Galo da Madrugada

I hadn't planned on joining the masses of Galo da Madrugada (rooster of the early morning) for the 2nd day of Carnaval. My Brazilian friends told me it would be a sweaty infernal heat box if we stuck to streets, so unless I was really into slithering amongst the masses, or had purchased tickets to a camarote (a safer, fenced off party with a view) then I ought to stay home.  Well, I hate crowds. And sun that I can't escape. And pointy elbows. I intended to heed their advice. Then Mark and I took the kids out swimming and met one of our neighbors who chatted me up in the pool. After exchanging pleasantries and stories of her trips to the U.S., I learned our neighbor's name: Margot! We discussed this uniqueness and then she invited us to join her husband's camarote at the Police Delegation of Pernambuco. In fact, she invited us three times- including an offer to give us a ride there. So what could we do? We said yes and had twenty minutes to get ready. Luckily, my mother-in-law had little interest in joining the festivities so our babysitter was already built-in. 

Live samba music: essential at any Carnaval.
Everyone here knew every single
word to every single song. 

Camarote companions.

Frevo dancer.
How he didn't break his feet
I won't ever know.

My father-in-law, Mark and I piled into the car with Margot and her son and sped off toward downtown. Margot eloquently barked out directions through one-way streets and we arrived to the back door of the Delegation. All the while filling me on on her interesting and overwhelming job as a public health nurse- yet another coincidence! She ushered us in and we were literally handed a shot of Johnny Walker in one hand and an official Galo t-shirt in the other.  The latter was our "ticket" for entry. Before I knew it I was seated with a group of police officers, retired and off-duty, eating feijoada with quail eggs. Dancing, singing and people watching ensued for the day. 

Our table mates and main whisky supplies.

At one point Mark took off to take some photos of the towering rooster watching over Carnaval. This rooster themed celebration was created in 1978 to revive Recife's spontaneous street parties prior to Lent. Apparently it worked, and the rooster came back year after year. Naturally we wanted to capture the true amount of people who gathered to celebrate: millions- and I mean millions of people were there. I enjoyed the scene from afar and got ready to head back. But Mark announced we'd be making a "quick lap" through the crowds. In we went, walking against throngs of people and looming floats equipped with a ridiculous power sound system and band that plays on the roof (aka trio elétricos). These double decker flatbeds stop for no one and more than once I was forced to sluice my body between hot metal siding and hot glistening bodies. If the crowd jumps, you jump. If they sing, you sing. If they squash together, you go too. I admit for a few moments I was scared out of my wits as I jostled my way to open air and eventually back to the camarote for a bit more socializing and dancing before heading home. 

Parties took place on the streets, bridges, rooftops, boats...

By the time I realized what was happening,
I couldn't back out; in I went.

I relayed this generous and bewildering experience to the same Brazilian friends who explained to me the intricacies of partying at the Galo, and without missing a beat, they said that was a) unsurprising that we were invited to experience true Brazilian hospitality and b) was exactly how some of their friendships were borne into fruition. I don't know why we were so fortunate to experience Galo up close and personal, and I am so glad I didn't weenie out on anyone though I might skip the crowd surfing next year. 

Rooster again.

The BIG Question about Fernando de Noronha

If visions of my pale body flopping behind a boat haven't dissuaded you from wanting to experience Fernando de Noronha, I heartily support anyone remotely interested in visiting "Brazil's Hawaii" and will continue to explain a bit more about our trip including how much we paid (gasp!) for this whole venture. Yes, I am going to talk about the forbidden topic. Yes, it was expensive. Yes, it's a Brazilian rite of passage. Yes, it's worth every penny.

Before we could book our rooms on the island, we needed to have our airline tickets purchased. Luckily for us, we could fly directly there from Recife in under an hour. We used GOL airlines, and the kids (ages 2 and 4) were considered a discounted price. So tickets cost us 2,518.00 USD respectively; 2 adults for 383.00, 2 kids for 230.00. Maybe we got a good deal, maybe not- but if you find a cheaper flight, I don't want to know. Can't spoil the fantasy, now can we? I will admit that the GOL website wouldn't accept our credit cards and ended up paying via PayPal.

I sent on this information to reserve our rooms at Lenda Das Aguas. We paid around 3000 USD for 3 rooms (the kids, in-laws, Mark and myself) for 7 nights, about 142 USD/room/night. Not too shabby! The rooms included breakfast (fruit, cereal, meat and cheese plates, eggs, pastries, juice, tea, coffee) AC, and mini fridge, and the occasional wireless Internet. We were warned the satellite in FDN is tricky sometimes. Our rooms were cleaned daily, and the staff could make reservations or inquiries on our behalf. Despite getting gouged by the falling window pane, I was pleased with their service and attention given to our kids. Since we went through Your Way, I wired the money directly to her, and she followed up with payment (and she does not charge any fees).

Once this was completed, Mark and I could breathe easy for a few months. A few days closer to the trip, we knew we'd have to pay a Nature Tax and the rate varies by the number of days on the island. The good news is, kids under 18 don't pay. Seven days equaled about 115 USD per person. It seems all normal people can pre-register online and print out the forms ahead of landing. I did that, but the documents I produced couldn't be found in the system- so they had to register us again before handing over our credit card (cash works too). All this took place at the airport. They do hand you forms on the plane to fill out if you don't do it ahead of time. I was strongly advised NOT to lose these receipts of payment; they are proof to get off the island too and I had to show them to multiple people before even passing security.

Of course once on the island, you need to purchase a national park entry card if you want to enjoy their trails and beaches. A fee equivalent of about 66 USD gets you 10 days of adventure if you are a non-Brazilian resident. Again- keep the cards with you. If you register to do some of the fancier guided activities, like doing the boat tours, hiking certain trails or swimming at Praia de Atalaia (protected water where you can't wear sunscreen or touch the ocean bottom to due a delicate ecosystem) you need the cards.

With plane, hotel, taxes, and cards paid for we were free to roam the island. Luckily Fernando de Noronha is a remarkably easy island to navigate. It has one main paved road, with various rocky dirt trails that divert to trail heads and beaches. During our week we used the public bus (around a dollar a person/ride) and the occasional taxi to navigate the bigger stretches of travel (7-15 bucks/ride) and hiked for the rest.  Mark and I put the kids on our shoulders, and off we went. Other people chose to rent dune buggies a raucous form of fun and noise as their form of travel. Personally I loved the idea of easier access, but loved the idea of built in exercise more. On average we walked five miles which included some moderate hiking up/down to the beaches. Every day we'd come home coated in dirt, staining our flip flops and clothes with an earthy brown.

There are maybe 3 grocery stores on the island and all easily walkable. I neglected most of what was on offer here, with exception to purchasing 5L bottles of water and snacks. Instead we loaded up on breakfast, snacked through lunch, and tried a different restaurant every night. A few, I might add we came back a few times for desserts on "date night" if I stayed awake past 8pm. Independently owned restaurants, each had their own style and various menus. Luckily, we received a handy list of Adriana's favorite restaurants and the ones we tried were great. The ones not on the list were meh. I think we spent an average of 100-150 dollars/day on food for everyone. 

The boat tour was mind blowing. It blew our minds so much, we went back for more. For the price of 60 bucks/person, a shuttle picked us up at our hotel, we enjoyed a boat ride that covered the length of the island, an hour of snorkeling or swimming off a beach only accessible by guide, and a meticulously prepared lunch. Again- Worth. Every. Penny. My belly became round and happy eating sashimi, baked fish, fried fish, crabs, veggies and fruit. Even the kids ate it! Even Mark ate it. 

I suppose equipment rental added up a small sum, 6 dollars/day for snorkel and fins, 4 dollars/day for an umbrella and 7 dollars/day for chairs. But we didn't do this everyday. Some beaches offered natural shade while others simply didn't offer anything at all. To us, it was a matter of enjoying the environment and heat with the resources we had. And lots of sunscreen. I slathered one liter's worth of sunscreen on my family during the week. 

Before we add up the grand total, just for sticker shock, I would like to mention the many free activities we did enjoy: a recently added playground in the "downtown area," a lesson on turtle management with real researchers and real turtles, child friendly hikes and swims including big waves and tidal pools.  We visited old churches, cannons, and the historic square where prisoners would receive their punishments. Apparently during the early 1900s Fernando de Noronha served as a prison, especially of the political kind. The kids loved relaxing in hammocks, burying each other in the sand, and visiting the Shark Museum. Even though the island (at least during January) is rather dusty with hibernating greenery, we got to rub our feet in some real grass too, just outside the museum. The open space is dotted with iron sculptures that flocks of tourists pose and dance around. Seriously, I saw a group of Brasileiros whip out their articulating selfie sticks, dancing around with utter abandonment. 

In total? A week in Fernando de Noronha cost my family of four: 6,200 USD in my estimate. It was magical. Hot and sticky. It was momentous and fun. It was trip also done in the honor of Mark's grandmother who passed away July 2014. She'd highly approve. 

Keeping a watchful eye.
Praia do Meio.

Nap time on Praia Cacimba do Padre.
Passed. Out.

Adolescent turtle weighing in at 60 kg, or 132 pounds
and 2.5 foot shell length.

TAMAR researchers hanging on for dear life.
PS: I love this man's beard.

Pedra de Urso (Bear Rock)

Right before he got taken out.
Praia Cacimba do Padre

Small mouth grunt fish, often mimicked by
the yellow goatfish as a form of protection. 

Right out of Finding Nemo.
I moved, they moved. 

Baia dos Porcos.

Score 2 for mom.
Passed. Out.

Useful sites

Ecotourism planner:  http://www.yourway.com.br/

Fernando de Noronha government and information on the Nature Tax: http://www.noronha.pe.gov.br/

Boat/SCUBA/Planasub tour company (there are many more ready to show you a good time):
www.trovaodosmares.com.br/

Noronha turtle project: http://www.tamar.org.br/

Brazil's conservation organization: http://www.icmbio.gov.br/portal/

Hotel we stayed in: http://www.pousadalendadasaguas.com.br/acomodacoes/index.html

Beach info: http://www.world-insider.com/practical-travel-guide-for-fernando-de-noronha/

Yellow grunt fish research: http://www.biotaneotropica.org.br/v4n2/en/fullpaper?bn02704012004+pt

Fernando De Noronha- A Sign of a Good Vacation

Maybe I set the bar too low, but to me, a sign of a good vacation is when...

I arrive to my hotel room every day, with a singleminded obsession of showering off a day's worth of toddler smear, sweat, and dirt, yet forgetting to shave my armpits or pluck my sprawling unibrow. A good vacation is when I'm too tired to drink a beer, worry about scanty internet, or stress about paying for a dessert that is twice the price of dinner. It's when my family successfully avoids sunburns, food poisoning, or hideous injuries; which depending on perspective, we either avoided by the skin of our teeth- or failed: Mark and his epic toe stub where he ripped off a dime sized portion of skin; the thigh gash I received when a window pane crashed in our bathroom shower; or my mother-in-law's tragic black eye when she tripped and fell while hiking to the beach. (Don't worry, she's fine.) On the other hand, I know it's a good vacation when I see my children try new stuff and actually enjoy it: eating seafood, getting buried in the sand, swimming in open waters, even snorkeling.

All this (and more) was accomplished on my family vacation to Fernando de Noronha, an island located 220 miles from the coast of Brazil. Check any Brazil travel guide, this island is easily rated in the "Must See Top 10" with its ridiculously clear water, diverse sea life, and dreamy beaches. It didn't take much convincing to make the commitment.

Normally, we enjoy the challenge of finding our own adventures and places to stay, but found on initial searches it was difficult to find what we were looking for: a place to sleep the in-laws, kids, and ourselves. Preferably with AC and without visiting tarantulas. Quiet enough for our kids to fall asleep, but with enough white noise to keep them asleep. Turns out, these ideals didn't exist unless we shelled out $2,000/night- in which we'd also get a maid and butler. But the beach side mansion was booked anyway. Then we turned to "mid range" and "budget" options but became overwhelmed and bored with reading vague hotel reviews, and feeling nervous about finding something that would keep the whole family happy. So Mark ended up using a ecotourism planner named Adriana, to assist us in bookings. Her site is called Your Way and showcases handpicked resources for all budgets and tastes, and offers to set up as many or as few activities you would want. We're talking any activity you could conjure up: snorkeling, surfing, SCUBA, yoga, hiking, biking, jeeping, turtling, boating. Her story is adorable and filled with all sorts of do-good, heart warming, love the environment can-do attitude. We liked that- and thus our email relationship began. I didn't know at the time just how authentic and helpful this woman would end up being. She was amazing.

She set us up with three rooms at Lenda Das Aguas for the win. It ended up being a perfect setup with the basics: breakfast, hammocks, AC, and space for the kids to roam and play. There were little things too: a long clothesline to hang up the day; coffee with cookies every afternoon; fresh cut flowers on our pillows; and free range access to their kitchen or computers should we need them.

At Adriana's prodding, we signed up to do a boat ride with the company Trovao Dos Mares (amazing!) that included a bonus activity of snorkeling with a rope tow. Mark and five others took the first round, expertly jumping off the boat, breathing and swimming like dolphins to depths of 12-15 feet. The pull lasted only about 15 minutes and everyone emerged exultant and satisfied. Then it was round two. My fellow snorkelers gracefully plunked in the water immediately gliding into the crystal clear water. The guide took one look at me, laughed, and readjusted my mask with a sharp yank on the strap that my eyeballs almost popped out. Mark yelled "stay calm and you'll be fine" as I sprawled in the water, missing the last rung of the ladder. I understood my task at hand, but couldn't quite find the same rhythm as the others: while they spied thousands of fish, soared above blossoming reefs and encountered the mysteries and secrets of an old shipwreck, I enjoyed an instantly fogged mask and lock jaw on my snorkel straw as I fought to breathe through the salt water assaulting my nasal passages; I felt the sea simultaneously cool and warm my chest as the pull of the water yanked my halter bikini top down- which I couldn't do anything about lest I let go of my tow. I saw bubbles, shadows and the pale bodies of my sea-mates floating below me as they explored the depths. Fifteen minutes later, with bloodshot eyes and cramped hands, I gurgled my way back to the boat exultant in my own way.

Would I do it again? Ok, maybe. I also would consider this a sign of a good vacation.

Eastern view of Morro de Pico.

Bird poop can be so beautiful. 

Things seen on boat ride:
1 dolphin x 700 others and their babies.
Seriously.

Things seen on boat ride: Dois Irmaos
and western view of Morro de Pico.
The water- I'm not even kidding. 

He's four and a better snorkeler than me.

Me: clearly not understanding the purpose of the snorkel.

Bury her. Unbury her. Bury her. Unbury her. 

Pre black eye and thigh gash, but post toe stub.
View of Praia do Leao, where turtles lay their seasoned eggs.

Late Birthday, Early Christmas with Ninhol

While I can't say when I started following Ninhol on Facebook and admiring his artistry, I can pinpoint it was between liking the pages of Steve Martin and Bored Panda. I was immediately drawn to the vibrant colors, striking against the black lines and not a single space of white. Most of his paintings are done this way in fact.  On one hand, it goes against what little I know about art, where white space is sometimes the most important aspect. On the other hand, like great art, his paintings remind me of people, places and moments I hold dear. For example, my mom used to read me the story Rain Makes Applesauce, a non-sensical story filled with odd-end imaginative figures like monkeys eating chimney smoke. Ninhol's art reminds me of this: pages filled with detail and character, being read in the security of my mom's lap. He also reminds me of my childhood (and adult) obsession of filling in my pictures with full, even color. I never did like drawing outside the lines: an early sign of anal retention, I'm sure. 

At any rate, I loved the art and announced to Mark we should track this guy down once we arrived to Brazil and eventually buy one of his works. He went ahead without me and commissioned a piece for my birthday and Christmas gift. That was in September. By December, the artwork was completed and shipped to our home. Mark was so excited to give it to me, he didn't bother wrapping it. He proudly showed me the art in the kitchen while I was elbow deep in dishwater.

I stared at it: a familiar scene of two children and a woman, surrounded by daisies. Mark sent Ninhol a picture of us in similar form for him to work with, and the results were simply beautiful. My only disappointment was Mark's declination to be in the painting. He explained to me this was because he wanted me to pretend he was the photographer/painter- seeing his family as he sees us everyday. That man really does have a romantic side. I routinely look at the picture when I am chasing the kids with the vacuum, wiping up thrown spilled food, reading Richard Scarry books for the millionth time, or the rare moment of stillness in my house... it fits right into my life. 

Doting on my children, in art and in real life.
They've got me trained.
And no, my hair never looks this good.

A little bit about the artist- he's an expert of Pernambuco art and context. (Pernambuco being one of the 26 states of Brazil and is where we live.) If my research is correct Ninhol is from Olinda, a city with a phenomenal cultural reputation (especially known for Carnaval), representing northeast Brazil. Having a knack for bright colors, expressive scenes and historical context, he drew attention across the country with images of stacked apartments and homes, scenes of local neighborhoods, religious icons, dancers, and lovers. He's done artwork found Antarctica beer cans, a Brazilian beer brand (owned by Anheuser-InBev) and more than once has been sought after, create anything from Moleskine sized paintings to murals. Ninhol has a pretty good gig going.

To celebrate the New Year and his Facebook-following reaching 1500, Ninhol announced a raffle to receive a painting. It's a gorgeous painting of a woman and child, filled to the brim with, well everything... so until January 15, 2015, fans of his art can do the following steps to enter: 1. Like his FB page and, 2. Like and share the contest post (from December 31, 2014) to spread the word. So easy- and who knows? A little Brazilian artwork is always fun!

Now part of the permanent Schlink collection.

Holiday Roadside Cheer and Celebration

As fun time-limited assignment, a few weeks ago the kids' teachers gave me 1 day to find a specific cloth (pano de chão) that is wrapped around a broom and used clean floors- the preferred method over mopping. My first instinct was to give them dish rags, followed by old hospital-issue baby blankets, but my conscience got the best of me and I got to work. My Portuguese dictionary wasn't particularly helpful, Google Translate and Images helped a little but I ended up asking the class online Moms' Group just to be sure I wouldn't embarrass my children more than I already do. To my relief, a number moms had no idea what a "pano de chão" was or where to buy them either. 

At any rate, these cloths aren't often sold in stores. Instead, they are better found on the roadside, along with dish towels, fedoras, and other assorted goods sold to passersby. (I saw someone selling a coat rack once!) I remembered seeing one particular stop light that probably sold them. I headed out on foot one morning with the children and dog, dodging traffic, people and potholes to make my purchase. The cloths ended up being made into decorative sacks for Christmas, a cute project actually. 

So when last week the kids came home from school with orders to bring Santa hats for their last day before the holiday break it was a nice surprise considering I had nearly a whole week! I also laughed at this request knowing full well neither one of them would wear a hot and itchy hat without putting up a fight. (But then again, my daughter insists on wearing underwear on her head in public, so I never really know.) 

Of course, when I was faced with finding a Santa hat, I should have known it would be a venture to the roadside stands instead of the mall. But I hadn't spied anything on my walks, so I went to the mall where I got to experience a few things: the agony of persistent sales pitches, the luring of gobby soft serve and acai puree every 30 feet, and the screaming of adolescents working at a pet shop who discovered the gory cannibalism of hamsters. I will never look at a Habitrail again without seeing tiny guts spattered against the translucent plastic walls. All this fun- and no hats.

I suppose patience is a virtue because not one day later, a myriad of road side stands popped up ready to sell! sell! sell! The shops, side-by-side were all advertising shiny, red, polyester holiday cheer. Glittering in the hot sun, the selections and sizes were impressive. What I like best about these shops is that they also sell fireworks. All the highly flammable material we need to ring in the holidays right in one spot. I asked one of the vendors which products were the best sellers. Without missing a beat she told me she regularly sells out of the "Saint Peter Fireworks Combo Packs." I picked out the obligatory hats and marvelled at the adorableness of it all. "Here in Brazil," the woman told me, "they love this end-of-year celebration and that they do it well- just wait and see." Lucky (or maybe unlucky) for me, we will have front row seats to observe the magic she described as "pure joy and hope" on the beach for Christmas and New Years: fireworks, dancing, and drinking all night long.

"No smoking and no dropping fireworks close to the barraca."

Sao Pedro: he's #1

She recommended these sparklers for my children.
These fat suckers put my childhood sparklers to shame.

Knocked him down. Twice. 

The only red shirt I could find for Margo had was her Eric Cantona shirt.
I think that is a fabulous way to celebrate Christmas, personally. 

First Peek Olinda

View from Praca Da Se
121 feet above sea level

Whenever I chat with Recife locals, they always ask me the same questions: 1. How do you like living in Recife? 2. Have you been to Olinda? and 3. Why haven't you visited Olinda yet? They have a lot of admiration for the city, always quick to point out its spectacular ocean views, museums, art galleries, and historical churches. Deciding to ameliorate my guilt, we hopped into a taxi to check out the would-be capital of Pernambuco- had a war between Recife merchants and Olinda sugar financiers not broken out in the early 1700s. At the time sugar, a commodity once king of the Brazilian exports, suffered when West Indies competition blew them out of the water, stagnating Olinda's cash flow to the point of crisis. The growing economic and political differences between the two cities grew, along with piles of Olinda debt and dwindling Dutch power meant something had to give, resulting in war: the Guerra dos Mascates. In the end, Recife took over as the capital. 

I realized as we neared the hilly city (a whopping 6km from Recife) that I was in for a treat. Mark and I would get to hike up the cobble stoned roads to reach the top. I love an integrated workout/touring day- it makes the beer taste so much better. However, our cabbie wasn't inclined to listen and nearly killing his transmission along the way, drove up the steep hill in first gear. We hopped out and began to wander. Basically, everything was closed save for a few snack carts. Like we suspected, turns out most exhibits are closed on Mondays. On one hand, that was disappointing- I'd hoped Lonely Planet was wrong so I could visit the contemporary art museums and see about scratching the last few items off the Christmas list. On the other hand, we admired Olinda's colonial churches; many of which were built in the 1500s. We enjoyed the beautiful tropical landscape, the vivid graffiti and brightly painted walls that lined the winding streets. We laughed at American tourist group making hopeful comments that the pending rainstorm would alleviate the sticky heat. By this time at 10:30am, I already soaked through my clothes, leaving sweaty butt marks wherever I sat. I wondered what these folks would think when summer really arrives. I'm told when it does, the trade winds often dissipate leaving nothing but stagnant, chest heaving heat. Sounds amazing.

At any rate, we worked up an appetite and decided on one of the few open restaurants: a Pizzaria/Creperia knowing full well, no restaurant ever makes pizza midday. I mortified my husband by ordering fried cod balls, known as bacalhau. I think he barely held down his carrot-chicken-crepe as he watched me drown my delicious cod balls in vinegar, lemon juice and pepper. For someone who routinely avoids eating pickles just because her husband hates the smell of vinegar, I deserved this free pass since it was my birthday after all. Burning off lunch we hiked back up the hill for a second pass. We saw many signs in windows advertising for rental space specifically for Carnival. It's prime real estate and with little surprise- the stretches of road are barely wide enough for two cars and the sidewalks are broken, sometimes non-existent. A rental right in the heart of millions of people dancing shoulder to shoulder in the streets is the perfect way to enjoy what all the locals say is total madness, joy and celebration. Mark thinks I could hang with the crowds. In theory I love the idea it all, but let's be honest- I'm a bigger chicken than the 88.5" (27m) chicken that roams the Pernambuco streets for Carnival every year, aka O Galo Da Madrugada. I guess time will tell. 

Igreja da Conceição

Igreja da Misericordia

Background: Igreja de Sé

Igreja do Carmo

View of Recife

Igreja do Amparo

Praia de Sao Francisco

My Turn To Get Hacked

I suppose it was only a matter of time until someone invaded my email account: as the story goes, a piss ant hacker was pleading with my address book to send money to Cyprus for financial rescue. Come on. If you're going to hack my account, come up with a better story will ya? Maybe I should be thanking this individual, because it saved me from writing a scintillating blog post about cleaning rags in Brazil. At least for now. These past few days I was whining to Mark how I needed something funny to happen to me so I could find an excuse to write a blog post. I realize two things now: one, shame on me. I should be writing regardless of how tranquil and quiet my life may feel. Two, be careful what you ask for.

Once I got over the initial panic and annoyance of resetting all my passwords, I got really angry when I found out that this person created a Yahoo account with my full name to forward messages. The hacker also screwed with every single one of my contacts by inserting an extra "s" into the addresses. All this when my children were fighting, spilling food and generally making it clear they needed attention. Of course it was a recipe for disaster: when Margo is "unsupervised" she tends to antagonize her brother with hair pulling and chases him with toys she stole directly from him, while our pacifist Deets, screams like a teapot and cowers in her giant toddler shadow. I felt like a pretty big slacker as I tossed both kids into bed for an extra long nap time so I could simultaneously stare down the computer and stress sweat all over our Drexel furniture. 

At the moment, it seems my account is back to its old self but I can't shake the paranoia that my information has sunk into the netherworld, ammunition for another day. I feel so naked! For now, I will consider myself lucky to have friends, family, and acquaintances who took the time to let me know their suspicions. The good news is, it was a good opportunity refresh my address book and make it look pretty again. I mean, if you are into that sort of thing.