrew some of the fluid and found it was blood tinged. This meant he had cancer or heart failure. I wasn't even able to carry on a conversation at this point, I was wailing. The vet seemed pretty sure it was heart failure. We told her we wanted to bring him home. We knew this was a death sentence and we wanted just a little time to say goodbye. They told us they had to stabilize his breathing which would cost us another $1k on top of the already very pricey bill we had.

It was one of the hardest decisions and I really wanted to spend the money we didn't have. We decided to go ahead and euthanize him because we couldn't afford their fee to stabilize him and we didn't want him to suffer. We took Fenris to my moms while we went to the vet. When we got up there Chris wanted to smoke; I assume he needed that because of the stress and grief. While I was waiting for him I saw a shooting star. It was the first one I had seen since childhood. I couldn't make a wish though it wouldn't have come true.

We went inside and they took us into a room. Shortly thereafter a tech came in with Snorkle and it was very apparent to both of us the tech had been crying. Just knowing someone else cared enough to cry made it harder and better at the same time. I did my best to stop crying to avoid freaking him out.

Snorkle was in a glass aquarium with a lid on it, it's how they had been giving him oxygen. They told us to take as much time as we wanted. After the tech closed the door behind him, I took the lid off and Snorkle immediately responded to my voice as I said hi. Chris and I both pet on him for a while and he even tried to come out of the aquarium to us. I felt horrible having to keep him in there but there was still oxygen and he needed it. When we both noticed he was struggling to breathe again we rang the door bell they had given us and pet him as much as possible before they came in. They brought him up to the table and laid him down. I couldn't help myself, I just kept on loving on him. I even put my head against his and kissed him and told him I loved him. He was purring so strongly. He purred literally until his heart stopped. Even then I just kept loving on him. I really couldn't bring myself to stop. It was so hard, leaving, knowing he would not be coming home with us. He was like Frodo to me. Frodo was another amazing kitty from my childhood... he was special in a different way from all my other kitties. Snorkle was another Frodo and there will be no other kitty exactly like either.

The first feeding without him was the worst. I cried over his empty bowl; having to pick it up to put it away. He wasn't there to stand next to me and head butt my leg to let me know he was there. He didn't come rushing out of the blinds to greet me upon my arrival home. He didn't try to sneak out while I was bringing a bunch of stuff in so he could roll all over the driveway. He didn't wake me up by curling up with me the next morning. And he wasn't there for one of the roughest weeks I've ever endured.

It's been 4 weeks since Snorkle passed. I have felt a huge void in my life since then. I love my baby and husband, and I love my other kitties but none of them could fill the void Snorkle left. It was just different. I still cry thinking about him sometimes. My heart still aches. I will always remember Snorkle for the joy, frustration, laughter and surprise he brought into our lives. He was like a little furry person and far too clever for anyone's good. I miss him and I love him and I know we made him as happy as he made us, and that is what I try to hang on to when I'm sad.

Snorkle, you were the best cat ever. You were great and wonderful, much like Oz, but without the curtain and the booming voice. I will never forget you or the joy and love and laughter you brought. My sweet little boy, you are forever missed.

Being a 'Curvy' Girl in a not so Skinny World

In recent history, women have been slender, even boney as that look became the image of health. Eating disorders developed so that women could look like the advertisements and match up to the sex appeal that women in photos, magazines, billboards, TV and in the movies had. These were the women getting loads of attention and if you didn't match up (at least in one's mind) you would never achieve a mate.

Then, everything became about convenience. The faster you could get it the better. Food, clothes, toys, etc., you name it. It comes as no surprise that this kind of lifestyle has lead to 60+% of American's being listed as overweight or obese in 2011. (Article). I'm certainly not the first to explore this phenomenon and I won't be the last I'm sure. All this information merely serves as an appetizer to my actual point which is, I'm overweight but I am considered "curvy" by quite a lot of people I know. While I appreciate what they are trying to say, let's get down to the honesty factor here. I'm overweight.

Before about 9-10 years ago, I was very lean, but I was considered anorexic by anyone who didn't know me at all, and there were snide things said about me regularly by other females. I never cared, except when people assumed I had an eating disorder because I was thin. I was actually quite muscular and I was pretty athletic too. I roller skated weekly, when I got too old for that I went dancing several times a week. We're talking club dancing, but the kind where I would walk away from the dance floor sweaty because I had just basically done a cardio work out with more flair to awesome music in a place where I could drink too. I rode my bicycle a lot (less so as I got older, but still maintained the desire to ride). Still do for that matter. There was also cross country skiing, down hill skiing, various sports, outdoors stuff and everything else I was in to. I was even in multiple dance classes (real true dance) and gymnastics when I was very young. This meant I was always lean, and always hungry.

What I didn't realize is that I too adore convenience. I didn't think about food much more than 10 to 20 minutes before a meal. When I was a kid it was because I didn't have to. As I started to get older, it's because I was poor and ate whatever I could from my pantry and now, I just hate cooking so it's all about what I can make quickly. This doesn't mean that the reason I'm overweight is food. Not directly anyway. I actually love vegetables, fruits and I rarely eat the junk foods anymore except once a day or so.

I have Celiacs Disease. This means that I basically can't have foods with wheat, barely, rye and some oats and their by-products. You might be asking yourself "then what can you eat"? The answer is, not a whole hell of a lot in the modern convenience world.

As a child, I disliked a lot of foods. With the exception of Grilled Cheese sandwiches, I hated bread and I would always remove it from my sandwiches. It drove my parents crazy. I didn't like pasta, for the most part with the exception of cheese ravioli. I rarely ate or wanted to eat things that had gluten in them. I had zero idea what this implied. Back then, no one did really. It was pointing to the fact my body was already telling me what I should and shouldn't eat. Unless you have some unusual eating issue like Pica that makes you want to eat things you shouldn't you should listen when your body says 'don't eat that'.

9.5 years ago, I was in a relationship with someone who was selfish, judgmental and made me feel like crap about myself. It's my fault I stayed with this person and it's my fault I let their ridiculous comments affect me and how I saw myself. This person told me I was eating all the wrong foods and I was going to get fat, etc. I was often berated for my choices of snacks (corn tortilla chips and salsa - which is way better than the foods I ended up eating as far as calories and health go...),and chided for other foods I deemed yummy and edible. In the end, I broke and in my vulnerability I followed this person's advice. Worst advice ever.

What this person, nor I knew about me is that I had Celiacs and that I had been subconsciously listening to my body when it said don't eat these foods; as I mentioned above. Instead I ignored my body, and my better instincts and listened because I wanted to be accepted by this person. Frankly, even though it's ultimately my fault for not being strong enough to say 'go screw yourself', I blame this selfish jerk for making me feel like I needed to change to suit him. For the record, we ended up breaking up because I was tired of being chastised for my food choices and the end happened over a block of cheese. Crazy right? No. Smartest thing I ever did.

A lot of the issues started right away. Some took more time. The sleep issues started. I was waking up tired all the time, I was having issues concentrating and I was sick non-stop. Actually I had been sick often for a long time, but it got much worse after the food changes. After the sleep issues came the super weight gain. It didn't help that I was no longer working out as much because I was so exhausted all the time, or that I ended up getting a job where I sat on my rear all the time. Last but not least in the major changes category came the intense pain in my back.

At my worst weight I was nearly 220 pounds. It felt like people were judging me all of the time and I was so self conscious that I would effectively apologize for the fact I was overweight. Walking into walls has always been an issue but now I had even less judgment on how far I needed to be in order to avoid the walls so I bounced off them, painfully, all the time. My walk was weird because I was still walking like a slim girl and yet I would trip myself because I wasn't slender anymore. I hated the clothes I had to wear and became almost introverted because I had come to hate myself. I didn't want to feel like one of the people skinny folks made fun of. I didn't feel I deserved it because it wasn't something I had done out of laziness or pure convenience. My thought processes on this have changed a lot but that is how I felt at the time.

I have an hourglass figure and I have never shown my weight like other body types do. I have always looked smaller than my actual weight which is one reason people used to think I had an eating disorder. When I would tell people how much I weighed at the time, they always looked surprised. Honest to goodness surprise. I went on like this for a few years, topping out at nearly 220 as previously mentioned. Then came the migraine from hell, the migraine that went on for 50+ days before a doctor finally managed to figure out the trigger. Then this same doctor discovered I had Fibromyalgia. So began the medication trials. It is because of this 7 month ordeal, I will always refuse medication unless it's imperative I take it. I will never put my brain or my body through that again. These medications made me dumb. I forgot my name on one of them. Most just made me dull minded and I forgot the English language, something I had always been very well versed in. One medication made me gain more weight until I made the doctor change the dosage.

At the end of the 7 months, I was able to go back to work. I was doped up on so many medications, it was ridiculous. I struggled to maintain a semblance of my former intelligence. A year later when I had more illnesses related to the stomach and intestines they discovered I had Celiacs. The withdrawal from gluten was excruciating. The worst headache I had had since the insane migraine hit and lasted for more than a week. It was only when I started to eat the right foods and came off the withdrawal, that I started to notice an immediate change. I started dropping weight like it was clothing. I lost 35 pounds in a few months. Then I discovered Dr. Pepper again and my weight plateaued. I vowed to lose more weight but I was still tired and I couldn't shake the exhaustion. There were times when I would fall asleep at my desk. I say times... really I meant daily occurrences.

Another year and they discovered I had Sleep Apnea. All of these issues have actually been tied together as doctors/scientists have discovered. It's a "circle of issues" one has when one has Fibro. Most are genetic and while a person may not exhibit Fibro until a traumatic experience happens, it's still there waiting for it's chance in the world.

After discovering I had the Sleep Apnea issue and I started treatment, suddenly I had far more energy. My brain was feeling better but I didn't seem to be sloughing off the weight. What the hell was going on? Surely, seriously, I couldn't have another health issue. That would be overkill right?

Unbeknownst to me, I was suffering from a medication induced depression. Ah the true root of my dislike for medications surfaces! Yes, you caught me. My husband and I had planned to have a child and so I came off my birth control (as one does) to allow for getting pregnant. Within a week I was feeling wonderful! The most like my 20 year old self I have ever felt. I was super energized, I wanted to go out and do things all the time again. I felt social, creative, good, all the things I used to feel. And yet I was still overweight. But I didn't care anymore. No, that's not true. I cared, but it wasn't my main focus in life anymore. What an amazing feeling. I started dropping weight like no one's business again. I was truly becoming more like the "curvy" girl some people saw me as and less of the fat hog I had felt like for a long time. I suspect that had I not become pregnant, I would have continued to lose the weight but as it is, I am pregnant now. Ironically I lost 15 more pounds by week 15 of the pregnancy of which I am in week 16. I suspect that after the baby is born I will have the ability to lose even more weight, hopefully down to my target size of 135 where I was at 27. Healthy, but not anorexic looking.

The amazing part of it all is that I learned it's not always laziness that causes the overweight situation. Regardless of how much of it is health related however, there is always that little bit that you have control over and if you can get the stars to align as I did, losing the weight, getting to the point where you can work out again and moving on with your life can happen. You have to want it bad enough and understand you are just one person. Sometimes you need help. And while you may feel massive and self conscious all the time, love yourself. I have friends with the most amazing self confidence levels who are not skinny little things. Just don't fake it. People see through that.

Being a curvy girl in a not so skinny world is not a bad thing necessarily. As long as you are eating healthy and exercising, then love yourself for who you are and not for the person the media thinks you should be. Screw them, after all what do they know about being real?

Whomever said Pregnancy was Awesome, Lied or they Were High on an Epidural

Caution, this might be too much for some people. I use "it" in reference to the baby because we don't know what it is yet, so don't be offended.

Over the years I have been told by many women that pregnancy was beautiful and lovely and the best times of their lives. Either nothing was off during their pregnancies, or they were completely high on the Epidural and forgot what it was really like. It's not beautiful. It's uncomfortable, annoying, disgusting and tiring. The end results, I have no doubt are the most amazing thing ever. The fact I can grow something inside me like a super power is pretty amazing. Everything else feels like climbing a mountain while running a marathon while dealing with insane nausea and the need to go to the bathroom 20, or more, times a day. Seriously, the toilet paper companies must love pregnant women. Random gas stations, et al, probably do not.

I got the nausea 5 days after conception. (Conception date is according to my doctor.) I had it so bad it was all day every day and after day 6 I thought I had food poisoning so I went to the doc. I was asked if there was possibility that I was pregnant to which I responded "Why yes, there is. A very good chance in fact." Mind you, I didn't think that was the issue at the time. They did some tests, including blood tests and I found out that I was, in fact, pregnant. Having just had a miscarriage 2 months before I was dubious as to how it would go. I went to the OB doc and they confirmed with multiple blood tests. I was actually at the pathology place so much for the first two months, the phlebotomist would wave and greet me like an old friend. Good thing we liked each other!

It's pretty clear to me that this baby hates food. And sleep, but mostly food. It's a challenge for me to eat well on a regular basis because of the Celiac Disease. People are always apologizing about food not working for me when we go out to eat or when they bring nummy doughnuts into work, etc. I'm not trying to guilt people about the issue and I certainly don't need their apologies when I come across something I can't eat. It's no one's fault. I talk about the issue a lot, I am aware of this but it's like an obsession. Why? Because I always have to be aware of what is going into my mouth, onto my body (for cross contamination reasons) and how things are cooked. It's hard to stay quiet about it. However, I digress. I have lost 15 pounds since I became pregnant. Absolutely not complaining because of all the side effects, this is the best one. Aside from not really wanting to eat food, I'm limited, and then on top of that, the meat aversion hit. And then on top of that, the only things that have sounded good were potatoes, fruits and vegetables. This is mostly still the issue even at 15 weeks, but at least I can eat beef now. Moo. Again, I'm not complaining, at least now I'm hungry but it's a constant thing. No weird cravings, no desires to eat a ton, no desires to eat foods I don't normally eat. For that I'm thankful. The sensitivity to gluten has been much worse over all, however, so I have to be especially careful. It's just one of those things life throws at you and you have to learn to hurdle it or run it over and crash which I am pretty good at sometimes. Call it my clumsy nature. I prefer to hurdle, frankly less embarrassment and pain.

Sleep. I have no idea what this is anymore. I am well aware this is going to get worse and continue until many years down the road and I'm ok with that as long as I'm not stupid. I get stupid without sleep though. Forgetting words, things, places, names and probably my clothes if I didn't put them out on a nightly basis before going to bed. It's that moment of, "If my brain wasn't attached I'd forget it.". If you want amusement however, ask me questions while I'm in a certain state and then be prepared for the crazy things that come out of my mouth. Uncensored I'm pretty sure that if I don't offend, people will just laugh.

Gas... Women in general like to pretend this doesn't exist. It does. And when you are pregnant you could, quite honestly, probably propel a small vehicle of some sort with the amount of gas in your body. It's not pleasant but it's a fact of all the hormonal changes wreaking havoc on well, you. All I can say is if a pregnant woman ever burps stupidly loud or perhaps a particular olfactory quality fills the room, be forgiving, she cannot help it.

Honestly, I don't mind having to go to the bathroom 20 times a day. It's the way it happens. I can go hours without needing to go but then suddenly I have to go. Now. And then within a 20 minute time frame, I have to go 3-4 more times. At the very least nature should be kind and spread this out a little. I mean, being in a work environment where you have to pass the same people over and over and who aren't actually aware that you are pregnant yet probably think there is a serious issue going on.

People always have advice for you, especially unsolicited advice. 'I'm pretty sure that it's not ok to put your baby outside in the yard in a swing while you do housework, but thanks for that. I would prefer not to have social services called really.' I am most certainly guilty of this over the years but I have been doing my best in the last few years to not do it. It's annoying and psychologically no one actually appreciates it (Psychology Today). Apparently they take the old saying "It takes a village" way too seriously. It takes a parent or two and some very capable baby sitters probably, but the whole damn village needs to keep their noses to themselves and out of my business. If I want your advice, I'll ask for it, I promise.

Belly touching... stop touching the belly. I love my friends and currently I have no desire to tell them off for this because I know them but it's my belly. Unless you want me touching yours, hands off. The first stranger who tries to pull that had better have good insurance. It's creepy. Seriously.

Crying at everything is interesting. As a rule I'm not fond of crying. I'm not sure who is actually, but it's always been a weakness of showing that kind of emotion in my life (in my eyes in regard to me only). So, the fact that I cry over a commercial or an email but not over hearing the babies heart beat for the first time or the sonogram makes me wonder if hormones are natures way of getting revenge.

From the sounds of it, I probably sound like I hate being pregnant. Nah. I hate the crappy stuff that goes along with it but you know, be careful what you wish for and all that. However, 9 months is a drop in the bucket compared to a lifetime of "fun" right? I have people tell me all the time not to do it. (Kinda late people) Frankly if you are that unhappy with your situation, perhaps it's time to change it. I'm sure someone would love to adopt a 7-10 year old child... somewhere.

I adore when I am in a great mood (which is most of the time) and I'm singing and I can feel the baby react to it. That is rewarding and makes the other crap worth dealing with most of the time.

Cuddling kitties rock, which happens a ton lately. I love when they are laying against my belly and purring. It makes me ecstatically happy and I know this has an affect on the baby too. I can't wait for "it" to develop it's hearing so it too can hear the sound that makes all [my] worries float away.

Amusing anecdotes are awesome. I mean, everyone can use some of those to share. Despite the things that annoy me, I tend to find humor in most things. Maybe too much sometimes, but hell, it keeps me happy so who cares what others think?

I rarely use anything to manipulate the results I get with people but when you really really need to go to the bathroom and there is a line, you can often get in faster by using the pregnancy card. Trust me... it's for everyone's good!

Elevated moods are great. I may be one of the least bitchy pregnant women (thus far anyway). I've always been more warm (temperature wise) than most people so it's nothing new. Due to my Fibromyalgia, I'm used to pain so that's nothing new either though I still complain occasionally, I will admit. But I've been happy, even through the severe lack of sleep. It's awesome.

My nesting has been called unusual by a few. I'm not sure I'm truly nesting yet anyway but I have been writing a book. I needed to do research and so I've acted upon some things I really wanted to do previously which are Archery, learning knife throwing and such. Some people think it's my protective thing kicking in but in reality, I'm just a boy in a girls body and girl emotions. I love this stuff! I've collected swords and daggers for years. I prefer action flicks to sappy romances (but I do watch those too if they are period style) and I love "boys toys" way more than "girls toys". By this I mean I played with cars as a kid more often than dolls or barbies. I climbed trees and skinned everything rather than play dress up. I don't recall having tea parties. It's natural, that when I "grew up" I would continue in this vein. I love archery. I love the idea of shooting guns. I just don't want to hunt. So while I'm researching these things for my characters, I'm doing it for me as well. It just so happens to coincide with the pregnancy.

Nostalgia has hit me harder than usual. I love my friends and I love our old times together and I've been remembering a lot lately. It makes me happy to think of these old times. So if this is strictly a side effect of pregnancy, bring it on!

Overall, I can't wait to have this baby out of me, but I'll take it all in stride. I know that the after affects will be far more rewarding that the building process. They usually are.