INFURIATION, RAGE, ANGER, AND OTHER BLOOD PRESSURE-RAISING MOODS – Marilyn Armstrong

This has the Chinese government antique (official) insignia. Probably 1700s, but could be 100 years earlier. Possibly from Tibet, but claimed by the Chinese (who are also claiming Tibet)

RDP-Sunday–INFURIATE

Ever since Garry said he was sure I was going to have a stroke if I didn’t calm down, I have calmed down. Mostly by having all of these rage-filled battles online rather than on the phone. I didn’t really think I’d have a stroke, but who knows? Nothing good was going to come out of it, regardless.

Giant ginger jar (missing lid)

It was ALWAYS something to do with customers non-relations. missing items for which I’d paid and expected to actually receive, getting defrauded (again), failure of a company to honor an expensive service plan (and usually one I should have known better than to purchase in the first place).

When I bought my Mac, I didn’t buy the service plan. There’s nearest service area was more than 50 miles away and for the amount they charged for less than a year’s “service,” what was the point? It would work that long I was sure. Computers work perfectly from when you get them (or never start working in the first place) in which case your 90-day warranty does the job just fine.

After I stopped paying for service plans. life got better. The people who supposedly provided the service rarely knew more than I did anyway.

Hand-carved Burmese Buddha – 20th-Century

At least I knew a reboot usually helped.

I stopped working with undependable companies and stayed with places that honored their warrantees: LL Beane, Land’s End, Amazon, Audible. and I never call my electric or internet company unless everything stopped working (which usually meant an area outage so there wasn’t much point in it).  Even then, I knew if I just waited, by morning it would get fixed.

I think Tibetan

I haven’t worked full time for so long I don’t actually remember many boss-slave relationships. I remember good ones, the wonderful ones — and have mostly forgotten the terrible ones. I remember the completely IRRATIONAL ones, though- the people who told you to do things that were physically impossible and I remember the great ones who were more like pals than bosses. I hold in deep fondness the mentors who taught me what I needed to know to make my way in a strange world.

Chinese Astrological figures etc

But right now, I’m not even angry. I’m just confused, scared, baffled. What to do about my house? How to get my insurance company to pay for legitimate weather damage that has — simply by driving around an looking at all the battered houses in the area — taken a terrible toll in the Valley.

I don’t know where to begin and on who to do it. In ALL the years I’ve owned houses, no insurance company has given me anything, no matter what had happened. I’ve gotten used to assuming there’s no point bothering to ask and it was always something I could somehow manage to take care of. Somehow.

This time, I can’t do it alone. I don’t have the skills or money. The adjuster came and went — and I have yet to see a report or a summary or ANYTHING indicating that the company got the pictures and proof of water damage. You’d think after 47 years between Garry and I with this same company that would count for something, right? It would seem I was deluded. Again.

I’m not even mad, just lost.

Simultaneously, I’m trying to sell as many of my antiques and paintings as I can. I don’t think they are worth all that much, pretty as they are, but other people don’t agree — so on the theory that other people’s ideas are often better than mine, why not at least try?

Sui musicians, restored

In the interim, it means carefully, oh SO carefully, dusting them. You can’t wash them — they are too old and the glazes are gone after a few hundred to thousands of years in caves or craters or underneath the ocean. It turns out, the ocean crashes did the LEAST damage … who’d have guessed it?

I’ve (nervously) assigned this task to Garry with the warning if he can’t reach it, don’t even try. The stuff is fragile.

When Owen, the tall one, is here, I will get him to help — and even HE is afraid of them, too. They are SO old.

Rage? More like complete confusion.

I’m probably enraged by what I (humorously) call my insurance company who doesn’t actually insure anything unless it affects the value of the house to the mortgage company (though you’d think a wall about to collapse from water damage would affect its overall value). They take our money, more every year — and it is a LOT of money — and never give anything back.

Miscellaneous and old!

I’m not angry. Just shocked, saddened, and dismayed that the situation could be this bad and MAPFRE will somehow manage to get away with it. Even more shocked at my own lack of understanding of the process. Boy oh boy, could I use a lawyer!

If I manage to figure out how to emerge from this mess, I’ll let you know.

I wonder — if I do nothing — how long it will take for the house to fall down? Do you think the insurance would pay for that? The mortgage company might get downright pissy about a pile of junk where a house used to be. I wouldn’t care for it much, either.

THE CHURLISH ADJUSTER – Marilyn Armstrong

FOWC with Fandango — Churlish

I couldn’t have picked a better word for this morning if I had searched the dictionary myself.

I should start by saying that Garry has been a customer of Commerce Insurance, now renamed MAPFRE since he moved to Massachusetts in 1970. Admittedly, part of the reason was that there weren’t a lot of companies servicing Massachusetts in 1970 and for private vehicles (Garry was a renter, not a homeowner), Commerce pretty much owned the market.

They are not even close to the cheapest insurers on the market. In fact, they are a couple of hundred dollars more expensive than most of the other companies, but over the years through lots of car bang-ups, they’ve been fair with us and even when, for reasons I still don’t understand they doubled their rates this year, we stayed with them. We have a long-standing record with them and I always think — usually to my detriment — that loyalty should be rewarded. I am usually wrong. I still anticipate when you’ve hung in there with a company for 49 years, they should at least treat you with civility and respect.

When I reported the problem, I was assured I’d be seeing an adjuster by Friday. I assumed it was a done deal.

Indeed I got an email and a telephone call from the agency assuring me the complaint had been received and properly filed and would be dealt with ASAP. I had a complaint number. An adjuster would be calling shortly to make the appointment for Friday.

I’m not sure why this stuff always seems to happen on a holiday weekend. It’s Murphy’s Law. This is not merely any old holiday weekend, but it is followed by an extremely busy week including more checkups with my heart specialist, Garry’s eye doctor/surgeon (his cataract surgery might need a bit of updating). Plus, a meeting with his friend who he is hoping will help him find a spot in the voice-over business.

Every day next week is booked and supposedly, we are going on vacation shortly thereafter — the vacation that got deferred earlier in the summer. I haven’t even begun to deal with Owen and dogs yet because until this mess with the house is sorted out, I can’t go anywhere.

Thus when the adjuster did not call yesterday as expected, the last thing I did last before going to sleep was write down the number of our insurance agent as well as the claim number so I could call first thing in the morning. There are events you can cancel — but then, there are events you really can’t and shouldn’t cancel and next week is full of the latter.

I called my agent and then, reading the emails I got from MAPFRE insurance, I called the agency itself. My claim agent (who is not the adjuster — just the person who handles the paperwork) was out until Tuesday. Long weekend. It’s the last time the kids won’t be in school full-time. I used to do the same thing, so I wasn’t surprised.

I really needed to see the adjuster today. I moved Garry’s doctor appointment to next Tuesday because I thought I needed emotional and mental backup today. That appointment officially made next week 100% fully appointed.

The adjuster finally called me and yelled at me for 10 minutes for apparently having the gall to call him TWICE inside a few minutes. Twice! He shouted how he had more important places to be than dealing with my little problem (it’s good to know they are concerned for my welfare). I pointed out in my best dulcet tones (no yelling) that all I had asked him to do was call me. He said he hadn’t heard about the appointment until Wednesday night and I said, “Today is Friday and all I asked for was a phone call.”

He finally agreed to see us later, around two. I said I don’t move fast, so please wait. It takes me a while to get to the door. He didn’t seem to understand what I meant but finally said he’d call and tell me when he was on the way. I said “thank you” and hung up. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been talked to that rudely by anyone with whom I was doing business. I didn’t think business people talked to clients like that. I know when I was in business, I’d have been fired for yelling at any client. Even if I had a good reason — and he didn’t have one.

I thought about it awhile, called MY agent, explained that I just been thoroughly dressed down by the adjuster who apparently didn’t think my job was important enough to give me a phone call and make an appointment.

I’m worried about the mold, too because Garry and I haven’t been feeling well and I wonder if the mold has something to do with it. I know we just saw it, but it has probably been growing underneath the damaged vinyl for weeks. Months?

Churlish hardly begins to describe this morning. I don’t even understand why. Has he been watching too much Trump on the news? Maybe he had a fight with someone else and I just happened to be the person on the phone.

Overall, not a great week. I’m trying to feel better, but I don’t think I’m succeeding. I’m working on it, though.

OF COURSE WE CAN REGULATE GUNS – JUST LIKE OTHER COUNTRIES

From 2 years ago, February 2015. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.


I’ve been listening to arguments against gun control since I was a kid. As a child, I didn’t understand why anyone would object to sensible gun regulations.

I mean, Wyatt Earp did it in Tombstone. Should we be doing less in Boston or Austin?

ColtSAA04

YOU NEED A LICENSE FOR THAT

Virtually every aspect of our lives are regulated.

Without a license, you can’t cut hair or sell insurance. Drive a car. Most places, you need a license to build an extension on your house, change the wiring, remodel your kitchen, or replace your roof. You need a license for your dog. A permit to hold a parade. Or sell booze.

So what’s the big deal? Why are guns different? We control and limit more or less everything, so why are guns off-limit? The answer is obvious. They aren’t, not really. What makes guns off limit isn’t the Constitution. It’s a powerful lobby group that has caused generations of politicians to fear for their congressional seats.

To me, it’s simple and obvious. If you can’t hold a scissors in a barber shop without a license, you should not be allowed to carry a loaded rifle in Walmart without requiring at least as much accountability.

The arguments against sensible gun control are specious. Stupid. If can’t drive drunk, how come you can walk around drunk — with a gun? I would never limit anyone’s right to own a car without good reason. Like bad eyesight. Driving under the influence. Lack of insurance. A flunked driving test. Surely we should require at least this much oversight for guns.

A COMMONSENSE GUN CONTROL PLAN

If you want to own guns, you have to pass a licensing test which makes sure you know how to shoot and care for weapons. You are obligated to keep it out of the wrong hands. Your eyesight should be good enough to hit a target. You need to pass a background check to show you aren’t a felon. Or nuts.

You have to register your guns. All of them. You are obligated to keep track of your guns, to know where each of them is. You may not lend them to anyone who is unlicensed any more than you can loan your car to an unlicensed and/or uninsured driver.

If your gun is lost or stolen, you absolutely must report it to the cops. None of that “Gee, I guess it must have been stolen” crap. You will carry liability insurance on every weapon. Should a weapon registered to you be used in an illegal act — with or without your consent — you are responsible for damages. If you don’t go to jail, you will still pay. As you should.

The nation, as well as individual states and counties can tax your weapons and refuse to license weapons deemed inappropriate for private owners. If you want a weapon deemed unsuitable, you will have to get a different license, not to mention explain why you need it.

Simple, isn’t it?

auto inspection sticker texas

LICENSE AND REGISTRATION, PLEASE

We license cars because cars are potentially dangerous. Which doesn’t mean we don’t own cars. Obviously we own millions of them. We try to control who drives while maintaining reasonably accurate records of who owns what. We can’t keep every drunk off the road, stop cars from being stolen, or prevent accidents.

We do the best we can. For the most part, the system works. It would work for guns, too. Equally well, equally badly. Imperfect, but a lot better than the nothing we have in place now.

I have yet to hear a coherent argument against such a plan — probably because there isn’t any. Any reasonable person can understand we need to regulate guns. Like everything else.

REGULATE GUNS — LIKE EVERYTHING ELSE

I’ve been listening to arguments against gun control since I was a kid. As a child, I didn’t understand why anyone would object to sensible gun regulations.

I mean, Wyatt Earp did it in Tombstone. Should we be doing less in Boston or Austin?

ColtSAA04

YOU NEED A LICENSE FOR THAT

Virtually every aspect of our lives are regulated.

Without a license, you can’t cut hair or sell insurance. Drive a car. Most places, you need a license to build an extension on your house, change the wiring, remodel your kitchen, or replace your roof. You need a license for your dog. A permit to hold a parade. Or sell booze.

So what’s the big deal? Why are guns different? We control and limit more or less everything, so why are guns off-limit? The answer is obvious. They aren’t, not really. What makes guns off limit isn’t the Constitution. It’s a powerful lobby group that has caused generations of politicians to fear for their congressional seats.

To me, it’s simple obvious. If you can’t hold a scissors in a barber shop without a license, you should not be allowed to carry a loaded rifle in Walmart without requiring at least as much accountability.

The arguments against sensible gun control are specious. Stupid. If can’t drive drunk, how come you can walk around drunk — with a gun? I would never limit anyone’s right to own a car without good reason. Like bad eyesight. Driving under the influence. Lack of insurance. A flunked driving test. Surely we should require at least this much oversight for guns.

A COMMONSENSE GUN CONTROL PLAN

If you want to own guns, you have to pass a licensing test which makes sure you know how to shoot and care for weapons. You are obligated to keep it out of the wrong hands. Your eyesight should be good enough to hit a target. You need to pass a background check to show you aren’t a felon. Or nuts.

You have to register your guns. All of them. You are obligated to keep track of your guns, to know where each of them is. You may not lend them to anyone who is unlicensed any more than you can loan your car to an unlicensed and/or uninsured driver.

If your gun is lost or stolen, you absolutely must report it to the cops. None of that “Gee, I guess it must have been stolen” crap. You will carry liability insurance on every weapon. Should a weapon registered to you be used in an illegal act — with or without your consent — you are responsible for damages. If you don’t go to jail, you will still pay. As you should.

The nation, as well as individual states and counties can tax your weapons and refuse to license weapons deemed inappropriate for private owners. If you want a weapon deemed unsuitable, you will have to get a different license, not to mention explain why you need it.

Simple, isn’t it?

auto inspection sticker texas

LICENSE AND REGISTRATION, PLEASE

We license cars because cars are potentially dangerous. Which doesn’t mean we don’t own cars. Obviously we own millions of them. We try to control who drives while maintaining reasonably accurate records of who owns what. We can’t keep every drunk off the road, stop cars from being stolen, or prevent accidents.

We do the best we can. For the most part, the system works. It would work for guns, too. Equally well, equally badly. Imperfect, but a lot better than the nothing we have in place now.

I have yet to hear a coherent argument against such a plan — probably because there isn’t any. Any reasonable person can understand we need to regulate guns. Like everything else.

HEART AND SOUL

I went to the cardiac surgeon the other day. I explained about the money problem. He apparently understood. Wow. A rational, friendly guy. With whom I had a normal conversation. I’m not used to that. I kept waiting for hostilities to break out, but they didn’t.

We put together a sort of plan. I need to reorganize my health insurance so I can afford the surgery. This means it will have to be after the turn of the year. In any case, it will take me that long to figure out how to get through to Medicare while the government is closed for business. I’m trying to stay calm, but I’m screaming inside.

The doctor said since I’ve made it this far — and I can breathe and am not all swollen with water retention — I’m likely survive another few months. How comforting is that?

BethIsrael-EastCampus

Meanwhile, I have nightly dreams I’m drowning in my sleep and can’t breathe. It’s my fear throttling me. Even though I’m essentially asymptomatic, it doesn’t make the fear go away. I control while I’m conscious, but at night, those demons are fast.

Diagram of the human heart 1. Superior Vena Ca...

The good doctor found it puzzling. I should be symptomatic as Hell. Go figure, right? My mitral valve is barely working and the aortic valve is 75% blocked by an over-developed muscle in the left ventricle. Because the mitral valve is not working, the muscle has had to work extra hard — apparently for some time — to move blood around. Which has made it grow big enough to block the aortic valve. In addition to replacing the mitral valve, they have to do a little creative slice and dice on that muscle. The fun never stops.

The lack of symptoms had the doctor looking at me funny. He kept checking for signs of swelling in my ankles and wrists. There wasn’t any. “You sure you aren’t taking medication?”

“Just hydrochlorothiazide … 25 mg. Standard dose … been taking it for years.”

“No Lasix?”

“No. I have a recliner. I keep my feet up. You know, about a year ago, I was having a really big problem with swollen ankles. I looked like I had elephant legs. Then it went away.”

“Just … went away?”

“Yeah. Just went away.”

My Surgeon who isn't too busy to see me.
My Surgeon. He isn’t too busy to see me.

“That’s strange. Symptoms don’t usually just … go away. Not without medication. And you’ve seen your cardiologist?”

“No. My cardiologist is too busy to see me until next February.”

“Right. I forgot. You have a phantom cardiologist.”

“Yeah. He seems to be the only game in town, so to speak and he’s a very busy man. So I haven’t seen a cardiologist at all. Just you. And a nurse practitioner. Who didn’t mention the whole thing with the aortic valve. I think she was 12. Barely in puberty.”

Laughter. Not guffaws. More like amicable chuckles.

“Well, when you get your insurance straightened out, we’ll get you scheduled. Get your teeth taken care of in the meantime.”

“Will do. And thanks.”

Maybe I don’t need heart valves? Perhaps I could skip this whole thing? Ah … ephemeral dreams of improved health. I dream of surgery not done with my life nonetheless lived.

THE WHOLE GUN THING – I DON’T GET IT

I don’t get it. I’ve been listening to arguments against gun control since I was a child. When I was six, I didn’t understand why anyone would not want guns regulated. I do not understand it today when I am 66.

Our family has a Red Ryder Daisy BB rifle with which we shoot paper targets. My son inherited his father’s target 22. It’s a pretty thing. Holds a single shell and is intended for competition target shooting. My son keeps it clean, oiled, and unloaded. I assume it works, though no one has used it in a long time.

Red Ryder BB gun

I like target shooting and I’m a good shot. I’ve never killed anything, not counting bugs … and you won’t get any apologies from me on that score. If insects stay outside, that’s okay with me. In my domain? Bugs get as dead as I can squash them.

But the whole gun thing. The fascination with guns, the passion for them. The belief that we need to have them because if not, “they” will take away our freedom? Who are “they” and what exactly do they want? I don’t know about you, but I don’t have anything much that anyone would want. Frankly, if you want it that badly, geez, just take it. I’m not going to die for anything I own. They’re just things.

WHAT FREEDOMS DO YOU WANT?

At the risk of asking a stupid question, what freedom are “they” coming to take away? My right to have a blog? Is this blog so important that someone is going to bring the swat-mobile to stop me from posting? How about my right to take photographs? Does anyone care that much? The right to pay my bills? You can have that freedom. Please, take it. No guns required. My right to own a car? That’s pretty well-regulated already. Watch TV? Charter Communications owns me. Feel free to take Charter Communications, however. Just leave me WiFi.

How about phone calls? I’m in thrall to the cable company and AT&T already. Could the government be worse? I tend to doubt it. My calls — and yours — are already monitored by the NSA. Seriously, exactly what freedoms are “they” going to take and why would “they” bother?

Virtually every aspect of life is regulated. You can’t cut hair or sell insurance without a license. You can’t own or drive a car without a license, registration and insurance. Most places, you need to get a license to build an extension on your house, change the wiring, remodel your kitchen or put up a new roof. You need a license for your dogs and cats.

We aren’t connected to town water or sewage, so we pay whatever it costs to keep our well healthy and our septic functional. If they ever put in city water and sewer, I’m sure we’ll be required to hook up and pay some ridiculous amount of money to do it.  With all the perils, I prefer my own water. As of this writing, the air is free. If someone figures out how to regulate it, I’m sure they will. And sin. That’s free, but there’s always (heh) syntax.

traffic-jam

So what is such a big deal about requiring gun licensing and registration? We control and limit citizens’ access to pretty much everything. Why are guns sacred? Don’t talk to me about the Constitution. We have reinterpreted the constitution to align with the realities of modern life over and over again. There is no reason guns can’t be treated the same way as anything else.

The arguments against sensible gun control are stupid. If we control who can drive a car and how that car can be driven and there are a staggering number of traffic regulations enforced with considerable vigor, why can’t we exert at least as much control over weapons? You can’t drive drunk, how come you can walk around drunk with a gun? To whom does this make sense? Not me. I’m flummoxed by the illogic.

I would never want to limit my right — or yours —  to own a car, unless there’s good reason. Such as eyesight so poor you are not able to safely operate a vehicle. Or your having been arrested for driving under the influence of drugs or alcohol, or being unable to pay for at least minimal insurance and registration. Or you can’t pass the driver’s test. It would be irresponsible to give licenses to blind, drunk, or incapable drivers, wouldn’t it? How could equivalent oversight not be appropriate for guns? Seriously?

Butch Cassidy’s gun sold for $175,000.

MY “SO SIMPLE IT’S ALMOST STUPID” GUN CONTROL PLAN

To own a gun, you have to pass a test to make sure you know how to shoot and care for a weapon. You become obligated to keep it out of the wrong hands. You need to be able to see well enough to properly aim a gun and be able to hit a target. You need pass a background check so we know you aren’t a felon or a dangerous wacko.

You have to register your guns. All of them. You must know where they are and you may not lend them to anyone. If a gun is lost or stolen, you must report it. You need gun liability insurance on every weapon you own that contains a firing pin. If a weapon registered to you gets used in an illegal act, causes harm to others — with or without your consent — you are responsible for damages. If you don’t go to jail, you can still wind up in court.

OldJail-300-72

The nation, as well as individual states and counties can tax your weapons and refuse to license weapons deemed inappropriate for private owners. If you want a weapon that is considered unsuitable, you will have to get a different license, not to mention provide an explanation.

Simple, isn’t it? We license cars because cars are potentially dangerous; you can kill someone with a car. All this regulation doesn’t mean we don’t own cars. Obviously we own a lot of cars. We simply try to control who is allowed to drive and keep track of who owns what. It doesn’t mean we can keep every drunk off the road, prevent all accidents or stop joy-riding kids, but we do the best we can.

I have yet to hear a coherent argument against this plan — probably because there isn’t any. Guns should be regulated like every other dangerous thing.

Success?

I was doing okay until Garry came back from the pharmacy having paid more than $250 in copays for prescriptions I hadn’t authorized. He assumed I knew those prescriptions were waiting and did what any good husband would do: he paid for them and brought them home. I had no idea they were there at all, so I assumed the pharmacy had taken it upon themselves to renew them without my asking them to do so.

19th century Italian pharmacy

Then I figured the doctors’ offices must have called them in … but three different offices were involved, which was confusing. The pharmacy was sure I’d done  it. I assumed they’d done it because the doctors all said they hadn’t done it. Eventually after a lot of accusations which began to sound a lot like “Yo mama wears combat boots!” it turned out the insurance company did it. They were doing me a favor, bypassing the usual prior authorization process and called the refills into the pharmacy. I wish they’d told me.

“Oh,” I said.

“Oh,” said the pharmacist.

“Oh,” agreed the my doctor’s assistant.

Thing is, I’m sure they thought they were doing me a favor. I only wish someone had told me what was going on because I didn’t actually have $250 for prescriptions and would have picked them up in as money came available rather than emptying out my bank account in one quick move.

Medical Drugs for Pharmacy Health Shop of Medicine

And then the pharmacy said they could give me the drugs I need for $26 as opposed to the $76 copay my insurance company wants and I discovered a friend has a drug company connection that may enable me to get the other really expensive prescription I need at wholesale prices so maybe I won’t die after all.

Sometime during this brouhaha, I realized I’d passed the 40,000 (41,356 but the day isn’t over) hit mark and may hit 42,000 next week. This could probably be considered success, especially since I’ve really only been blogging regularly since last June. I’ve posted 818 times, about 30% of which have been reblogs, so my own posts are probably around 550 or so. I’ve gotten 4,202 comments, but probably half of these are my responses to other peoples’ comments. So let’ call it 2150 give or take a few.

I’ve got 218 followers, 190 on WordPress and the rest on Twitter, an unknown number on Bloggers and Pinterest (WordPress doesn’t collect those statistics). My biggest day was November 9, 2012 when I got 1049 hits and otherwise, I average around 200 hits per day (not counting followers).

WordPress

Am I successful? It’s not the numbers that define success. What makes me feel succesful is that some of my followers are authors who I greatly admire. Getting a thank you from an author whose books I love for a review I’ve written makes me hyperventilate.

Discovering I have a really famous basketball player who follows me, four or five authors whose books I read plus a variety of politicians (which means maybe something I say gets heard by someone who can make things change) … that’s pretty close to my definition of success. I have other photographers following me, as I follow them.

I admire artists, writers, photographers. I admire people who are dedicated to making the world a better place and am flattered that some of these people take the time to read my posts.

I think, in the end, success is when you feel that you are doing your best and people appreciate your work. By my own standards, I’m surprisingly successful. I haven’t made the earth shake, but I’ve made a difference. I haven’t saved the world, but maybe I’ve helped make the world a bit more civilized, more literate. Maybe I’ve told some stories that needed telling, fought a few battles that were worth fighting. Told people about books that deserved some publicity and a wider audience. Maybe I’ve been able to help a few artists find their place in the cyber world.

Image representing Twitter as depicted in Crun...

I love blogging. I love writing and taking pictures. I absolutely adore knowing I finally have an audience. People actually read my stuff, look at my pictures. That means, I guess, I’m a success … at least to myself and I suspect that I am the only one I really have to please. If I make others happy, that’s wonderful … but if I live up to my own standards, then I am well and truly pleased.