She's so feisty, I can't help but see myself in her and love her to death. And since her sister went off to college, N has become my shenanigans road dawg, and I do believe it's brought us closer.
I mean, listen, instead of telling me I'm uncool or embarrassing, she's usually the first in line to participate in my foolishness. How many moms can say that?
Happy Birthday, my Black Queen-in-Training! I look forward to being by your side as you make this world your bitch!
*smooches...just for my schmoo-pie today*
---------- ain't she grand?
In typical Jaded fashion, I tend to stay off of social media during big US holidays, because sometimes I just get tired of all the talk about the same damn thing. Mother's Day is no exception. I mean, of course I enjoy seeing photos of everyone's mom--I'm nosy like that--but it's the memes and overly-saccharine status messages that just do me in. Things like "Nothing is more rewarding/important/meaningful than motherhood" or "My mom is my best friend!" or "I'm now complete because I have this child." You get the picture. I hate that shit.
At first I thought "Jaded, that's because you're dead inside" but no, I think maybe some of y'all are a little too obsessed with buying into the Myth of Motherhood.
Being a mom isn't EVERYTHING. It really isn't. I mean, my kids are cool people, were cool from jump, and we have fun together and OF COURSE I care about and love them, but they are not my life. They are my job and responsibility. I brought them into this world and it's now my JOB and RESPONSIBILITY to provide them with the tools they'll need to carry on well as adults. Those tools can include lots of things, but that's basically my JOB and RESPONSIBILITY. I was lucky enough to have cute babies, too, so that made it easy for me to want to do these things for them.
My life, however, is not defined by these girls. And my best friends are adults who are my age or at least in my generation or adjacent. I was not incomplete before having a child. I was actually fine. A little reckless and quite drunk a lot, but fine. When they move on to their own homes and lives, I will be fine, too. We will come together on occasion, eat, gossip, sing off-key, and make fun of people, but we will live our individual lives and be fine.
I honor and appreciate the women who raised me and made it their job to take responsibility for my upbringing, but there is more to life--MY life, at least--than being a mom.
But I'm dead inside, so what do I know.
*smooches...fresh off a smooth gossip sesh with my mom*
---------- what? that's how we bond!
In another episode of "Raquel Is a Better Parent Than You," below is an email K sent to N's vice principal. It brought a (thug) tear to my eye. Pay special attention to the bold portion; that's where it is evident that she is my child.
Hello Mrs. [Vice Principal], My name is K. I am N's older sister. I am a freshman at [fancy school that costs LOTS of money] studying Electrical Engineering and Sociology. When I turned 18, N was very excited because she wanted me to chaperone one of her school trips. However, when I asked about her senior trips, for the only one she will have, chaperones must be over 21. I don't understand why this age requirement is so high given that I am legally an adult now and I was hoping you could explain it to me. The only reason I would think it would be a problem was if alcohol was involved but this is an eighth grade trip to [typical local senior trip-type place]. I was also hoping that despite it, you would allow me to chaperone the trip anyway. I am very responsible and kids younger than me tend to obey me, so there wouldn't be an issue with that. I also think that N deserves this, given the amount of ostracization and semi-bullying she has had to put up with for the past three years. I know N really wants to go on this trip but I fear just how much fun she will have when she is constantly excluded from any group activities. She deserves and should have at least one person to have fun with her, who wants to be with her and not just a buddy she's been paired up with. I can be that person since I will be home by then. This will be one of her last memories of this school and I want it to be an excellent one. N told me that it was the Chancellor's rule though she couldn't explain; I understand if it may not be possible to allow me to chaperone but I am pleading with you to make this one exception. I apologize for sending this email so late. I am in the last two weeks of classes before finals and as I'm sure you know, it gets very hectic around this time. Thank you for hearing me out, K P.S. I cc'd my mother on this as well. She knows about this situation and will probably want to know what I said.
*smooches...resisting the urge to 'reply-all' with: SHE TOLD YOU!*
---------- after years of witnessing my "letters to corporate" K really went all in for her first one!
Whenever someone says "I could never raise kids in the City" I look at my babies and I know that those people are wrong. The City is the BEST place to raise my daughters. Not only are they surrounded by people who look like them, they're also exposed to so many other cultures. What better way to learn about life? Case in point, K and her friends:
After such an amazingly difficult and heart-wrenching week, it was pure bliss to see these kids together, laughing, talking and eating all the damn food like teenagers are wont to do having a great time together. They have the world at their feet and so much potential waiting to be tapped. I'm excited to see where they end up in life, and equally upset that world events will try to sap their greatness. But at least I have their backs. Whatever it takes and by any means necessary.
I will continue to fight for days like this, where we're surrounded by friends and family who love us and make us happy. I will continue to fight for my babies' future. Anything, just to keep these smiles shining bright.
My baby is 18, y'all!
With her Guela, sis and auntie
K has always been the oldest of the cousins!
Good times all around!
How beautiful is my family?!
What did you do with your Saturday?
*smooches...still on a party high*
----------- it was such a perfect day...
My babycakes turns 18 tomorrow. That little bit that barely fit over my torso is now a full-grown, able to vote, adult. WOW.
Look at those cheeks!
We started her coonery lessons early.
I didn't crop this pic on purpose; K w/her Celia. They were BFFs!
Where the panda obsession began.
K the baby model. (c) 1995 Celia M.
I want to tell her that the world is hers for the taking, that nothing can stop her, and whatever she wants in life she can manifest, but this past week has made me doubt this advice is true. At the very least, I speak into the Universe that my baby get what she needs.
This advice is as much for me as it is for her. To say I was at the precipice of a downward spiral in college is an understatement. Having a kid, for real, straightened me out (a little bit). Having to be a role model and caregiver and nurturer and nurse and educator and guardian and nutritionist and enforcer got us both through these 18 years with minimal scars: only one of us had to go to therapy! (Hint: it wasn't me.)
During her college orientation. COLLEGE!!!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY LOVE.
YOU'RE MOMMA'S SPECIAL PRINCESS.
NEVER FORGET IT.
Partners in crime for life!
And a special shout out to everyone who helped me raise her. You guys rock my socks!
*smooches...just for my boog-schmoog*
---------- how adorable was/is my baby???
An email I sent to N's principal, vice principal and the parent coordinator of N's middle school, along with the text of the email I sent N's science teacher. Both speak for themselves. Names were removed because I felt like it.
--------------------------
Hello, Below is the text of an email I sent to Ms. _______, N's science teacher, this morning, regarding an incident that occurred in the science classroom yesterday. I rarely try to interfere with another teacher's classroom tactics and discipline methods unless I see that it's not constructive. This is one of those instances and I wanted to bring it to your attention. Thank you, Raquel Penzo
--------------------------
Ms. ________ I hope this note finds you well. N spoke with me about what happened yesterday in your class, and I found it very upsetting. While I understand that she was disruptive in your class, and she's been told to apologize for that, you handled it poorly first by shaming her instead of disciplining her, and then by speaking to her in a dismissive and rather catty manner. Making N sit apart from the class and not allowing her to take notes because she tried to be funny in class seems excessive and unnecessary. All you manage to do with punishments of that nature is shame a child. This is NOT what I send N to school for. But I would have overlooked it had you not then gone a step further and made a snippy comment about being surprised that N didn't raise her hand when you asked that class who'd still take up smoking even after seeing the side effects. What was the purpose of this, besides hurting N's feelings and making her cry? What you didn't realize with your carelessness, and what I can only assume was a desire to get one more dig in to the student who disrupted your class, is that N's paternal grandmother, whom she was very close to, died last spring from cancer that was caused in part by smoking. She was very upset about what happened in your class when she came home. I expect that you'll make this right with N today and apologize for being mean. There's no need for that. I've been an educator and have had to run a classroom full of students with learning and attention challenges, and I know that getting them focused takes hard work. But it never calls for shaming. Please feel free to contact me to discuss this further if you'd like. Regards, Raquel Penzo
*smooches...telling bitches off in the King's English*
----------- she's lucky I didn't just roll up on her and act a fool; my momma raised me better than that.
Sometimes, in the middle of all the crazy and the stress, I take a step back, a deep breath and take it all in. Ten years ago I was still married, living in Riverdale with a third grader and a toddler and a pretty decent job as a program assistant at Horace Mann School, and taking writing classes at CCNY. I thought it was a comfortable place to be in life. There was a nasty undercurrent of unhappiness, yes, but like a true recovering Catholic, I still knew how to swallow the bad feelings and put on a happy face.
Today, I don't have it all together and most days I don't know how I'll survive to see another day under the crushing weight of my responsibilities, but I make it happen. I truly amaze myself with how cunning and creative and strong I can be, even if I doubt myself every step along the way. And honestly, if I could do all over again I would NEVER have kids, and that's the honest-to-your-Judeo-Christian-god truth. However, seeing my girls, almost all grown up, on a good path in life and pretty much each other's comfort in this world, keeps me grounded and relaxed in times of struggle. If I can make them alright then I will be alright and then everything will be alright.
I can't believe they were ever teeny-tiny babies. Yes, there is a five-year age difference.
"I've heard it said That people come into our lives for a reason Bringing something we must learn And we are led To those who help us most to grow If we let them And we help them in return Well, I don't know if I believe that's true But I know I'm who I am today Because I knew you... Like a comet pulled from orbit As it passes a sun Like a stream that meets a boulder Halfway through the wood Who can say if I've been changed for the better? But because I knew you I have been changed for good"
*smooches...taking comfort in a continuous job well-done*
---------- yes, those lyrics are from Wicked. Yes, we're seeing it again this spring. Yes you can come with us. No I won't buy your ticket.
Or maybe not, seeing as all Mari wanted for her birthday was a pair of Minnie Mouse ears like she hadwhen she was a little girl. And of course, because I'm one of those people that likes to spoil kids and then complain about how spoiled they are, I bought them for her.
They shoulda never gave her an iPhone!
Happy birthday to the first spoiled, bratty poop-face I ever helped raise!
*smooches...just for Mari today*
--------- can't wait to celebrate when I visit in a few weeks. Patty Boom-Boom's, here we come!
After I spent my money and my time to take this ungrateful heffa all the way up to Boston to visit colleges she had THE NERVE to disturb my most sacred of rituals: daytime bus sleeping.
And I'm sure her sister giggled her bony ass off as the picture was being taken. Rude ass kids... I mean, she's lucky to still be alive after pulling this stunt!
*smooches...unafraid to show my ugly sleeping face*
--------- it's not like y'all have to wake up next to me or anything
So, news broke today about a nanny who allegedly stabbed two kids under her care in the family's Upper West Side apartment. While reading the article online I made the dire mistake of reading the comments/reactions to the story, and let me tell you...a lot of these judgy motherfuckers need to go somewhere. In particular the folks who are BLAMING THE MOTHER for having the audacity to hire a nanny in the first place.
Have several seats and a large tumbler of shut the fuck up. Please and thank you.
It does not matter if I have all the money in the world or barely two nickels to rub together- if I want to hire someone to help me take care of my kids, OR RAISE THEM FOR ME, that's my damn prerogative. The nerve of people to think this woman deserved to have her children murdered because she was what they perceived to be a spoiled, kept woman who handed off motherly duties to the hired help... WHO DOES THAT?
Do people really think that giving birth means your entire existence has to revolve around your kids now? Moms & dads can't have outside, non-kid interests? It's just house arrest until the college years? Fuck outta here with all that noise! If that were the case, do you realize how many parents would kill the kids themselves?
Listen up because I'm about to break it down for you.
YES, when you decide to have children, those children are your responsibility. You have to think of their best interest and arm them with the tools they'll need later in life. But do you know what's in a child's best interest? To have happy parents. Parents who've had enough respite to deal with whatever fresh hell the world (and their kids) will throw at them each day. Sometimes that means finding someone to mind the kids while pursuing a rejuvenating activity or some adult/nekkid time with your partner (don't forget your partner, ever; that's a sure-fire way to end up in divorce court. Trust.), away from the stress of diapers and whining and Nick Jr.
So let's focus on getting justice for these two children and not hate on this woman because she was able to afford an Upper West Side life, okay? I mean, two of her kids were just KILLED, for chrissake! She's a human being with feelings!
*smooches...vowing to never again read comments on news articles*
--------- now that all that's been said, can we please address the fact that this nanny is Dominican? UGH, BITCH, UGH!! Just ruining life for the rest of us!
When my girls were little, I made it a point to make books and reading a big part of their lives. We had TONS of books in the house and read to them often, and I'm proud to say my daughters are both still big readers. Seeing their eyes widen with excitement when discussing a favorite book or a great new find makes me excited for them, too.
I was contemplating this as I cleaned out an old USB drive and found a children's book I had been working on, A Tale of Two Sisters, that was based on K & N (I think with the 20 days of InDesign that I have left, I may work on printing it for them as a gift), and that jostled up an old memory of their favorite books growing up.
For K, it was The Foot Book by Dr. Seuss. This child was completely obsessed with the book and made us read it to her multiple times throughout the day. My favorite story to tell is that once, I tried to skip over a few of the pages because I was so sick of reading it, and with her limited motor skills K reached over and turned the page back to what I had skipped and smacked at the book. She was basically saying, as only a seven-month-old can say, "Bitch I ain't stupid! You skipped this page with the clown!" It's safe to say we all had that book memorized! She eventually outgrew The Foot Book, but for almost a year it was all she wanted.
For N, her obsession in a particular book manifested itself when she was a toddler and could speak a little bit; that's when she fell in love with Spike & Tonya Lee's Please, Baby, Please. This reading experience was much better than I had with the The Foot Book, however, because N only sat still for one story at a time before wandering off to stare at whatever shiny thing caught her attention. But I have to say, I'll always remember how she cackled at the baby's naked butt in the story during the bath time scene and would yell out "PEAS BABY PEAS!" as she tried to read along.
Experiences like this remind me of a couple of things: 1- motherhood sucked a lot of the time, but the sweet moments were super sweet, and 2- good books and the stories they contain stay with you forever. This is what I'd like my stories to do.
This is why I write.
*smooches...hoping one of my tales will be your favorite*
--------- but I suppose they'd have to get published first, huh?
I've been on a mission to get my life in order. I've sorta got a plan in place for my health and fitness (although recent doctor visits have thrown me for a loop. BLAH. You don't wanna know.) and I've tiptoed into the financial security level of adulthood. But the mountain I've yet to conquer? Maintaining an organized apartment.
This month, however, I just dove into making sense of the mess that engulfs me- emptying out one bag of unopened LATE NOTICE bills from 2007 at a time and shredding papers as if the feds were on their way to indict me for insider trading. And let me tell you, I've been coming across the most interesting artifacts from my life as a frustrated wife and then as a new divorcée.
One such trip down memory lane found me face-to-face with the realization that, at one time long, long ago, I used to look up to Oprah. I thought she was an amazing person who only wanted good things for me, so I subscribed to her magazine as a way to compensate for the fact that I didn't have time to watch her show.
If you were (or are) a subscriber, and I don't know if she still has this as part of her magazine, then you'll remember that she always had these tear-outs with poignant, introspective questions for you to answer in order to become the "best you" you could be. I LIVED for those tear-outs as if the meaning of life were embedded in the folio text of each one. One of the folders I dug up in the Hoarders episode I call my room contained at least two dozen of these sheets, one of which was filled out:
My handwriting looks crazy, too.
My heart went out to that 25-year-old who found herself burdened with two small kids when really, she never even wanted ONE, and a husband who, well, wasn't the one for her. She was losing it on the inside but didn't know why or how to fix it.
Somehow I made it through my marriage, and I'm seven short years away from surviving active motherhood, and I can't even really tell you how I did and am doing it. How am I still here, sober, relatively in shape and able to wear a smile sometimes and mean it? White Baby Jesus only knows.
Now, let's see if that same chick, supposedly older and wiser, can survive her student loan payments and finding a place for all the laundry she washed last weekend...
*smooches...realizing how resilient humans really are*
---------- when you notice all the shit we can adapt to, it really blows the mind like a two-dollar hooker with no teeth!
Father's Day is coming up and unfortunately that means that all over Black Twitter and Black Facebook, some single mothers will be on some ol' "It's my day, too, because I'm his mother and his father!"
Ma'am. Sit allllll the way down.
Unless you are able to produce and contribute sperm cells in the life-creating process, you are NOT a father, regardless of what your household duties are. Hard as you may work, all you are is a single mother who doesn't have a male role model/father figure in your child's life. This is not to discredit all you do for your child; this is to smack some reality up in you.
You cannot be a father. There are things that only a man can teach his children. Please just accept that and move on with your life. No need to sully the day for real dads with your bitter feelings toward your baby daddy. There are quite a few men who take their job as dad very seriously and your encroachment of their day is rude and annoying.
And fellas, please note that this same sentiment applies to you. Regardless of how useless or ratchet or just plumb not there your baby momma is, you are NOT a mother and will never be. Again, there are some things that only a mother can teach her children and you don't have it.
Men and women are DIFFERENT. We just are. And each of us brings something unique to the parenting table. Enjoy your role and work it to the max and your child will have a fighting chance in life.
In just a couple of short years, my eldest child, K, will be a college freshman. ZOINKS! And even though most of the schools she is considering are on the Right East Coast, I'm starting to prepare all of us for her departure.
Her 1st birthday; Hornell, NY
I need N to be more independent of her older sister and take charge around the house more. I need K to be fully prepared to cook her own meals, wash her own clothes and avoid dangerous situations college freshmen get into as much as possible. And I need to be at peace with the fact that she'll soon be an adult who will make mistakes I cannot prevent. And also that she's not my chunky little K-Bear anymore ::weeps into keyboard::
To that end, I've been looking for ways to spend one-on-one time with each kid, starting with K. They both have different core interests so it's easy to split this us: K likes artsy, showy things; N prefers sporty and crafty things.
Wicked fanatic
Last month I took K to see the Broadway musical "Wicked" as her belated Christmas gift. Not only did we take in a show, we took advantage of Restaurant Week in Manhattan and had a pre-theater grubfest at Le Cirque. And if you're sitting there thinking the word grubfest shouldn't be in the same sentence with Le Cirque, you're right. That place is faaa-aaan-CEE! So we dressed up. As in real shoes and makeup and combed hair. It was the most amazing production I've seen since "West Side Story" and "Chicago" and "The Lion King". I mean, y'all just have to go see it. We're going again in October so maybe you should come with us?
Two WOTLESS gyals
And just this Friday, I took K to her first concert (according to her, but really her first concert was Michelle Branch, Gavin Degraw and this other guy I can't recall Joe Firstman; she just refuses to acknowledge it because it was at Manhattan College and not at a real concert venue). We reveled in the soca greatness that is Kes the Band, David Rudder, Swappi and Benjai. OH WHAT FUN WE HAD!! So much so that we'll be seeing Kes again in September.
For N, I've already plotted out which baseball and basketball games I will be taking her to, as well as trips to go rockwall climbing and to the bookmaking workshops at Michael's (it's an art store here in NYC. Do y'all have those?).
Before I know it this time will slip away from me and BOTH my babies will be gone. My plan here is to make the most of it, plant some seeds of hidden wisdom and then sit back and watch my babies bloom into womanhood with great heads on their shoulders. So far, so good. I'm going broke with all these fancy dinners and shows and trips out of the country but in the end I know it will be worth it.
I mean, you can't take it with you, right? The memories, however, will last a lifetime.
*smooches...just realizing my babies aren't babies*
---------- now please excuse me while I go somewhere to look at their old pictures and sob inconsolably.
...how to respect women. That no really does mean no even if the woman is 100% naked. And it is definitely no if she's drunk. And that it is always wrong to play grab-ass in a crowded space, on the street or in school. Or anywhere for that matter.
...that there are better ways to release anger than to harm or disrespect others, regardless of how they feel they've been harmed or disrespected.
...to love and care for the children they make, no matter who the child's mother is. Tell them if the woman is not fit to be the mother of their progeny then she's most certainly not worth laying down with, either.
...homosexuality or femininity is not a curse or a disease you can catch. They must learn to respect that all men are different, love different and live different.
...that a well-rounded education will make them an awesome human being. Don't just become a doctor or lawyer or business executive. Study dance and art and nature and "home economics"; to learn as much as they can for the rest of their lives and always be open to new theories while still maintaining a foundation of beliefs.
If I had a son, I'd make sure he knew all of that.
And how to get the hell out of the way when their woman is pissed off!
*smooches...hoping that all of you with sons are on the job*
------------ these are the boys that will be courting my daughters, after all. I need these boys to be worthy of my jewels...
Yesterday, Twitter featured a "Dominican Problems" trending topic that was supposed to feature some funny/true issues unique to Dominican people. There were silly ones, ignorant ones and some that served as social commentary, and it was the latter that made me write this post.
When there are funny TTs on Twitter and they're harmless enough, I share them with K because we have a similar sense of humor. When I told her about "Dominican Problems" (which was probably fashioned after the "Meatball Problems" list from the reality TV show "Jersey Shore") she quickly retorted, "Oh, you mean like: I don't have enough money to support my three families?"
And of course I burst out laughing (because it's true) but then it made me sad that this is Ks impression of her people (because, well, it's true!).
Earlier this year we found out about my mother's grandfather, who had 40+ kids with three different women in La Descubierta. Let me explain this so you'll understand: La Descubierta is a small-ass town. It's the equivalent of a three-block radius in Rhode Island. SMALL. The cojones on this man...
Tie this in with the fact that my paternal grandmother had kids with three different men (and the Penzo dude that gave us our name was married to someone else when he fathered my father, aunts and uncles. Meaning my grandmother was his mistress. FOR SHAME!) and Mami & Titi Gloris have different dads (as do Mari & I) and well, K doesn't think too highly of Dominicans from the island (her words, not mine).
All she sees right now is infidelities and secret families and philandering husbands and single mothers, and I wish I could show her a different reality but those are few and far between (in ANY culture, unfortunately). I want her to be proud of her heritage, and I think on some small level she is, but she has no faith in the Dominican family structure.
It was never my intention to raise a Jaded child, but with ancestors like ours... ::sigh::
*smooches...not loving DRs reputation right now* ---------- it's all a big joke until your child points out your people's ain't-shit-ness
Most days you will not like your children. You will look them in the face and ask yourself what kind of fool were you to have birthed such creatures. You will fantasize about something that will suddenly leave you childless, and then you will feel guilty about it because you're not supposed to have those feelings and "they didn't ask to be born."
Most days you will find yourself packing a bag to just up and leave and say FUCK THEM and just start over where no one knows you and having kids is against the law.
Most days you will understand that true human nature is violent and beastly, and can relate to the mothers on death row.
And every day you hope that in the end the suppression of your desire to leave or kill them pays off, knowing that there's only a 50-50 chance your wish will come true. But peer pressure and public scrutiny is a bitch, so you trudge on, play the role of mom and wait to see what happens. Because you're told you're supposed to love these little people for the simple fact that they're yours. Sometimes, though, and other parents might be afraid to tell you this but I'm not, you just don't. You tolerate them because that's your job, and if you do anything other than be a mother to your children you become persona non grata on the planet.
Once in a while something nice happens and you're all rainbows and unicorns and over the moon about your kids, but if you tally up the good and bad times you'll realize what a horrible investment you've made. Horrible, terrible, no damn good.
If I were you, oh childless one, I'd tie my tubes today. TWICE.
This is my fault for trying to live forever...
*smooches...trapped in a hell of my own design* ---------- and warning you to not end up like me! I'm officially cured of my baby fever; of that you can be sure.
People- we've got a MAN DOWN CODE 10 situation! All hands on deck PRONTO!
N is fucking up at school, y'all. Believe it or not a child of mine is missing assignments and not performing at her best, and this situation has to be nipped in the bud ASAP.
This morning she and I (and her dad...1 hour LATE, but that's another topic for another day) met with her dean to discuss what N's teachers have reported to date: She's not focusing or listening in class, the homework is missing or incomplete and in general she's half-assing it. When asked, N either gives the dead stare or says she forgot or didn't hear the teacher [insert Jaded side-eye here] or is distracted by her classmates [way to pass the buck *smh*].
While I understand there may be an emotional or hormonal component to this problem, what I'm looking for right now are tips on how to get her to stay on task. Maybe you have a kid who's unfocused, too, or you've known or taught someone like N who is incredibly smart but rather scatterbrained, or maybe I'm describing YOU as a 6th grader- whatever the case, any temporary solutions we can enact while we get to the root of the problem and fix it, would be so appreciated!
Please feel free to email me or leave it in the comments :)
*smooches...fresh out of ideas with this child* ---------- because every time I get a "N is missing an assignment" letter all I want to do is beat her ass. I haven't yet, but my belt is oh-so-close to connecting with her ass... Won't you help save an 11-year-old's life today?
Read my first published story, Grey Matter, at Blue Lake Review online.
Also, you asked for it so here it is: click below to buy my book, My Ego Likes the Compliments...And Other Musings on Writing, for just $10 plus $2.00 flat shipping rate to anywhere in the continental US.
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