Leap

This year, February gives us the gift of time. It’s Leap Year (which occurs only once every 1,460 days). That means every 1,460 days, you get 1,440 extra minutes! Almost one-to-one!

Apparently people celebrate Leap Day. This I did not know until talking to my aunt yesterday. I guess you're supposed to do something you've never done before ??? This had my mind reeling for the last 24 hours. What am I going to do with my extra 24? Something fun? Something exciting? Something scandalous? The Leap Door is wide open.

Leap Days just so happen to present neat opportunities if you are keen enough to catch them. Leap Days are on Presidential Election years, giving the American public an extra day to make up their mind. Leap Days also line-up with Summer Olympics now, giving fans of the Olympiad yet another day of anticipation.

I did a bit of Leap Year research while waiting for a class to start. Here are a few tidbits to memorize for the next time you're on Jeopardy.

• Gioacchino Rossini (Italian Composer) was born on Leap Day (in 1792)
• in 1692 the first accusations began during the Salem witch trials.
  
• The First "Walk/Don't Walk" signs were installed in NYC on February 29, 1952
• The Carpenters recieved a golden record for the hit single Hurting Each Other in 1972
  
• John Byrom, an English poet was born in 1692

Today I heard another famous poet read some of his poems. Billy Collins did a fantastic job speaking this afternoon and I loved listening to his own interpretation of many of the poems that I so love. One short two-liner in particular made me chuckle. It's entitled Refrigerator Light. "The instant she slammed the door/ I stopped thinking about her." Ha.

Other Leap Events?

I saw Polly Bleaker and Juno walking in Kiwanis Park, no lie. There is no way that wasn't Michael Cera and Ellen Page. Another sighting? A tight-rope walker practicing up between a couple of trees. And I got yet another phone call from some elderly woman who insists that her friend "Bardonna's" phone number is identical to mine. I have to tell her every time that, no, I'm not Bardonna, I don't know a Bardonna, and I don't know Bardonna's real phone number. Sorry Bardonna, I hope your friend can reach you soon. She's very persistent.

Cold

Last night it was hard to imagine that earlier that day I had a t-shirt on. I was cold sitting there staring blankly at the screen. Sometimes the flashing cursor is so unholy. It sits there pulsing, waiting, feeding off the purity of an unblemished white screen. A part of me thinks it should be refreshing to start on a blank page, but I was swallowing hard, concentrating on keeping my heart beating normally and my brain thinking clearly. Maintaining vitals shouldn't be a conscious effort, but I think the stress was starting to get to me.

I finished it, took a few deep breaths, looked in the mirror, grabbed my face and repeated it over and over again staring into my own eyes and trying to read myself. Why are you like this?

I've never endured a shower so hot. The steam was so thick I could hardly see. I couldn't bear the thought of standing, so I sat on the uneven shower floor and let my arms wrap snuggly around my knees, holding myself there; the hot stinging my back mimicking the stinging behind my eyes. I'm not sure how long I was in there for, but I let the near-scalding water singe off the anger and burn away the sadness.

When I awoke today the birds were singing to me, telling me I could do it, I've done much harder things before.

Things.

Work.

Out.

I didn't wear a coat. It wasn't too cold out and I was wearing sunglasses. Total 80's sunglasses. And I love them.

When I got home Roommate and I took our Macs and went outside to feel warm coming out of the sky. I can't get over how excited I am for the sun to come again. Mr. Apple likes the sunshine too. I think that this picture is amazing for two reasons. The first, Roommate's half eye. The Second, you can see both our computers reflected beautifully in my sunglasses. One word: classy. As we were walking inside I saw this. It was sadly metaphorical, but I laughed as I thought about how the remnants of melted snowmen mean that spring is well on its way. At least it's coal eyes are still on the ground to help me remember the good times of watching it stand.

DWW9

Sunday
dogged [daw-gid, dog-id]
–adjective
persistent in effort; stubbornly tenacious

Monday
quidnunc /ˈkwɪdˌnʌŋk/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[kwid-nuhngk]
–noun
a person who is eager to know the latest news and gossip; a gossip or busybody.

Tuesday
felicitous /fɪˈlɪsɪtəs/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pr[fi-lis-i-tuhs]

–adjective

1.	well-suited for the occasion, as an action, manner, or expression; apt; appropriate: The chairman's felicitous anecdote set everyone at ease.

2.	having a special ability for suitable manner or expression, as a person.

Wednesday
nostrum /ˈnɒstrəm/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[nos-truhm]
–noun

1.	a medicine sold with false or exaggerated claims and with no demonstrable value; quack medicine.

2.	a scheme, theory, device, etc., esp. one to remedy social or political ills; panacea.

3.	a medicine made by the person who recommends it.

4.	a patent medicine.

Thursday
gloaming [gloh-ming]
–noun
twilight; dusk.

Friday
sedulous /ˈsɛdʒələs/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[sej-uh-luhs]
–adjective

1.	diligent in application or attention; persevering; assiduous.

2.	persistently or carefully maintained: sedulous flattery.

Saturday
slugabed /ˈslʌgəˌbɛd/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[sluhg-uh-bed]
–noun
a lazy person who stays in bed long after the usual time for arising.

Spring

Today commences my first day of spring. I'm ready for it to just get here already. I'm going to start and maybe it will get the hint.

Sunshine coupled with yellow easter lilies (on my desk at work right now in fact!). The smell of the grass and roses (also on my desk. Roses, not grass). Sprigs of color and hanging my coat over my arm. Shadows (which means there is sunshine!) and dry cement.

Incredible.

Pounding

My heart pounds every time. Louder, louder, louder. Faster, faster, faster. Can he hear it? I can. And I feel it. And it sometimes makes me short of breath. And sometimes my hands shake because I don't know what to do with myself.

So I blog and read poetry that seems like it's written about me.

On Turning Ten

The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I'm coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.

You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.

But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.

This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.

It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.

[Billy Collins]


Thoughts at the open window
That everything is transitory
Merely a simile.
Everything we see is a proposal,
A possibility, an expedient.
The real truth, to begin with,
Remains invisible beneath the
Surface.
The colors that captivate us
Are not lightning
But light.

[Paul Klee Diary IV 1917]

Tagged

I was tagged by a certain Gritty Pretty (the lovely lady wearing red shoes) and now I have to:

1. Link to the person that tagged you
2. Post the rules on your blog
3. Share 6 non-important things/ habits /quirks about yourself
4. Tag at least 3 people at the end of your post and link to their blog
5. Let each person know they've been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog
6. Let the "confessions" begin

. . . because I am IT. I admit that I am a little nervous about this tagging thing. I've seen it a few times on other blogs that I frequent (or as someone told me "blalk" - as in stalk+blog) but now that I have been tagged, I feel all this pressure to out-divulge, outwit, and out tag my predebloggers. At least I know where to start:

1. As per request, my first non-important enigma will be about these. After my sophomore year of high school, my 5 closest friends and I decided to make a list of things to keep us busy and entertained all summer long so that never once the thought, I sure wish school would start so I'd have something to do, would cross our minds. That thought should never be conceived during the glorious, free, sunny summer months. The final list was over 80 things long and one "activity" in particular got a lot of attention. We wore adult diapers, Affirms, to be precise. We bought a 20 pack at Target on sale. (The picture is what we did with the rest of them after I found them upon moving out for college. Decorating diapers has never been so fun). Well not only did we wear them, but we all had to "go" in them. You have no idea how hard it is to force yourself to pee your pants, even when you're mostly sure you'll be protected, and you really have to go. I was the first to "let loose" and the occasion was met with much laughter and hysterics. It was the grossest feeling I have ever experienced and it caused an overwhelming amount of empathy for infants to wash over me. It is no wonder babies cry when they're wet. Eventually we all completed the dirty deed. One friend had to sit on the toilet with her pants on to "trick her mind into thinking she was doing something normal." The only mishap came with one friend who put hers on inside out by mistake and let's just say that the outsides aren't nearly as absorbent as the insides. It got a little messy.

2. I take a picture of my foot at all the places I travel to. I don't know when this started, or why I am so enamored with my incredible toe spread, but I am. I guess the pictures are an easy way to review my trips and laugh about people watching me desperately tear my shoe off, snap a picture, and run half-shoed to catch up with the rest of the group.

3. I have a song stuck in my head. Constantly. Right now it's this.

4. I pride myself in my ability to drive a manual car and I think slightly less of those pathetic souls who can't. I think it makes you a much more valuable member of society if you are able to maneuver a vehicle with a clutch. Plus, it makes racing on State a whole lot more fun . . .

5. As a child I had a recurring dream that a gypsy in the forest taught me magic and I woke up convinced that I was psychic. This lasted until I told my cousins and they tested this theory repeatedly with highly scientific methods of, "how many fingers are behind my back?" or "what card am I holding?" I then realized, sadly, that I am not psychic, nor do I have a gypsy friend (unless you count her).

6. I detest: when people say "on accident" (rather than correctly saying "by accident"), words that have the "oi" sound in them (such as moist and ointment. Oh yuck), and words that end in "sps" (such as wasps and crisps. It makes me feel awkward to say them).

Okay. Hopefully that wasn't subpar. And now . . . you, you, and you are IT!

Tidbits

A few tidbits about today:

• While walking to school I decided that this is the hardest time of winter. The time when you are tired of the snow because it no longer is pretty and fresh. Rather, it looks more like soot and muck that dirties your view and makes everything dismal. I'm tired of everything looking like "soot and poo." However, on the way home, I saw green beneath my feet and thought I would die of delight. Just think, only a few more weeks of this and things can become alive again. I can't wait for the creeping and blooming things to start sprouting!
• Today in biology someone asked about what we can do to decrease our carbon dioxide output and help counter global warming. Our professor's answer: hold your breath. Practical. We should all try. Maybe even make a holiday of it.
• I organized the few books I keep on my self by color today. No, I wasn't bored. I did it for a few reasons. I was inspired, and I thought maybe rainbow books would act as a small offering to the Spring Gods who might hasten their answer to my visual clarion call. Roommate told me I'm just weird and OCD. That's okay. I can live with that. At least I'm tidy. By the way, I finished this a few weekends ago and highly recommend it. It's an easy, fun, casual read, but very interesting. It also made me feel like I actually have a worthwhile major. Imagine that.
  
• I decided (while sitting in the kitchen reading while the sun was warming my back and lighting the table) that when I grow up, I need a living room with a big, west facing window. So big, that I can lay in the supine position on the ground and be completely flooded with sunshine and light to spare.
• I was helping N with her dishes and pulling them out of a clogged sink full to the brim with chocolaty brown/Mexican food water (nasty) when this creature emerged. Of all the dishes I have ever done, I have never seen something so horrendous or hairy come out of a kitchen sink. (Living with 6 girls, the bathroom sink is another story). It was so unexpected and alive looking I screamed for a solid minute, attracted a small crowd from two apartments, and disposed of it with an emphatic shake to the trash can. I am lucky to be alive and recording this. I really think Wookies were mating in the sink and bred a miniature-offspring-fetus-monster.
• My life is like this movie, minus the sappy romance part. It's just that those sort of chancy things just seem to happen to me. Often.
• I found that someone replaced the toilet paper roll again and it wasn't me! However, they are a repeat offender of the "over rather than under" rule. This may be one of my biggest pet peeves. If you're to do something, do it completely. And if it is replacing the toilet paper roll, do it the right way. Completely.
  
• My baby brother turned 13 today. (tear). Happy Birthday Nil! (If only Day's Market really knew your name. . .) We went to dinner and I thought his nachos were going to eat him. He ate so meticulously that by the end his small dent in one side looked like the Cave of Wonders.
  

Tackled

I tackled a few things this weekend that have been looming over my head for weeks. ("The monkey on your back is the latest trend") It feels good to be rid of a few things that have been on my to-do list for weeks. The unchecked boxes haunt me. I hate those empty boxes, they're so vile and unholy.

I spent a few hours on a commission for a play writer who needs some visuals for a national conference next week. Sent off the proofs and am waiting for a reply before nailing down the finals.

I almost finished painting yet another box for a woman who commissions one every time she has a new addition to her family. Let's hope she keeps having grandchildren so I keep getting extra cash.

I tackled getting my hair cut which has been something I've needed to do for weeks now. (Roommate surprised me with this shot. Thanks for that one M.)

I did my visiting teaching and it is NOT the 29th of February.

I made up time figure drawing and spent probably 4 hours this weekend sketching. I really do love to sketch, but for some reason if it's forced sketching, it becomes more of a chore than anything else. However, I have a midterm next week and need something to show for it. So it was imperative that I got on the ball.

I finished my photography final project and now all that's left is the written exam on Tuesday. Then I switch out that block class for jogging and a culture class to prepare for London in the Spring. Can't. Wait.

I tackled (most unsuccessfully) talking to my mother about things that have been concerning me about my sister's well being. I failed horribly, was called an ungrateful child and now it's awkward between the two of us. But I made a promise that I would try, and I held to that. What else can I do? Maybe they make these for mother/daughter relationships. It's been fun for the apartment and would make things a whole lot less confrontational in the future.

I tackled getting Roommates duvet into it's duvet cover after two and a half tries. I suggested doing it my way first, but Roommate thought it silly to turn the entire thing inside out just to put the duvet in. Little did she know how easy and painless it really is. The attempts were funny however and I'm glad that we could laugh a little tonight.

Gratitude

I am grateful. I am grateful for roommates to laugh and cry with. I'm grateful for my cousin who always lends a listening ear. I'm grateful for my sister, for her strength and ability to hold on. I'm grateful for music, for it's ability to heal and inspire. I'm grateful for love that surprises you. I'm grateful for birds this morning. I'm grateful for spurts of sun that whispers, "Spring is coming! Just wait a little longer!" I'm grateful for this. I'm grateful for promptings. I'm grateful for light. I'm grateful for the gospel. I'm grateful for my Savior and my knowledge of Him. I'm grateful for my cozy bed. I'm grateful for cleaning checks. I'm grateful for motivation. I'm grateful for forgiveness. I'm grateful for the temple. I'm grateful for the interconnectedness of human life. I'm grateful for my toothbrush. I'm grateful for chessbars. I'm grateful for this soundtrack. I'm grateful for this. I'm grateful for this. I'm grateful for this. I'm grateful for her. I'm grateful for wit and humor. I'm grateful for pencils.

You

i.


miss.


you.


true.

DWW8

The words have been glaring at me from digital sticky notes all week, begging to be posted. So I finally gave in. I think it's a fantastic selection of etymological merit.

Monday
cronyism /ˈkroʊniˌɪzəm/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pron[kroh-nee-iz-uhm] –noun
the practice of favoring one's close friends, esp. in political appointments.

Tuesday
blithe /blaɪð, blaɪθ/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunc[blahyth, blahyth] –adjective

1.	joyous, merry, or gay in disposition; glad; cheerful: Everyone loved her for her blithe spirit.

2.	without thought or regard; carefree; heedless: a blithe indifference to anyone's feelings.

Wednesday
pusillanimous /ˌpyusəˈlænəməs/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[pyoo-suh-lan-uh-muhs] –adjective

1.	lacking courage or resolution; cowardly; faint-hearted; timid.

2.	proceeding from or indicating a cowardly spirit.

Thursday
debonair /ˌdɛbəˈnɛər/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[deb-uh-nair] –adjective

1.	courteous, gracious, and having a sophisticated charm: a debonair gentleman.

2.	jaunty; carefree; sprightly.

Friday
parley /ˈpɑrli/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[pahr-lee]
–noun

1.	a discussion or conference.

2.	an informal conference between enemies under a truce, esp. to discuss terms, conditions of surrender, etc.

–verb (used without object)

3.	to hold an informal conference with an enemy under a truce, as between active hostilities.

4.	to speak, talk, or confer.

Saturday
redintegrate /rɛdˈɪntɪˌgreɪt, rɪˈdɪn-/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[red-in-ti-greyt, ri-din-] –verb
to make whole again; restore to a perfect state; renew; reestablish.

Sunday
alacrity /əˈlækrɪti/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[uh-lak-ri-tee] –noun

1.	cheerful readiness, promptness, or willingness: We accepted the invitation with alacrity.

2.	liveliness; briskness.

Nothing

I spend time here every Thursday to give me the charge to push through the weekend before I can quench my thirst for spirit and light again on Sunday. There is nothing else I'd rather do with my Thursday afternoons.

While sitting there today I pondered on things my professor had talked about in class the day before. We discussed feeling the spirit and the words he spoke came streaming into my heart and mind with force and dimension. I was filled with the truth and it brought a significant measure of comfort to my soul. It was the pick-me-up I needed after only a few days of reality, and it witnessed to me that I have the strength to tackle it all because I am fortified with the strongest power on earth. Nothing anyone could have said in that moment would have meant more than the unspoken, underlying message that I gleaned from his words.

Lately I've felt like a whole lot of nothing. I was reading and felt impressed by the poignancy of these words as I stumbled upon them by the light of my desk lamp. I realized how we truly are this, and because of that we disobey. Even these obey better than we, for we are this. But with Him we can become everything. This is for us if we turn our nothingness into our strengths. I find great hope in this, because sometimes it's easy for me to get caught up in the seemingly mundane. I feel like I've plateaued, flat lined momentarily along my timeline of life. I want my life to be a continual crescendo, a perpetual climb of progression upwards and outwards. But things get tiring, and I stumble, get caught up, hung up, stuck . . . frustrations only lead to failure, so I need to just get up the courage to take a big step out of the mud and get on my way. We have been told it would be easy. Why am I finding it so hard?

I am one of 5 grandchildren all born within a 4 month span. We have gone through every rite of passage since birth together. Graduating from diapers, losing teeth, learning to ride bikes, getting baptized, moving from elementary to middle school, getting our drivers licenses, graduating from high school, starting college. . . Now they're all embarking on new chapters of life. Marriage or missions are close for all of them and I feel like I'm left behind doing nothing extraordinary or exciting. I go to school. I work. I study. Sometimes the routine is completely stultifying. It's not like I'm anxious to put a ring on my finger and don a white dress, but I want something to set me apart. Maybe I'm just feeling a bit like this.

Stalker

I felt like a stalker. I had to meet a girl on the 5th floor to get notes. She never showed. I guess I'll get them from her in class in an hour, I was just hoping to copy them before then. Oh well. Didn't think I'd be seen anyway. I picked a seat in the corner, which may have contributed to the reason I felt like a stalker. I tried to lay low. I wasn't there to meet up with anyone but her. But saw him on my way out. Didn't know what to do. Wave? Walk past? No. I'm supposed to be dead right now for "my sake." Stopped to chat with M and see if we were close to meeting up. She has a test and was studying in the JSB. Kept walking. Once the crowd in front of me cleared he was there again. A few yards behind I followed him. Thought he'd turn into the JFSB. (I guess I don't really know his schedule. There's one point to counter my stalker feeling). No, I freaking stalker walked behind him all the way to the JSB. I was headed to the Maeser Building to take pictures for my class tomorrow. Only one more week of it and then I can take pictures of whatever I please. California was freeing in that sense. I felt like a stalker and it made me mad that I can't be in the same room without feeling like I'm the one stepping out of bounds.

Bound

President's Day morning M and I got up early to run before having to bind ourselves down in the car for 9 hours. (Should take 10 I guess, but I averaged over 90 during my 4+ hour leg of driving).

We were dropped off near the refinery and did a quick jaunt down to the pier. The run was fantastic and I was hit again with how amazing the ocean is. This time it was filled with people in wet suits, waiting to catch a wave. They looked like smooth, black beasts all waiting together on the crests of the water.

With every bounding step I became more in love with running at sea level. I felt like I'd go on oxygen overload, I wasn't used to the air being so thick. But I craved the air, the clarity, the consuming brisk wind that pushed against me, but also filled my lungs with life. I ran the last 20 yards the fastest I think I've ever run. The sprint is really what helps me endure the miles before I can kick my legs the hardest and let them get every ounce of speed out. It seems like they have their own spirit in those last yards of pushing and the inertia is left on the path miles behind my now fatigued body.

We watched the waves crash against the pillars of the pier for a few minutes while stretching and letting the salty air stick to our skin before returning home. I wanted to stay there in the wet. I'm tired of the dry Utah air that burns my throat and chaps my fingers as they swing unprotected at my sides.

The drive home was uneventful. That's a good thing. The cold greeted us when we arrived and the ice paved the path to our door. How welcoming right?

Funday

Sunday was considered a "Funday" by The Mates and I. K's mom was so excited for church because the "dreamiest missionary ever sent off by El Segundo" had just come home and the day before he had joined their volley ball game on the beach and she dropped our names. Oh boy. He wasn't the speaker. In fact, the polar opposite was the speaker. He was 5'5" and goes to BYU-I. Fantastic.

The Elder's Quorum provided the music and as soon as they all took the stand we were all puzzled, trying to figure out just who this elusive elder was. There was no one outstanding in the array of men. We shot a look to K's mom who excitedly pointed. Him? I was unimpressed. Dreamy probably wasn't the word I would have used. He reminded me slightly of the guy off the notebook. Not rugged, hot Ryan Gosling, but the other guy, the snooty guy with dark hair who ends up getting dropped. Turns out he wanted to get to know us so K's mom took the liberty upon herself to invite him to dinner. This day was turning dismal fast.

We jetted out of Sacrament meeting as fast as we could and ran home to grab our beach gear and hit the shore. I think I could walk the entire California coast and not tire of the feast for my senses. The sounds, the smells, the feel of the sand between my toes, the sun, and seagulls, the people, the color, the water. . . nothing compares to the life and vitality that exists where land meets water.





J, M, and I walked down the pier and talked about life. I love talking, musing, and letting your mouth just run sometimes, not in gushing ways, but flowing ways. We spun around the cement pillars and let ourselves discover. I felt like a little kid, awakening my sense of wonder as I played with mussels and sea creatures, letting sea weed tickle my legs and sand crabs my fingers. We explored. And I loved it. One reason I can't wait to have kids is so I have an excuse to go outside and watch ants on the sidewalk, or paint with my fingers, or play with flour, or wonder about the tickly feeling of grass or the strangeness of bugs. Children are allowed to wonder. For some reason when we get older, we lose our ability and justifications for wondering. I would argue that we don't really need an excuse or justification to sit on the ground and play in the dirt. It enlivens our senses and helps us rediscover the world around us.














We came back from playing volleyball only to discover that our beach snacks had been thoroughly pillaged. M was the first to arrive on the scene and I found her in a moment of desperation.



"What happened? What happened?"
"I don't have any money."
"What happened?"
"I don't have any money."
"No what really--"
"I feel like I'm on Les Mis. The seagulls attacked us when we were playing volleyball. I just scared that--there's sand everywhere"
"Who attacked us?"
"The SEAGULLS!"
"Yeah look at their little feety prints everywhere."
"Yeah their little feety prints. . ."
"Melissa was being righteous on Sunday. See Book of Mormon. I think she probably read like a half a verse, but it's the thought that counts. . . huh Melissa?"
"Hand me that apple core."
"Huh."


We ended the night with the most delicious Carne eats with K's family and the Dream Boy and then played games for a few hours before hitting the music room for performances ranging from a Beyonce booty walk to Once Upon a December. I fell somewhere in between the two. After the shows (and seriously, I've never seen 4 sisters do more dances from High School Musical in my life--but I must say I was throughly entertained) we sang Hairspray until our voices were raw and we were laughing too hard to get anything out besides guttural har-hars.