hot and sour soup

(read the following introduction in a big, booming, WWE announcer voice)

A new record has been set!

After only one week of school,

Yes, just One,

The Littlest Carrotstick is . . . .

Already Sick!!!!

(end announcer)

Or maybe it's just that his Olympic fever has finally broken.

Poor kid. He really wants to be the next Michael Phelps. But since he's not double jointed, and doesn't have much chance at being 6'4" and all . . . . Well, I don't want to dash his dreams. But we'll see.

But, as a last, final tribute to those glorious days in Bejing, on Good Food Friday, here's a recipe for


Hot and Sour Chicken Soup to Soothe a Swimmers Soul


8 cups chicken stock
1 10-oz boneless skinless chicken breast
2 tsp toasted sesame oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 small onion
4 oz mushrooms
2 carrots, peeled & cut into matchsticks
1 ½ tsp grated ginger
1 tsp ground pepper
pinch cayenne pepper
½ tsp salt
3 Tblsp cornstarch
3 Tblsp soy sauce
6 Tblsp rice wine vinegar

Boil chicken stock, add breast; poach until cooked through, 12 minutes. Transfer to cutting board. Slice in ½ crosswise, and then into 1/4" thick strips. Set aside, clarify stock. In large saucepan heat oil over medium low. Add garlic and onion and cover. Saute, stir occasionally until transparent, 6-7 minutes. Add mushrooms and saute 5 minutes. Add reserved chicken stock, carrots, ginger, pepper, cayenne pepper and salt; bring liquid to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer until carrots are tender — 3 minutes. Whisk cornstarch and soy sauce together. Whisk in vinegar. Slowly whisk into soup. Simmer until soup is clear, 5-7 minutes.
Add chicken, and simmer until heated through, about 2 minutes.


People, I seriously like this soup. I can't wait for the weather to cool down so I can start making soup again. I think the originaly recipe had the egg ribbons in it, and possibly some tofu, too. But really, why? So I cut it out. If you are a purest, go ahead and add it back in, but you'll have to figure out how much.

Make it, and think sweet thoughts about Michael Phelps and his 12,000 calorie a day diet.

If I could eat 12,000 calories a day, and not gain a pound (and not have to live in a swimming pool), I think I might have an Oreo shake for every meal. Maybe. Or maybe I would eat loaves of hot sourdough bread slathered in butter.


Oh the joy!

At least until you are so full you feel like puking.


What would you eat, if you were Michael Phelps?



sick photo originally downloaded by Hutch, which is a picture of some crazy spraypaint stencil art created by the same. The Littlest Carrotstick does not have the pukes. Just a cold. Thanks for asking.

attention shoppers!

Some men like to hunt. They hunt with guns, out in the wild. If they are successful, there is blood. Gross.

Some women also like to hunt. But their prey gets bagged after a little parley with a credit card, in a store. Usually, there is no blood. Unless it is a really, really great deal.

And because I like you all so much, I am going to share :

the best deal ever!!!

I am so excited!!!!

I got the following ad in the mail this week (though it was addressed specifically to me, I don't think they'll mind me sharing their new offering):

Who knew Sears was now carrying babies?

And to think, all this time I thought babies came the hard way.

(Now, to all you who might be gifted in Reading-In-Between-The-Lines, let me just assure you, there are no lines here to read in between. This is just an example of some misguided ad executive gone amok. This is not an announcement. If you remain in doubt, let me just refer you to my previous post.)

pms poem wednesday

I know I shouldn't stay up late, when PB&J is out of town. But it seems like such a good time to Get Things Done, when the house is quiet and the kids are asleep. Unfortunately, staying up late awakens my inner bear.

Add in a little extra hormone action,

And the next day I am really unbearable.

Poor kids.

But really, if they didn't keep me so busy all day, I could be more productive during the daylight hours.

What's that?

Oh. What am I doing all day long while they are at school?

Ummmmmm. . . . . .

Let me think.

Well, I . . . . .

And then . . . .

Oh, yeah, I am very busy doing . . .

Hmmmm.


I am busy doing extremely important things.


Listen. Do not mess with me. I am too tired for this kind of early morning interrogation.

If you need something to think about, read this poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay instead:


First Fig

My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends --
It gives a lovely light!


And if that's not enough to satisfy you, read:


Second Fig

Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand:
Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!

So there. Short and sweet. Like whatever it is I spend all my time doing. It might not be important, or particularly memorable, but I'm sure it's fabulous.

While it lasts.

That's what I'm going to do today. Take a nap.

Remember the old adage: Let sleeping bears lie. Or something like that.

Now, say something nice, and then go away.

(Please, take these poems at face value only. Candle means candle, sandcastle means sandcastle. Don't go reading anything into them, or into my use of them. Ms. Millay was quite a colorful character and in no way represents the thoughts or views of any persons, both real or imagined, on this blog. Thank you.)

trading treats tuesday

Look! It's 7:47 in the morning, and I am posting! I am on. top. of. it. With the kids in school and everything, I have to be on a schedule. (It's either that, or else I am procrastinating.) So right now I am blogging, instead of making my kids:

• clean their rooms
• make their beds
• practice the piano
• floss
• brush their teeth
• pack their backpacks
• read

Sometimes I hate being the Enforcer.

This morning, I was reading Alma 51 with the kids. In it, Moroni is trying to restore peace to his war-torn land and people. It says that he was busy "SUBJECTING them to PEACE and CIVILIZATION." (Alma 51:22) (emphasis added) And, like, I totally LIKENED, because sometimes I, too, have to subject a little peace and civilization onto my people/kids.

And so it's ok that I get after my kids and beg them to say nice words to each other. And it's alright that I had to remind the Littlest Carrotstick that he really should try not to flatulate in public -- he "let a really loud One in Primary, but it was ok, Mom, because nobody heard or smelled it" -- and so I had to explain that, of course, they all really did; they were just being polite. And civilized. (Something that apparently he knows nothing about.) So he wouldn't be embarrassed. (Don't worry, he wasn't.) Because Moroni did it too! And if more people were like Moroni, then, well, the very powers of hell would be shaken. (Not that I'm saying I'm like Moroni. It's just that we both have to enforce the peace sometimes.)

So, this Trading Treats Tuesday my Treat is: Those Golden Moments When My Captain Moroni Act Works and My Kids Actually Get Along.

It's too bad only the Littlest Carrotstick looks like a peaceful, law-abiding citizen in this picture. But, hey, at least they are not fighting. Hurray for Peace and Civilization, Dawg!

What's your Treat today?

policeman picture originally downloaded by Julius Koivistoinen

cinnamon rolls

Much preparation went into getting the Carrotsticks ready for school this week:

We tried, really hard, to wean them off Late Night Olympic watching.

We came, we saw, we conquered The Mall.

And then, on Back to School Eve, the Oldest Carrotstick made an announcement:

"I need new hairspray."

"What?" says I. "We have hairspray. Use the hairspray in my bathroom."

"I can't." she said. "It stinks."

"What?!!" I asked, incredulously. "Hairspray is supposed to smell weird."

"No. I can't use that hairspray. I need this Special Brand of hairspray. It smells good."

"What??? Nobody cares what your hairspray smells like." (apparently the Oldest Carrotstick and I have communication issues. I seem to start every sentence with "what?")

"Mom. Tomorrow is the first day of school," she explained, speaking slowly and carefully, so I was sure to understand, "and people will be giving me hugs. They will notice if my hair smells freakish."

Shaking my head, and washing my hands of it, I availed myself of the supreme hand-off -- "Take it up with your dad."

She did.

She got new hairspray.

(It did not turn her hair blue. She just likes this wig. And she likes her camera. I think she looks like she should have her own show on

the Disney Channel )

So I guess I just don't get how vitally important smells are.

Unless it is the smell of homemade cinnamon rolls baking in your oven.

That is a smell I get. It is a smell very akin to Heaven.

So, on the First Week of School Good Food Friday, bake up a batch of:

Smells Better Than Your Drakkar Drenched Jr. High Boyfriend Cinnamon Rolls

1/4 c warm water
1 Tbs dry yeast
3/4 c milk, scalded
1/4 c margarine
1/4 c sugar
1 tsp salt
1 egg
3 ½ - 3 3/4 c flour

Filling:
1/4 c margarine melted
½ c sugar
2 tsp cinnamon

Glaze:
1/4 c melted margarine
1 c powdered sugar
1 tsp vanilla
2-4 Tblsp water


Soften yeast in water. Melt margarine in milk, combine all ingredients to make slightly sticky dough. Mix well. Raise away from drafts or cold until double. Punch down & raise a second time. Punch down. While dough rests, mix together filling. Roll dough into 16x4" . Cut into 1" strips.
Grease 9x13" pan. Twist a strip, make a loop to make each roll. Raise until double. Bake at 350 degrees from 20 minutes. Cover with foil if getting too brown. Cool and glaze.


Ok, so my cinnamon rolls don't look like the picture 'cause I don't like rolling 'em up and trying to cut them. The alternate method proscribed by this recipe is so much easier -- and still looks (and smells) good. Both of which are very important. Especially if you are the Oldest Carrotstick.

I wish there was a button on your computer that you could push and get a wiff of yummy cinnamon roll scent. That Gates guy really should work on that. They are that good.

Just so you know.

Smell ya later.

Cinnamon Roll picture originally downloaded by Shu Ting.

making the grade

Here in the Lunchroom, we aim to please. But it's hard please everyone. Sometimes we have to make tough decisions. Decisions that are sometimes not fully appreciated. But we do it for your own good. You simply can't have pizza everyday for lunch. However, that said, sometimes making tough calls causes us ANXIETY.

It's kind of like going to the eye doctor and looking through his many lens/fly eye contraption.You sit in his chair, looking through the fly eye thing, and he says, "Which is clearer, 1 or 2?"

He turns a few knobs and flips a few lenses, then "3 or 4?" he asks.

And again, "5 or 6?"

"7 or 8?"

Then, just to mix it up a little, "Is A better or worse?" he asks, "A or B? That's B. That's A."

You start to panic a little, because you want to give the right answer. Nobody likes to fail a test. You hesitate.

And the good doctor says, "That's B. That's A." switching lenses back and forth as he talks. "B. And A. B. B. A. and then its back to B, again," he says, now a bit impatiently.

Mamma Mia! You start to sweat, just a little, on your upper lip. You hope he doesn't notice. And at the same time you are wondering "If I say A, am I really saying 'Coke-bottle lenses' ? Does B mean normal lenses? Is 4 right, or should it be 5? If I say 8 is better than 9, does that mean I'm a good candidate for Lasik? But what if I just want contacts? What number correlates with contacts?????" You try to tell yourself to remain calm, but you hate doing badly on tests. You really want an A in eye exams.

And then finally, finally, the torture ends. He pulls the fly lens machine away from your face and you try look nonchalant as he scribbles the verdict on his little prescription pad.

I, your Lunch Lady, experience this exact same trepidation when I have the blessing of taking a meal to someone. What if they hate what I make? What if they secretly loath tomatoes, but won't tell me? What if they look at the food I make and think "who eats this kind of slop?" What if their kids only eat carrots? Or won't eat cheese? Or only eat cheese if it's melted in a soup containing potatoes, but not onions? Half the time my own kids hate what I make. (The Oldest Carrotstick insists she is allergic to salad. Salad??!!??!)

I would volunteer to take more food to people when they are sick, if only they could tell me what exactly they want to eat. I really don't want to get an "F" (for Foul) in Foods. Someone needs to come up with an "Inoffensive Food for Friends" Cookbook, full of good meals to take to your sick friends and neighbors.

If you were contributing to an I.F.F.F. cookbook, what would you include? What's your go-to dinner? Or what's the best meal anyone has ever brought you? Please, ease my pain -- give me some good suggestions. Or we just might end up bringing pizza for every meal after all.

optometry machine picture originally downloaded by John Levanen.

trading treats tuesday

Sorry.

I forgot my lunch today.

I had to call my mom to bring it.

She said she was doing stuff, and couldn't just drop EVERYTHING and bring it right away. So I had to wait. Just as the last bell was about to ring, she came.

So, at last, I finally have a treat to trade with you. I know it's 10:00 at night. But it's never too late for Treats, right? (Though, at our house, Treats at 10 usually means cold cereal.)

But not today.

Today's Treat is Simply this: Summer.

The Loosey-Goosey Days of Summer.

Days of No Structure.

No Schedule.

Days of laying around, watching syndicated reruns,

Staying up Late (especially when the Olympics are on)

And Sleeping In Late.

Running through a freezing cold sprinkler.

Of getting sunburned and bug-bitten,

Crunching on Otter Pops,

And eating corn on the cob, heavy juice-laden tomatoes, potato salad, and watermelon.

Summertime. And the living is easy.

And now it's over.

The kids tell me Summer's not officially over until sometime in September. But it really ends (at least the best part of it) when school starts. And the bell tolls tomorrow. For whom does it toll? It tolls for thee Summer . . .

Farewell, Summer. It's been fun.

Bong.



Bong.





Bong.

What's your treat? I don't mind if it's been sitting in your Lunch Sack all day (and night). I like day-old treats. Please share . . . I'm going to be lonely tomorrow. It's just going to be me and the dog. All. Day. Long.

Bell picture originally downloaded by creaking eye

rolo ice cream

It's already time for Good Food Friday! I can't believe it! Boy how time flies when you are busy being productive.

This week I:
Pulled nasty weeds out of my flowerbeds.

Cut back my roses.

Sprayed Round-Up on every weed that has the audacity to grow in the cracks in the gutters and sidewalks that surround my house.

Flossed. Regularly.

And even caught up on all my loathsome ironing.

Do you know what that means?

It means: I am procrastinating. Whenever I start doing distasteful or even meaningless tasks, it means I'm putting off doing something I really need to do. But don't want to do. Because it will be hard. And it might not turn out the way I want.

This week I even labeled all the random electronic cords and chargers that seem to multiply around my house like rabbits. And wire hangers.

I've had this problem for a while now. PB&J calls it the Ice Cream Syndrome.

"Why?" you ask.

Well, since I have something else that needs doing, and don't want to do, I'll tell you a little story.

Back in the olden days, when PB&J and I were brand new newlyweds, we moved into our very first apartment. The next day, PB&J left for work, leaving me to unpack and organize our new home. I dug into the tremendous task, full of good intentions. But there were a lot of boxes. And things. And stuff. And it was a little overwhelming. And then I found an ice cream maker my aunt had given us as a wedding gift.

I had never made homemade ice cream before. And since 2+2=7, I had to make ice cream, as a surprise, for dessert that night.

*sigh* I was going to be such a great little wife.

PB&J, needless to say, would have preferred an organized, unpacked and clean house instead.

Weird.

And so, let's put off the inevitable even longer and make:

Eventually Procrastinating Can Clean Your House Rolo Ice Cream

13 oz Rolos (1 bag plus some)
1 can sweetened condensed milk
5 ½ oz Hershey chocolate syrup
2 ½ pints heavy cream
1 ½ pints half and half
milk, (to make up the difference between the amount of liquid you already have, all combined, and what your Ice Cream Freezer directions say you need)

Melt candy on low heat in pan. Add milk and syrup. Stir till smooth. Set aside to cool. Add creams to milk mixture and pour into ice cream freezer and freeze according to freezer instructions.

This ice cream would really taste good with Rolo Cookies. Maybe I should make some. Or maybe I should learn how to make Rolo Candies from scratch. Now, that would be a productive use of my time. I wonder if Wikihow has directions.

What?

What was that?

What am I procrastinating doing?

I'm not going to tell you.

It might not turn out.

Then I'd be embarrassed.

a rose by any other name

When George Washington was elected the 1st President of the United States, no one could decide what to call him.

They considered:

"His Elective Majesty"

"His Mightiness"

and even

"'His Highness the President of the United States of America and Protector of the Rights of the Same."

The Oldest Carrotstick has experienced some difficulty of her own in knowing what to call me, her beloved mother.

The best title she's come up with is --

(please note: to get the full effect you must say this with incredible passion and vehemence, all the while feeling, with great intensity, the martyr)

"Killer of Joy"

(The trick is trying not to laugh aloud while such histrionics are being delivered.)

I also take great joy in the prospect of one day being known as:

"Murderer of Love"

(Click on the link if you can't remember what movie that's from.)

In the end, the Founding Fathers settled on simply "Mr. President". Perhaps she will settle on something simple, yet dramatic, like "Mrs. Ruining My Life Forever Mother"?

'Til then . . . Hail to the Chief High Executive Mother.

(P.S. It's extremely important you pronounce "Hail" correctly -- it's "H-ay-ll" not "H-ell")

trading treats tuesday

Ah. Trading Treats Tuesday. How I love alliteration. And assonance. And especially onomatopoeia. But alliteration's the rhetorical device any English major (or English speaker) can really get behind. Trite, but true.


My Treat this week is: Trying New Things.

Hard to do sometimes.

Sometimes, at the Swimming Pool Of Life, you are dragged, kicking and screaming, onto the Diving Board of New Things, and though you might try to Hang On For Dear Life, Life's Lifeguard will somehow find a way to Throw You In. (Strangely Capitalized Words courtesy of John Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress". It's another English Major Obscure Classic.)


True, people might be standing on the side, bemusedly observing your torment. And taking pictures. But, miraculously, there are often Helpful Hands waiting to catch you, when you finally get Pushed In.


Recently, I, your dear Lunch Lady, was pushed, Kicking and Screaming (Weeping, Wailing, and Gnashing My Teeth) into the Pool of Being a Parent of a Real Teen-Age Girl.



It'll be ok, though, right?



We'll all survive this New Thing, right?





Hello?





Helpful Hands?







Anyone?













What's your Treat Today? Come on in, the water's fine!

(Thanks to the Poor Terrified Kid for the great picture fodder)

in the bag

In honor(??) of my new calling in the Young Womens organization, I decided to inaugurate my new church bag yesterday.

I bought it at a quirky little store in Virginia at the beginning of July, but I hadn't used it yet. I worried it was a little too "out there" for the conservative ladies of the Relief Society.

Since the Young Women are all so crazy as it is, I don't think anyone will notice.

My kids are only a little embarrassed by it/me.

neim@n marcu$ dip

Occasionally, during the hot summer months, you might find that your Carrotsticks have wilted a little.

The best way to revive them is to throw them in some water.

Even a germ-infested bacteria breeding cess/swimming pool seems to work fine.

Just try to avoid the temptation of nibbling on them after they've been dipped in that.

Instead, on Good Food Friday, you might want to try this dip instead:


Cryptosporidium Free Neim@n Marcu$ Dip

6 slices bacon, fried and crumbled
1 ½ c shredded cheddar cheese
1 small package sliced almonds
3-4 green onions, sliced
1 c sour cream
1 c mayo
1 tsp lemon juice
½ tsp garlic powder


Mix sour cream and mayo together. Add rest of ingredients. Chill. Serve as dip or spread. Also good on baked potatoes.


This is one of those urban legend recipes, you know: "I was eating lunch with my girlfriends in the Neim@n Marcu$ restaraunt, and they served this fabulous appetizer. And I said to my waiter, 'This dip is so good! I would love this recipe.' And when the waiter came back, he handed me a copy of the recipe. I was delighted. That is until I got my credit card bill later that month, and found out they had billed me $250 for that recipe. So now I'm going to share it with you for free, just to spite them." One of those.

In our never ending attempt to dispel this kind of myth, we in the Lunchroom have made multiple attempts to contact Neim@n Marcu$ at their headquarters in Texas. They, however, have refused to answer our calls made to random phone numbers in the Dallas area.

Though they may have "No Comment," our comment is "This Dip is Delicious!" Try it. It'll impress all your friends and family at your next "Let's Contract a Recreational Water Illness" Party.

a helpful hint

When cutting your husband's hair

right before he leaves on a business trip,

Never,

no matter what happens,

EVER

say

"Uh oh."

Just a little something I thought I'd pass on.


reverse mohawk picture originally downloaded by sullydude

trading treats tuesday and the winner???

Dear Reader:

It's Trading Treats Tuesday once again. And, THANK YOU SO MUCH for last week's treats!!! I loved your comments. They were happy little bloggy surprises in my inbox. But now, on to this week's treat:

Bacon.

There is nothing quite like crispy (not flabby) crunchy greasy bacon.

Nothing.

And there is nothing like the total inconvenience of actually cooking bacon.

Too bad you can't have bacon without bacon grease.

But wait! You can, my friends! You can! This Trading Treats Tuesday, let's celebrate pre-cooked bacon and all that it brings to the classic BLT.

Nuke it for just a few seconds and you've got hot, crunchy bacon, ready to top off summer's ultimate sandwich. Because nothing (except Wapiti) says summer than BLTs -- especially if they're made with fresh-from-the-garden, homegrown, sun-ripened tomatoes.

It's extra-super nice when your kind and generous neighbors (who actually heed the prophet's counsel and PLANT A GARDEN) take pity on your with your miserably hard, dull orange store bought tomatoes, and share their bounteous harvest with you:

And even better 'cause you didn't have to stink up your house with the smell of cooked bacon. And even more better 'cause you didn't have to coat your kitchen with a layer of bacon grease. And even more better-ER 'cause you didn't have find a way to dispose of that pesky congealing bacon grease. True, the pre-cooked stuff is not quite as tasty, but the conveniences far outweigh that minor failing.

And then, to top it all off, how great is it when your mom brings you a lovely loaf of homemade bread to use in the making of your fabulous BLT??????

So there you go, THREE treats: pre-cooked bacon, and my generous neighbor's homegrown tomatoes, and homemade bread from dear ol' Mom.

And now, as this Trading Treat Tuesday is, in fact, my 100th post, it is time to announce the winner of the Sack Lunch Conspiracy 100th Post Contest! But first,

THANK YOU AGAIN!!!!!!!!

to all of you who played! I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE your comments. And I have to say that, with the exception of Kninsa's Lucille Ball-like antics in a vat of pomegranate seeds, I love the same things you do. (Thank you for reminding me of all that is good in life.)

And so,

without further ado,

the

winner,

totally and completely non-biasedly picked in a highly technical procedure by our friends at Random.org,

is:

Ubermom's BFF, Kristen!

Kristen, I am (unfortunately) still working on your prize pack. But, if you, or Ubermom, will drop me a little note (thelunchlady.slc@gmail.com) with your address, I will get it to you as soon as it's done.

Thanks for playing along, dear readers. I really do love you all!

Even though I don't have a prize to bribe you with today, I would love to exchange treats with you! What are you loving this week? Leave a comment!

tomato picture originally downloaded by hatschiputh

tunnel of love chocolate cake

It is 11:58. The Oldest Carrotstick has somehow convinced PB&J to take her to the bookstore to pick up a copy of a book that is being released August 2.

Nuts, huh?

And speaking of nuts, on this Good Food Friday, you gotta try this great cake, chock full of nuts. (How's that for a seque?) It's the nuttiness of this cake that makes the magic happen -- when you cut into it, it has a nice, gooey, molten fudge center.

Come on, say it with me, "Mmmmmmmmm."

It's not unlike what happens when a vampire bites into his victim/girlfriend, right? (Unless you're allergic to nuts and are going into anaphylactic shock, then you say "Arggghhhhhuuummmppphhh------" and motion frantically for epinephrine.)

So, on this twilight eve, if you are NOT allergic to nuts, enjoy:

Chocolate Cake the Vampire Way

Cake:
1 3/4 c butter, softened
1 3/4 c granulated sugar
6 eggs
2 c powdered sugar
2 1/4 c all-purpose flour
3/4 c unsweetened cocoa
2 c chopped nuts (nuts are essential to this recipe)
Glaze:
3/4 c powdered sugar
1/4 c unsweetened cocoa
1 ½ to 2 Tblsp milk

Heat oven to 350. Grease and flour bundt pan. In large bowl, beat butter and granulated sugar until light and fluffy. Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Gradually add powdered sugar; blend well. By hand, stir in remaining cake ingredients until well blended. Spoon batter into prepared pan; spread evenly. Bake at 350 for 58-62 minutes (since this cake has a soft tunnel of fudge, ordinary doneness tests cannot be used. Accurate oven temperature and bake time are essential.) Cool upright in pan on wire rack 1 hour; invert onto serving plate. Cool completely.

In small bowl, combine glaze ingredients until well blended. Spoon over top of cake, allowing some to run down sides

You can even take some creative license and drizzle chocolate, or even better -- raspberry puree -- on the plate to give it a little more vampire realism. Bella told me she loves this cake. She wants to serve it at her wedding. You should try it. See if you agree.

cake picture originally downloaded by hfb

moon picture originally downloaded by *Muhammed*

Some people might think it is nuts to pay extra for these super stylish 3D glasses.