Messy Hair, Pretty Hair?

When I worked at Children's Inn, I told my boss to not start wearing eyeliner.  I explained that if she did, she wouldn't be able to stop. Because after people get used to seeing you with lined eyes and you skip wearing it for ONE day they will comment, "You look tired." Which I went on to explain is woman-code for, "WOW! You really look like crap today."

This morning I woke up late.  I quickly curled a few pieces of face-framing hair (thinking I could classify this hair-do as beachy-looking,) slapped on some makeup, and headed out the door. 

I wasn't two feet into school when a colleague said, "Ohhh. Are you tired today?" (NOOOoooo. I forgot the eyeliner.)  This day was off to a bad start.

I think it was around noon when I figured out it wasn't September 1 (the date I'd been writing on documents all morning)...nope definitely still August. 

And it was around 2 when I noticed (by using the window by my office as a mirror) that my hair had a rather large and exposed rats' nest looking area among my "beachy waves." (Not quite sure if it had been there all day or just appeared.)

But 2 students told me that my hair (yes, the beachy mess with the rats nest) looked pretty today. (That's 2 more than usual that ever comment on my hair.)  And by now you've probably guessed that today wasn't one of my prettier days...which is the exact reason I love working with kids... 

They don't care about hair or eyeliner or wrinkly pants (which I may or may not have been sporting today.)  And they give me presents like this one:


Yep, that is a given-with-love, wristband-looking paper bracelet colored with black marker and carefully fastened together with clear tape.  The perfect cuff to assessorize a messy haired, no eyeliner, wrinkly pants kind of day :)









Just Something

One of my friends and I like to say really special times are "just something" when something special happens, and we have no other way to describe it...like when soldiers reunite with their families, or at weddings, or  when babies are born, or we hear a song in church that gives us goosebumps, or when we hear a story about or witness something touching, moving, or inspiring that makes us cry or at least tear up (which is probably more often than either of us would like to admit.)

Six months ago I never could have guessed that I would end up right where I am.  After all the tests, job-applying, interviews, preparations, and wondering about what’s next, I have officially begun a new chapter in my life—as a fulltime school counselor and citizen of small-town Nebraska. 

This morning as I greeted students in the hallways, I couldn't help but have a moment. When I look back on all the stress of grad school and job applying and moving and wonder at what would happen next, I see how God's provided for me through each step (usually in ways beyond my wildest expectations.)  And today I got to meet the kids He's given to me to work with for this year.  I know the challenges are just beginning...but God's plans are good...and "that's just something!"    

Where your heart is...

So for those of you who follow my blog, I’m sorry for my absence the past month or so.  I’ve been enjoying the summer, and because the weather’s been nice and I’ve been busy, I decided I was on summer break from blog writing.  However, sometimes things happen in life that I need to write about.

Among many fond memories and wonderful places I could write about Sanborn, (Yep, I mean Sanborn, Iowa; my hometown.  For those of you who don’t know me that well, or to the dismay of those that do, I’m filled with hometown pride!) one of my favorite places was the Station (or Total Tire and Service or Vander Woude Oil or DX.) For those of you who are unfamiliar, the Station was my grandpa’s mechanic business that he bought and co-owned with Merle Vander Woude from Merle's dad.  My dad started working there as a kid and eventually bought the business with his work partner, Roy.  The Station closed in 2007.

I started this as a job-finding blog and shared several of my past work experiences, but I never wrote about the Station, the very first place I worked.  I used to sweep the floors and clean the bathroom on Saturday mornings and fill the pop machine.  Every once in awhile I had to vacuum a car out.  At the time, I was convinced was SUCH a chore…child labor for sure!

Many, many of my childhood memories revolve around that place...


When I was little, I would sit in our kitchen sink and watch for my dad to come from work through the window above the sink (The station is only 4 lots down from our house.)   I got stitches in my chin (and still have the scars to prove it) from falling there.  I got suckers (Tootsie Pops, of course) from my grandpa there.  I got to ride in the DX truck with my grandpa to deliver fuel and hand out those Tootsie pops to country kids. I watched from home for the lights to turn off at the Station to know it was time to set the supper table.


I drove shop trucks with rusty holes in the floors.  I sprayed the car wash clean with my dad on Saturday nights .  I had crushes on the high school boys that worked for Dad.  I remember bringing and joining my dad (and Roy) for lunch (probably more fondly than my mom and Karen remember making it.:)  During those lunches I remember Grandpa scraping frosting off of cake and adding a thick layer of butter (because Grandma wasn't watching him there:).


I got to ride in the front seat of the semi with my dad to get fuel….all the way to Milford where we got fuel from either the blue building (without candy) or the tan building (with candy.)  I swept up peanut shells that were tossed on the floor by costumers enjoying the Christmas box of nuts.  I waited for Mary’s bus to pick me up on the first day of high school and many other days after that.  I visited my dad at work there in my prom dress.   I talked to my dad about my life’s drama and dreams there. 

I could go on and on…but I think you get the point…it was a special place.  It was our family business and tied us to other families that we still hold dear.  My dad holds memories of his dad and his childhood there.  My mom supported my dad’s work there for the first 20 + years of their marriage and through all the births and raising of their kids. My siblings and I grew up there.   My brother-in-law asked my dad to marry my sister there.   I learned about the importance of honesty, supporting local businesses, building relationships with others, how to treat costumers, and so much more at the Station. And those are only MY memories…

Despite all the stress of business and through every blessing, the Station was home.

After sitting empty for several years, the station was bulldozed over today, so for me, and I’m sure for others, today is a sad day because the physical place, full of many memories and nostalgia, is gone.  Although I’m a firm believer that things are just things and have no eternal value or worth, sometimes things are painful to loose.  And saying good-bye to the station, even after sitting empty for almost 5 years, still hurts.  And yet today is a happy day where I get to reflect on a joyful childhood, the gift of family, blessings of growing up in small town, and God’s grace and providence in opening new doors when He closes others. 

“Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy…but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven…For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Matthew 6:19-21

Must Read: Growing Up Indian

Yesterday one of my co-workers/friends sent me this link from the Argus Leader about growing up on a reservation in South Dakota.  (I think that coworkers really make or break work, and a couple of mine really MAKE it!)  Anyhow, the author, Steve Young, and photographer, Devin Wagner, do a really great job of describing the challenges of life on the rez.  I strongly suggest reading through the articles.  They do a really great job of describing some of the challenges of poverty that exist in America and for our neighbors in South Dakota.

http://www.argusleader.com/section/gui

To My Mom (and the other Mommas out there)

My mom is kind, hard-working, self-sacrificing, supportive, compassionate, and faithful. She listens to me complain.  She listens to me laugh.  She listens to me worry.  She listens. She prays for me. And she gives good advice; sometimes too good.  Sometimes she gives advice I don’t want to hear, but she usually ends up being right. (For the record I’m only admitting this because today’s her day; otherwise, I like to keep her way of being right a deep, dark, hidden secret.) 

She encourages me to pursue my dreams and to never settle for mediocrity. She taught me how to tap-tease my hair.  She helped foster in me a love of learning and reading.  She is funny.  She is real.  She doesn’t sugarcoat the truth, and she admits when she needs to work on things. She is brave and inspiring.  Thank-you, Mom; I love you!

I could go on about all the greatness of my mom and the blessings God has given to me through my mom, and I’m sure that you can relate because in different or similar ways, your mom (or someone like a mom) has been a blessing to you like mine has been to me.

But I know for some of you Mother’s Day might be a hard day.  Your mom might not be around anymore; I hope you are able to cherish the memories.  You might have lost the chance to become a mom this year; I hope that you can find peace that God has plan that might be hard to see right now.  Maybe you never had a loving mother; I hope that God fills this void for you. 

Maybe you’ve made mistakes as a mother that you regret, or feel challenged in motherhood in ways you’ve never imagined…but what mother hasn’t?  Maybe you just feel weary and exhausted in the day to day tasks of being a mom.  Nothing is perfect.   If you need forgiveness, I hope you find the strength to ask for it and then rest assured that your slate is wiped clean and learn to forgive yourself.   If you need support, I hope you reach out to find it and that the right people come into your life for you to lean on. 

To all the moms--I hope you can find encouragement and God’s richest blessings on your calling to be a mom. THANK-YOU for pouring your life into the lives of your children.

Blinker Fable

A few days ago I was all upset because another driver didn’t use his blinker.  At the time, I was on the phone to my friend.  I might have freaked out (only a little bit) to her about how annoying and rude and inconsiderate and stupid it is when people don’t use their blinkers and cause near accidents.  (Obviously, me being on the phone had nothing to do with my near hit…it was ALL the other driver’s fault for not signaling.)

The NEXT morning I was driving to school.  Like every good driver and citizen, I attempted to signal my turn, but my blinkers didn’t work.  And they didn’t work at the next turn, or the next, or the whole way to school.  Ugh. 

Moral: It is way easy to jump to conclusions about the reckless blinker mistakes of others when yours are working just fine.  But when yours break, you might learn a new appreciation for driving blinkerless. :)

Dew.Do.Due

When I was student teaching in New Mexico,  I was giving the kids a spelling test.  They were learning words that are spelled different but sound the same like breaks and brakes (I think these are called homophones???).  The word was DEW.  So I’m explaining this kind of DEW is the moisture on the grass in the morning.  Blank stares.  First, their yards consisted of little pebbles.  Second, they have no moisture on their rock lawns because they live in a desert.  Third, only rich people had a grass patch in their yard; most of them hadn’t even been to a house with a grass lawn.  Because I was trying to turn this whole dew thing into a teachable moment, I am telling them about how where I grew up everyone has grassy lawns because the climate is different.  More blank stares.  Finally a kid blurts out, “Dang, Miss E.  You must be rich.”  Ummmm, not exactly the point I going for.  Then another kid explains, “The kind of dew she is talking about is the dew of Mountain Dew.”  Discussion over.  Most spelt DEW correctly too. :)

What's next?

Here’s a rundown of the past few hours of my life:

Thursday morning:  Call from number on my cell phone that I don’t recognize.

Thursday after school: Listen to a voicemail from the principal I interview with.  Talk myself into calling her back.

Later after school Thursday afternoon:  Get a job offer.

Later later Thursday afternoon:  Call my mom and dad each about 8 times a piece and decide I want to wait for a job in/near Sioux Falls.  Write a blog about the pros and cons. Pray. Write another pro/con list. Pray again.   Receive a call from Mom; again weigh out the options.  Ask to talk to with Dad.  Ask to talk with Mom again. 

Early evening Thursday:

Decide I want to take the job.  Call mom and dad about 7 more times and then my brother and then my sister and then some of my friends.    (I just wanted to make sure I was weighing all my options.  Remember, I am an analyzer!)

Later Thursday night:    Call more people.  Decide for sure I am going to take the job

Later later Thursday night: Pray. Think. Pray. Think. Call more friends. Pray.  Google apartments, google churches, google the library, google golf courses, google anything related to anything in this town.

Friday morning: Call the principal and accept the position.

Friday afternoon:  Sign the contract and fax it in.

Later Friday afternoon:  Find out that one of my best friend’s little sister (who is also my friend) got a job that same morning teaching at the middle school in the same town!!!  (I had no idea she had applied or anything.)  Rest assured that this is all a God-thing, and He will take care of me. 

Later later Friday afternoon:  Find out that my friends from FL that moved to IA (who had their own job journey/struggle this year) bought a house!  Again reminded that God takes care of stuff. 

Friday night:  Watch the news about the messed up economy and  school budget cuts.  Becoming extremely thankful that God has opened up yet another unexpected door in my life.   Getting really excited for a new adventure.  Thinking about what I’m going to blog about next.

After a long and hard freak out session beginning Thursday morning and ending…well, I’m not really sure it’s ended yet…I have decided to take the job.  I will be employed next year as an elementary school counselor in a small-ish town outside of Omaha.  YAY!

           

What to do?

So after all my whining about applying and rejection letters (because the b-word isn’t blog appropriate) I have been offered a job.  You’d think I’d be jumping for JOY and part of me is.   But I’m indecisive and a girl and an over-analyzer and a worrier and a touch of crazy…so…

I’m not sure if it’s the right job for me.  This job would require a move.  A move is OK with me.   But I would rather not move to a smaller town at this point in my life.  And if I am going to move to a small town, I’d like it to be closer to home.  But people who are just starting their career can’t be the choosiest.  But if I do have to move, I’d like to be sure that a job is a good fit.   But how can I be sure if a job is a good fit unless I give it a try. 

Here’s a condensed list of my pros and cons:

PROS	CONS
·         good school leadership ·         friendly community ·         close-ish to a bigger city ·         good counselors in other positions	·         in a small town ·         not a lot of diversity ·         time split between different schools…high number of students per caseload ·         not sure if I can get another job

So what am I going to do?  Your guess is as good as mine. 

The Golden Buffalo

For the past year I have stayed every Thursday night at The Golden Buffalo Casino, Motel, and Convention Center.  Why?  Well because I got a part time job working on Thursdays and Fridays as a counselor at Head Start (actually 2 different ones; more on this later.)  This job was a perfect fit for me because I could get paid for some of my practicum and internship hours and gain lots of good experience.  The only down fall was that the Head Starts were located about a half hour north of Chamberlain.  Since I live in Sioux Falls and go to school in Vermillion I figured why not add another town or 2 to my list.  Some people have been asking me to put some pictures up of where I stay; I'm really not a photographer but here's my best try...

This is the motel part of the resort.

This is the casino part.  I forgot to take a picture of the convention center part.

This is my Thursday night home or my river view vacation cabin, depending on my mood.

This is the view of the Missouri from my vacation home window.  Sorry about the dirt pile.  My photography skills are lacking.

And this is a horn lamp.  It cracks me up. 

The Joys of Working with Kids

I really like working with kids.  They are honest and creative and resilient and funny, and they always find ways to keep me humble and put life into perspective.

At school a kid who has some behavior problems was screaming and crying and kicking (not really out the ordinary for this little dude.)  I have a nice plan to help this kid learn impulse control and anger management, but sometimes my plans don’t work (shocking) so we just listen to music on my computer until he calms down. 

That day I went over to see what the hype was about thinking that today sounded more like a music-listening-day than an address-your-anger-issues day.  But his teacher looks at me with a panicky face and says, “He has a napkin up his nose.”  Napkins up noses are definitely not something I have a plan for.  She sort of shoves him toward me.  Sure enough I look up his nose and high in his left nostril was a little napkin ball.  So I plugged the other side of the kid's nose.  After a few strong exhales, the napkin with a snot wad flew out, onto my pants, of course.   And immediately the boy stopped crying.  I was gagging and laughing (snot is definitely not my thing).  But the little guy gave me a hug and said, “Auntie, (cause that’s what he calls me…just melts my heart) I can go to school now.”  Seriously, some things you just can’t plan for… :)

Rejection Letter #1

This past week I got my first we-don't-even-want-an-interview letter.  Obviously, I did the most rational thing and took this as a personal attack against my resume, experience, credentials, and character.  Then to spread the drama I left my mom a voicemail in a really sad and pathetic voice that begged her to feel sorry for me, "Got a rejection letter today (sniffle, sniffle.)"  Remember, I said job applying was a huge test of faith for me?  Instead of thanking God for showing me one place I wasn't supposed to be, I had a slight meltdown.  I say slight because a few days later I had another meltdown; it was a teensy bit bigger.

Imagine this...Me crying while talking on the phone to my mom, "Moooommmmm, (hiccup sob)  I am probably (slight gasp for air) NOT going to get a (another sob) JOB!  Who (cry, cry) do you think (sniffle) is ever going to HIRE (sob) me?  Why can't this (one last sob) be EASY?  Really, mother, HOW am I ever going to PAY off (ok..one more huge sob) my LOAAANS?"  I then go on blubbering about all the unknowns in my life.  Right now, I have a lot of unknowns.  Will I have to move? Will I get a job in Sioux Falls?  Should I continue working on the rez?  Where will I live?  Who will I will be friends with? And blah, blah, blah...Thankfully, only a few days later, job prospects are looking slighly better.  I've heard of a few openings and potential openings and was able to send out a few more applications. 

Today work helped me remember that my problems, my job search, my worries are actually pretty pathetic.  People around the world are hurting, and I'm crying because I might have to move or make new friends?  Seems stupid when people in Japan are mourning the deaths of their friends and can't escape harmful radiation.  Seems stupid when I look into the little faces preschoolers and know they might not get much to eat over a long weekend.  Seems stupid when  children and families are hurting from abuse or illness or poverty. 

And then ... when I checked into the Golden Buffalo tonight, the check in lady gave me back my shampoo and conditioner I forgot in the shower during my stay last week.  I though I had lost it forever.  This might not be a big deal to anyone else, but I was extremely thankful to be able to have my almost full bottles back and thought it was really nice of her and the lady who cleans my room to save them for me from last week.  When I am taken care of by people who barely know me, seems pretty stupid to struggle to trust the plans of a God who MADE me. 

Past Jobs-Paper or Plastic? Part 2

You may not understand what you might all learn working in a small town grocery store; I will try my best to fill you in.  First, grocery store delivery trucks do not run on normal people time.  I mean, really, who wants to be up at 4:30 a.m. to unload boxes of cans?  And is it really even safe?  I don't know about you, but I'd rather not be hanging out before dawn with sleepy eyed high schoolers armed with box cutters.

You will quickly learn everything needs to be priced according to the sale add.  You might realize it has to be done quickly and completely accurately because someone wiLL examine their receipt and find that your advertised $.19 per pound bananas are ringing up at a whopping $.20 per pound instead.  After a few weeks you will most likely shudder in fear of "dime" ladies who go over their receipts with highlighters looking for every cent you "stole" from them.  You might begin to understand that if our government is serious about cutting spending they really need to hire these ladies, soon.

Because you are an employee, you might be given the privilege of entering The Back Room.   On any random day you might find a plethora of goods back there.  You might see an ice sculpture, a deer, (skinned and hanging upside down, of course) lots of damaged stuff, bakery goods, and piles and piles of boxes. You might also have to use The Back Room to hide from the really cute public school boy with a cut off T-shirt and dimples that you absolutely canNot say hi to because you'll totally do something embarrassing like smile weird or talk in shaky voice. 

You will most definitely learn to love getting an oasis from the insanity of baggin and checking each day at a retreat called break.  You might see boxes become lazy boys and produce carts become couches for 15 minutes around 10 a.m. and 15 minutes around 3 p.m.  Breaks could involve some donuts or cookies, caffeine, gossip, and bickering about who has to interrupt their mini vacation to check out costumers who aren't aware or don't care that no one in the world should be at the grocery store at these magical times of day.

Working at a small town grocery store also might help you fall in love with the variety and excitement of life.  You might get to sell milk to the town mayor, see your best friend wrap up meat and wear a hair net, wash windows with a squeegee, witness a seven cart pile up, go to war with a "dime" lady, and have a credit card machine melt down all before noon.  You might get to be a spectator in Back Room flirting that develops into dating that ends up in an oh-my-we-still-have-2-years-of-high school-left-and-working-together awkward break up.  You might get to Moonshine clean everything with a crazy blond friend or get to know a family that has made a small town business a success.  You might even get to hear "A Boy Named Sue" karaoked at the company Christmas party.

Since you are employed by the main supplier of food to your community, you will most likely get to meet lots of people and hear lots of stories. These stories might help you fall in love with a community and people that helped shape who you are and who you will become. You might need a job like this to give you building blocks for jobs coming in your future where the stories you hear are little less light and the faces aren't as familiar...but you might have learned to be delighted that people are letting you in on their journey :)

Past Jobs-Paper or Plastic? Part 1

I got my first real punch-in-and-paycheck-with-taxes-taken-out job in 1998 as a cashier and bagger at Sanborn Foods.  

For those of you who might not know, Sanborn Foods is an amazing place.  Located right in the heart of Sanborn on Main Street, it has two check-out lanes, around 6 aisles, fresh produce and a meat department.  You might think this is small, but you can honestly get all the groceries you (or your family) need.  Whether you want Shurfine brand anything or an Oglivive home perm or a 10 cent jolly rancher stick or Casey’s Bakery buns or a peppered beef stick or a carton of Dorals or Kirby vacuum bags or the latest town gossip, Sanborn Foods is your one stop shop.  You can charge your groceries to your own account (or your mom’s if you're smart.)  And instead of drive through or take out your own, someone actually carries your groceries to your car!!! 

Anyhow, I sorta fell into this job because they were looking for a high school kid that was available after school (aka not in sports.)  Someone told someone who told my mom who told the store owner's wife that I’d be interested.  Two days, and no application or interview, later I was scanning bar codes, bagging up groceries, and stocking shelves dreaming of the sweet ride I would buy with all the cash I was banking at $4.36 an hour. 

If only I could have known back then how special a place this job/store would hold in my heart now... :)

Past Jobs-Night Crawlers for Sale

Back in the day our family used to have a night crawler (a.k.a. slimy worms) business.  Basically we sold worms out of a fridge in our garage to fisherman and whoever else might need a $1.75 a dozen container of little crawlers.  The whole family was in on the job. 

My mom, dad, brother, and sister picked the worms late at night after it would rain from a family friends' farm. (Miraculously for all the years of crawler selling, I was able to avoid this part of the business.)  Supposedly picking worms entailed holding a flashlight in your mouth, crawling around in pig poo, and grabbing as many worms as you could.  I would guess that this adventure would have included lots of yelling (my dad was rather intense about picking fast and no one else seemed to share his passion) but thankfully the mouth-holding-the-flash-light took care any would be verbal fights.

The other side of the worm business was selling which I wasn't able to escape. This is how it worked.  Someone would ring the doorbell, my siblings and I would fight about whose turn it was, and then the one who wasn't in tears would answer the door.  All we had to do was count a dozen or two, get the money, poke a few holes in the lid of the container, and call it a deal.  But back in those days that was a LOT of work, and you had to touch the worms. 

When we weren't home, we hung a sign on our door that read, "Night Crawlers a $1.75 per dozen. In the green fridge in the garage. We go on the honor system so please leave your money in the bowl on the bench.Thanks for your business." Our favorite thing was to come home to a bowl full of money knowing that we didn't have to count out the dozens or make change for any fishermen and women that day. 

Our worm business was a hit, and we were able to pay for our summer vacation to a lake in Minnesota from our worm fund.  Plus we learned about keeping night crawlers in captivity, all the hot spots to fish in NW IA, how to count change, the multiples of 12, and what a baker's dozen was...so those of you who are laughing about our hick-ish business, you can buckle it up :)

Past Jobs-Babysitting Nightmare

As I freak out about my future job, I find joy in reflecting on my past jobs.  My career started as a babysitter back around the 5th grade.  I have some real babysitting horror stories...like the time a little boy I was watching flushed a whole roll of toilet paper which ended flooding the whole bathroom and leaking into the living room carpet.  After using the families' shower towels to clean up sewer water, I prayed that the mom wouldn't yell at me.

That same night that same boy took me to see his pigs.  (Which was a smelly and terrible adventure for a town girl like me.)  Anyhow, one of the pigs was in labor, and the boy told me I had to reach my hand up in there and pull out the piglets, or they all would die.  I don't like pigs, but I don't like dying pigs even more.  Because my dad has all life answers, I ran to the house (these were the days before cell phones) and called my dad who gave me a really good piece of advice, "Don't touch those pigs.  You don't know what you're doing.  They'll be fine.  Pigs have babies without people in the wild."  I don't know much about pigs in the wild, so I trusted my dad and prayed those pigs wouldn't die.

After all the toilet and birthing pig terror, I had to feed those kids hotdogs (I was feeling a little leery of anything that might contain pork at this point.)  Of course, the microwave was broken, and they had a gas stove I didn't know how to light.  Since my pride prevented me from calling my parents for aNother emergency, I soaked the hotdogs in hot water and prayed those kids wouldn't get some sort of e-coli. 

A little bit later their mom got home and brought me back to town.  I prayed they'd never ask me to babysit again...which was one of the many prayers that day that did not go unanswered :)

The Blahs of Job Applying

I hate applying for jobs.  HATE IT!  I hate filling out the apps, getting reference letters, not getting calls for interviews, going to interviews if I'm lucky enough to get called for one, updating my resume and blah, blah, blah.  For the third time (not counting summer jobs or part time jobs) in my rather short (5 year) career, I am again applying for jobs, but this time I'm doing something different...I'm going to write about it.

Tonight I got together with my friends for a baby shower (for one of the cutest mom and baby ever).  But a few of us were talking on the way home about how different our lives are then we ever would have thought 10 years ago.  If I was the me I had planned for then, I should be married, with at least one kid, teaching, and a home owner.  Obviously, that plan was not God's.

So as much as I hate the job application process, I know I'll end up wherever God is going to use me next.   But most of the time, I worry. I mean, I worry A LOT.  For me, applying for jobs is also a test of faith.  And, for the record, I really don't like tests either, but I haven't found a way to avoid them yet :)