Way Back When

I have a friend who has been working on her family genealogy for many years, and has traced her husband’s family’s history back to the 1100s and her own family history, at least on her mother’s side, back to 1024. She has learned amazing things in the process. It is, she says, a process that continues to go on and on.

Alas, there have only been rudimentary attempts at tracing ancestral history on both sides of my family. However, our recent reunion seems to have attracted some interest in our family’s history by a few of my maternal cousins.

Genealogy, like gardening, is something I wish I liked to do. I simply haven’t the patience for it. On the other hand, I am interested – fascinated, really – in learning about my family’s roots. The furthest I have gone is to visit Ellis Island’s web page from which I have been able to find a bit of information about my paternal grandmother’s and grandfather’s immigration  to the United States from Switzerland. Here, for example, is a photo of the ship, appropriately called America, on which they traveled the Ocean Blue to America…..

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From that website, I also learned that my grandfather indicated his occupation in Switzerland as being a farmer. Seriously? A farmer? Who knew? I only knew him as a baker. The powers-that-be at Ellis Island also mistakenly put my Aunt Myrta’s name as Martha, although admittedly Martha might be the American version of her Swiss name.

Charles and Anna Micek on their wedding day.

Charles and Anna Micek on their wedding day.

On the other side of my family, every time I’ve visited my maternal grandparents’ gravesite in Columbus, I have noticed that in addition to my grandmother’s and grandfather’s graves, there has been an additional grave for someone named Balbina Micek. At the reunion, I learned from one cousin that Balbina was my Grandfather Charles’ sister, who died at the young age of 15. Another cousin indicated she had been told that poor Balbina’s father wouldn’t pay to have her buried (and it seems like there would be a story THERE), so her brother – my grandfather – had her buried in his plot.

Yet another cousin found this obituary in a long-gone Columbus newspaper dated September 1911 that stated:  “Belle Micek, a fifteen year old daughter of Philip Micek, who lives on the island, died suddenly Saturday from an attack of heart trouble.  The funeral was held from the house of her brother Charles Micek Monday morning, with interment in the Catholic cemetery.”  

Ah ha. And at the risk of being accused of using what the nuns used to call the lowest form of humor (that being puns), I must say, THE PLOT THICKENS.

It is probably safe to assume that Belle is a nickname for Balbina. But what does an attack of heart trouble mean, and even more puzzling, where is the island? It’s Nebraska, for heaven’s sake. Landlocked, people!

Yet another cousin seems to have the answer to that puzzling question. Apparently there was a time when the Wood River and the Platte River came together, thereby forming an island of sorts. According to this particular cousin: It was once a very large “island” in the Platte River, prone to flooding, but very fertile. ….. It is where the Pilsno Church and Lone Star Bar are still located, …. there are still Miceks that own and farm what was probably the original homestead.

And it should come as no surprise to anyone that what would remain would be a Catholic church and a bar. Enough said.

I eagerly await my cousins’ further investigations, as I am clearly too lazy to undertake the task. Still, it is like a detective story, which, of course, is why it peaks my interest.

Stay tuned…..

Division

imgres“It kind of sounds like some of your Thanksgiving dinners, doesn’t it?” Monsignor Fryer said in his opening remarks about this past weekend’s gospel reading from St. Luke.

Do you think that I have come to establish peace on the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division. From now on a household of five will be divided, three against two and two against three; a father will be divided against his son and a son against his father, a mother against her daughter and a daughter against her mother, a mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law.

Every time I hear that gospel reading I think, wow, that doesn’t sound like the let-there-be-peace-on-earth Lord and Savior with whom I’m familiar. What’s up with that?

I have always justified Jesus’ words, according to St. Luke, as his reminding us that he came to earth not to just make the people feel good. He came to SHAKE THINGS UP. He came to encourage people to break out of the status quo. His aim was to make people feel uncomfortable and to stand up for their faith and their belief in God despite their discomfort. It isn’t enough to simply follow the Ten Commandments, he said to his followers. You have to leave your comfort zone and work hard for what God teaches and what you believe.

Msgr. Fryer took my thoughts  a bit further, and applied Jesus’ teachings to today’s world. Today’s world, where people are sort of forgetting about faith in God and the teachings of Jesus. Today’s  world where it seems like the further people get from God, the more messed up things get.

Jesus preached to his followers that it was their responsibility to preach his word to the world, even if it meant that they were going against the beliefs of their friends and family. And Jesus tells us to do the same thing. Stand up for God’s word. Fight for what you believe is right and for the will of God. In this day and age where people seem to believe that anything goes if it feels right to you, standing up for God’s word is even more important. And often more difficult.

There’s no question that very often being a Christian puts you in a position where you get push-back. As people grow further and further away from God, it becomes more difficult to stand up for what you believe. Do you think that I have come to establish peace on earth, said Jesus.

Bill and I talked about the gospel and about the homily after church. We talked about how every day we hear from our friends and co-workers and television and social media that we have to be tolerant and accept everyone’s beliefs because it is the right thing to do. But very often the so-called tolerance seems to only goes in one direction. We are expected to support everyone’s beliefs, but that support doesn’t seem to have to go both ways.

I think that’s the very thing about which Jesus was speaking. It doesn’t matter if you get push-back. Stand up for what you believe is right. And don’t judge others. Challenge, don’t judge.

And PEOPLE! Love your mother-in-law, no matter what!

Saturday Smile: Team USA

I am smiling today because football season started on Thursday, and I do love me some football. Even preseason. What the heck!

But this week what’s making me smile most of all are the Olympic games. A friend of mine said it best on Facebook: “Our country might be a hot mess politically but we kick A$$ at the Olympics.”

635963781657912748192355232_biles_simone_081315_800x375And so we do. I am particularly fond of women’s gymnastics, and so, well, what can I say? The women’s gymnastic team is wonderful. Simone Biles is absolutely amazing to watch. I don’t know how anyone can leap in the air that high. And I was so happy for Aly Raisman when she earned the silver medal. I cried when she cried.

Since my grandkids swim, I have become interested much more in swimming events. Simone Manuel’s gold medal win took my breath away. While I imagesrecognize the importance of her being the first African American woman to win an individual gold medal in swimming, I was happy mostly to see a 16 year old girl be the victor — and an unexpected one at that. I loved that the announcers were talking, nearly to the end of the swim, about just how AWESOME the two sisters from Australia were. Suddenly they recognized what was happening right before their very eyes. The look on Simone’s face as she recognized her achievement made me happy. Imagine being only 16 years old and taking home a Olympic gold medal to put on your wall!

As for the gold medal ceremonies, well, needless to say, I cry every single solitary time they play the National Anthem and raise the flag. I don’t know how the athletes keep it together.

Great work, Team USA! Keep it up.

Have a good weekend.

Thursday Thoughts

Controlled Chaos
We literally came home from our sisters’ weekend in Estes Park to a house full of children. Don’t worry; I knew them all. Court and his wife had asked if we would watch their three kids for a couple of days while they had a relaxing getaway in celebration of his birthday. I agreed. The only caveat was that when they got dropped off Monday morning, I wouldn’t be there. Instead, Papa Bill would be the babysitter. I called in reserves, asking Addie if she would come help her Papa with the kids. When Bec and I walked in the door Monday just before noon, the house was in relatively controlled chaotic shape, and Bill had a bit of a deer-in-the-headlights look on his face. But the kids were happy and having a great time. I got there just in time to make lunch. After that, Addie once again took over. I will tell you that after Mom picked up the kids Wednesday morning, I turned on mindless television and proceeded to fall asleep.

Solitude
The other thing that took place Wednesday morning was that Bec, who has been visiting for a few weeks to escape the Arizona heat, left to head home. After the kids were gone and Bec was on the road, the house was like a morgue. Once I get a bit of my wind back, I will start housecleaning and doing laundry. In the meantime, however, I got a pedicure. Ah, pedicures….

Hot Time
A couple of days ago, in the midst of the madness from unpacking from our Estes trip and being hit, oops, I mean blessed, with the grandchildren, a Murphy’s law situation happened. Suddenly late in the afternoon, I realized that I was perspiring so much that I looked like Albert Brooks in the movie Broadcast News. I went over to the thermostat, and noticed that not only was the temperature not going down, it was in fact going up, up, and up. I went over to the vent and felt tepid air coming out. Though we placed a call early next morning to the air conditioning company, they only made it to our house yesterday afternoon. As I write this blog post, I am comfortably cool. Sorry to everyone who had to endure our heat wave, especially at night.

At the Zoo
On Tuesday, Bec and I took some of the grands to the Denver Zoo, including Addie to provide moral and physical support. It was quite hot, and we were all worn out by time we made it all around the zoo. I had packed a lunch for everyone, and we enjoyed it in the shade. But just before we left, I treated all the kids to Dippin’ Dots. They were all very happy, and I was once again puzzled as to why anyone likes Dippin’ Dots. Here are some of the precious faces….

Cole on carousel

There was a great deal of discussion about who would ride on which animal. I’m not sure Cole had much input. He just needed to be on an animal near his sisters and cousins so that Addie could keep a watchful eye. The dolphin it was…

 

Mylee Maggie Faith

Mylee and Maggie Faith find a shady hidey-hole.

 

kaiya cole

And so do Kaiya and Cole.

kaiya maggie funny faces

Besties….

Ciao!

Ancient Arts

Way back in 1917, a young unmarried girl from Kansas moved from her safe home in Kansas to the Rocky Mountains where she bought a cabin out of which she began to sell art. Largely Indian art. Quite a brave move for a single woman in those days. I would like to know a bit more about what made this young woman undertake such an adventure.

As the years passed, this came to that which came to the other, and ownership eventually fell to one Charles Eagle Plume, an American Indian, who expanded the store’s Indian art and brought it to what it is today.

Almost a hundred years later, Bec and I visited Eagle Plume’s, a purveyor of beautiful Native American arts, crafts, and jewelry located in Allenspark, Colorado. We had been told about the trading post the night before while sitting around a campfire with a group of others also staying at the Deer Crest Lodge in Estes Park.  Mention genuine Indian-made turquoise jewelry, and we are so there.

The fact of the matter is that we were looking for something a bit different to do with our time. We had been in and out of the various candy stores and souvenir shops purchasing taffy and candy apples and all manner of gifts. We were in the mood to do something a bit different, and visiting Eagle Plume’s seemed right up our alley.

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We were greeted at the door by exactly the woman you would expect to work in such a store in the mountains of Boulder County. She was friendly and enthusiastic and knew endless amounts about Indian artwork. The first thing she did was introduce us to a Lakota woman who was creating jewelry and teaching the art of quilling that weekend. The Lakota woman told us about the jewelry she makes out of porcupine quills. Her work was absolutely beautiful, well worth the steep price tag on the pieces, but beyond my pocketbook. We were, however, highly appreciative of the intricate nature of taking little beads made out of porcupine quills that she had dried and dyed, and turning into beautiful earrings and necklaces.

We moved on to peruse other genuine, but less expensive, earrings, necklaces, bolo ties, and other artwork. We also followed out nose to where we had been told fry bread had recently been made. There is nothing that can capture our attention quite like fried bread dipped in honey. Yum.

Bec Fry Bread Eagle Plum

We enjoyed our visit to Eagle Plume’s immensely, and as expected, each purchased some Native American jewelry. It seemed like the thing to do….

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Before leaving, we noticed the teepee located behind the store, and wondered if perhaps the friendly clerk (who, for all I know, might be the owner), lived in this tent in the woods. It seemed quite possible….

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It was Boulder County, after all.

Redrum, Flip Flops, and Other Distractions

There are a few things you can count on: death, taxes, and the Gloor sisters leaving their mark on wherever they visit.

This time it was Estes Park, Colorado.

We have been visiting this mountain community since we were in dirndls and Mary Janes, and know it like the backs of our hands. Even so, we find ways to dig up new adventures.

Jen, who still has to deal with that nasty distraction called a job, didn’t arrive until Friday evening, so Bec and I had an afternoon to kill. The weather was overcast, but we took a quick drive into Rocky Mountain National Park anyway so that I could try out my shiny new Senior Parks Pass — the single good thing about turning 62. Ten bucks for a lifetime national parks pass. Smokin’ deal.

Bec mentioned she had never been inside the Stanley Hotel — the haunted hotel made famous by the 1980 movie The Shining. I, on the other hand, had spent one long night many years ago during a work-related three-day meeting. I’m not proud to admit that I was so terrified after one night that I requested permission to sleep in another hotel the next two nights! Upon hearing my story, Bec asked “What was it that scared you?” “Someone walking down the hallway at 3 in the morning,” I told her. When I realized how dumb that sounded, I quickly added, “and some rattling chains.” You had to be there.

Anyhow, we went to the Stanley and had an It’s-5-O’clock-Somewhere martini at the very cool Cascade Whiskey Bar off the lobby. No twins chanting redrum, I’m happy to say, and the martini was cold (and not from ghostly drafts).

Whiskey Bar
 We grilled enormous rib eye steaks that night after Jen arrived and finished the day with Fireball whiskey shots after a toast to our absent brother.
We woke up Saturday morning to more overcast skies, but took a stab at finding a precious parking spot at Bear Lake in RMNP. The angels were smiling upon us and we pulled up just as a car left, so we got the opportunity to walk around Bear Lake in homage to our mother. Mom was not a hiker, but she loved the mountains and this particular walk was one of her favorites. And for good reason because the terrain is flat and the scenery is spectacular. Cheers, Mom…
Bec Jen Kris Bear Lake
 We spent a quiet rest of the day watching hummingbirds battle for what they don’t seem to realize is an endless supply of nectar as provide by the Deer Crest Lodge’s staff. Another nod to Mom, because she loved hummingbirds. I, on the other hand, do not. A bit too darty for me. We ended the day with Italian food and Fireball shiskey shots around the fire pit which we shared with others also enjoying the fire, with a toast to our absent brother.
Deer Crest
 Jen left after church and breakfast, and Bec and I took a drive to nearby Allenspark to visit a Native American jewelry shop we learned about from our friends around the previous night’s campfire, told to us in appreciation for sharing our Fireball. But before we reached the shop, we stopped at Lilly Lake and walked the perimeter. There are few things we haven’t seen in the Estes Park area and this was one. It was beautiful….
Lilly Lake
Bec and I concluded our last full day in Estes by visiting the Alluvial Fan, a rocky waterfall resulting from the 1982 Lawn Lake Flood of Rocky Mountain National Park and Estes Park. The trail, we recalled, was short — a mere .3 miles up to the waterfall. We don’t need no stinking closed-toed shoes.
Alluvial Fan
For the most part, we didn’t. But right at the end of the short trail, it gets quite rocky and a bit vertical. We were okay, but certainly the flip-flops we were wearing wouldn’t have been the shoe of choice for real hikers. We got up to the top. As we enjoyed the view, a young couple came down from their close-up view of the waterfall. The young man jokingly said to us, “Which rock up there are you going to walk to?” We laughed accommodatingly, and pointed to a rock way up above us. His friend, a young woman, looked down at our flip-flop-clad feet and said, “Hmmm, looks like you wore your hiking shoes too….” Touche…..
hiking flip flops
At least this time there were no rattlesnakes.
Bye, Estes. See you in the fall during bugling season!

Book Worms

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My nephew Erik’s family has a game they often play at dinnertime. One of the kids will start the game by asking something like, “Mom, what’s your favorite television show?” or “Dad, what’s your favorite place you have ever visited?” They then go around the table, each answering the particular question. Then the next person asks a question. And so forth.

It is, I presume, under this circumstance that my great nephew Carter, who is 8 years old, recently asked his mom a question that tickled her so much that she posted it on Facebook.  “Mom, what is your favorite smell?” She answered that she liked the fragrance of cinnamon and vanilla candles. “What’s yours?” she asked him. “I love the smell of a new book,” he answered. “I just love that smell.”

That is a child after my own heart. There is nothing like the smell and the feel of a new book. A hard back book with its perfect cover that creaks as you open the book wide. A paperback book that is smooth and unblemished with a perfectly uncreased binding.

Having said that, I will remind you all that I have confessed that I no longer read paper books, opting instead for ebooks every time. There are pluses and minuses about reading books off of my iPad. In the plus category is the fact that I never have to worry about running out of books. When I finish a book, I always have another book available. I can, in fact, carry with me many, many books. Also, I have a book at hand even in the case of an unexpected circumstance requiring me to wait since I have my kindle software on my phone as well as my iPad. If I want a book, I can get it immediately by going to Amazon and buying the book. And these days there are many books available electronically through the library, though it often requires a wait period. But that is also true of paper books.

But the minuses of reading electronically is that you miss out on exactly what Carter said he likes – the smell and feel of a new book. And please understand this fact: for book lovers, reading is a tactile experience. I love – well, loved – the look and feel of a new book.

The other day I was talking with someone about occupations. Being old and forgetful, I don’t even remember who I was talking to and why we were talking about jobs.

“What would you do for a living if you had it to do over again?” asked Whoever-It-Was-With-Whom-I-Was-Having-This-Conversation.

That’s easy. I would be a librarian.

I would suck at the part about doing research. Research makes me impatient and cranky. And, I know, I know, that’s probably the largest part of the job. But I would excel – EXCEL, I TELL YOU – at the part about talking about books and shelving books and checking out books. Touching books. Because I love books.

All of the above thoughts popped into my head recently because I had cause to actually enter a library building, something I probably haven’t done for over a year. That’s remarkable, because I am one of the world’s biggest users of the library. I have been since I was a little girl. I remember what it felt like to walk up the concrete stairs of our old library in Columbus. The steps were actually somewhat concave from the hundreds  and hundreds of people who had climbed them over the years. I remember what the old, heavy wooden door felt like as I pushed it open. And yes, Carter, I remember exactly how it smelled.

But I have little need to actually enter a library these days because I do it all over the internet. I reserve books. I check out books. I download books. I read books. I return the books. All on my computer or my iPad.

The 21st century is convenient and easy in many ways, but there are many things that I miss as I move into a more and more modern society.

Saturday Smile: Paper or Plastic or Metal?

My sister Bec was in Fort Collins for a few days this past week. She offered to make Jen, with whom she was staying, a shrimp boil. You know, those wonderful all-in-one-pot meals involving shrimp and potatoes and corn and sausage cooked in wonderful seasonings. But it seems Jen, who lives by herself, didn’t own a large cooking vessel. Bec went to the store to buy the ingredients for the shrimp boil, and bought Jen a large pot in which to prepare the meal. When she went up to the check stand, the cashier was just finishing up with a customer. Bec laid her groceries, including the pot, onto the check stand.

“Is this pot yours?” the cashier asked her. Bec said it was. “Shall I put your groceries right into the pot?” he asked her. Bec said yes.

He scanned her groceries and gave her the total. It came to something like $9.76. The pot alone was more than that.

“I don’t think that can be right,” Bec told him, and pointed out the cost of the pot alone.

“Oh,” he said. “I thought you brought the pot in with you.”

Paper, plastic, or metal pot?

Cooking pot

Have a great weekend.

Friday Book Whimsy: The Alienist

imgresIn this day and age of television’s Dr. Phil and Dr. Bob Hartley (Bob Newhart), it’s hard to imagine that at one time psychologists were considered to be nothing but quacks. The entire science of psychology was considered suspect. In fact, I don’t believe psychology was considered a serious science until the likes of Carl Jung or Sigmund Freud hit the scene.

The belief that the so-called science of psychology could not be taken seriously is the basis for author Caleb Carr’s The Alienist. Published in 2006, it is the first in a two-part series featuring New York City psychologist Dr. Laszlo Kreizler. Psychologists were referred to at that time as alienists.

In Carr’s mystery novel, Dr. Laszlo and his colleagues try to figure out who is brutally murdering young transgender prostitutes, slicing them into small pieces. Normally a psychologist wouldn’t be asked to help solve such a case, but in 1896, when this novel takes place, Laszlo is a college buddy of then-Police-Commissioner Teddy Roosevelt. Still, Commissioner Roosevelt asks Dr. Laszlo and his friends to keep a low profile until the case is solved.

Carr’s use of Roosevelt in his novel is clever and I believe adds to the uniqueness of this mystery story. Laszlo uses psychological methods to try and figure out who could be committing these horrendous murders, and why.

In addition to the smattering of real historical characters among the fictional characters, I also liked that one of the members of this unique group of detectives is a smart and strong-willed woman. Though she is Roosevelt’s secretary, he recognizes her abilities and appoints her to the group.

Carr’s novel presents a vivid picture of New York City at the turn of the century. His writing is so realistic that I can feel the rain and smell the odors of the areas in which the murders take place. I enjoy being able to get a strong sense of place from an author’s words.

The book is long and reads slow. There were times when I felt as though many, many words could have been left out. Many, many scenes, in fact. Nevertheless, the ending was tricky and the characters were interesting and likable.

Good read for Victorian-era mystery lovers.

Here is a link to the book.

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Thursday Thoughts

Home Again
Now that we are back in Colorado, at least for a bit, it is back to our regular routines. Like flossing regularly. Except that now I read that the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services is saying flossing probably isn’t necessary. Whaaaaaat? If I did my math right (which I’m sorry to say isn’t a given despite a very good high school algebra teacher), that means I have wasted something like 448,950 seconds of my adult life unnecessarily flossing. Those are seconds I could have spent on more important activities like playing Pokemon GO. And by the way, should the Department of Health and Human Services be worrying more right now about the Zika virus and less about our oral hygiene? Just sayin’….

Can We Watch Julia Child?
Kaiya, Mylee, and Cole were visiting the other day. As I was scrolling through Netflix to find something that we all could watch without having to cover anyone’s eyes, 7-year-old Kaiya noticed that Fixer Upper was on my Netflix list. “I like Flip or Flop a lot better,” she informed me, referring to a popular HGTV show. “You watch Flip or Flop?” I asked her, and she nodded. In the meantime, 6-year-old Mylee was lobbying for Cupcake Wars. What ever happened to Captain Kangaroo? I’m relieved to say that 2-year-old Cole was perfectly content with Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, which he refers to as Mee Mow. He hasn’t yet discovered HGTV or Food Network, although I’m pretty sure his father is encouraging a strong interest in SportsCenter.

Puzzling
A couple of years ago, I got into puzzles. I had a puzzle going all of the time, both in Denver and in Arizona. My puzzle-of-choice is Springbok, with its large sturdy pieces, and even more important, the pieces of all different shapes. Before I got distracted from working on puzzles, I had discovered White Mountain puzzles and developed sort of a love affair with them and their busy, nostalgic content. As of late, I have no longer been working on puzzles. But the other day, Bec and I visited the Denver Art Museum (someplace I hadn’t been for probably 25 years), and, as is always the case, we stopped in the gift shop. I do love me some museum gift shops. I walked over to the puzzles and found a White Mountain puzzle depicting different memories/places/tourist attractions of Colorado. On impulse, I bought it. I spent a bit of time in the first stage – separating the pieces that make up the puzzle’s frame from the other pieces, and then dug in. And was immediately hooked once again… And yes, that’s a gin and tonic next to the puzzle. All the better to think spatially…

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Expired
The other day I was rooting through our medicine chest trying to locate a bottle of aspirin that I was sure was somewhere. I finally found it, not in the medicine cabinet but in the little cabinet right next to it. I was distraught to see that it had expired many years ago. It occurred to me that my bathroom cabinets were probably full of all manner of expired products, and I undertook a thorough examination. By the time I was finished discarding bottles of expired medications and other products, my medicine cabinet was practically empty. The winner (or loser, depending on your outlook) was a bottle of prescription eyedrops with Bill’s name on the label that expired in 1986. That was long before we were married, meaning he moved that bottle at least twice after it had expired. I am thankful, however, that he likely hasn’t actually USED the drops for – using Abraham Lincoln’s vernacular – over a score. I was surprised I didn’t come across Castor Oil or laudanum.

Packing My Bags
I have mentioned before that I am a sucker for all of the various and sundry quizzes and lists offered by Facebook. The other day I came across a list of what the “perfect women’s body” is in various countries. I was delighted to read it because I learned that I don’t actually have to lose any weight. I just need to move to either Colombia or Romania. I think I’ll like the food better in Colombia.

Ciao. Gotta go work on a puzzle….