Oh, hello, let me get my projector feed. Hi, Chris. Oh, hi there. The rest of you, I saw it 20 minutes ago. Actually, no, Tristan just joined. I saw you, Tyler. Hello. Okay, join zoom. Welcome to January 9th. So I am interested in conversation. Oh, stop that. So cool jumps joined. Here is a meeting doc. So last week we were talking about and then throughout the getter throughout the week we were talking about. We had this naming question and we sort of brainstormed a week ago and left with last week's notes have sort of few topics, potential names that were listed. I thought about it and thought about it and ended up liking accumulator the best. So I was just going to come back to this group and say, what do you all think about if we name the former thing formerly as the meter implement sorry, I'm not the bachelor. This is the meter implementation. Yes, yeah, I get myself confused. So I like the accumulator the most. I had proposed differentiator and the notion being that the meter implementations job is to compute all the change that happens over a period of time. And in some sense that is a differentiator, but it's also an accumulator. So we're accumulating all this, the sum of differences over a period of time. That's the way I think of it now. If anyone wants to propose another name or fight for something else, I will, I will listen. I don't, I don't want to be, I don't, I don't know. I think accumulator sort of most is the most conventional choice that we might make. In any case, the point of that discussion was to get to this metrics SDK, SDK specification, which has been an ongoing PR in the spec repo. My goal is to update that with this renaming and then push forward on that. Again, it'll happen next week. So if anyone else has anything to say, potentially we can talk about it, but otherwise I will propose that we move forward with accumulator and you'll see that we're showing up in a document next week. The topic, which I thought was most interesting came up both in the Gitter earlier this week with Tristan leading the charge and then also, also Yuri ended up asking the same type of question. And John contributed some of this to the conversation as well. He answered the best that I could in this, in the Gitter last week on the fourth here. So let's talk about this because it didn't really end. This conversation didn't end. It kind of was left open. Tristan, you raised it first, but I felt like I was prepared for the question because we had discussed it in our metrics like working group in August. We can go looking, I have gone and looked at other metrics APIs. Many of them are kind of concrete libraries. They're not facades or there's no API STK separation there. So those ones don't necessarily give us much to work with. But there are some out there. Micrometer is the one that comes to mind, which is essentially a facade API that lets you bind to your metric system potentially to more than one of them, much like open telemetry is trying to do here. But I felt when we looked at those that they were a very behavioral API rather than a semantic API. So what I mean to say is that the micrometer API, for example, had an API call which was something like New Histogram or something like New Summary. And those are very concrete types of metric behavior that we know about. We know what a histogram is. We know what summary is. And then as you went forward and looked at the open census library, they had sort of struck a balance between what is a performance oriented technique where you're almost surely going to be pre-aggregating. You have a counter and a gauge. Countries are really easy to aggregate by computing and some gauges are really easy to pre-aggregate by computing a last value. And then there was this leftover thing called raw statistics. And that was when I got involved in, I'm guessing it was around June or July, where the current spec for open telemetry was more or less copied from open census. And so it had a counter, it had a gauge, it had raw statistics. And my first reaction to that when I started working on this was, well, I really want to be able to do label sets. I know that that's a source of performance loss a lot of the time. I also think it's a good programming sort of technique to improve the readability of your code, which is to sort of think in terms of label sets. And then this action of binding, which is when you take a label set and bind it with an instrument, what you're able to do then is you're able to get this really optimized code path because you've sort of calculated a lookup inside the SDK, which says for this label set and for this instrument, this counter, let's say, I'm going to have a record in memory and I can just do an atomic increment. That was where we were in July or so. And I wanted to say essentially bring the benefit of binding or of having your label sets be pre-computed to this raw statistic field. And the outcome of that was that we created this measure metric instrument. So it's now it's an instrument that has a record verb rather than having to add or a set. It's a record verb. But of course, the still the exercise was to create an API SDK separation and very few people had done this. And so it got us into like talking about what is the meaning of your instrument? What is it here for? This is why my answer to the question was really about it's about semantics. So every metric instrument now has some sort of very similar structure. An event records a number with some labels, which are called label set, and it has a description, which was when it was defined. And when I saw the questions coming up from Tristan, from Yuri, from John this past week, it was really sort of regurgitating this conversation that happened in the summer between me and Bogdan and some of the other people in the working group. At that time, Chris may have been there, which was basically saying we think that we don't want to go overboard and say, hey, everything is a metric. All metrics are the same because when you read the code, you want to sort of know what's going on. You don't want to just see everything as a record statement because truly everything could be a record statement, but it's sort of like a loss of information. If every programmer turns every metric into a record statement, regardless of whether it's a counter or a gauge or a measure. So I'm trying to say what I'm trying to say is that there's a valid observation here, which is that when you talk about API SDK separation, all metrics could be the same because the SDK can do anything. That's kind of our goal. So why do we care whether it's a counter or a gauge? Because you can turn them all into whatever you want. So the answer I think is we left that in. We left there are three types of metric. They have three different verbs. You will use them according to what your verb is most naturally. If you are thinking in terms of I'm measuring a distribution, you should use the measure and call record. If you're thinking in terms of I'm computing a sum or I'm computing a rate, you should use the counter. If you're thinking in terms of I've got this value that I'm computing and I want to set it, then you should use a gauge. That's the guidance. And ultimately, as far as API design goes, we want to make sure that the code is readable. And so my belief is the reason why we have three types of metric is to make the code readable. The SDK can do anything it wants. You can compute a distribution from a counter. You can compute a sum from a gauge. These are just configurations though. Anyway, I've talked and talked on that. I don't know if anybody else would like to join this discussion. What do you think? So I'll just chime in. I was really just kind of brainstorming and riffing on discussions that Tyler and I had in person. I don't, I actually think that what you have is pretty much exactly right. I would think, I think probably it would be in the future, not for 1.0, but we should think about some higher level abstractions like timers or things like that. Timing is a really excellent and special case. And I admit that.  And so, but the way I see it is that, and again, I'm more kind of more familiar with dog, dog stats. D we use that. We've used it quite a bit. The stats D library from the very beginning of the Etsy stats D client had the notion of a histogram and a timing. And they're behind the scenes and most of the systems that use that data, they are the same. They are just distributions. Whether you call a district histogram function to record a number or whether you call a timing function to record microseconds or milliseconds. It doesn't actually matter. It's all the same. And so in our sort of efforts to kind of pare down and, and, and get to the minimum sort of core API features. We, we kind of took that recognition into, into account and made there just be a measure metric, which would be useful for recording timings. But I do see timing as being a very special case. And there's two things here. One is that there, there's a common abstraction in code, which is like a timer, like a stopwatch where you say start. It computes the time and you say stop and record or something like that. That's a helper that we might want to have. But there's also like an API, which is essentially a metric instrument, which you would call a timing instrument, maybe, which, which you record measurements of time, which are durations. And in order to get that really kind of safe to use, you want to make sure that there's a type which says what the units are. It's not good enough to say it's just a floating point number. And you should remember to attach the milliseconds unit. I don't think that's good enough. I think because most programming languages have a built-in notion of time, they have different very variable types in play, like Go uses nanosecond durations. Java uses milliseconds very frequently. So there's a convention in each language for what your standard unit of time is. We should follow that, that standard and that whatever the sort of convention for time is, I think there should be a wrapper or a utility function or a helper, which says timing instrument. I think it's going to happen, but it hasn't felt like it needed to be discussed. Although you're right to point it out, John. Yeah, I don't think, as I said, I don't think it needs to be done before 1.0. I don't think the only, the only other thing that Tyler and I kind of riffed on a bunch in person was this idea of having a way to communicate the semantics beyond just counter gauge measure, like communicate some semantics between the instrumenter and the SDK. So that there is some, some handle of some sort beyond just the three types that could be used to choose intelligent defaults in the SDK for how it should be aggregated. And I don't have any good proposals or anything like that. It was just something that we kind of threw around. So there is a history here. The current spec says that you can put your default keys into the declaration to the definition of the metric instrument. You can say with keys and that's, you know, the current go SDK provides two batchers. We'll call them, we'll call them integrators in the future. That one is that uses the default keys, which is very much like what Prometheus would do. And one just uses all the keys, which is very much like what dog stats would, dog stats D would do. So having the ability for the programmer in the code to define the default keys seems like one step in the direction that you're asking. In the past, I myself proposed something that was, was rejected, but it may also sort of be like what you're looking for. So what I did propose in a very early O tap was number four, I believe was that the programmer could also specify the aggregations that they want. So that you could declare something which is a counter, but say that I actually want to, I want to count, I want to monitor the distribution of count values. In other words, I want my code to say add because I'm thinking of it as a counter, but I want to compute a distribution because it's useful to me to know how big the increments are, but on average, right? And that's not something that we can do in the, you can't declare that I want to counter with a distribution aggregator in the code right now. That's something that we can configure in the SDK. We can have a configuration that says for this metric, which is a counter, please compute a distribution. We can do that.  Yeah. So this seems like something that we could add to the API after like after 1.0. I agree there too. Yeah. So, so if we all agree that it would be nice for the programmer to be able to declare, you know, which aggregations we could add that after the fact, I think as a hint, because the whole point of having an API SDK separation is like somebody is going to come along with it. Like just doesn't care about your hints and wants to do what they want to do. And so when I wrote attempt four, it was just an advisory thing, much like recommended keys or default keys. We're calling them now, you have recommended or default aggregation or more than one of them even at this point, we're almost configuring views. So then could you have like, please give me this, this aggregation with these dimensions. It's one step further. If you're listing aggregations and dimensions, you're basically that's a view at that point. And for whatever reason, I think I haven't thought about this too much, but the open census library did use a separate library to configure views. In other words, it's not at the call site where you declare the metric instrument that you declare the views. It's some other third party or third or some other function that you call to go through and register views. So, so that's the competing kind of vision is that you have a separate way to do that. So they have, I mean, the reasoning is the naming essentially is one of the big reasons is you might be have a measurement, an instrument that is recording the latency of a request. And you might want a count of how many requests you're doing. So you have a view that is server request, request count, and you aggregate by a counter on the latency, the latency instrument, and then you have one that's server latency that just does a distribution aggregation on the, on the instrument. And so I think I like, I don't know, I don't like the idea of waiting until after 1.0 to figure out where aggregates go because right now I don't see how as a user, I would use open telemetry metrics and get what I want. Well, what does that mean? So beyond specifying whether you want a counter or a gauge or a measure, what do you need from this that you, the user think you should write in the code, not you, the user, when you operate your main function should configure. Why does it have to go in the code? I'm not saying it shouldn't. I'm not sure what you're thinking. Well, I'm thinking of as the, so it could go in the main function. Because I think what we're, what is the, what I believe is that it should go in the main function, the configuration for which aggregates and which views and which dimensions are being aggregated. That's configuration stuff. The question I see or I thought I heard maybe from you and John and Yuri was more along the lines of shouldn't we be able to say new metric instrument with these aggregates, with these views, that's an API then, not an SDK configuration. Yeah, no, for at least for myself, what I would like is it to be separate. Like I like how we create instruments right now and don't think aggregation should be defined within them. I mean, that's one of the reasons I had the question about counter-engage in the first place was because that was seen as defining the aggregation at the time of the instrument creation instead of later. Yeah, I hear you. I sort of like splitting hairs at this point, but the choice of a counter versus a gauge, in my opinion, is like that that's suggesting or recommending a default for the aggregation by virtue of the semantic nature of the thing. So I'm recommending that you use a sum aggregate because I call it a counter. I'm recommending that you use the last value aggregate because I call it a gauge, but the SDK can be configured. So for me, these last two bullets that I have my cursor on, the real question is, are you hoping in the future that we have a view API that's part of open telemetry, or are you hoping in the future that there's a configurable SDK that lets you have a YAML file that does this? In other words, is it a library of code that uses the links against open telemetry, or is it a YAML file that's put into the SDK? Probably a view API. Yeah. So since it's had a view API, and I, so. I don't know that it has to go in the open telemetry API and not the SDK. It's sort of a question of whether any other SDKs are expected to do this or not. Right. And I think it's, it can be done one at a time. Like you could put it in the SDK first and then we could create an API after the fact. I have looked at the open census view API, and it's pretty minimal, which is good.  It's most, for the most part, you name the instrument, the dimensions, and the aggregation period. That's it. There's nothing like complicated queries. Like you're not feeding the result of one view into another, for example, which is what databases do. So I, so I'm, I'm not against an API, a proper API for views. And I would, I would probably suggest that we go with getting like there's a spec open issue about a CFP for metrics config, because I see lots of possibility. And then there's in the, there's some prototype issues filed in the go repo to kind of get the mechanism that we would need to get the configuration to work. But then I could imagine people still are always asking for it in that, in that ticket, I forget 381 or 382. It says the configuration should be a struct or a protobuf or something that we can reason about so that you could imagine the code writing it. So then you have a library of code, which generates a config struct, and then you configure your SDK. And then maybe in the future, we turn that library of code into a proper API so that more than one SDK could be configured using the same interface. Yeah, my only concern about having it in the API would be covered by that because I'm thinking of like instrumenting middlewares and libraries that I have that I want to be able to export to a user some default views that they probably want to subscribe to. I don't want to have to depend on the SDK and we're going to do that. Got it. So that's what OpenCensus was after. The GRPC library does come with a method that you call to configure all the views, and there's two versions of it. There's like the minimum, and there's the expensive version or something like that. Yeah, I like that model. I would definitely say yes. Let's look forward to a View API. I feel like we're not quite ready for it at the moment, but that's only because we haven't figured out, we haven't actually got any code to do that in the SDKs at the moment, much less config struct. So we're saying that like more contributors would be helpful here. And I mean, I'm working on this SDK spec to kind of bring it up to the point where the Go SDK is, but there's other things going on here. So if anyone feels like they could be contributing, I'm not sure what the best place is, but potentially writing a CFP or like an OTAP about a View API, or if I was to click through some of these things. In the Go repo, I'm thinking of these two issues here. I will eventually get to these myself, but there's a lot of other things happening. So these are the idea that we need to see some code that implements the views. And then we can talk about how to configure them. The one I was just referring to, this is the one I'm working on. This PR, this will have the renaming that we talk about and some diagrams added before the next time anyone needs to review it. Oh, it's worth mentioning that we've got one of these closed this week, metric observer instrument has been approved. So now it's time to write that into the spec. And that will need a ticket to get implemented in the SDK, at least the Go one that I'm using. So anyway, I'll file that after this meeting. I don't want to run through and talk about each of these, but this is a list of current kind of like protocol related issues for metrics. And then the one I just referred to bringing me back to where I want to be is 381, 382, sorry, 382, 381, 37, 391. These are all, actually I should say 381, 382. At the spec call this week, I talked about 381. I have a prototype about resources and scopes that make it possible to pull the label set out of metrics and put it into the scope. I'm going to share PR and an issue on this topic tomorrow. So I will not say any more of it about it right now. I was just trying to say that this 382 talks about the ways that we might configure metrics. Eventually views will come out of that. So like it says, and I think after this happens, we can talk about a view API. So there's a lot of kind of dependent pieces. I'm not sure if right here in this meeting is the right place to talk about sort of tactically about how anybody else can contribute. Maybe that's a good thing for Gitter. So I want to invite anybody who is itching to contribute to join Gitter and we can talk about pieces that are that can be broken off here to get more metrics. But for the most part, I've been owning a go system. And so I don't, and I actually, I think it'd be nice to do a roundup of the current state of metrics in each language. But I don't know that we have the right people to do that right now. Maybe that should make that my issue for the next week. I'm going to make an action item for myself. I know that Java has bogged in code that's been migrated along from OpenCensus. And I don't know how far it is from the current spec. I know that Python has a version that's somewhat behind the current spec. I know that JavaScript has done something and I'm not very familiar with it. And I know Tristan that you're working on or lying. That's all that I'm aware of as far as metrics implementations. I actually know C Joe came a few weeks ago and was interested in working on C sharp. Anyway. So this meeting is sort of both an office hours and a SIG. We've kind of talked about all the hot issues. I don't have any more pressing things I wanted to raise or talk about. Would anyone like to take the floor and talk or ask questions or discuss. I expect to be working on metrics more next week. This this week I was sort of sidetracked on scope question, which I'm excited about. I think it's a good step forward. And it's also nice to see label sets fall out of the metrics API. Without losing the optimization that they were there for. I also got one more little benefit out of that that I that I had hoped for. But I'll write that up this week before the end of the week. I'm going to update the attendees list. This is a big meeting. Here we go. Chris. I don't know who Brian is. If you want to speak up. Yeah. Brian. From New Relic. From New Relic. Yep. Great. Especially good to know who's who's which which is companies are getting their hands dirty here. So that's great. We have a lot of New Relic representation. Please to see that. I have now updated the attendees list. I still have nothing more to add to this meeting unless anyone wants to talk. That's just for reference. Brian's also the one working in the C plus plus. Oh, now I connected it. Got it. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. And I've been seeing your peers then. Great. Nice to meet you, Brian. Sorry I didn't make that connection. I don't need to put company affiliations. It's mostly the ones from industry that matter to me. Just know your postmates and mostly the independence. It's the ones that are. Cool. All right, everybody. Last chance to have an office hour question. Josh, one thing I can think of that might be helpful for people coming to metrics that haven't been following the PR is posted. It's just a like a quick summary of. Like which aspects of the API you still want. Design feedback on. What I see a lot happening at least in like Python and Java is that people are commenting on metrics, but they're coming on the implementation. Right. And we're basically just taking it on faith that the go design is the one that we want. Can you. So where are these questions showing up? For me, they're showing up because I'm reviewing Layton's port of your 347. Okay. In which language. In Python. In Python. Oh, right. Layton. Okay. So can you be a little bit more concrete? So you said that there's sort of confusion over. The API or confusion over what the SDK should and shouldn't do. Yeah. So this is like a pretty vague question to begin with. So it's hard to be more concrete about it. I am. I want to know like which, which aspects of the API you still want comments on. And I mean, I know that this has not been like months in the making, but it's just hard to know. Yeah. It's my sense that like a very few people paid attention when we were doing this work, you know, Bowden paid a lot of attention. I was certainly paying attention.  I know that. But, but it does seem like this sort of question, like the ones that Tristan raised in the Gitter or the one that Yuri put into my, my DM on Gitter where like maybe realized that not everyone has followed. And maybe that means that we should like all of it's up for debate at this point. And this thing I'm doing with scope, which I will share by the end of the week, actually was it is a significant change in the metrics API, but it's not like a substantial in the way that like it's not changing the mechanics. Really, it's just sort of pushing sort of sugar around to make it a little bit nicer or, or to put resources in place. So I think the answer is we still want comments on everything, but I feel like we've solidified quite a bit and I'm hoping not to change it much. I'm hoping not to change it at all. And at this point, all the questions for me are in the SDK and what can it do and how is it configured? Or is there a view API? So, and then I think it seems like the OTLP protocol has more or less stabilized. And I know that, that people are starting to ask, hey, can we send these metrics somewhere? So, unless somebody comes up with an urgent disagreement over the API, I think it's settled. But I took the first part of what you said to heart, like more documentation of where we are and what's what's happening is probably what's useful. So, and document this, I think is what is needed. I know that you've done a ton of work publicizing metrics already. Well, it's not enough. So that's future work. I'm aware that that that's needed. And then we have some content generation targets at light step just to like promote like open open telemetry. And so I'm going to be writing about metrics more in the coming quarter for sure. I suspect what's going to happen. I mean, I think you have this suspicion too, is that right now it's hard to get anybody to look at it and there are only maybe like a dozen people that are paying for it. But once we have this, like up as a GA candidate and we have some of like, say the tens of thousands of developers in the world that have opinions about metrics generation. Yeah, I won't be surprised if there's another wave of like question and answer and like demand to change things. But I've gotten a lot of feedback from people that the ones who are sort of really up to speed on this stuff that like what we've done. And there's going to be a large large number of people who are only familiar with the past like Prometheus model or stats be model who come in and say, whoa, I don't get it. And we need to write content for that that user for sure. But I think it'll probably be useful to have a little bit more work on, you know, how do I make a view? Please, I need to make a view. It's important. So, so I think a little bit more is needed. I should probably be involved in view and reviewing latency changes. I do speak Python. I would be happy to be reviewing those. I had, I was tuned out, I guess, or please CC me or ask for reviews. If you're, if you feel like I could benefit you. It'd be nice for me to know at least more about what's concurrent activities. Cool. Thanks, Chris. I think I understand the request. And I'll be happy to be involved in all of any of those conversations as they're happening as well. And Gitter, Gitter is a good place to ask questions. All right, everybody going once, going twice. It's been lovely. Hope to have something to share by the end of the week on scope. It has a lot to do with metrics. And that issue 381 about binding tracing and metrics together more tightly. I'll see you next time. Thanks, everybody. Have a great week weekend. And I'll see you next time. Bye.


Describe liquefied natural gas. Natural gas can be liquefied and converted into LNG or liquefied natural gas. It's super cool. At that point it can be put on a tanker and it can actually be moved at a great distance. So you can find a market for natural gas that in the past had to be connected by pipeline, now can be moved by a ship to a very different and distant location. And we're finding now in the U.S. where we did not have export capacity in the past, even the recent past, that we now have increasing amounts of capacity to export natural gas. And in fact the U.S. has now become a net exporter of natural gas as of the late part of 2017. Now most of that is moving by ship with some of these new terminals, one on the east coast for instance at Cove Point, and most of those down in the Gulf Coast. Some of that is moving very great distances, meaning it's moving to Europe, some of it's moving to Asia, quite a bit of it's moving to South America, and other amounts are just moving at other parts up and down the coast for instance. Some goes into the Boston market would be a good example. So liquefied natural gas is becoming a big part of the natural gas story and certainly the shale story over the course of time and will continue to be. The U.S. was a very very small producer of any liquefied natural gas in the past and very shortly will be the number three producer in the world or the expectation is by 2020 that would be the case.


ǐwāk可能die musica tybėl ǐmūzén wélek weil resurrected ǐmi bēl wa dor ǐmūz Truly ǐmāyéinch by swiss ǐm jeen ǩunga passe chimea ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝunga ǝungtona bay式 mo tee ekis pui nнибудь ya maa ty mi star monfîr mou gravyou mo kyUир wa keuua nsa trawe Ice north to win 2 win 26 2 2 win 26 kūyā pewpe deri This man does not follow anyone's advice He only listens kupasungu A ruled by theician he said who said no he can't sell me to theHappyKids wouldn't move and say There're more pictures Cause who thought, theAlrightitons were quite lucky were us as anyone are suffering This is a man who has now removed, is now removing FISIP, farmer input supports our program, this is scrapping it over one million people who fall out of it. They are saying they are going to introduce loans for only 30,000 people out of the one million twenty-four thousand four hundred and thirty-four people they are going to only give a selected few 30,000. They raised almost one million people who fall off. FISIP is what helps the poor people be able to grow their crops. So many people have been educated through FISIP. People have survived those who don't have any manabashaku atapa kumo boku but they are also who come. FISIP is about to end either. Our van domain is about to go up, our UPN did have just come to kill. They don't care about the people who are poor. And the majority of the Zambians are poor. They only care about the rich people. Poor people is time for us to unite and get back our Zambia. We can do this. This is social security, a program that is meant for the poor people who now be thrown into water. These people are only following IMF and they don't care about Zambia. Zambians is time for you to fight for your country. Win back Zambia, let it come by youth. I'm calling you out there. Our elders support us, is time for us to get back Zambia. This man was a mistake and is coming to destroy this country. He does not care about farmers. Seventy percent of Zambians survive on farming. But these people have just come to destroy our country. Don't let them go through. Twenty-six is time for real change. With youthful people, with fresh people, with people that love this country with a passion that is indelible. This is a time for economic freedom fighting. With economic freedom fighters. This is your president, Kasun Demwenda. The president for the economic freedom fighters. Let us unite and let us get back Zambia. It's time to get back Zambia. Wherever we want to go, our feet will take us there.


What I'd like to do is give you some more information that will help us design a strategy for weight management in the future. Something you may not be thinking about is how much people's genetics or their DNA can influence their body weight, perhaps much more than they realize. People's weight is affected by their behavior, but it's also greatly affected by the genes they inherit from their parents. The two work hand in hand to determine our weight. Scientists haven't figured out all of the ways that genes influence our weight, but they have discovered a few genes that are common in the population and may affect how much weight we gain. Genes can influence how our bodies work. They can influence things like metabolism and how quickly we feel full when we eat. Our genes may also influence certain behaviors, like how much we enjoy exercising, which foods we like to eat, and whether we're driven to eat when we're not hungry. And these things go on to affect the balance between how much energy we're likely to take in through food and how much energy we're likely to burn with exercise. So what do you think all of this means for you?


Well hello and welcome back to my channel. If you are new here my name is Emily and welcome to favorite daughter Emily. Starting on December 1st of 2018 I decided to start the 30-day minimalism game or minimalism challenge. I think it's called minimalism game. I want to say that this was started by the minimalists. I believe their names are Josh and Ryan. I will leave their YouTube channel down below and in the game you're supposed to really partner up with somebody and then get rid of your items. The game works like this. On day one you get rid of one item. On day two two items. Day three three items and so on and so forth. And the whole idea is to get rid of things in your life that no longer add value to your life or bring you joy or are maybe broken or just things that you don't like anymore. So let's get to why I decided to do this. Over Thanksgiving break. Well when I say Thanksgiving break I really mean like my four-day weekend. I was so anxiety-ridden and this is something I don't really talk about on my channel but I was so incredibly anxiety-ridden and I just couldn't wrap my head around a lot of things and I couldn't handle the stuff anymore. It was just really bogging down my life and I felt like it was time for a purge of the things and I just... I am a tosser of things so getting rid of things is not a big challenge for me. It's just more of like how do I start, how do I get motivated, what can I part with and that was kind of my biggest challenge as to how to get started. And I went on to YouTube and I was looking up like decluttering videos and things like that and then I came across the minimalist as well as Matthew or Matt Diavella. I will link his channel down below as well and I just got into this vortex of minimalism and I am not a minimalist by any means but I think really thinking about your items that you either bring into your home or keep in your home is a really really great tool and a great thing to keep in mind for myself at least moving forward. There were so many items in my home that did not bring me any value, did not bring me any joy, serve no function and I really just got bogged down by the chaos of the stuff and I'm sure a lot of you out there feel that way and this is just my own journey. So over the course of the 31 days, I did it for 31 days instead of 30 because December has 31 days, I got rid of over 500 items in my home and it sounds like a lot but I have more to go. I gotta say like day one through day about 14, 15 was okay and then once you hit kind of the middle of the month you're like whoa, I am really looking for stuff like I need to find more things and the thing is I had more things but it was just about making those choices. I got rid of things like jewelry, planning items, I got rid of some old bedding that I had no use for anymore. I don't even have the bed anymore. Why was I keeping them? I don't know. Kitchenware items, makeup, light bulbs for lights I no longer had, why I had those lights, I don't know. I also got rid of some hangers and the most random thing, Taco Bell sauce packets. Yup, I got rid of Taco Bell sauce packets. Who knows how long they've been sitting in my junk drawer? I have no idea and I figured you know what, it's time to get rid of those. So without further ado, let me show you exactly what I got rid of right now and I'll come back at the end and talk to you a little bit more. So here is my December 2018 31 day minimalism game. Enjoy. So it is day one of the minimalism challenge. I'll be getting rid of this huge bag of plastic bags. My mom actually collects these and makes them into plastic sleeping mats for the homeless in Florida. So I'm going to be dropping them off at her house. It is day number two and I'm getting rid of these two hangers I never use. Day three, three cosmetic pouches. Day four are two hair ties and two lip balms. Day five is five writing utensils. Day six is six note pads. All right, on day seven I am getting rid of four plastic containers, two little shaker things, and then all of these baking cups. On day eight I am getting rid of a mug, a wipe, lip balm, a bag of bags, two sticky note pads, and two felt pads. This is day nine. There's actually 49 of these but we're just going to count this as nine. All right, it is day 10. I am getting rid of six books, a pair, which is wooden, a candle, a doorstop, and a galvanized E. Day 11 is clearing out light bulbs that I no longer have light fixtures for. All right, day 12 is kind of a hodgepodge of things. This is an empty soap refill. I've got these two wipes I've never ever used. I've got this. This is from the previous owner. I never used them so it's time to go. I've got a random water testing thing, a reusable bag, a little pouch, another hair tie, a phone case I'll never use again, two rags, and then another pouch. Day 13 is 13 makeup brushes. Day 14 is 10 makeup brushes, two eye makeup removers, and two bins. All right, so this is day 15. It is a hodgepodge of things including some planar items, some laundry items, and I found two more light bulbs that need to go away. For day 16 I'm going to mix it up a little bit and I am going to be returning all of these items to Michaels.   All right, so this is my day 18. I've got two sets of plates here, two sets of plates here, four sets of napkins, two sets of straws, and a ton of paper plates. I don't need this much stuff, y'all. I just don't need this much stuff. All right, so here's day 19 with the oil.  I've got this like elastic cord I've never used, some stickers, old business cards, some rings, and then also these like a random bag with a bag in it. So this is day 19. So here is day 20. I have a bunch of earrings and a lot of rings. All right, on day 21 I have a bunch of jewelry, some random things from the closet. This is a jewelry roll organizer and a plastic bin. Okay, for day 22 I've got five pillow cases, one sheet, some storage items, some random poster tack that doesn't work very well, a purse, a wallet, a bunch of dental items, and then two containers. Okay, so here is day 23. I've got three pillows, two blankets, a bathroom rug, a little ring holder, and then I've got a whole, all the rest are gonna be all of these containers right here. And Doyle is very fascinated by what's going on on the floor. So that is day 23. All right, so day 24 is here. I've got five bowls, a bunch of disposable plastic cutlery I got from the dollar store, an egg timer, a bunch of straws, a paring knife, and a coaster that's seen better days. It's day 25 and I actually scoured my vehicle for the majority of these things. Lots of pens, sunglasses, expired things, and that's day 25. So here is day 26, some office-y kind of things, some random gifts that I never actually sent, and a bunch of planner covers that I'm just no longer into. I've weeded down my collection considerably. So these are gonna go to a new home. That's it for day 26. So here is day 27. I've got a storage bin, a file cabinet I never ended up using, a bunch of planning things, two pads of paper, and some other clips that were kind of in my office or planning things. So it feels so good to get rid of this stuff, you guys. It feels amazing. This is day 28 and isn't this an oxymoron? Collect moments, not things. I got this before I moved into this house and I still have never put it up so it's gotta go. I've got some random household things, more office-y things, some holiday stuff, and some things Doyle does not gravitate towards playing with any longer. So this is day 28. So this is day 29. This is all paperwork that I do not need and it's way more than 29 pieces of paper, but we're gonna call this good at day 29. This is day 30 with a whole bunch of hangers, five gift labels, some planner clips, and a pouch. I'm almost done, you guys. I'm almost done. On day 31, I decided to get rid of 31 of these hangers. There's no reason I need 31 of these extra hangers in my closet. So these are going goodbye and I am done with the minimalist challenge. Oh, it's so exciting. All right, y'all. This is the massive pile of stuff that is leaving my home very, very soon. I am so excited to get this out of here. More than 500 items I decluttered from my home. And the crazy thing is, is I'm not gonna miss any of this stuff. Okay, so that is it. Over 500 items I got rid of in my home. I feel so much lighter and my mind feels more relaxed now. But like I said before, I still have more work to do.  Today is January 1. When you guys are seeing this, it's actually January 1 when I am filming this as well because I never got around to it. I am also gonna be doing a 30 day or actually it's gonna be a 31 day January minimalism game. If you guys would like to join, feel free. I will have a video up at the very end of January or very beginning of February. I'm not sure if it's gonna be January 31st or February 1st that that will be up. But it will go up for some inspiration for you guys. If you want to see more, I know that the minimalist use the hashtag men's game, M-I-N-S game. So if you want to search that hashtag on Instagram, you can get some more inspiration as to what other people are getting rid of in their lives and things that just don't serve them anymore or add value to the life. But I highly encourage you guys to partner up or do it on your own because I'm gonna be doing it for January and I'm really, really excited about it. And if you do the challenge, make sure to tag me on Instagram. And I can't wait to share my next month's journey with you guys. So thank you all so much for watching. I really appreciate it. I hope you enjoyed the video and I'll see you in the next one. Bye guys!


Stories and content in Weird Darkness can be disturbing for some listeners and is intended for mature audiences only. Parental discretion is strongly advised. Welcome Weirdos, I'm Darren Marlar and this is Weird Darkness. Here you'll find stories of the paranormal, supernatural, legends, lore, the strange and bizarre, crime, conspiracy, mysterious, macabre, unsolved and unexplained. Coming up in this episode, it's the thriller Thursday and I have a short story from the master of horror himself, Stephen King. And then, after the story, be sure to stick around for a few additional thoughts that Stephen King gives about writing the story and what inspired him to write it. If you're new here, welcome to the show. While you're listening, be sure to check out WeirdDarkness.com for merchandise, to visit sponsors you hear about during the show, sign up for my newsletter, enter contests, connect with me on social media. Plus, you can visit the Hope in the Darkness page if you're struggling with depression or dark thoughts. You can find all of that and more at WeirdDarkness.com.  It's so dark that for a while, just how long I don't know, I think I'm still unconscious. Then slowly, it comes to me that unconscious people don't have a sensation of movement through the dark, accompanied by a faint, rhythmic sound that can only be a squeaky wheel. And I can feel contact from the top of my head to the balls of my heels. I can smell something that might be rubber or vinyl. This is not unconsciousness, and there's something too, too, what, too rational about these sensations for it to be a dream. Then what is it? Who am I? And what's happening to me?  There's a crackle around me from the rubber-smelling stuff. A voice. Which one did they say? A pause. Second voice. Four, I think, yeah, four. We start to move again, but more slowly. I can hear the faint scuff of feet now, probably in soft, sold shoes, maybe, sneakers. The owners of the voices are the owners of the shoes. They stop me again. There's a thump followed by a faint whoosh. It is, I think, the sound of a door with a pneumatic hinge being opened. What's going on here? I yell. But the yell is only in my head. My lips don't move. I can feel them and my tongue lying on the floor in my mouth like a stunned mole, but I can't move them. The thing I'm on starts rolling again. A moving bed? Yes, a gurney, in other words. I've had some experience with them a long time ago in Lyndon Johnson's crappy little Asian adventure. It comes to me that I'm in a hospital that something bad has happened to me, something like the explosion that almost neutered me 23 years before and that I'm going to be operated on. There are a lot of answers in that idea, sensible ones for the most part, but I don't hurt anywhere except for the minor matter of being scared out of my wits. I feel fine. And if these are orderlies wheeling me into an operating room, why can't I see? Why can't I talk? A third voice. Over here, boys. My rolling bed is pushed in a new direction, and the question drumming in my head is what kind of a mess have I gotten myself into? Doesn't that depend on who you are? I ask myself. But that's one thing at least I find I do know. I'm Howard Cottrell. I'm a stockbroker known to some of my colleagues as Howard the Conqueror. Second voice from just above my head. You're looking very pretty today, Doc. Fourth voice. Female and cool. It's always nice to be validated by you, Rusty. Could you hurry up a little? The babysitter expects me back by seven. She's committed to dinner with her parents. Back by seven. Back by seven. It's still the afternoon, maybe, or early evening. But black in here. Black is your hat. Black is a woodchuck's butthole. Black is midnight in Persia. And what's going on? Where have I been? What have I been doing? Why haven't I been manning the phones? Because it's Saturday. A voice from far down, murmurs. You were... were... A sound. Walk. A sound I love. A sound I more or less live for. A sound of... what? The head of a golf club, of course. Hitting a ball off the tee. I stand, watching it fly off into the blue. I'm grabbed, shoulders and calves, and lifted. It startles me terribly, and I try to scream. No sound comes out, or perhaps one does a tiny squeak, much tinier than the one produced by the wheel below me. Probably not even that. Probably it's just my imagination. I'm swung through the air in an envelope of blackness. Hey, don't drop me. I've got a bad back, I try to say. And again, there's no movement of the lips or teeth. My tongue goes on, lying on the floor of my mouth. The mole, maybe not just stunned, but dead. Now I have a terrible thought. One which spikes fright, a degree closer to panic. What if they put me down the wrong way, and my tongue slides backward and blocks my windpipe? I won't be able to breathe. That's what people mean when they say someone swallowed his tongue, isn't it? Second voice. Rusty. You'll like this one, Doc. He looks like Michael Bolton. Female, Doc. Who's that? Third voice. Sounds like a young man, not much more than a teenager.  I don't think this is him. There's laughter at that. The female voice joining in a little doubtfully. And as I'm set down on what feels like a padded table, Rusty starts some new crack. He's got a whole stand-up routine, it seems. I lose this bit of hilarity and a burst of sudden horror. I won't be able to breathe if my tongue blocks my windpipe. That's the thought, which has just gone through my mind. But what if I'm not breathing now? What if I'm dead? What if this is what death is like? It fits. It fits everything with a horrid, prophylactic snugness. The dark, the rubbery smell. Nowadays, I'm Howard the Conqueror, stockbroker, extraordinaire, terror of Dairy Municipal Country Club, frequent habit shoe of what's known at golf courses all over the world as the 19th hole. But in 71, I was part of a medical assistance team in the Mekong Delta, a scared kid who sometimes woke up wet-eyed from dreams of the family dog, and all at once I know this feel, this smell. Dear God, I'm in a body bag. First voice, want to sign this doc? Remember to bear down hard. It's three copies. Sounds of a pen scraping away on paper. I imagine the owner of the first voice holding out a clipboard to the woman doctor. Oh, dear God, let me not be dead. I try to scream. And nothing comes out. I'm breathing, though, aren't I? I mean, I can't feel myself doing it, but my lungs seem okay. They're not throbbing or yelling for air the way they do when you swam too far underwater, so I must be okay, right? Except if you're dead, the deep voice murmurs, they wouldn't be crying out for air, would they? No, because dead lungs don't need to breathe. Dead lungs can just kind of take it easy. Rusty, what are you doing next Saturday night, doc? But if I'm dead, how can I feel? How can I smell the bag I'm in? How can I hear these voices? The doc now saying that next Saturday night she's going to be shampooing her dog, which is named Rusty. What a coincidence, and all of them laughing. If I'm dead, why aren't I either gone or in the white light they're always talking about on Oprah? There's a harsh ripping sound, and all at once I am in white light. It is blinding, like the sun breaking through a scrim of clouds on a wintery day.  My eyelids are like blinds on broken rollers. A face bends over me, blocking off part of the glare which comes not from some dazzling astral plane, but from a bank of overhead fluorescence. The face belongs to a young, conventionally handsome man of about 25. He looks like one of those beach beefcakes on Baywatch or Malrose Place. Marginally smarter, though. He's got a lot of dark, black hair under a carelessly worn surgical green cap. He's wearing the tunic, too.  There are dusty arcs of freckles high up on his cheekbones. Hey, gosh, she says. It's the third voice. This guy does look like Michael Bolton. A little long in the old tooth-a-roo, maybe. He leans closer, one of the flat-tie ribbons at the neck of his green tunic tickles against my forehead. But yeah, I see it. Hey, Michael, sing something. Help me is what I'm trying to sing. But I can only look up into his dark blue eyes with my frozen dead man's stare. I can only wonder if I am a dead man, if this is how it happens, if this is what everyone goes through after the pump quits. If I'm still alive, how come he hasn't seen my pupils contract when the light hit them? But I know the answer to that, or I think I do. They didn't contract. That's why the glare from the fluorescence is so painful. The tie, tickling across my forehead like a feather. Help me! I scream up at the Baywatch beefcake, who's probably an intern or maybe just a med school brat. Help me, please! My lips don't even quiver. The face moves back. The tie stops, tickling, and all that white light streams through my helpless to look away eyes and into my brain. It's a hellish feeling, a kind of rape. I'll go blind if I have to stare into it for long, I think, and blindness will be a relief. Look! The sound of the driver hitting the ball, but a little flat this time. And the feeling in the hands is bad. The ball's up, but veering, veering off, veering toward. Crap. I'm in the rough. Now another face bends into my field of vision. A light tunic instead of a green one below it. A great untidy mop of orange hair above it. Distress sale IQ is my first impression. It can only be rusty.  The grin of a kid who should have a tattoo reading born to snap bra straps on one wasted bicep. Michael, Rusty exclaims, geez, you're looking good. This is an honor. Sing for us, big boy.  From somewhere behind me comes the Doc's voice. Cool. No longer even pretending to be amused by these antics. Quit it, Rusty. Then in a slightly new direction. What's the story, Mike? Mike's voice is the first voice, Rusty's partner. He sounds slightly embarrassed to be working with a guy who wants to be Andrew Dice Clay when he grows up. Found him on the fourteenth hole at Dairy Munna. Of course, actually, in the rough. If he hadn't just played through the foursome behind him and if they hadn't seen one of his legs sticking out of the pucker brush, he'd be an ant farm by now. I hear that sound in my head again. Walk. Only this time it's followed by another, far less pleasant sound. The rustle of underbrush as I sweep it with the head of my driver. It would have to be fourteen, where there is reputedly poison ivy. Poison ivy and Rusty is still peering down at me.  It's not death that interests him. It's my resemblance to Michael Bolton. Oh, yes, I know about it. I've not been above using it with certain female clients. Otherwise, it gets old in a hurry. And in these circumstances... Damn. Attending physician, the lady doc asks. Was it Cazalian? No, Mike says. And for just a moment he looks down at me. Older than Rusty, by at least ten years. Black hair with flecks of gray in it. Spectacles. How come none of these people can see that I'm not dead? There was a dog in the forest on the found him, actually. That's his signature on page one, see? Rifle of paper, then. Geez, Jennings, I know him. He gave Noah his physical after the arc grounded I'm out error at. Rusty doesn't look as if he gets the joke. But he braised laughter into my face anyway. I could smell onions on his breath. A little leftover lunch stink. And if I can smell onions, I must be breathing. I must be, right? If only... Before I can finish this thought, Rusty leans even closer and I feel a blast of hope. He's seen something. He's seen something and means to give me mouth to mouth. God bless you, Rusty.    Now he's grasping one side with his thumb and the other side with his fingers. He's alive, Rusty cries. He's alive and he's going to sing for the room for Michael Bolton Fan Club. His fingers pinch tighter. It hurts and they distant, coming out of the novocaine way and begin to move my jaw up and down, clicking my teeth together. If she's bad, he can't see it. Rusty sings in a hideous atonal voice that would probably make Percy Sledge's head explode. She can do no wrong. My teeth open and close at the rough urging of his hand.  Stop it! The lady dock snaps at him. She sounds genuinely shocked. Rusty, perhaps sensing this, does not stop but goes gleefully on. His fingers are pinching into my cheeks now. My frozen eyes stare blindly upward. Turn his back on his best friend, if she put him down. Then she's there, a woman in a green gown with her cap tied around her throat and hanging down her back like the Cisco kid's sombrero. Short brown hair swept back from her brow. Good looking but severe. More handsome than pretty. She grabs Rusty with one short nailed hand and pulls him back from me. Hey!  Then you keep your hands off him, she says.  I'm tired of your sophomore class wit, Rusty, and the next time you start in, I'm going to report you. Hey, let's all calm down, says the Baywatch hunk, Doc's assistant. He sounds alarmed as if he expects Rusty and his boss to start duking it out right there. Let's just put a lid on it.  Rusty says. He's still trying to sound indignant, but he's actually whining now. Then in a slightly different direction.  Yo, your period, is that it? Doc, sounding disgusted, get him out of here. Mike, come on Rusty, let's go sign the log. Rusty, yeah, and get some fresh air. Me, listening to all this like it was on the radio. Their feet squeaking toward the door. Rusty now all huffy and offended, asking her why she doesn't just wear a mood ring or something so people will know. Soft shoes squeaking on tile, and suddenly that sound is replaced by the sound of my driver, beating the bush for my damn ball. Where is it? Didn't go too far in, I'm sure of it. So where is it?  Supposedly there's poison ivy, and with all this underbrush there, it could easily be... and then something bit me, didn't it? Yes, I'm almost sure it did. I'm a left calf, just above the top of my white athletic sock. A red hot, darning needle of pain, perfectly concentrated at first, then spreading. Then darkness. Until the gurney, zipped up snug inside a body bag and listening to Mike. Which one do they say? And Rusty. Four, I think, yeah, four. I wanna think it was some kind of snake, but maybe that's only because I was thinking about them while I hunted for my ball. It could have been an insect. I only recall the single line of pain, and after all, what does it matter? What matters here is that I'm alive and they don't know it. It's incredible, but they don't know it. Of course, I had bad luck. I know Dr. Jennings. Remember speaking to him as I played through his foursome on the eleventh hole. A nice enough guy, but vague and antique. The antique had pronounced me dead.  The Lady Doc, Mrs. Cisco Kid, hadn't even looked at me yet. Not really. When she did, maybe. I hate that jerk, she says when the door is closed. Now it's just the three of us. Only, of course, Mrs. Cisco Kid thinks it's just the two of them. Why do I always get the jerks, Peter? I dunno, Mr. Melrose Place says, but Rusty's a special case, even in the annals of famous jerks. Walking brain death. She laughs and something clanks. The clank is followed by a sound that scares me badly. Steel instruments clicking together. They're off to the left of me, and although I can't see them, I know what they're getting ready to do. The autopsy. They're getting ready to cut into me. They intend to remove Howard Cottrell's heart and see if it blew a piston or threw a rod.  Look at my left leg. That's the trouble, not my heart. Perhaps my eyes have adjusted a little after all. Now I can see it, at the very top of my vision, a stainless steel armature. It looks like a giant piece of dental equipment, except that thing at the end isn't a drill. It's a saw. From someplace deep inside, where the brain stores the sort of trivia you only need if you happen to be playing Jeopardy on TV, I even come up with the name. It's a Giggly saw. They use it to cut off the top of your skull.  Then they take out your brain. Clink, clink, clunk. A pause. Then a clank, so loud I jump if I were capable of jumping. Do you want to do the pericardial cut? She asks. Pete, cautious. Do you want me to? Dr.  Yes, I think so. Alright, he says. You'll assist. Your trusty copilot, she says, and laughs. She punctuates her laughter with a snick-snick sound. It's the sound of scissors cutting the air. Now panic beats and flutters inside my skull like a flock of starlings locked in an attic. The gnom was a long time ago, but I saw a half a dozen field on top seas there, but the doctors used to call tent show postmortems, and I know what Cisco and poncho mean to do. The scissors have long, sharp blades, very sharp blades, and fat finger holes. Still, you have to be strong to use them. The lower blade slides into the gut like butter, then snip up through the bundle of nerves at the solar plexus and into the beef jerky weave of muscle and tendon above it, then into the sternum. Then the blades come together this time. They do so with a heavy crunch as the bone parts in the rib cage pops apart like a couple of barrels which have been lashed together with twine. Then on up with those scissors that look like nothing so much as the poultry shears supermarket butchers use, snip, crunch, snip, crunch, snip, crunch, splitting bone and shearing muscle, freeing the lungs, heading for the trachea, turning Howard the Conqueror into a Thanksgiving dinner no one will eat. A thin, nagging wine, this does sound like a dentist's drill. Pete, can I? Dr. Cisco actually sounding a bit maternal. No, these. Snick, snick, demonstrating for him. They can't do this, I think. They can't cut me up, I can feel. Why? he asks. Because that's the way I want it, she says, sounding a lot less maternal. When you're on your own, pity boy, you can do what you want, but in Katie Arland's autopsy room, you start off with the pericardial shears. Autopsy room. There. It's out. I want to be all over goosebumps, but of course nothing happens. My flesh remains smooth. Remember, Dr. Arland says, but now she's actually lecturing. Any fool can learn how to use a milking machine, but the hands-on procedure is always best. There's something vaguely suggestive in her tone. Okay? Okay, he says. They're going to do it. I have to make some kind of noise or movement, or they're really going to do it. If blood flows or jets up from the first punch of the scissors, they'll know something's wrong, but by then, it will be too late. Very likely that first snip crunch will have happened, and my ribs will be lying against my upper arms, my heart pulsing frantically away under the fluorescence in its blood-glossy sack. I concentrate everything on my chest. I push or try to, and something happens. A sound. I make a sound. It's mostly inside my closed mouth, but I can also hear and feel it in my nose, a low hum. Concentrating, summoning every bit of effort, I do it again, and this time the sound is a little stronger, leaking out of my nostrils like cigarette smoke. It makes me think of an old Alfred Hitchcock TV program I saw a long, long time ago where Joseph Cotton was paralyzed in a car crash and was finally able to let them know he was still alive by crying a single tear.   You want some music? The woman doctor asks. I've got Marty Stewart, Tony Bennett. He makes a despairing sound. I barely hear it, and take no immediate meaning from what she's saying, which is probably a mercy. All right, she says, laughing, I've also got the Rolling Stones. You? Me. I'm not as square as I look, Peter. I didn't mean he sounds flustered. Listen to me!  Stop chattering like magpies and listen to me. I can feel more air trickling down my throat, and the idea occurs that whatever has happened to me may be starting to wear off. But it's only a faint blip on the screen of my thoughts. Maybe it is wearing off, but very soon now recovery will cease to be an option for me. All my energy is bent toward making them hear me, and this time they will hear me. I know it! Stones then, she says, unless you want me to run out and get a Michael Bolton CD in honor of your first pericardial. Please no, he cries, and they both laugh. The sound starts to come out, and it is louder this time. Not as loud as I'd hoped, but loud enough. Surely loud enough, they'll hear. They must.  I know it's only rock and roll, but I like it.   She glances back over her shoulder, I'll strip in for you, she tells Pete, and bends toward me with a scalpel glittering in one gloved hand, bends towards me through the guitar thunder of the Rolling Stones. I hum, desperately, but it's no good. I can't even hear myself. The scalpel hovers, then cuts. I shriek in my own head, but there is no pain, only my polo shirt falling in two pieces at my sides. Sliding apart is my ribcage will after Pete unknowingly makes his first pericardial cut on a living patient. I am lifted, my head lolls back, and for a moment I see Pete upside down, donning his own plexi eye shield as he stands by a steel counter, inventorying a horrifying array of tools. Chief among them are the oversized scissors. I get just a glimpse of them, of blades glittering like merciless satin. Then I'm laid flat again, and my shirt is gone. I'm now naked to the waist. It's cold in the room. Look at my chest, I scream at her. You must see it rise and fall no matter how shallow my aspiration is.  Instead, she looks across the room, raising her voice to be heard above the music. I like it, like it, yes I do, the stones sing.  What's your pick, boxers or jockeys? With a mixture of horror and rage, I realized what they're talking about. Boxers, he calls back. Of course, just look at the guy. Jerk, I wanna scream.  You probably think when you get to be 40, you'll... She snaps my Bermuda's and pulls down the zipper. Under other circumstances, having a woman as pretty as this, a little severe, yes, but still pretty, do that, would make me extremely happy. Today, however, you lose, she says. Jockeys, dollar in the kitty. On payday, he says, coming over. His face joins hers. They look down at me through their plexi masks like a couple of space aliens looking down at an abductee. I try to make them see my eyes, to see me looking at them, but these two fools are looking at my undershorts. Ooh, in red, Pete says, a shving. I call them more of a wash pink, she replies. Hold him out for me, Peter. He weighs a ton. Don't wonder he had a heart attack. Let this be a lesson to you. I'm in shape, I yell at her, probably in better shape than you. My hips are suddenly jerked upward by strong hands. My back cracks. The sound makes my heart leap. Sorry, guy, Pete says, and suddenly I'm colder than ever as my shorts and red underpants are pulled down. Upsidaisie wants, she says, lifting one foot and Upsidaisie twice, lifting the other foot. Off come the mocks and off come the socks. She stops abruptly and hope seizes me once more. Hey, Pete. Yeah? Do guys ordinarily wear Bermuda shorts and moccasins to play golf in? Behind her, except that's only the source, actually, it's all around us, the Rolling Stones have moved on to emotional rescue. I will be your knight in shining, ah, man, Mick Jagger sings. And I wonder how funky he danced with about three sticks of high-core dynamite jammed up his skinny. If you ask me, this guy was just asking for trouble, she goes on. I thought they had these special shoes, very ugly, very golf-specific, with little knobs on the soles. Yeah, but wearing them's not the law, Pete says. He holds his gloved hands out over my upturned face, slides them together, and bends the fingers back. As the knuckles crack, talcum powder sprinkles down like fine snow. Hell, he's not yet. Not like bowling shoes, they catch you bowling without a pair of bowling shoes, they can send you to state prison. Is that so? Yes. Do you want to handle temp and gross examination? No, I shriek. No, he's a kid. What are you doing? He looks at her as if this same thought had crossed his own mind. That's not strictly illegal, is it, Katie? I mean, she looks around as he speaks, giving the room a burlesque examination, and I'm starting to get a vibe that could be very bad news for me, severe or not. I think that Cisco, alias Dr. Katie Arlen, has got the hots for a pity with the dark blue eyes. Dear God, they've hauled me paralyzed off the golf course and into an episode of General Hospital, this week's subplot titled, Love Blooms in Autopsy Room 4. Gee, she says, and a hoarse little stage whisper, I don't see anyone here but you and me. The tape? Not rolling yet, she said, and once it is, I'm right at your elbow every step of the way, as far as anyone will ever know anyway, and mostly I will be. I just want to put away those charts and slides, and if you really feel uncomfortable, yes, I scream up at him out of my unmoving face, feel uncomfortable, very uncomfortable, too uncomfortable. But he's 24 at most, and what's he going to say to this pretty severe woman who's standing inside his space, invading it in a way that can really only mean one thing? No, mommy, I'm scared. Besides, he wants to.  Hey, as long as you'll cover for me, if sure, she says, gotta get your feet wet sometime, Peter, and if you really need me to, I'll roll back the tape. He looks startled. You can do that? She smiles. We have many secrets in our topsy-room for my heir. I bet you do, he says, smiling back, then reaches past my frozen field of vision. When his hand comes back, it's wrapped around a microphone which hangs down from the ceiling on a black cord. The mic looks like a steel teardrop. Seeing it there makes this horror real in a way it wasn't before. Surely they won't really cut me up, will they? Pete is no veteran, but he has had training. Surely he'll see the marks of whatever bit me while I was looking for my ball in the rough, and then they'll at least suspect, they'll have to suspect. Yet I keep seeing the scissors with their heartless satin shine, jumped up poultry shears, and I keep wondering if I will still be alive when he takes my heart out of the chest cavity and holds it up, dripping in front of my locked gaze for a moment before turning to plop it into the weighing pan. I could be, it seems to me. I really could be. Don't they say the brain can remain conscious for up to three minutes after the heart stops? Ready, doctor? Pete says, and now he sounds almost formal. Somewhere, tape is rolling. The autopsy procedure has begun. Let's flip this pancake, she says cheerfully, and I'm turned over just that efficiently. My right arm goes flying out to one side and then falls back against the side of the table, banging down with the raised metal lip, digging into the bicep. It hurts a lot. The pain is just short of excruciating, but I don't mind. I pray for the lip to bite through my skin, pray to bleed, something bonafide corpses don't do. Whoopsidaisy, Dr. Arlen says. She lifts my arm up and plops it back down at my side. Now it's my nose I'm most aware of. It's smashed against the table, and my lungs for the first time send out a distress message, a cottony, deprived feeling.  Just how much I can't tell. I can't even feel myself breathing, not really. What if I suffocate like this? Then something happens, which takes my mind completely off my nose. A huge object.  Once more, I try to scream and can produce only the faint, wretched humming. Tamp in, Peter says. I put on the timer. Good idea, she says, moving away, giving him room, letting him test drive this baby, letting him test drive me. The music has turned down slightly. Subject is a white Caucasian age 44, Pete says, speaking for the mic now, speaking for posterity. His name is Howard Randolph Cottrell. Residence is 1566 Laurel Crest Lane here in Derry. Dr. Arlen is some distance. Mary Mead. A pause, then, Pete again, sounding just a tiny bit flustered. Dr. Arlen informs me that the subject actually lives in Mary Mead, which is split off from Derry, in enough with the history lesson, Pete.  Some sort of cattle thermometer? If it was a little longer, I think I could taste the bulb at the end. And they didn't exactly go crazy with the lubricant. But then why would they? I'm dead, after all. Dead. Sorry, Dr. Pete says. He fumbles mentally for his place and eventually finds it. This information is from the ambulance form, originally taken from a main state driver's license. Pronouncing Dr. was, um, Frank Jennings. Subject was pronounced at the scene. Now it's my nose that I'm hoping will bleed. Please, I tell it, bleed. Only don't just bleed. Gosh. It doesn't. Cause of death may be a heart attack, Pete says.  I pray it will remove the thermometer, but it doesn't. Spine appears to be intact. No, attractable phenomena. Attractable phenomena? Attractable phenomena?  He lifts my head, the pads of his fingers on my cheekbones, and I hum desperately, knowing that he can't possibly hear me over Keith Richards screaming guitar, but hoping he may feel the sound vibrating in my nasal passages. He doesn't. Instead, he turns my head from side to side. No neck injury apparent, no rigor, he says, and I hope he'll just let my head go, let my face smack down onto the table. That'll make my nose bleed, unless I really am dead. But he lowers it gently, considerably, mashing the tip again and once more, making suffocation seem a distinct possibility. No wounds visible on the back or buttocks, he says. Although there is an old scar on the upper right thigh that looks like some sort of wound, shrapnel perhaps fits an ugly one. It was ugly, and it was shrapnel. The end of my war, a mortal shell lobbed into a supply area. Two men killed, one man, me, lucky. It's a lot uglier around front and in a more sensitive spot. But all the equipment works, or did, up until today. Quarter of an inch to the left, and they could have fixed me up with a hand pump and a CO2 cartridge for those intimate moments. He finally plucked the thermometer out. Thank you, the relief. On the wall I could see a shadow holding it up. 94.2, he said. Gee, that ain't too shabby. This guy could almost be alive, Katie. Dr. Arlen? Remember where they found him, she said from across the room. The record they were listening to was between selections, and for a moment I could hear her electrically tones clearly. Golf course? Summer afternoon? If you'd gotten a reading of 98.6, I would not be surprised. Right, right, he said, sounding chastened. Then, is all this going to sound funny on tape?  It'll sound like a teaching situation, she said, which is what it is. Okay, good, great. His rubber-kipped fingers spread my buttocks, then let them go and trail down the backs of my thighs. I would, tense now if I were capable of tensing. Left leg, I send to him. Left leg. Peaty boy, left calf, see it? He must see it, he must, because I can feel it, throbbing like a bee sting, or maybe a shot given by a clumsy nurse, one who infuses the injection into a muscle instead of hitting the vein. Subject is a really good example of what a really bad idea it is to play golf in shorts, he says. And I find myself wishing he had been born blind. Hell, maybe he was born blind, he's sure acting it. I'm seeing all kinds of bug bites, chigger bites, scratches. Mike said they found him in the rough, Arlen calls over. She's making one hell of a clatter, sounds like she's doing dishes in a cafeteria kitchen instead of filing stuff. At a gas, he had a heart attack while he was looking for his ball. Uh, huh. Keep going, Peter, you're doing fine. I find that an extremely debatable proposition. Okay. More pokes and proddings. Gentle, too gentle, maybe. There are mosquito bites on the left calf that look infected, he says. And although his touch remains gentle, this time the pain is an enormous throb that would make me scream if I were capable of making any sound above the low-pitched hum. It occurs to me, suddenly, that my life may hang upon the length of the Rolling Stones tape they're listening to. Always assuming it is a tape and not a CD that plays straight through. If it finishes before they cut into me, if I can hum loudly enough for them to hear before one of them turns it over to the other side, I may want to look at the bug bites after the gross autopsy, she says. Although if we're right about his heart, there'll be no need. Or do you want me to look now? Are they worrying you? Nope, they're pretty clearly mosquito bites. Gimple, the fool, says. They grow bigger over on the west side. He's got five, seven, eight, geez, almost a dozen on his left leg alone. He forgot his deep woods off. Never mind the off, he forgot his digitaling, he says.  Autopsy room humor. This time he flips me by himself, probably happy to use those Jim-grown Mr. Strong Boy muscles of his, hiding the snake bites and the mosquito bites all around them, camouflaging them. I'm staring up at the bank of fluorescence again. Pete steps backward out of my view. There's a humming noise. The table begins to slant and I know why. When they cut me open the fluids will run downhill to the collection points at its base. Plenty of samples for the state lab in Augusta. Should there be any questions raised by the autopsy? I focus all my will and effort on closing my eyes while he's looking down into my face and cannot produce even a tick. All I wanted was 18 holes of golf on a Saturday afternoon and instead I turned into snow white with hair on my chest. And I can't stop wondering what it's going to feel like when those poultry shearers go sliding into my midsection. Pete has a clipboard in one hand. He consults it, sets it aside, then speaks into the mic. His voice is a lot less stilted now.  I'm commencing the autopsy at 5.49 pm, he says, on Saturday, August 20, 1994. He lifts my lips, looks at my teeth like a man thinking about buying a horse, then pulls my jaw down. Good color, he says, and no patechia on the cheeks. The current tune is fading out of the speaker so I can hear a click as he steps on the foot pedal which pauses the recording tape. Man, this guy really could still be alive. I hum frantically and at the same moment Dr. Arlen drops something that sounds like a bed pan. Doesn't he wish, she says, laughing. He joins in and this time it's cancer I wish on them, some kind that's inoperable and lasts a long time. He goes quickly down my body, feeling up my chest. No bruising, swelling or other exterior signs of cardiac arrest, he says, and what a big surprise that is. Then palpates my belly. I burp.  Excuse yourself, Howie. Dr. Arlen says from behind me and chuckles, better watch out, Pete. Those post-mortem belches are the worst. He theatrically fans the air in front of his face, then goes back to what he's doing. He barely touches my groin, although he remarks that the scar on the back of my right leg continues around to the front. Missed the big one though, I think, maybe because it's a little higher than you're looking.  He goes on chanting into the microphone, sounding more and more at ease, sounding in fact a little like Jack Klugman on Quincy M.E., and I know his partner over there behind me, the Pollyanna of the medical community, isn't thinking she'll have to roll the tape back over this part of the exam, other than missing the fact that his first pericardial is still alive, the kid's doing a great job. At last, he says, I think I'm ready to go on, doctor. He sounds tentative, though. She comes over, looks briefly down at me, then squeezes Pete's shoulder. Okay, she says, on with a show. Now I'm trying to stick my tongue out, just that simple kid's gesture of impudence, but it would be enough, and it seems to me I can feel a faint prickling sensation deep within my lips, the feeling you get when you're finally starting to come out of a heavy dose of novocaine. And I can feel a twitch.  As Pete picks up the scissors, the Rolling Stones move on to hang fire.  I scream at them.  Can't you at least do that? Snick, snick, snickety-snick. Pete turns the scissors at an angle, so the light runs down the blade, and for the first time, I'm certain, really certain, that this mad charade is going to go all the way through to the end. The director isn't going to freeze the frame, the ref isn't going to stop the fight in the 10th round. We're not going to pause for a word from our sponsor. Petey Boyz is going to slide those scissors into my gut while I lie here helpless, and then he's going to open me up like a mail-order package from the Harchow collection. He looks hesitantly at Dr. Arlen. No! I howl, my voice reverberating off the dark walls of my skull, but emerging from my mouth, not at all. No! Please! No! She nods. Go ahead. You'll be fine. Um, you want to turn off the music? Yes! Yes! Turn it off! Is it bothering you? Yes, it's bothering him!  Well, sure, she says, and disappears from my field of vision. A moment later, Mick and Keith are finally gone. I try to make the humming noise and discover a horrible thing. Now, I can't even do that. I'm too scared. Fright has locked down my vocal cords. I can only stare up as she rejoins him, the two of them gazing down at me like pallbearers looking into an open grave. Thanks, he says. Then he takes a deep breath and lifts the scissors, commencing pericardial cut. He slowly brings them down. I see them. Then they're gone from my field of vision. A long moment later, I feel cold steel nestle against my naked upper belly. He looks doubtfully at the doctor. Are you sure you don't? Do you want to make this your field or not, Peter? She asks him with some asperity. You know I do, but then cut. He nods, lips firming. I would close my eyes if I could, but of course, I cannot even do that. I can only steel myself against the pain that's only a second or two away now. Steel myself for the steel. Cutting, he says, bending forward. Wait a sec, she cries. A dimple of pressure just below my solar plexus eases a little. He looks around at her, surprised, upset, maybe relieved that the crucial moment has been put off.   He leans over, looking at what she's found. The scar in my groin, at the very top of my right thigh. Glassy, no poor bowl in the flesh. Her hand is still holding my stuff, holding it out of the way. That's all she's doing. As far as she's concerned, she might as well be holding up a sofa cushion so someone else can see the treasure she's found beneath it. Coins, a lost wallet, maybe the catnip mouse you haven't been able to find, but something is happening. Dear wheelchair Jesus on a chariot-driven crutch, something is happening. And look, she says.  Look at these hairline scars.  Lucky he didn't lose one or both.  Her gloved hand loosens, moves, then pushes down firmly, trying to clear the viewing area. She is doing by accident what you might pay 25 or 30 bucks to have done on purpose, under other circumstances, of course. This is a war wound, I think. Hand me that magnifier, Pete. But shouldn't I, in a few seconds, she says, he's not going anywhere? She's totally absorbed by what she's found. Her hand is still on me, still pressing down, and what was happening feels like it's still happening, but maybe I'm wrong. I must be wrong. Or he would see it, she would feel it. She bends down and now I can see only her green clad back, with the ties from her cap trailing down at like odd pigtails. Now, oh my, I could feel her breath on me down there. Notice the outward radiation, she says. It was a blast wound of some sort, probably ten years ago at least. We could check his military wreck. The door bursts open. Pete cries out in surprise. Dr. Orlin doesn't, but her hand tightens involuntarily. She's gripping me again, and it's all at once like a hellish variation of the old naughty nurse fantasy.  Someone screams, and his voice is so high and wavery with fright that I barely recognize Rusty.  There was a snake in his golf bag and it bit Mike! They turn to him, eyes wide, jaws dropped.  At least for the time being, Van Peteyboy is aware that he's got one hand clutching the left breast of his scrub gown. It looks like he's the one with the clapped out fuel pump. What are you? Pete begins. Knocked him out flat, Rusty was saying, babbling. He's gonna be okay, I guess, but he can hardly talk. Little brown snake, I never saw one like it in my life. It went under the loading bay. It's under there right now, but that's not the important part. I think it already bit that guy we brought in.  What you trying to do? Stroke him back to life? She looks around dazed at first, not sure of what he's talking about. Until she realizes she's now holding my mostly erect junk. And as she screams and snatches the shears out of Pete's limp, gloved hand, I find myself thinking again of that old Alfred Hitchcock TV show. Poor old Joseph Cotton, I think. He only got to cry. Afternot. It's been a year since my experience in autopsy room four, and I've made a complete recovery, although the paralysis was both stubborn and scary. It was a full month before I began to get back the finer motions of my fingers and toes. I still can't play the piano, but then of course I never could. That's a joke. I make no apologies for it. I think that in the first three months after my misadventure, my ability to joke provided a slim but vital margin between sanity and some sort of nervous breakdown. Unless you've actually felt the tip of a pair of post-mortem shears poking into your stomach, you don't know what I mean. Two weeks or so after my close call, a woman on DuPont Street called the Dairy Police to complain of a foul stink coming from the house next door. That house belonged to a bachelor bank clerk named Walter Kerr. Police found the house empty of human life, that is. In the basement they found over 60 snakes of different varieties. About half of them were dead, starvation and dehydration, but many were extremely lively and extremely dangerous. Several were very rare and one was of a species believed to have been extinct since mid-century, according to consulting herpetologists. Kerr failed to show up for work at Dairy Community Bank on August 22, two days after I was bitten. One day after the story, paralyzed man escapes deadly autopsy, the headline read, at one point I was quoted as saying I had been scared stiff, broke in the press. There was a snake for every cage in Kerr's basement menagerie, except for one. The empty cage was unmarked and the snake that popped out of my golf bag, the ambulance orderlies had packed it in with my corpse and had been practicing chip shots out in the ambulance parking area, was never found. The toxin in my bloodstream, the same toxin found to a far lesser degree in orderly Mike Hopper's bloodstream, was documented but never identified. I've looked at a great many pictures of snakes in the last year and have found at least one which has reportedly caused cases of full body paralysis in humans. This is the Peruvian boom slang, a nasty viper which has supposedly been extinct since the 1920s. Dupont Street is less than a half-mile from the Dairy Municipal Golf Course. Most of the intervening land consists of scrubbed woods and vacant lots. One final note, Katie Arlen and I dated for four months, November 1994 through February of 1995.  I was impotent, unless she was wearing rubber gloves. Keep listening, up next Stephen King tells us why he wrote this story and what inspired him to do so. Terror began in January by the light of the full moon. The first scream came from the snowbound railway man who felt the werewolf's fangs ripping in his throat. The next month, there was a scream of ecstatic agony from the woman attacked in her cozy bedroom. Now, scenes of unbelievable horror unfold each time the full moon shines on the isolated main town of Tarker's Mills. No one knows who will be attacked next, but one thing is sure, when the full moon rises, a paralyzing fear sweeps through Tarker's Mills. For snarls that sound like human words can be heard wining through the wind, and all around are the footprints of a monster whose hunger cannot be sated. Cycle of the Werewolf by Stephen King Hear the entire novel absolutely free on the audiobooks page at WeirdDarkness.com In the book, Everything's Eventual, the horror anthology that autopsy room four is from, Stephen King includes a note at the end of the story which I found interesting, and I thought you might as well. This is what he wrote. At some point, I think every writer of scary stories has to tackle the subject of premature burial, if only because it seems to be such a pervasive fear. When I was a kid of seven or so, the scariest TV program going on was Alfred Hitchcock Presents, and the scariest Alfred Hitchcock Presents, my friends and I were in total agreement on this, was the one starring Joseph Cotton as a man who has been injured in a car accident. Injured so badly, in fact, that the doctors think he's dead. They can't even find a heartbeat. They're on the verge of doing a post-mortem on him, cutting him up while he's still alive and screaming inside, in other words, when he produces one single tear to let them know he's still alive. That was touching. But touching isn't in my usual repertoire. When my own thoughts turned to this subject, a more, shall we say, modern method of communicating liveliness occurred to me, and this story was the result. One final note. Regarding the snake, I don't like hell if there's any such reptile as a Peruvian boomslang, but in one of her Miss Marple Capers, Dame Agatha Christie does mention an African boomslang. I just liked the word so much. Boomslang, not African. I had to put it in the story. Thanks for listening. If you like to show, please share it with someone you know who loves the paranormal or strange stories, true crime, monsters or unsolved mysteries like you do. You can email me anytime with your questions or comments at Darren at WeirdDarkness.com. Darren is D-A-R-R-E-N. WeirdDarkness.com is also where you can find information on any of the sponsors you've heard about during the show, find all of my social media, listen to audiobooks I've narrated, sign up for the email newsletter, find other podcasts that I host, including Church of the Undead and a retro-style science fiction podcast called Auditory Anthology. You can visit the store for Weird Darkness merchandise and more. WeirdDarkness.com is also where you can find the Hope in the Darkness page if you or someone you know is struggling with depression or dark thoughts. Also on the website, if you have a true paranormal or creepy tale to tell, you can click on Tell Your Story. You can find all of that and more at WeirdDarkness.com. All stories on Thriller Thursday episodes are works of fiction and you can find links to the stories of the authors in the show notes. Autopsy Room 4 was written by Stephen King from the book Everything's Eventual. Again, there is a link in the episode description. WeirdDarkness is a registered trademark. Copyright Weird Darkness. And now that we're coming out of the dark, I'll leave you with a little light. Revelation 1, verse 8. Whatever situations I face, I will start, continue and finish them with God's Word. And a final thought. The hard times of today are preparing you for the great opportunities of tomorrow. I'm Darren Marlar. Thanks for joining me in the Weird Darkness.


It can be nerve wracking sending your kids to school and not really have an idea of what what they're gonna do when gearing up for kindergarten gives parents that knowledge and the some of the skills building. I think it's a great program because not only does it teach the children what they need to learn for kindergarten but it also teaches the parents what we need to do to get them ready for kindergarten. The parent gets the same knowledge what we need to do for the kids before going to kindergarten and what other things need to be prepared for the kids. What I like best about program is that parents are included in that. I don't think that there is any other programs where parents get along with kids that education and skills so they learn with their child. When you tell parents about maybe the skills that they can work with their child on it's different than seeing it. You play a game and you see right there what is your child missing that they can learn all letters or how to do game or just like science experiments that thinking why did this happen and they see other kids that see their child they see kind of expectations so it's it's it's so powerful I think. And the take home activities are wonderful they're educational but they're also fun. Some parents are very afraid of kindergarten with all the standards that changed and now they see that their activities that are really simple that they can do at home with all those lesson plans that are provided in that booklet. Also for a parent I think that it's fun seeing your kids have fun learning and then have a place to ask questions and be curious and see why do we need this or how do we do this and then learn from each other. I have seen you know positive things in my child I have seen positive things with you know parents in the class and everybody being able to share their experiences and their concerns and you know what has worked for them and getting kids ready for next year and I think it's just been great great opportunity for everyone involved. There's so much higher expectations in kindergarten and how are we going to get our kids there if we don't set them up. It just seems like expectations are so much higher now than even when I was a child in kindergarten and they'll be challenged a lot more so being prepared for that is good. They are expecting a lot more out of kids you know and I've heard some parents say that kindergarten is just a lot of play. The more that I'm looking at it and the more that I'm learning in here and stuff is just really not as much as I thought you know that they are really going to be learning a lot more. Learning what we should be have her prepared for I guess you know as far as numbers and letters and starting to read sight words those kind of things has kind of brought it to our attention and and having this time over the summer to prepare for that is good because I guess I was my first child in kindergarten I wasn't sure what to expect so I do find it has been very helpful.