Wednesday, September 29, 2010
When you’re out (or in) with someone new, how do you know it’s a date? Does the other person feel the same?
I had dinner with a fellow some time ago and the conversation eventually turned to dating. Ol’ boy said he would “go out” with women thinking they were just “hanging out” but the woman thought it was a date. Instead of letting the thoughts hang in the air, I asked him what he thought of our “hanging out.” He stammered around a bit, so I interrupted, clarifying that he was a cool dude, but it wasn’t a date for me. He said he felt the same way but didn’t want to hurt my feelings in the event I believed otherwise. Isn’t communication great?
Now, on another instance, there was some miscommunication. A brother and I made dinner plans for 8 pm. He was supposed to meet me in my neighborhood, and I assumed we would go to dine. But, since my cooking skills are sharp (I’ll take anyone on in the kitchen—just holler!), I decided to surprise him with a home-cooked meal. Excitedly, I stood at my counter dicing onions and mincing garlic and peppering my sauce with spices. With one hour left before his arrival, I was getting ready to whip up a cake or dessert bread. Not only did I want to see him, I was really remiss in cooking so was greatly looked forward to a home-cooked meal. I figured I would have heard from him n hour or so before our 8 p.m. date to confirm my address. Nada. I knew at that point he wasn’t coming but I continued to cook. 8 p.m. Blinking indicator light, but no messages from the brother. Finally, at 9 pm, I send a message that simply read, “?” I didn’t want to talk to him because I KNEW he would have an excuse. Ten seconds later he replied with something along the lines of getting back in the city late (I knew he was scheduled to return to town early that day) and wanting a rain check. I didn’t reply.
I ate dinner alone, disliking the feeling, but surely enjoying the food. I had cooked enough for five servings—leftovers or me and for him to carry to home/work.
A week later, I called, saying that he just wanted to catch up with me and see how things were going. Instantly, I was infuriated. What I wanted was a date a week prior, but thought back to the conversation with ol’ about what constitutes a date and how do you know you’re on one, especially during the beginning stages. Mr. Stood Me Up knew that I was interested in him; we flirted all the time and I said as much. So meeting for dinner shouldn’t have been a question of, “Is this a date?” right? Right?
Two days lapsed and I didn't return his call. In part, I didn’t want to talk to him. I felt like he wasn’t going to even contact me if I didn’t send a message first and that’s just whack. On the flip side for fairness, I wonder if he thought it was a “hang out” session and thought it wasn’t a big deal because we’re “cool people.”
Did I get stood up? Someone holler with sage advice.
-Betsy “Baller” Ice
Monday, September 20, 2010
Folks, I have a lot on my mind and much to share. First, I wanted to talk about how great my Friday/Saturday was and opposingly, how my Sunday sucked, but I’m distracting by the need to share something else: a dozen things I find annoying or downright deplorable.
So without further adieu, my list.
15. holding in farts
14. people with a cart full of groceries at the 10 items or less express line
13. computer error messages
12. pumping gas
11. braggarts and/or constantly confused people
10. needing to go to work every week day (that 99 weeks of unemployment doesn’t sound that bad right now)
9. knowing that I have a ton of work to do but avoiding it (aka procrastination)
8. not getting a seat on the train
7. shredding papers
6. my mobile phone and/or iPod battery out-charging when I need it most
5. the slimy look and taste of okra
4. people touching my clean clothes with their dirty hands at the Laundromat (who cares if I didn’t take the clothes out the dryer ten seconds after they were done!?!?!?)
3. very laborious housework (i.e. cleaning the toilet tank, painting)
2. my dry cleaning expenses
1. taking a poop at work (besides the fact that almost twenty women at my workplace have to share one bathroom key and the toilet paper feels like burlap on my bottom, it’s just gross. I don’t even have any reading material like I do in my own house so it really is a trip of waste, but at least I had time to think of this blog post!)
What’s on your list? Share here.
-Betsy “Baller” Ice
Thursday, September 16, 2010
For all the folks that asked where I’d been, I’m back and know that I miss you too. Shoo, I even miss sharing my thoughts and life with you all.
Summer was insane, but in a great way. Those 100 dates? Didn’t happen. Conceptually, another marvelous idea but trying to get folks to honestly talk about their dates, much less even go out on a much needed date, was too much work so I focused on my own adventures. For the record though, an update on the two sets of folks that went out at the start of summer (or at least the way I consider it, Memorial Day weekend.). One person turned their dating spell into a jaunty jump-off situation; the other, didn’t even last three dates. Different beliefs, particular religious (one person was practically an atheist, the other, a devout Christian) ones, makes it difficult to get things poppin’.
I had a great summer and met amazing people. I fell in love with New York again. Museums, concerts, conservatories, Coney Island, dining, rooftop soirees, backyard bashments, and overall one of my most memorable summers in a long time. Of course, there were some dates here and there but no one that made it to the number one position. However, there was this one fellow I met a while back and we “hung out” a few times during the sun-kissed season. Can I just say ol’ boy is hot? He’s arrogant, but intelligent. A jerk, but has moments of tenderness. He’s witty, strong, and has an amazing southern drawl that is like maple syrup pouring over my body instead of Kool-Aid (reference Don’t Be a Menace to South Central While Drinking Your Juice in the Hood). LOL.
Thing is, ol’ boy is twenty-six. And it’s not just him. There’s another fellow I met that said, “I’ll be twenty-seven next month.” I see you trying to get your older man on, but I tend to like men a little older than barely past a quarter of a century. But, it has me thinking that maybe I need to give the young’uns a chance…Like Biggie said, “Young, fresh, and clean with no hair in between/Know what I mean?”
Share your summer adventures...
Besty “Baller” Ice
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Welcome Betsy Ice Readers!
Betsy is on a new, fun jaunt this summer. Yup, dating. Remember that antiquated thing that happened between two people mutually attracted to each other? These days some folks try to downplay the process of dating—courtship, communication (sans text messages and BBM), and chemistry—to “hanging out”, like it’s some around the way activity with the homies.
Enough of that I say! It's time for new experiences!
Betsy has a goal this summer: 100 Dates. Memorial Day to Labor Day. Since that time frame is only ninety-eight days, there would have to be some doubling up at least, right? Nope. Initially, I thought to do this project solo—meeting one fellow for an early breakfast before work, lunch with another, then dessert after work—but reminded myself take it easy. That many dates in such a short space of time would lead to much quantity, not quality, and while this really is a social experiment, I have to be mindful and respective of other people’s feelings. This adventure will be nothing short of interesting and gives me the perfect time to start working on my winter boo.
To help me achieve the 100 Dates, some folks signed up to share their dating adventures—and share they did! Some dates will be one-sided—meaning, the information comes from one source; other times I’ll be fortunate enough to have both sides of the story. So folks, every Monday and Thursday will be a new post on dating, counting up to the hundredth date, right up to Monday September 6th--Labor Day. Today is an exception since I was planning to launch yesterday…still working on meeting my own deadlines. :-)
So folks, without further adieu, Date #1 and 2.
Date #1: Daniel went out with Carmen (her take on him/date coming up tomorrow). Daniel is described as intellectual, loving, built like a football player, wants to get married—ASAP!
“Hey Betsy, your girl Carmen just canceled on me,” Daniel said.
“What?” I asked incredulously. Why would she do that, especially for a first date? I thought.
“I don’t know, but it’s cool. We’ll try for another time,” he said.
I was not buying that bunch of bull for a minute. He was excited to meet her. He ended a relationship earlier this year and was starting to feel the loneliness of singledom—and openly disliked it.
Initially Daniel tried to dismiss her canceling as nothing, but judging from the terseness of his words and tense body language, he was upset. I felt bad for him. Who bails on a first date? Ol’ girl Carmen.
After some prodding, Daniel revealed that he was upset. He had gone to work dressed “better than normal” and was excited to meet her.
“Look, she had a good reason (work), but it still doesn’t change the fact that she canceled. At this point, I’m not expecting much from her. I’ll go out with Carmen, because I said I would but she has no brownie points in my book.”
A few days later, Daniel and Carmen connected. He sent me a message that read, I'm feeling your girl! She just called to see if I wanted to do lunch today (I had already eaten) and now she and her girl may do a double date with me and my boy from MA on Saturday. Fierce!
According to Daniel, this was a big redeem. She called him on the fly and he appreciated her apologetic efforts.
On their first date, Daniel described Carmen as hot, beautiful, smart, warm, gorgeous smile, and easy-going as they talked about interests over dinner. He also liked that she traveled to his neighborhood to meet him saying that “no one ever wants to come out here but that changed with Carmen.” By the end of date one, they were planning date two. Rock-climbing.
Betsy's take: Ladies, canceling a first date is not an option. If a brother cancels from the onset, that’s his lost. Act right or exit stage left. Next! Ditto for women. Get it together. BTW, I did concur with Daniel on the good redeem.
Date #2: Savannah James, went on a date with Ade. Savannah James is described as a dreamer, alluring, craves attention, determined, major b-ball fan.
Oooh, Savannah James is a handful. Really. She met Ade at party. They joked around a bit and as the conversation progressed, he said he was Nigerian.
“You’re Nigerian? You don’t look Nigerian,” she continued, later explaining that Ade was “far away” from what she thought and saw. Her experience with Nigerian men led her to believe that they were “button-downed metro sexuals.”
Thank goodness ol’ boy wasn’t offended and they exchanged BBM information. “I know you’re going to call me,” Savannah James added before departing. Though they had spent some time during the party chatting, she had already chalked Ade up to homeboy status. “He was someone to kick it with,” SJ said.
When he did call, they had several commonalities that met her approval. Actually, Savannah James’ approval list had approximately sixty-seven man-must haves. Ade was unmarried and without kids. Check, check. Thirty-eight years old. Just ripe check. Athletic (he played college football). BIG check. And was in a fraternity. Ooh, Savannah James! Check, please! Tats. Check. Though he didn't make sixty-seven yet, ol' boy had checks all over him...hmmm...
Their first date was at sports bar, specifically to watch the Miami vs. Boston game. Boston won. In person again, she thought Ade was really sweet. She felt like he was more a homeboy, especially since they were part of the rowdy group watching the game, but there was a tender side to him she appreciated. During the date, Savannah James confessed to feeling extremely comfortable with Ade which why she fed him French fries on their first date; in return, he sucked the ketchup off her fingers.
It's b-ball finals time so Betsy readers, stay tuned to see what these fry-feeding, finger-sucking, pair do on their next date.
Betsy’s take: Brothers, don’t you dare ask me to suck ketchup off your hands unless you JUST washed them. Hmphf. About the date…don’t knock the Naija men…or get caught up in your own stereotypes.
Date #3 and 4 served tomorrow with Carmen’s side of the date with Daniel and Betsy’s date with Museum Guy.
-Betsy “Baller” Ice
Thursday, May 20, 2010
So folks, Betsy is trying something relatively new—dating. I’ve been a terrible dater, making me habitually single. There wasn’t even a reason (i.e. not meeting men, being asked out); I just didn’t date. Lovelies, that’s about to change.
I’m working on a new project centered on relationships/dating and as part of the research, I’ll be going on bonafide dates. And, some folks have already cosigned this social experiment so holler if you’re down to participate.
My story: I met a fellow recently and went out with him for three reasons: he had an accent (a plus in my book), I had free time, and he had a luxury vehicle. The latter is shallow, oh-so-shallow, but I wanted so ride around in a ride instead of antiquated mass transit, especially late at night when there is always construction. I wasn’t trying to husband-up the dude; just have a good time. And folks, don’t front like you’ve never gone out with someone just because they had a _____ (fill in your answer here).
Anyway, when we met, he was amicable. Ditto for phone conversations, though they were more on the pleasantly parched side. Still, I went out with him giving him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps, he’s not a phone person, I thought, trying to justify the doldrums attached to speaking with him. I should have known something was up when he couldn’t even make a decision as to where he wanted to meet. He said, “Downtown.” Where the heck is that? I’m not a hooker or a police officer on patrol. After much teeth pulling, he came up with a specific location. We linked and were off. Ol’ boy made a restaurant suggestion, presenting it with such flourish that it was almost impossible to decline—but you know I did—so I offered up another suggestion and went somewhere I knew I could at least get a good meal.
Besides the fact that he rolled up shades when we met at 9 p.m., which I thought was to impress me, ol’ boy kept them on throughout dinner as well. Perhaps I missed the night-sun memo. But wait, the date became better when he invited his homeboy to join us. LOL. And he accepted the offer so you know what happens? I start thinking I would rather be on the date with him (not that I was bowled over by him but at least he was without shades in the dark and seemed more relaxed). As I dined with ol’ boy, my thoughts alternated between writing this blog and going back to the restroom to text this other fellow ☺ I felt like good girl gone bad.
Eventually the date ended when I had ol’ boy drop me off at a friend’s birthday soiree. He totally wanted to join me, but since I didn’t know what to expect of the party and didn’t want to spend any more time with him, a great big hug ended the evening. Now it’s time to delete his contact info.
Got a story to share? Holler.
-Betsy “Baller” Ice
Thursday, May 13, 2010
People at work are hysterical. Even as a professional working adult, I have to choose sides like this is The Amazing Race. Perhaps it is and work really is a jungle.
The story: There’s a fellow that I’m cool with. We have lunch occasionally. I’ve always gotten the I-want-to-be-more-than-colleagues vibe from him, but downplayed, or rather, outright ignored it, naively thinking that things would be cool and he would get the hint. And it was working—until he saw me out with a few other colleagues. His ire was barely contained and though he pulled me to the side for some choice words (mostly related to the group I was with), I could feel the tension and disappointment emanating from his body.
He talked. I listened, and sometimes I even concurred. I told him that we were cool, assuring him that it was the first time I was with these folks socially and me hanging out with them had nothing to do with him. Different people, different events, different everything.
I thought everything was alright…until he laid the I’m-feeling-you-like-a-girlfriend line on me. I wondered, Girlfriend? This brother doesn’t even know me like that. Without mincing words, I let him know that I only saw him as a colleague, someone that I am amicable with. I didn’t even use the word friend. Through his tipsy haze, he understood and asked that I call him when I got home to let him know I was in safely. I agreed.
I sent a text to him a few hours later letting him know all was well and I was home safely. Now, it was around 2 a.m. and ol’ boy must have had my number on speed dial because no less than three minutes later, he called. I let it go to voicemail. What on earth did he want to talk about at that hour.
When the sun was up—way up—I responded saying I would call him at some point over the weekend. I did, the following day and left a message when his voicemail kicked. Guess the conversation wasn’t so urgent after all. When I got to work, I sent him a text letting him know I was stepping out for a bit. No response. Now I get it. He’s mad and ignoring me. This I know to be true because every other time I’ve reached out, he’s hollered back ASAP.
I wasn’t accepting BFF applications anyway, but find it strange how people carry on in the workplace. I mean, can’t I be Switzerland? Anyone else ever found themselves caught between folks? Holler!
-Betsy “Baller” Ice
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Every so often a friend, who is more like a sister, and I take a hiatus from each other. It’s not that we schedule a time out; we just go our separate ways—managing our respective lives and taking a breather. Then one day, we’re back, like we never missed a beat that lasted several months.
As I thought about it, I doubt most people can do that with their friends—not that one should aspire to take a pause. We connected the other day after not seeing each other for two months and we chatted and laughed and rolled our eyes at the foolishness of the men we, respectively gave/give our hearts to, and planned to connect again soon. Like this week. Okay fine, that in-person thing will become a phone call but you understand that we’re back in-communicato.
What I came to realize is that our bond of friendship is so strong that a few weeks, or even months out of the year matters not. We can catch up on life’s events in the space of one good long conversation, which may be a few hours but no important detail is left in the wind. So I wonder, how many friends can actually claim that level of strength and security? Are there people you communicate with repeatedly throughout the hour, day, week? If any one of them decided to hit the pause button, would you be upset? Could your friendship withstand the break?
Which leads me to this: if you hit the “me time” button with a friend, can you press it in a relationship? Suppose your significant other isn’t cool with it; do you break up with the person or do you hang in there frustrated.
Betsy “Baller” Ice
Monday, April 12, 2010
For some time now, I resolved within myself that I want to get married. Yup, Betsy is ready to be someone’s wife and mother and the only thing standing in my way is finding a like-minded brother. Apparently, I have a case of picking-the-wrong brother syndrome.
Recently, I had a conversation with a ‘friend’ who I’ve been romantically interested in for a bit and what I finally accepted is that though he wants to get married and have children and even conceded to “it’s past time that I settle down”—he’s over thirty-five years old—he just hasn’t and isn’t in a position to do so because he’s still figuring out what works for him. He’s selfish—not in a bad way—but he needs to get himself together as a man. To enter into a relationship now would mean he is knowingly dragging a woman into a situation destined to fail, while he exhibits jerk- and sabotage-like qualities…all to silently say it’s not the right time. I respect his stance on “doing me,” right now.
The story: I went on a date with someone the same age as my friend. Date one, dude is like tell so-and-so you’re with your future husband as I wrapped up a phone call. I laughed it off…and tried to laugh it off every other time he said it. I get it. He wants to get married. So do I. Isn’t that the ideal? I asked myself. Meet someone, who, right out the gate is ready to answer Beyonce’s ring call?
Post date I started to wonder why I didn’t like him more. He’s clearly a great guy, one that I would befriend. Yes, brothers, befriend. I realized a long time ago I need fireworks and passion when I meet someone. That slow burn stuff…well, it just isn’t me. More than that, I started to wonder what was the difference between these two eligible bachelors that claimed marriage? What I came to believe was this: the first guy, let’s call him Mr. Flirty Friend, wants to get married but is not prepared or ready to say, “I do.” The second man, “Mr. I Got Your Ring,” is mature and is akin to the Doe Fund tag line—ready, willing, and able. Then I had to ask myself—I want to get married, but am I ready? I think I am, but can I solely blame lack of chemistry for my reason for gravitating to Mr. Flirty? Truthfully, Mr. I Got Your Ring exhibited qualities that would definitely make him a dutiful husband.
I thought more about my own readiness question and decided that chemistry is a big part of any romance for me and that will lead to the one thing that makes a relationship work—feeling like the person I’m with is my partner on every level.
Neither of those men are right for me, so Betsy’s still single in the city! Single men, send me a picture or something! Lol.
Betsy “Baller” Ice
Friday, April 9, 2010
Lovelies! It’s chilly in NY but thank goodness I slept my morning away. If I can just get to my office before 4 p.m. I can claim that I was working.
Anyhoo, assuming you had all the essentials in life—food, family, friends, finances, shelter—what three things could you not live without?
At first, I thought to say my computer. What else can you use to talk, read, write, listen to music, make movies, and store 11,452 pictures that never get printed? The more I thought about it, the more inaccurate that was. I would hate to live without Alicia Meyers, Fela, Dwele, and Biggie but I could forego their much played music for a notebook. Paper. Paper would be one of my choices. Choice number two would be a natural—pens. Who cares about HBO, Showtime, and Bravo (except for Real Housewives of Atlanta) when my own life is more interesting? When I'm old and grey, I want to life or frown about some of the antics of my youth.
Then came number three. I was more considerate with the third choice, thinking this would have to be more important that than the others, since I already have my imaginary Bally bag and Jimmy Choo shoes. This would have to be something that could complete my life. Then I remembered the one thing that has been with my all my life in varying forms—my bible. Whether it's the little green New Testament--remember, folks used to hand them out for free back in the day?--it's been a part of my life and heart since I was tot.
Since I was oh-so-fatigued and couldn’t make it to my office today, I had to cook my own breakfast which led to random thought number two—what condiment could you not live without? This was easier than the aforementioned question. Butter. I generally dislike salt, except, well… Anyway, as I slathered every corner of my bran bread with butter, I thought, “This is the best damn condiment ever.”
Running off to work. Share your can’t live without three or number one condiment. Curious to know what rolls through your mind.
-Betsy "Baller" Ice
Friday, March 12, 2010
I’ve been a little under the weather lately, feeling more discombobulated than physically ill. I’m tapped out, my glass is full, and what little energy/concentration I have left, is just for me.
The story: A male friend and I were working on a project and there was one aspect of it he was supposed to take care of, though only recently, I found out it no progress had been made. He called me four times in three hours in a damn-near panic to “explore options.” Fine. I gave some input and said, “I really have some things I need to take care of for myself and I trust your judgment. Call or better yet, send a message with the final outcome.” That was Tuesday.
Wednesday. He leaves a high-pitched, anxious-sounding voicemail. I return his call, only to listen to him rehash the previous day’s conversation. I say, “Man, I really have some things going on in my own life right now and I just can’t attend to this with you. I know you’re trying to be helpful by filling me in but I’m full—of my own stuff—so make a decision, still to it, and know that I’ll cosign it.” Whew, I breathe a sigh of relief thinking that would be the last of it.
Thursday. The brother leaves another voicemail, this time sounding even more urgent that than the last and speaking so rapidly, that a few words are unclear. I call him back. Why did I do that? He starts off on a near-tirade about his issues. Apparently he’s losing his jobs—in a few months. A FEW #%$@?! MONTHS. I’m going through some things RIGHT NOW. I interject saying, “Look, I don’t mean to be snide or snarky. I sorry that you’re losing your job months from now but I can’t deal with anything else. I don’t have the capacity and you know that. Just finish the project and only call me when you have a final answer. Better yet, text me because I would rather not even talk. I need to be silent and still.” We hang up in agreement.
Thursday night. Ol’ boy sends an email—to me and everyone else involved—saying that he’s pulling out and “doesn’t give a shi*t,” will do his own thing, bleh bleh bleh. He then adds, “Now I know people are frustrated due to happenings in their own life however after imparting the news of my impending layoff the last thing I expect to hear from a friend is ‘I know you lost your job but...’” LMAO. Granted, he has now totally screwed me over but ol’ boy is HOT about me not wanting to—what? Be stressed out with him over his job that he’s losing in… June, July, December? Right now, I don’t need my cup to runneth over with OPP—Other People’s Problms. I mean, if he lost his job that day, I would be concerned and come up with an action plan but months away? Pshh…
I didn’t even respond to him but thought, never once did he ask me what was going on in my life, yet he has the gall to be upset with me. Insert rolling eyes here. People – if someone tells you they’re in a rough patch, do yourself a favor and find someone that can truly listen and give you the coddling you want.
Anyone else ever been in similar situation?
Totally random but ol’ boy from the coffee shop, called. Five days later. Pshh…
Thanks to all for the shout-outs and requests to keep writing. You folks highlight doldrum days. Have a lovely weekend!
-Betsy "Baller" Ice
Friday, February 26, 2010
Lovelies! Lovelies! I’ve been in the lab working on a legal concoction that will make me rich and famous, but paused today to watch the snowflakes fall. Okay, that’s not quite the truth. My office closed due to the snowstorm and I was too happy, officially rolling out of bed a bit after noon. It felt so good but what would have been better was…
My friend and I were at a coffee shop recently and a brother with all his textbooks, colored index cards, coffee cups, and markers caught mine eyes. He looked up and smiled and I returned the greeting. I thought he was cute and when I turned his way again to retrieve something I didn’t need in my bag, he looked up again and smiled.
“I think he’s digging me,” I whispered to my friend. When she left, the armchair was empty for a while, providing the perfect opportunity for him to holler since the smiling thing was getting a little trifling. He departed before I did, and I watched him walk out. Just before he opened the door, he turned to look at me again. Grinning this time. “Pshh,” my mind said, but he was still cute.
The following day I returned to the coffee shop to finish my own studies and there was Mr. Cutie in the same spot. I positioned myself diagonally from him then wound up moving to a table right behind his when my laptop ran out of juice. I didn’t want to seem parched or anything but I had work to do and just as much right to be there as he did though I secretly hoped he went there that day hoping to catch my ordering my usual beverage.
The smiling continued. Clearly this brother was so enthralled by my beauty that he could not believe a woman of my caliber would want to talk to him so he felt resigned to a fate of just being an admirer. He was plain ol’ nervous though my smile and eyes were giving him green lights all the way. Or maybe I just don’t know why he didn’t step up. As I prepared to leave and after much inner wrestling, I stood behind him, leaned over and before he could say anything (his mouth did open), I placed my business card in the middle of his biology book page and said, “Here’s my card. Call me when you’re done studying.”
I turned before I walked out the door and he was in competition for the Kool-Aid jug with his smile.
For the record, I like to socialize and chatting with men is easy when I’m not interested in them. Before stepping to him, I was stalling, which caused me to start perspiring profusely but I was glad I made the first move. It felt oddly liberating and for a moment, I sympathized with all the men that had every stepped to me – or any other woman for that matter – and got shut down. Takes a lot of heart.
Oh yes, you’d think by now, four days later, he would have called, right? Nope. I said to call post-studying but I didn’t mean the entire semester. Oh well. I’m willing to try it again. There’s a cute doctor that I’ve noticed in there a few times too…
BTW - I took that picture from my window.
-Betsy “Baller” Ice