Christmas With Martha

I have a friend (we will call her Martha) who is just like Martha Stewart (of course besides the prison time). My friend is maybe not the best chef in the world but she’s the best damn hostess you will ever meet and excels in decorating. This is why I call her Martha. 

Now at Christmas time last year (a week or three ago) she invited all of main girls over to her house with our families to string popcorn.  Now, you know me, I am always down for something new and I have never strung popcorn before.  

I went to the gathering with one other single childless woman and we along with two other woman who came with munchkins started stringing popcorn around a kitchen table.  The munchkins had long since given up. They were gone At the first sign of tears and blood which for some was their first attempt at piercing the poppedcorn with a needle; the kids were over it. 

For us ladies it was like a sewing circle but with corn instead of material.  It was actually quite difficult to string popcorn. You have to have just the right piece to make it work.  Or It breaks in your hand or your pierce your finger with the needle. It kind of sucked but I did it!! I strung about 6 feet of corn on to string and then turned to Martha and said  “here you go honey! Put it on your treel!” 

She was horrified! Now what I failed to mention earlier when I said she was like Martha, was just how into this shit she is.  When I walked into her home I was greeted instantly with a winter wonder land. I could see garland upon Garland strung from every handrail. The scent of cinnamon filled the air. Wreaths hung in every corner and a tree in every room.  Each tree in every room had prizes and ornaments that were color coordinated and it was all in some sort of Christmas fashion. There was the silver and blue room. There was the brown and gold room. And there was the red, gold and green room. 

So imagine her absolute horror when I asked her to add my ugly homemade popcorn strand to one of her meticulously adorned trees?! (It was fricken hysterical!)

“Well honey I figured you all could take them home with you and put them on your trees” she replied through gritted teeth. 

I knew that she would of course say something to this effect so I was already with a quick comeback that would throw her a huge curveball. “Now Martha, you have been so kind as to invite us over and make all this poppedcorn and purchased these evil blood sucking needles and thread; and You have three trees, let us decorate them with our love and blood. It’s the least we can do”. I say with a huge smile. 

The whole room goes silent and mind you there were close to 20 people in the room.  Both her college age children who grew up with her OCD tendencies and everyone else  were waiting on baited breath to see what her response would be.  

Our other friends started to chime in, “yeah Martha they will just get crunched in our purse’s on the way home”. Or my other single friend said, “I don’t even have a tree”!  

Which of course lead me to “what’s Tracy supposed to do with hers if she’s got no tree”( suddenly I was Greek)?

Martha stood there in the room frozen. I knew she was facing her worst nightmare      . It was the struggle between her OCD habits and not wanting anyone to come close to her perfect trees; Yet, also wanting to be the perfect hostess. 

” ok ok ” she yielded and I am sure it almost killed her to even say that. ” you can leave it here and I will add it to the tree”. 

“Oh no you won’t Martha! I know you” I protested. 

Her kids finally started in on her  too,” come on mom!  Let them put it on the tree”! Martha looked at their excited Eyes and then looked at me for Mercy and I mouthed “let it go” and gave her a huge smile. 

“Fine hang them up! I don’t care!”she said sadly. Acting as if she never really minded. So her girls took it upon themselves to make it looks as bad as possible and even making it into a happy face on the front of the tree. It was pretty funny we all got a great laugh. Martha looked sick to her stomach. 

I said to her man “I want a text from you when she takes it down.  I suspect it will be ten minutes after I leave”.  

She called me two days later and left me a message on my voicemail,” hey LoLa I just wanted to let you know your god awedul popcorn strand is still on my fucking tree!” And hung up. I laughed so hard. I love her. 

Just some more fun times in LoLa land 

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Depleted 

I’m feeling very “run down” this week.  I’m ok physically and mentally. But emotionally and spiritually I’ve seen better days.  I have found myself wanting to spend more time home alone then with loved ones because they are taking so much out of me.  

I’ve always had this great ability to be people’s sounding wall. People can vent or cry, bitch and moan to me about anything and I don’t judge, I just listen. These problems that people share with me never get me down or upset me. Some people have found this trait of mine to be a skill.  For me it’s just…. Me.  Anyway, normally hearing my friends and family complain is not an issue; but, lately I’ve just been kind of depleted by it all. 

I don’t know if this is because I myself feel like a few too many things are up in the air in my own life and I need my own guidance? Or if there are just to many loved ones calling on me and not reciprocating?  All I know is I’m feeling drained and I have started avoiding phone calls and have turned down dates and plans with my peeps.  Because quite honestly I don’t want to have to help anyone else right now. 

It’s making me a bit sad because I love to be around people. I’m an extravert for Christ sakes but lately being around people has started to exhaust me.  It really screws with my FOMO (fear of missing out) because I have been saying “no” to more things then I say yes to.

Can a person take a mental vacation while still maintaining a job and regular life? 

Just a low day in LoLa-Land 

Up Up and Away

I had yet another sweet invite this weekend. I actually had two, but I only did one of them. Friday night one of my girlfriends hosted a birthday party for me and two other girls. It was a sleepover girls night, with hot tub option. Saturday night, one of my college friends invited me to another girls night at her parents cabin at the top of a mountain in Sonoma County.  I had already rsvp’d to the Saturday event so instead of spreading myself too thin, I only went over for dinner and drinks Friday night and when all the girls were about to jump in the hot tub,  I left.  

On Saturday, the drive to the cabin was a bit hairy i’m not going to lie. It was often times straight up or very steep and windy road.  It had also rained off and on all that day; so, the very dry rock walls on one side,  were giving way and there was a lot of rocks on the wet road.  To make things even worse the fog was coming in faster then I could drive and at certain times, I was surrounded by whiteness.  It was both breathtaking and horrifying at the same time. 

I was thankful to finally reach the cabin. It is the last property located at the very top of a mountain. It’s a hodgepodge of different doors and windows, as each decade the family has made additions to the exsisitung one bedroom cabin. Now it houses two bedrooms, a large kitchen, living room with dining area, a loft and a 180degree wrap around porch. It’s totally funky and exactly what I would expect from her family. 

She said every time someone in the family remodels or gets rid of anything they bring the old stuff to the cabin. So the windows and front door are all from their grandmas house and their furniture is all castoffs from the extended family.  

I felt so blessed to be able to have the peace and quiet of the cabins blissful surroundings (even if I got more grey hairs driving there).  The fog lowered enough so that we were able to sit under the covered porch and watch the sunset. 


We barbequed everything we brought. We barbequed the steaks and squash, to go with the pasta and salad for dinner. Then we barbequed dates wrapped with chease and bacon (holly hell can I get a witness,  that shit is good). Then we actually grilled on foil, organic Oreos and granola with chocolate on top. It was one of the yummiest meals I had in awhile. I had a blast, we all laughed and giggled all night. I slept like a log and when I woke up, I saw this. 


It was heaven. I do so have the most amazing friends! 

Just another fabulous weekend in LoLa-Land

Molly Time

I love my Molly!  (Seriously not talking about the drug here.) I have a friend name Molly who when ever I am near her I feel way more in touch with my psychic self.  It’s like she’s a conduit to my inner abilities.  

Today I had dinner plans with one of my best friends but she cancelled to go up to the city for the day.  I found myself without plans for the evening; which is very rare and I was kind of looking forward to being alone and yet bummed at the same time.  When suddenly Molly texted me and asked if I “had plans for the evening and could I meet her for a meal after work?” I was instantly excited, flattered, surprised and curious.  I was excited to see her. Flattered she wanted to see me because she’s a very social being who is always doing things and always busy.   I was surprised because I thought she was still in Hawaii but mostly I was curious to see what would happen. You see, whenever I’m around Molls, things just pour out of me.  

We were sitting at dinner and catching up on everything and everyone in our lives. (It’s been a few months since we really got to talk). Then she started to talk about her new job and BOOM I felt this weird energy shift inside of me.  This door like opened in my head and I saw her years ago at our old company where we worked together. I pushed my plate aside and said, “here we go! This is it. Let’s talk about it”

She looked confused, “huh?” She asked. 

“This is why you called me” I responded matter of factly practically rolling up my sleeves. 

“LoLa I called you because you’re my friend and I missed you.” She said defensively but kindly. “I just wanted some time with you. You have been on my mind.”. 

“I know Molls. I was so Happy you texted but I think the reason I was on your mind was the universe knew I could help you. Now tell me what’s up with the job?”

Then she toId me what it was and what her reservations were and I  proceeded to give her the message that I was getting and I do believe it spoke to her.  She said, “I know all of this. I know everything you’ve said to me is true. I just needed someone to say it to me.” 

She was right.  I believe that we think about the friends we need, when we are in weird spaces in our lives. There’s a reason we are thinking of them. We all bring something different to the Table. For some reason with my close loved ones and friends my physic abilities are open wide. When I’m near them I can see and feel different things around them or of them; it’s bizarre and I don’t usually talk about it.  But, Molly knows and she gets it.  I love her for that.  I love my Molly time I always want more.  

Just another wonderful day in LoLa-Land  

Friends To The Rescue

One of my friends and I met at the nail salon because my toes were just down right embarrassing. While we were there shooting the shit and catching up another one of our friends came into the shop and sat down next to us and talked to us while they did our toes. We were all going to go from there, to dinner. When one of the girls mentioned the friend who introduced us all, and how she was not doing well.  Turns out the man she thought was “the man” was not “the man” after all but just an angry man and not even a good man. 

So, instead of “dinner out”, we opted to walk to the store. Where we purchased sausages, Corn on the cob, asparagus and a large container mixed fruit. We then all took our three seperate cars over to our sad friends house and surprised her by telling her she had to make all four of us dinner. We also brought two bottles of wine.  Our sad friend was already half way done with her own bottle. So, we finished off hers and then polished off the next two bottles.  All the while, bitching about the men in our lives or lack of men in our lives. 

 One of the girls (the only one of us in a relationship), looked at us and said, “you will all meet your soul mates. I don’t doubt it for a second”.  I did.  I do.  I doubt it all the time. I knew I was helping my sad friend by just being there with her; but, I didn’t know what to say to her. 

She said, “I’ve been single two years, That’s long enough. I don’t want to get comfortable being single and then not want anyone in my life”. I understood what she meant. I remember being newly single and writing about my long time single friends and how ritualistic and set in their ways that they were. It was almost like they didn’t have room for love. I never wanted to be like that.  

Yet, Here I am, single just as long as her and set in my ways.  I have my routines and I love them.  I have company stay over sometimes and it’s usually fine with me to have someone in my space. But, I am happy when they leave, so I can be alone to have my time. Have I become the single woman my friend fears?  Or is this happiness with myself just a good thing? 

But, I and my psychotic single behavior was not the focus of the evening; my sad heart broken friend was. So, we laughed with her and she cried. We declared our self importance and all men’s stupidity. We ranted and raved and bitched and moaned.  It was all similar to when cats have meetings. 

Meow

But, we were with her.  We were with her In her sadness. We were with her in spirit and in love. Because that’s what girlfriends do for each other. We all helped clean up and we hugged her and reminded her she was not alone.  Then we all left, together (which is funny- odd, right? )  We were like the three whitches from Sleeping Beauty.  We came, we showered with love and glitter, and we left. Hopefully leaving our sad friend not quite so sad.  

Just another Goodwill Day in LoLa-Land. 

Fat That’s Phat

This morning was a typical morning for me, in that I woke up and started working out. Lately I’ve been watching a show called “My 600lb life” during my workouts. I find the show almost inspiring to Keep moving my ass and not let myself ever get morbidly obese again.  I feel so bad for the people being interviewed and I know how easy it is to turn to food when we are going through hard times. You see the over weight people in their normal day. They are usually eating way to much and barely able to move. You want to take all the food from them and yell at whom ever the  enabler is that’s feeding them to “knock it off! It’s a hard show to watch.  

You see them lose weight and start to live again. You see their faces light up when they start to be able to do normal tasks most humans find basic, like using the bathroom.  I remember after losing my weight, feeing like, I can say “yes” to going to the beach because I can make it up and down the hillside or not being afraid to go to an amusement park because I may not fit on the ride again.  

One woman talked about being the largest person in a store and how embarrassing that was for her. How people would stare at her. I remember thinking those exact same things. I remember being at Bunko and thinking, ” I am the fattest woman here”. Or feeling like everyone was judging what I ate or what I was buying from the grocery store, because of my weight.  

Today when I turned the tv on there was a new channel (new to me), called “vice”.  They were playing a show about “feeder and feedies”. These are people who get off sexually from either being fed or feeding someone. This particular show was about one couple and she was the feedie. She was beautiful and big. Just reaching 300lbs and proud of it.  Her boyfriend (who was quite good looking) was a normal size man; gets off on feeding her food. He would rub her large belly as she ate and it turned him on. She was excited by her belly. She loved to rub it too.  She had a New Years resolution to get to 400lbs by the end of the year and eat a King Kong pizza in one sitting.  

I was floored as I watched her rub her own belly, expressing how proud she was of it.  I was happy for her that she loved her size and was happily eating her way to the larger size she longs for but I wondered to myself, “when will it stop? When will she be happy with her larger size?  Will she be able to stop eating as much? Or will her stomach be so big that she has to keep eating and eating (like the people in the “600lb” show do, just to feel full)?  When is enough, enough?” 

My mind was spinning from the two  extremes. I would rather us all be happy with ourselves and our lives and so I found the woman who was a feedie quite refreshing and a bit amazing because she is so the opposite of most woman I know who are constantly trying to lose weight.Wouldn’t  it be nice to eat whatever we want to and love our size no matter how big?  But, I know from personal experience what it’s like to carry around 350+ pounds everywhere you go, it’s draining.  I can’t imagine what 500 or 600 feels like? And as much fun as this woman is having right now, I have to wonder that at some point she’s going to start to feel the drain of Her weight on her bones and wish she maybe hadn’t been so motivated to gain weight.  When will she think she’s maybe too fat and not just phat? 

Just another phat day in LoLa-Land

My Style

I moved from SoCal to NorCal when I was still in grade school. I was just a kid when I moved so at that age, style was not something I could even comprehend. Fast forward about 30 some odd years and you have the me I am today (a fricken mess).  

Since I’ve been single “what’s your style” has actually been a question asked of me a few times by men and or dating sites. I had no idea how to answer this question. Seriously, I’m not like any of my friends. I hardly ever were makeup. I don’t think I’ll ever want Botox or fake boobs. I don’t care if my Jewlery is all one metal and I buy my purses at the goodwill. 

I’ve asked people a few times what they think my style is and I always get the same response, “you’re a hippy”.  Hell even my nieces call me a hippy. As much as I love hippies and that entire way of life I know this is just not who I am.  I am not about being all natural all the time or wearing only hemp and no deodorant. As much as I stand for Peace, Love and Happiness I am ruthless at work and sometimes I kill spiders. 

I like ornate clothes that feel comfortable to wear, are easy and look good on me.  I like ruffles, layers, chiffon, and dresses. I love skirts!  All kinds of skirts, ruffled, long, short, yoga style but the best is one with lots of material for spinning.  

Recently when I went back to my birthtown down in SoCal, I took my Neice shopping Down on the main drag where there are lots of cool little funky clothing boutiques. I realized after the fourth store In a row that I loved almost everything in every single store.  My Neice even said to me several times “this is so you auntie!” And I agreed, it was me. 

That’s when it occurred to me that noone where I live knows my style because it’s the SoCal beach style.  They don’t have warm beaches where I live.  Our beach wear is entirely different.  My style is not hippy it is “SoCal beach” (which hell some might call hippie). But, I think it’s different, more like a sun child then a earth child.  What I think is odd is the fact that I moved from SoCal and transplanted to NorCal at such a young age and yet that hometown style is still the style I love even after not living there for so long.  I would have thought I would have picked up a different look from spending most of my life in a colder climate?

I will say that It feels good to at least know what to say my style is now.  People may still not have a clear picture in their heads but maybe they can just see for them selves. But, I feel I can relate much better to “sun child” or “beach girl” then I do to “hippie”. 

Just another self realization in LoLa-Land 

Invasion Of The Body Snatchers 

I’m in my 40’s as are most of my friends and I am realizing that while I was once  “pre-pre-menopause” ( this was my Doctors actual diagnosis. Not sure how many “Pre’s”, menopause can have? But, that’s what I was).  Now, I believe I am just pre-menopause or maybe even full Menopause! (I type this and I hear the resonating, of that ominous drumming  “Doom,Doom, DOOOOMMMM!!” play in my head.  (Yes, in my head the drums say Doom not boom). 

I have been surrounded by other woman who are being savaged by hormones day and night.  I listen to their accounts of how they feel during any given hour of the day to waking up multiple times at night. I’ve even blogged about conversations I’ve had with friends. Here’s an example in “Is It Hot in Nordstroms “. I have felt so sorry for them and what they are dealing with and yet so scared for my own impending future.  I felt like I was in one of those Sci-fi movies were everyone slowly starts to get invaded by aliens. I see what’s happening and as much as I myself do not want to be invaded I know it’s only a matter of time. (What movie is that? “Invasion of the body snatchers”)?
Slowly I’ve had to come to admit my own defeat. Truly acknowledge that the wait is over and I know longer need to fear the dreaded hormones for I am in fact, already “infected”!!  As I write this at 3AM on a Monday morning. It’s not that I’m a night owl who hasn’t gone to bed yet. No.  I went to bed at 11:30 and woke up in the middle of the night soaking wet, again! It’s so gross waking up in a pool of your own sweat and not even have it be a hot night.  Have you ever had to deal with the “wet spot”? It’s a pain in the ass because it’s usually in the center of the bed and no one want to lay on it because it’s usually clammy and cold against yours skin; yet, usually you want some cuddling and that involves someone being on the wet spot. Well, when you wake up “hormonal” and laying in your own sweat it’s hard to escape the wetspot. Because the wetspot is the same size as your body!  I’m not sure what I would do if I slept with someone each night?  As it is now I can just roll over to the other side of my mattress. 

Then there is the menstral issues. All of my friends and portably even me soon are going on birth control Pills or getting IUD’S put in just to help regulate their periods. I mean it’s like junior high all over again. I never know when I will start or stop. I may be really, really heavy or hardly have a period at all. Sometimes they last 4 days. Sometimes I am just not right for 10 days. There is no rhyme or reason to any of it. Taking “the pill” keeps you on a regular schedule, which would be nice (even though I can’t have kids so it seems idiotic). As It is now, there is no sense in even trying to schedule certain events around my period.  I have found that if I get anywhere near another woman who is having her period; or, is having a hormone Syrge herself, I will end up starting my period again because of her. It gets to the point where you want to stay isolated or only hang with men. You start wanting to poll your friend before you hang out. 

“Hi honey.  I’m so excited to see you later but I was wondering before we do,  are you  experiencing any mood swings currently? Are you curently on your period? Near your period in anyway? Are your pre menstral?” 

Then if any of those answers are yes, i what to continue with,  “oh I’m sorry to hear that honey (cough cough) you know I am just not feeling 100% and I don’t want to get you sick. Can we reschedule for like… 7 days from now?”

I haven’t even mentioned the fact that I consider just walking out of my job (hello! My livlihood- bill payer) on a semi weekly bases for really no good reason at all. It’s like I don’t have any sense at all sometimes. I get to a stage where I am irritated as hell and done; and, I’M NOTHAVING ANY OF IT! 

 So, yes, I do believe it’s official, I’ve been snatched!  There is just no way around it.  My body is no longer my own. I have been invaded by the dreaded “HORMONE”. There is no cure for me. No escaping the hysteria and heat flashes. No avoiding the lack of sleep and trough of sweat. The madness and crying spells.   I must now adjust to this new way of being, where my being is not my own. 

Just another hormone infested day (night) in LoLa-Land 

Freckle Mustache 

So recently I’ve been bothered by what looks like a mustache growing on my face. Now, I get that I’m aging and all. And I get that things are rapidly deteriorating and changing; so, I’ve grown accustomed to finding differences and irregularities with regards to my body. 

For example you have the usually discussed falling hearing. I find myself saying “what” all the time.  I’ve got four pairs of glasses I  carry around in my purse and I need them all to see for different reasons. There are oh so many aging physical aliments. Like when I walk down the stairs in the morning and it sounds like one trying to beatbox, my bones are creaking so bad.  All of this and I am only 42. 

There’s another element of aging, especially for woman, that I never heard about before it started happening to me. And that’s what I loving refer to as “the Hormone Syrge”. I will feel a weird hormone thrust hit me and the next day I look down at what was a hairless stomach and I have a inch long gray hair coming out of my tummy. Or God help me, I have even found them on my boobs! 

So, I’m getting ready in the morning a couple weeks ago and I was struck by what looked like a brown mustache on my face. Now, I’ve been lucky enough to be covered in a very light layer of blonde body hair. So, I’ve never had to worry about plucking my face or having thick arm or leg hair.  Why am I suddenly growing a brown mustache? But, it didn’t surprise me because nothing does anymore. 

I dealt with this for awhile internally. Wondering what my next move should be?  Do I bleach the mustache? Do I have it waxed?  I am still amazed at how old I am and still don’t know how to maintain society approved beauty.  I have friends who have been dying and plucking their hair since they were in Highschool. I have never needed to bother or maybe I just didn’t care. 

This afternoon I saw the mustache again and was dismayed at how dark it seemed.I grabbed some trimming scissors and got really close to the mirror (because that’s the only way I can see my face) in my well lit bathroom; and, started trimming my mustache.  But, as I trimmed I realized it was barely there and the hair was as it’s always been, light blonde. 

That’s when I looked beyond the light hairs and saw the dark splotches! Damn sun! I used to have them everywhere but now it seems my upper lip is just covered in freckles. Causing my face to appear to have a brown mustache. Oh joy! There is nothing I can do about this one apart from staying out of the sun. 

Just another freckled day in LoLa-Land

Vagina Vagina Vagina

I laughed so hard tonight during dinner. I went and hung out with my nieces because my sister and her husband had “a thing”, which was just fine with me. I love my nieces with all my heart and hanging with them makes me feel young again. 

So, the three of us are sitting at their table and the oldest starts talking about how she loves to dance but how it  really sucks when she has her period because you can see the pad from behind when she bends over. As my Neice went on in great detail about her pad woes, even getting up to show us how you can see it by bending over next to me at the table; my yongest Neice who is just now “blossoming” was slowly shrinking into her coat and under the table. 

It’s kind of obvious to everyone in the family that she is very uncomfortable  in her skin right now. she doesn’t like what’s happening to her body and wants to stay a kid (I kind of don’t blame her). I could tell she clearly wanted her sister to shut up and usually she tells people to change the subject whenever sex, bodily functions, body parts, blood or spiders comes up in conversation; but this time, she said nothing.  My oldest Neice just kept going (no doubt because she knows it drives her little sister crazy) about how her boobs were sore and her vagina aches. 

I looked at the blossoming girl and I said, “I’m really shocked you haven’t said anything? Usually by now you’re telling everyone to change the subject or to shut up, what’s up? You feeling ok?”

“It’s just implied at this point” was her response. (Did I mention she’s 12 and brilliant). 

I turned back to my oldest Neice and said, “my vagina feels like I got kicked really hard when I’m on my period”. When I looked back at my young Neice she had a very irritated disciplining look on her face.

“Look I know you expected me to squash this discussion because you’re embarrassed by it” I confided in her, “but what’s happening to you happened to everyone and you have no reason to be embarrassed. There’s nothing wrong with Talking about vaginas and penis, menstruation or dare I  say masturbation”.   

“What’s that”? She interupts and all I could think was, my sisters going to kill me!

“Well skip that one for now” I said just knowing the answer would clean that one right up (haha not) “but talking about these things in family with just woman is not a bad thing. You don’t have to feel embarrassed. Open up talk about how you’re doing!”

“Uh yeah no. Thanks anyway” she quickly said.

The older Neice chimes in with her very supporting and loving big sister guidance once again, “look I’m going to get you an alarm clock that every time it goes off its going to say, VAGINA VAGINA VAGINA!!”  

I was dying, I asked, “what if we set her iPhone ring to say VAGINA VAGINA VAGINA”? 

At this point my yongest Neice was pounding her hand against her head asking “why !! why!!”  I don’t think she really wanted to know why we wanted “Vagina” to be her alarm setting.  I think she was wondering “why” she was a part of this family.  

Just another comical night with the girls in LoLa-Land

Previous Older Entries

Coloring Project – The Frog

Frog

2010 Summer Reading List

Sookie Stackhouse, the complete stories A touch of Dead
Finger Prints & Facelifts
His First Wife, Gracce Octavia
The promise of happiness, Justin Cratwright
Silk & Shadows
Wifey
The Honey Thief
The marriage
Ya ya Sisterhood book # 3
The Other Boleyn Girl
Wishful Drinking, Carrie Fisher
3 book flower series by Nora Roberts
The Kept woman
Twlight book # 4
twlight book #3

Coloring Project – The Swan