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For adults with Crohn's disease or ulcerative colitis symptoms. Every choice matters. Tremphya offers self injection or intravenous infusion from the start. Tremphya is administered as injections under the skin or infusions through a vein every four weeks, followed by injections under the skin every four or eight weeks. If your doctor decides that you can self inject Tremphya, proper training is required. Tremphya is a prescription medicine used to treat adults with moderately to severely active Crohn's disease and adults with mild, moderately to severely active ulcerative colitis. Serious allergic reactions and increased risk of infections and liver problems may occur. Before treatment, your doctor should check you for infections and tuberculosis. Tell your doctor if you have an infection, flu like symptoms or if you need a vaccine. Explore what's possible. Ask your doctor about tremphya today. Call 1-800-526-7736 to learn more or visit tremphyaradio.com.

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Lowe's early Black Friday deals are going fast. Don't miss up to 50% off select major appliances plus up to an extra 25% off when you bundle. Select major appliances and with Christmas around the corner, you're gonna need more string lights, right? Save $4 on GE LED 100 count string lights now just $5.98 Lowes we help you save valid through 12. 3. Selection varies by location. Select locations only while supplies last. See Lowes.com for more details.

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Foreign. I'm Maggie Smith, and this is the Slowdown. The noun alien has multiple meanings. One definition is an extraterrestrial, like ET from the classic Spielberg film, a creature from another planet. Another definition is a person from a foreign country. Both definitions describe someone who is an outsider. The adjective alien means strange or foreign. Some dictionary definitions even lend it a more negative connotation, unfamiliar and disturbing. What all of these definitions have in common is otherness. The language suggests a lack of belonging and even a lack of being welcome in a place. I think as humans we have a familiarity bias, which is to say we have an ugly knack for rejecting difference. No wonder people new to a place try to assimilate, to blend in. Today's poem dreams its way into an imagined scenario, finding oneself on this planet an alien, a stranger, and doing one's best to be seen as belonging so as to stay leave taking By Rita Dove from the Retirement Annals I was sitting at home with my daughter, who was young again, a child with a child's wish to do things over and over. So when she named an old film even I liked. We popped in the disc and sat back to watch until daughter and living room faded. That is, I kept watching, but the movie began to dream. I became a stranger, set down on earth in the late 20th century at a pool in midsummer, everyone with towels slung over their shoulders, children splashing each other, cackling as they kicked the blue water. Beyond this activity a field stretched green until it reached an end and began to climb gently, sloping skyward like a Runway to heaven. I was waiting. I knew they were coming over the hill. I knew the moment I stepped out onto the grass I too would disappear. What a curious sensation, being the stranger. If I thought about it too long, I would be seen for what I was, but try too hard to blend in. I might forget myself and miss my pickup and be stranded forever. Oh, I liked humans well enough, although they were immature, the old ones dreaming the same dreams to the end, the young ones trying to forget they were headed there too, always fretting over their bodies, working out, cursing and cooing. Yes, I was homesick. I walked toward the slope, towel draped around my neck like a human but not thinking of humanity, not fitting in. I heard something, a gasp, and glanced back at a child in a shiny pink suit who stood staring, nudging her mother as she pointed my way. No, I thought, not now I could feel them. I whipped my towel in the air as if snapping at gnats, but kept walking. And then the dune buggy puttered over the hill, and just like in the movies, and just like anyone might, I stepped onto the grass. Suddenly all the humans were staring at me, or maybe the idea of us before I was zipped up and we were lifting into the universe, pouring into our true shapes, translucence, then nothing at all. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. To get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter. Find us on Instagram, LodownShow and Bluesky. Slowdownshow.org the Slowdown is written by me, Maggie Smith. Our lead producer is Micah Kielbon, and our associate producer is Maria Wortel. Our music is composed by Kyle Andrews, engineering by Derek Ramirez. Our editor is Joanne Griffith. Additional production help by Susanna Sharpless, Cece Lucas, Marcel Malakibu, and Lauren Humpert. Our executives in charge are Chandra Kavati and Mark Crowley. Maggie here, host of the Slowdown. Listening to and reading poetry helps us find our footing in an uncertain world, especially during challenging times. You can help keep these moments of poetry and reflection going by making a gift today. Visit slowdownshow.org donate.