I did it! The shelves of my Etsy shop are fully stocked. Check out Carrot Condo on Etsy!!! Phew!

My shop went from two available items to forty-one!! To organize things, I created categories. So you can either scroll through and explore the whole shop, or you can choose a category like “stickers,” or “original art,” or “cards.”

At the moment, I’m most excited about the cards. I really like the artwork, and the back of each card tells a story related to my drawing.

But also, I figured out how to offer different prices for different quantities. So now, for each card, you’ll get a drop-down menu offering you three different quantity/price options. The cards are available for pre-order and will be shipped by the end of October.

These options help me better estimate how many of each card to print, which makes a huge difference to both my budget and my limited storage space. It also makes it more affordable to order a few sets of one card if you have a favorite.

Also, two of my kitchen towels are back. For now, they are made-to-order and take about three weeks from the order date to be shipped to you. Eventually, I will try to have a handful always in stock. But first, I am working on one more towel design, and I am considering reviving the strawberry design that sold out at in-person events and never made it into the shop.

All of this takes time. So, I’m pacing myself and constantly adjusting priorities. Which leads me to the last big change for Carrot Condo–I am not doing any in-person events this winter-holiday season. Carrot Condo is available online only.

I’m working on in-person ideas for the future, but until then, you can find my shop on Etsy. If Etsy’s system causes you any trouble–you can always email me with questions or just tell me your order and we’ll work out the details.

You can also stay in touch via social media. I post once a week on Instagram and Facebook.

And as always, thank you for your interest in my work and support of my creative journey. Knowing you’re out there motivates me. Like the month it took me to take pics and create Etsy listings…oof…not a quick process for me. Your enthusiasm kept me going. Thank you!!

–TRISTA

Saturday, September 7th is International Vulture Awareness Day, which I would have NEVER known until I worked on Judy and Little Bear. Turkey Vultures play a key role in our story, as they do for Judy at her cabin, as well as for the ecosystem of the Metolius River area.

These imposingly huge, beastly, hunchbacked birds land near the tops of giant pine trees near Judy’s cabin. The first night I visited Judy and Camp Sherman, I counted 13 in one tree. In the morning, they’d moved to a snag–basically a dead tree with open limbs–and we could see them without obstruction. And just as Judy said they would, they stretched out their mighty wings to full width to warm in the rising sun.

I am so glad to have had a reason to learn more about these fascinating creatures and the important work they do.

Related to ecosystems, but not specifically turkey vultures, I am also glad I could attend my friend Amy Daileda’s opening for her show at Autumn Coffee Roasting.

My favorite painting in this current show is of a milkweed seed pod. Her design captures the moment the pod opens to release seeds for next year’s growth, which, combined with knowing Monarch butterflies need milkweed during their great migration, felt like a resilient symbol of hope.

I should add that the coffee at Autumn Coffee Roasting is fabulous, and the owner’s mom makes most of the baked goods. It’s a welcoming space.

So, now that I’ve told you about turkey vultures and my friend’s art, here’s my own update. I’m a tad lost. I’m stuck between wrapping up some projects and the easier task of daydreaming about new ones. My friend h. sent me this from Sweatpants & Coffee. It absolutely hit the spot and will be my mantra for the next month or more:

I never know how things will turn out when I start a drawing. My new work is no exception–some of it meets the standards of my daydreams, some of it does not (and you won’t be seeing those), and some of it went in its own direction without asking my opinion at all!

So, in the spirit of just taking action, September will be a month of tasks: printing new designs, photographing my new work, then re-stocking my online shop. This will take the whole month. It’s tedious work, and I’m not very quick at it. But that means I can spend October sharing new work with you, telling you the stories behind some of the designs, taking pre-orders, and working to fill those orders. Plus, it will feel good to see those online “shelves” full again.

So, here’s to getting tasks done this month. Thank you for following along, and I’ll see you in October!

–TRISTA

A few weeks ago, I went to Bend, Oregon for a work retreat. I stayed with my friends LK and L. They gave me L’s home office as my bedroom and their dining room table as my work space. Their chihuahua Benny, however, was not on board with this. When I arrived Friday afternoon, he spent ten minutes using his various toys to demonstrate the many ways he planned to kill me.

LK and L ushered us out of the house quickly to go get lunch. Afterward, LK offered to take me to a gallery. I followed her to a nondescript second-floor walkway and casually walked in the door.

Hard to explain what happened next because it felt so natural, but at the same time, I felt transported to an entirely different space. We stood in a small gallery lined with paintings and quilts of luscious color and landscapes. It felt calm, welcoming, and peaceful, but I also felt so drawn to each artwork that I spun in a circle about six times before deciding to start in one corner and work my way through more methodically.

A small opening between two of the gallery walls revealed a large studio space extending all the way back to windows overlooking the mountain. The studio held what I would describe as perfect balance: a giant work table, a couple of easels, shelves, lots of materials out and in process, all clearly being used, but organized thoughtfully.

The artists, Lisa and Lori Lubbesmeyer, are identical twins and have worked together for decades. Every artwork is a collaboration between the two of them.

The sister-artists use fabric and thread more like an oil painter than a quilter–layering and blending (yes, blending, I don’t know how). When the first artist feels done with her part of the piece, she gives it to the other sister to continue. However, they do NOT talk at ALL about the work. They might talk about other things, but they NEVER speak about the artwork. So, the second sister to work on a piece, adds and changes whatever she feels is best, returns it to the first sister, and back and forth, back and forth, until they know it’s finished.

Here’s an example from their brochure–you can see the stitches, but if you imagine seeing it hanging on a wall, wouldn’t you think it was a painting?

I told them my favorite piece was “Flowers and Chair” one of only two non-landscape pieces. A domestic scene showcases a chair, a small round table, a slant of light through a tall window, a rug reaching out to the viewer, and a vase of fabulous poppies with blue centers, all stitched out of fabric.

They told me it started as a landscape. That first layer must have taken hours and hours to complete. When the second sister received this initial landscape, she decided to cover it, entirely, with a whole different design.

“Was that difficult for you?” I asked the sister who’d started the piece as a landscape. I’m guessing the answer was yes, but after a brief ripple in the otherwise calm, focused space, their answer stated in unison was: this is why we don’t talk.

I’m left to assume that when the first sister received her now non-landscape back, she breathed through whatever reaction she might have had and let the dramatic change inspire her next moves. You can see how just about any talking during the process might ruin the outcome, if not the relationship. Instead, silence makes the art, and I’m guessing the sisterhood, deeply strong and stable. A ballast through all kinds of weather.

The sisters showed me this piece, “Woman Sitting in Red Chair”:

and told me it not only started out as a landscape, but was oriented the other way. So, behind this pensive woman is an upside down landscape.

I continue to ponder this: the landscapes we cannot see inside others. The ones we can’t see within ourselves. How those hidden landscapes resonate or radiate through us, stitched over with many layers on top, but still impacting us. How sometimes we talk ourselves into a landscape that doesn’t fit. Better to be silent and make the hard choice of covering up something beautiful but not quite right in a quest to find what resonates.

Which brings me back to Benny, the murderous chihuahua and whatever hidden landscape from his past that compels him to see me as a serious threat.

On Saturday morning, my friends left for a work project counting butterflies in the area. That left me in their home to work all day … with Benny. I made a cup of coffee and just as I sat down to plan out my day, a blur of white flew up from my left and landed in a soft heap on my lap. While trying not to spill my coffee, I braced myself for the barking and the hungry focus on my jugular vein. Instead, Benny padded around a bit then settled with nose on paws, his back aimed where my hand would naturally land to pet.

There we sat, like two old-time friends, reminiscing fondly about the time one of us wanted to kill the other.

From there, my day continued to be bliss. I worked without interruption or pause* from 8:15am to 5:45pm. I wrote. I did some editing. I drew. I studied. I listened to two podcasts about creativity. I did a short yoga video. I wrote again. I completed two drawings.

Near the end of the day, I felt–what’s a word that describes feeling both inspired and grounded at the same time? It’s how I felt in the Lubbesmeyer gallery too. Sometimes inspiration can spiral and overwhelm me, lift my feet off the ground and leave me glad for something like laundry to do because drawing feels like too much. Instead, I felt calm and inspired at the same time. I need a word for that feeling.

When L and LK returned that evening, Benny and I both lept for joy–he with his pack reunited, me with my friends home to eat dinner together, talk story, and, as it turned out–play charades. You’ve never seen a better impression of “Big Bird” or “charming” than we did that night.

Thank you, as always, for following along. If summer is your season, I wish you many more popsicles, days by the water, roller coaster rides, s’mores, and night-time stars. Enjoy it for me. Tell me all about it. Meanwhile, I’m looking forward to fall, shorter days, and productive routine. See you in September!

*I only now see my pun. Pause/paws. Ha!

Shelly emailed me to say she wanted to talk with me about a project. Shelly had been an administrator at the college where I used to teach. Both out of habit as a faculty member approached by administration and out of admiration for her, I agreed to meet.

Would I be interested in illustrating a children’s book?

Truthfully, I wanted to say no. My life was just opening up space for me to explore what would be next for Carrot Condo. However, I wanted to work with Shelly, to soak in her vibrancy and vision. I agreed to a second meeting. This time, Judy joined us.

If you’ve been following along, you know Judy as the main character of our book. However, I knew Judy from my teaching years, and I was intimidated. She was on the Board of Education. I remember giving presentations to the board, all of them in suits, lined up in a row, listening intently or with scrutiny, I couldn’t say for sure.

Well, “administrator Shelly” and “Board member Judy” quickly faded into the background at our second meeting. Just as poised as ever, Judy told us riveting stories about her life at Camp Sherman. I was spell bound. I took six pages of notes.

I don’t know that I ever said yes to this project, but clearly, I wasn’t saying no.

Then, Shelly and I experienced four major pivots:

One month after our meeting with Judy, everything shut down due to Covid-19. I don’t know where our tenacity came from, but Shelly and I immediately figured out how to meet online, first with me holding my phone so awkwardly my arm went numb and I gave myself vertigo, but how else to show her my face and my sketches at the same time? We got better with each meeting and maintained this remote connection for 18 months.

The second pivot mostly affected me. I’d had a vision of my illustrations in bold black and white against the colorful backdrop of Shelly’s photographs. I really loved this idea, thought it made our book unique, and I even managed to create an example after taking a tedious and difficult online Photoshop class.

Shelly liked the idea too, at first. As I drew, she researched children’s books, consulted some other artists and friends, and came to a truth she managed to deliver to me gently but unwavering:

The illustrations needed to be in color.

This sounds like no big deal now, but back then it felt hard. Not only did I have to let go of my black-and-white idea–just for one or two drawings to give it a try–I had to face a fear. Although I love working with pens and ink, I felt sure that coloring in ink would make my drawings shift from whimsical to cartoony. I especially worried about getting the fictional Judy’s face and skin tone looking right and not streaky or too heavy.

The challenge forced me to learn a bit more about pens and ink, and I found a way to blend pens a lot like watercolor. The process transfixed me, and time flew by as bear fur swirled into something vivid but believable and Judy’s face became just rosy enough. Full color it would be.

Our third pivot felt more like a breakthrough and a friendship:

All of these illustrations were drawn by hand on paper. Nothing digital. All of it to scale. Shelly would mail me prints of her photos, I’d lay my drawing paper on top, put it all on a light table, and draw the animals and characters into the photo. This worked, until it didn’t. Some images were just so, so tiny they looked ridiculous drawn so small.

Shelly and I both experimented with different programs, like Photoshop, to figure out how to combine her photos with my illustrations, but this was taking us down a techy-road neither of us really wanted to be on.

I asked for advice at impress, the company that does all of my printing. Erik said he might be able to help, and at this point it was safe to meet in person again, so we gathered outside his shop and showed him our work so far.

Turns out, not only was it easy for Erik to scan my illustrations and expertly nestle them into Shelly’s photographs, he had an eye for color and font and layout, and he felt personally connected to our story. He told us he’d spent much of his childhood in a place a lot like Camp Sherman. We not only had his expertise, but his enthusiasm too.

A that point, you’d think the rest would go smoothly. Even so, Shelly and I hit a mysterious lull. Separately, we both kind of lost connection to the project. We didn’t know this about each other, but Shelly noticed how long it had started to take me to finish the last few illustrations.

One day, I received a text from Shelly telling me, absolutely graciously, that it would be okay if we quit the project. We’d learned a lot, accomplished a lot, but we did not have to force ourselves to keep going. Final pivot: put it on the shelf and call it a good try and a fun adventure? I thought about it.

Instead, that option–to quit–felt like it opened all the doors and windows in a small, stuffy house and let in fresh air. It gave us space to reconsider the whole book and our reasons for doing it–which had changed. I mean, we’d been through a pandemic, and grown as we learned more about writing, illustrating, and publishing.

The option to say “no,” brought us to an exuberant and resounding YES instead. From that point on, there was no stopping us. We really pushed to the end, leaping over hurdles in our way. In fact, our text messages from those months almost always included race-car emojis. We could see the finish line, and it felt great.

Before taking on a creative project, I always want to know: will it work out? Will it succeed? Of course, we never know this in life, but I wish for it anyway. With this book collaboration and the goal of a published book so far into the future, I learned to notice and catalog the experience as we went along. Sort of like collecting gems and power-ups as you navigate your way through a video game.

I carry this habit with me into new projects. Whether it seems to be working out or not, what has already been achieved? New skills? Better skills? New connections? New information? New ideas? Friendships? Adventures?

As for Judy, Shelly, and our fictional bear (based on a real fawn), it’s nice to see our book on my shelf, reminding me of a long, grand, quiet adventure just now concluding.

Judy and Little Bear is available until it runs out!

Thank you for following along!

–Trista

I have two jade plants. One keeps having yellow leaves that wither and fall off. Every morning, I sit near these jade plants and admire them while I drink a cup of coffee. But the yellow leaves worry me. It’s been happening for a couple of months.

Last week, a friend stopped by and complimented my jade plants. I mentioned the yellow leaves. She seemed surprised, “But look at all the new growth!” she said.

Her words vaporized my focus on the yellow leaves. Suddenly, I could see dozens of new, bright green, teardrop-shaped leaves lining the inner branches. I’d been so focused on the yellow leaves, I hadn’t noticed the new growth at all.

I think this is happening in my creative life as well. The fifteen hours a week have kept me at the desk working and doing my best with the skills and tools I have. I thought I’d finished one whole theme of the line I plan to unveil to you in the fall….

….but I looked at those designs recently, and I no longer like at least half of them. This has sat with me like a heavy rock in my stomach for days. What am I going to do about those designs? I worked so hard on them, they filled check boxes on my theme list, but…I just don’t like them anymore.

I made myself move on to the second theme of designs and tried a new tool that lets me paint digitally. At first, it was messy and hard, but I had an hour left to work, so I stayed with it, and it started to feel like real paint–layering and blending. I liked how vivid it looked.

While admiring the jade plants yesterday morning, I realized that the designs I don’t like are the yellow leaves. I’m bothered by them, I want to fix them or re-do them, and they stay on my mind nagging at me. Just like the jade plant, something needs to be done about them. However, they are not such an urgent problem that all else needs to stop until it is fixed.

Because, with each illustration, there’s new growth. I learn new skills, try new tools, and find new methods that work for me. Each design has been better organized than the last, easier to revise and improve, and more complex.

I still don’t know what I’ll do about the designs I don’t like.* I’m not letting myself delete them yet. I’ll sit with it a while longer. Maybe something I’m working on now will teach me a technique to improve those earlier illustrations.

For the jade, I think it’s root bound and could use some fresh soil. But this is obviously not keeping it from growing, so I’ll follow my plant’s lead and just keep creating until there’s enough vibrant new growth to outweigh any yellow leaves that need to go.

*Without planning on it, I started revising the designs I don’t like. I got so absorbed that two hours flew by in seconds, and when my alarm went off to remind me of my next task, I realized: my left leg was totally numb from sitting still for so long, and …. I have two designs I now like! Because I thought I would delete the entire design, I felt more free to experiment. I think they might be staying in the line, and I think you might see a test print soon!

As always, thank you for reading and for following along. Your interest means so much to me. Recently, a couple of you whom I see in person, asked me about my work. I felt like a “legit” professional answering questions about my art, writing, and coaching. While I’ve been committing time week after week, my identity as a professional creative has deepened. I feel closer to my vision of myself and Carrot Condo as a thriving creative business/ life. Thank you for being a part of this journey!

Until next month,

TRISTA

In January, I made a resolution to commit 15 hours a week to creative work for all of 2024. For the first three months, I managed 8-10 hours a week, but never 15. Plus, it took nearly an hour looking at the calendar to schedule.

I convinced myself I had a strict boss and that I was paid by the hour. Otherwise, I did not take my goal seriously. There is always more practical work to be done than art, at least my mind tells me this.

It helped that my family took my goal seriously. Noticing my hours on our shared calendar, they’d remind me, “You better get to work, it says 7-9pm on the calendar, and it’s 6:57pm!”

As April started to come into view, I thought: You have to do this, just make it happen every week for this one month, and if it works, do it again in May.

And, it worked! I completed 15 hours a week for the entire month!

I scheduled brief, daily morning hours; one evening a week; and the rest scattered throughout each day. Sometimes I had a nice stretch of three hours straight, but often an hour here, an hour there. One hour is completed in the car because there’s a gap in time and rather than drive back home, I just bring my work.

And you know what? It’s been even better than I’d imagined. Here are just a few things this commitment of creative time has generated already:

I stayed with a design idea that wouldn’t leave me. I sketched, I wrote about it, and even when I felt stuck, I kept sketching because I had time on the clock. Then one day, that idea unfurled into three themes, each with multiple designs that I envision as a Carrot Condo “line” I hope to unveil for you this fall.

That wouldn’t have happened in the past. A line would have seemed too big, and without committed hours, I wouldn’t have seen how I could get it done. Planning on 15 hours a week for the entire year allowed my effort to start catching up with my imagination.

However, diving into creating this line revealed to me how much I do not know. Until now, I’ve resisted admitting this to myself. Even though problem solving and teaching yourself new skills are at the heart of being a creative person, both of those things intimidate me.

This time, however, I’d look up at my sketches of the three themes, and I did not want to simplify them. So, I took a giant step. After thinking about it, researching it, working with two different friends to try it out–I bought an iPad and a drawing program.

So now, I am teaching myself how to draw digitally. I cannot overstate how HUGE this feels.

I’ve resisted digital art for the entire decade Carrot Condo has existed. For good reasons, but also sometimes out of fear. And what I suspected is true–when adding color to an image, it’s just not as satisfying as using my pens. However, everything else about it has been exactly what I’d hoped and more.

Best example so far: I can create an illustration in layers. So, say one line wobbles a bit. On paper with pen, I’d have to start the entire creation over from scratch. Now, however, I re-draw just that one layer.

I’m nowhere near what I aspire to, but I am so much further along than I’d even dreamed. I spend part of my 15 hours watching how-to videos and walking myself through tutorials.

Many talented artists have taken the time to create thoughtful, clear tutorials, and make them available online for free. For some, I watch an ad before the video. For others, it’s simply the person’s website and an ad-free page describing what they’ve learned so others can benefit from their self-teaching.

That expertise and generosity has inspired me and given me a boost of energy and optimism. That’s something I did not expect.

I’m posting brief updates on my progress once a week on Instagram (@carrot.condo) if you’d like to follow along. My newsletter tells the fuller story, as those of you who subscribe already know. I plan on updating monthly, so if you’re not already subscribed, you can follow along here:

And sometime in the fall, I plan to unveil all my new creations. It might end up smaller than what I have sketched out and hold in my imagination, but the good feeling I get with these 15 hours has me hoping that it will be big and colorful and fresh and new but still very “Carrot Condo-y” and even if it’s not, I look forward to sharing the results with all of you.

I deeply appreciate your interest, and thank you for following along! See you next month!

–TRISTA

You are invited to the 9th Annual CSA Share Fair on Sunday, March 3rd at The Redd in SE Portland. I will have a table there from 10am-1pm with brand-new creations.

My new work illustrates some of the amazing food our farmers grow and raise, as well the home-cook’s power to transform ingredients into nourishing, delicious meals.

You can attend cooking demonstrations (see below) and sample the food, meet local farmers and purchase some of their products, and become a CSA member. More information at PNW CSA and a story about the event that gives more detail about your impact on the local economy when you join a CSA. 

CSA, or community supported agriculture, has grown a lot in the last few years. You have many options: Farmers offer weekly and bi-weekly shares, seasonal shares, customizable shares, and some even deliver to your doorstep.

In addition to in-season and height-of-flavor produce, you can also buy eggs, fish, and meats. There are even CSAs for mushrooms and flowers, which inspired me to try a new sticker design. Screenshot of digital proof:

Cooking demonstrations include:

Deepak Saxena of Masala Labs & DesiPDX 
Dani Morales of De Noche
David Propst and Elise Moore of ROAM PDX. 

I have not yet tried any of these amazing-looking restaurants, but I saw Masala Lab has “cardamom chai chicken.” What?!?!? Cardamom is one of my two favorite flavors. I’m looking forward to trying this when I get the chance.

Share Fair is free, friendly, and all about sustainable and delicious food. I hope to see you there!!

And, as always, thank you for reading and following along.

–TRISTA

To our absolute delight, the Oregon Historical Society has invited us to be part of their Holiday Cheer event on Sunday, December 3, 2023 from 12PM – 4PM.

This warm and welcoming event showcases Oregon authors and their most recent books in the beautiful lobby of the museum. Shelly and I will be there with Judy and Little Bear: a Camp Sherman Adventure, ready to sign books!

I have loved attending this event in the past, and as I looked for images to share with you, I found the one below with Laura Stanfill–she is an incredible author and publisher whom I am honored to consider a friend, and…this event is how we met!! Pictures of the event were posted online, a mutual friend pointed us out in the same picture, and somehow, shortly after that, we were finding moments to get together and talk life-and-literature.

What magic might happen this year? I’m looking forward to finding out.

Hope to see you there! The event is free and open to the public. The museum is across the street from the Portland Art Museum at 1200 SW Park Avenue.

I will also be at The Madeleine Marketplace on Thursday, December 7, from 2-8 pm with Judy and Little Bear nestled amongst the last pieces of Carrot Condo creations I have left for 2023!

This event includes caroling, cookie decorating, tree lighting (at 6pm) and a “cook’s night out” menu of chili and churros, beer and wine, and hot chocolate (Signature Baileys for adults). Located at 3123 NE 24th Avenue (near NE Fremont) in Portland. See you there!

As always, thank you for following along! I truly appreciate your support.

–TRISTA

I love Taproot Magazine because it’s ad-free, designed with exquisite art, and filled with personable essays and articles. Even the craft patterns begin with a short story from the creator that expresses care and warmth and individuality. And…drum roll please …

My story “The Blueberry Forest” is published in Issue 57 “Blue”! I am SO excited to have an essay published in Taproot!!!

I saw the email that my essay had been accepted right after I arrived at my mom’s house, the house I grew up in, just a couple of miles east of the blueberry field I write about in the essay. My mom was the first person I told. She hugged me and said “Congratulations!” Then she paused and said, “You mean Taproot?” When I nodded, she hugged me all over again. She, too, loves this magazine.

Plus, she’d been staying at my house as I worked on the first draft. Conveniently, I ran questions by her. My essay weaves a few stories together. One story is from my early teens when I picked blueberries to earn money for school clothes. Describing my experience unearthed memories and details, which started to seem more and more fantastical. Blueberry bushes more than ten feet tall? Yes, my mom said. She picked with me occasionally, and luckily, she was able to corroborate all of the details. I was happy to know my magical memories are accurate.

After the first draft, I completely exploded the story into a fourth element about picking strawberries too–a drastically different experience than picking blueberries. So different I didn’t like reliving the strawberry memories. I can still feel the heat on my shoulders, the ache in my lower back, and the anxious wish to be assigned rows of strawberries closer to the adults working in the field rather than the other kids. I rode the school bus to the farm with them, and they were full of drama, boom boxes, and occasional fights.

I ended up cutting the entire strawberry section. Hours of writing deleted. It felt absolutely right. The contrasting story helped me understand what made blueberry picking so special. Not that it wasn’t hard work. It was, but it also gave me a unique experience.

There’s more to my story, including a mystery about vandalized berries:

and some romance sparked by feathered finery.

If you’d like to order a copy of the “Blue” issue, visit their shop and use the code intotheblue for free shipping.

Lastly, I love the way my essay is illustrated. I was deeply curious about what it would look like on the page, and Michelle Housel’s artwork could not be more perfect–the colors, the whimsy-without-being-cutesy, and the moments captured from the essay. Just look at this handsome house finch!

As always, thank you for reading and for following me along my creative journey. I hope to have more to share with you soon. For now, I’m somewhat frantically plugging along every spare second I can find during a busy and demanding time. I hope you are finding time this summer to stop and smell the roses, or pick some blueberries, or just sit quietly appreciating the smell of jasmine blossoms.