Tag: Helaine

Tasty Birthday To Me

On the way home, we talked about dinner. Everyone enjoyed what they had. Just as important, Helaine noted it was nice without being stuffy or formal.

dinner at assagioWith my parents in town, my birthday in progress and Steffie tied up with her internship&#185, we went out for dinner last night. After last week’s “worst ever” debacle, we needed to turn things around from a culinary standpoint.

Helaine had lunch at a nice little restaurant in Branford a few months ago. She liked it, was responsible for last night’s plans, and decided we’d go back. Good call Helaine. We headed to Assaggio.

Assaggio is a small Italian restaurant on Montowese Street. Luckily the weather was good. I’m not sure where the people sitting outside would go if the rains came. We were immediately seated in a glass enclosed alcove at the end of the dining room. If I remember correctly, this building once held a business that sold greenhouses and glassed in patios. Our alcove was once a sales tool.

The menu is really long. Too long? It’s tough to choose. Even worse, once Kelly came out to tell us the specials (she called them additions and gave us five or six with voluminous detail without referring to notes) we had more to ponder.

Even before the meal, I made my standard snap food judgment based solely on the bread. Restaurants: you are judged by the bread! It came hot with a crispy crust and soft center. The butter had to be stored in liquid nitrogen, because it came out frozen solid. But the bread…. Good lord, I could have eaten just that and had a happy birthday.

My dad ordered lobster filled ravioli with lump crab meat pink vodka cream sauce. My mom and Helaine had Gulf shrimp and diver scallops pan seared over DeCecco spaghetti with fresh oregano plum tomato sauce. I’m a sucker for anything with sun dried tomatoes. I had the Gulf shrimp, sun dried tomatoes, shitake mushrooms and pine nuts over angel hair pasta with a touch of tomato.

The entrees came in deep bowls with a conical shape. In other words, the bowl’s walls were higher on one side than the other. Nice. This is a better idea than a flat plate.

My entree was wonderful. The shrimp were huge and tasty. Everything else was properly proportioned for a really great meal. Angel hair pasta is the underlying piece of this puzzle, but I think a thicker pasta would work better. Small point. I’d gladly order it again as served last night.

I told Helaine no public singing of Happy Birthday. In case you’re wondering if I have any pull–no. It came with a piece of seven layer chocolate cake.

On the way home, we talked about dinner. Everyone enjoyed what they had. Just as important, Helaine noted it was nice without being stuffy or formal. The waitstaff was attentive without hovering. They all looked like they were from the ‘young and attractive’ division of central casting.

We’re already talking about going back.

&#185 – She has a great internship with very cool stories. Either she’s got to get a blog or give me permission to write about it. Don’t hold your breath.

Like Father Like Son

This doesn’t bode well, especially when you consider I’m only seeing the ones that are getting out to walk.

Another day on the mountain. I took a pretty good tumble on the way down. Lots of little stones and I tripped on one. I bruised my hands and scraped my knee. Dr. Helaine says I’ll live, if she lets me.

As we walk up and down the mountain, I get a chance to stare at strangers heading in the opposite direction. I look at kids, walking with their parents. Then I mentally age them. It’s scary how alike children and parents are, both facially and body type. That’s especially true when it’s a lifestyle induced body type.

This doesn’t bode well, especially when you consider I’m only seeing the ones that are getting out to walk.

Birthday Observations

I had a little time to remind myself why “The City” is different from everywhere else.

While we were in New York City for Steffie’s birthday party, I had a little time to remind myself why “The City” is different from everywhere else.

At the Clearview Theater on West 23rd Street in Chelsea, on a Tuesday evening, all four showings of “Sex and the City” were sold out.

The guy in the first photo was part of the nearby throng.


Living and working in the city deprives you of some of the softer things found everywhere else, like trees. OK, there are some ‘city trees’ growing in strategically placed holes in the concrete. They don’t count.

The palm tree in the second shot was in an upper story window. I’m afraid there wasn’t enough light for anything but this grainy crop.


Chelsea is a growing residential neighborhood, with all the usual neighborhood accouterments, including dogs! Helaine noted many of them were full size pups and not exactly efficiency apartment friendly.

Even with scores of dogs around, I saw no poop on West 23rd. There was, however, a converted gumball machine.

My 13-Ounce Dilemma

If there’s logic in the Postal Service’s madness, it evades me.

This is a story about Mother’s Day… sort of.

My wife Helaine, herself a mother, bought a nice gift for my mom, wrapped it and took the package (really a padded envelope) to our local Post Office where one of the clerks weighed it and affixed the postage. She didn’t mail it.

Helaine planned on mailing the gift when my folks returned from a vacation. That turned out to be Tuesday of last week, when she drove the envelope to the Post Office and dropped it in the box in the parking lot.

It was delivered the next day… back to us, with the sticker you see. Packages over 13 ounces, when mailed using stamps, must be physically presented to a clerk at the Post Office. Period. End of story.

It’s for security, the sticker said. In this post 9/11 world we’re not supposed to question security – but I will.

Here in Connecticut, more than most places, we understand what postal security means. This is where Ottilie Lundgren died. She was poisoned by anthrax that probably passed through the huge Wallingford mail distribution center where three million anthrax spores were later found and removed.

But if the Postal Service is worried about security, why in heaven’s name would they have my carrier bring it back to my house? If it was dangerous, it’s doubtful it would have the proper return address anyway. As I remember, the 2001 anthrax letters all had phony return addresses. The same was true when the Unabomber’s package exploded at Yale, less than a mile from where I’m writing this.

The whole process makes no sense to me. In fact, I’m so confused why the Postal Service is doing this, I asked them to comment.

The rule actually predates 9/11, going back to the mid-90s. The weight limit, recently lowered to 13-ounces, complies with the weight limits for Priority Mail.

In an email response response, Doug Bem from the US Postal Inspection Service included this all purpose line:

“Unfortunately I won’t be able to get into the specifics of those security issues because someone who could misuse that information might be a reader of your blog; all I can say is that the issues still exist today.”

I am not denying that.

All I’m asking is, why send it back to me? It’s either worrisome, and should be treated that way, or it’s not and can go to my mom’s house.

To a certain extent the Postal Service has their hands tied. They can’t open my mail to check what’s inside.

“(E)ven though we are the law enforcement and security officers of the Postal Service, we don’t have the right to open any First Class letter, Priority Mail or Express Mail package without explaining why to a federal judge, who would then give us a federal search warrant. It’s not practical to screen the 320 million or so pieces of those types of mail the Postal Service handles every day.”

So instead, they declare a one size fits all rule which treats all 13 ounce stamped packages as suspicious… and then they just wash their hands of them and drop them off at your house.

If 13-ounce packages pose a threat, dispose of them. If not, deliver them.

If there’s logic in the Postal Service’s madness, it evades me.

The Weather Is Rotten In Connecticut

This is among the most vile days of the year. Temperatures are hovering right around freezing and rain is falling. On my trip in, much of the road had a thin slushy coating, though I never felt my traction compromised.

This is among the most vile days of the year. Temperatures are hovering right around freezing. Rain is falling.

On my trip in to work, much of the road had a thin slushy coating, though I never felt my traction compromised.

All of this is happening with a stiff breeze that makes umbrellas virtually worthless.

Before I left the house, Helaine and I talked about the persistence of winter. If you go with conventional thinking, that winter ‘really’ begins around December 1, we are halfway through.

Not a moment too soon.

Together Again, For The First Time

I have been on the radio many times since coming to Connecticut. It comes with the territory and I enjoy it.

It’s been pretty well established here, I’ll always have one foot in radio – even though it’s been over 25 years since I worked professionally there.

Monday morning at 8:00 AM, I take the plunge again, but this time it’s very different. On the occasion of our 24th wedding anniversary, Helaine will join me live on WPLR. This is the first time Helaine has appeared publicly anywhere! I know she’s currently having nightmares about it.

Some of this started when my friend Bob spent a few days with us last October. He heard us verbally sparring and thought it might be entertaining on-the-air. Now we get to see if he was right.

Will she talk about how I used to refer to her as my ‘friend,’ or maybe how I negotiated our engagement? Helaine is fast, witty, and knows every skeleton in my stuffed to the gills closet! She can fillet me like a carp. On radio, that can be a lot of fun.

If you’re up, join us Monday morning at 8:00 EST on WPLR, 99.1 FM. They do stream on the Internet. You can try this or go to their homepage and link from there.

Saturday Night Concert

There are a few things we knew we’d be doing on this vacation before we left Connecticut. We came with tickets to see Rick Springfield in concert at the Spotlight 29 Casino in Coachella.

Google directions in hand, we set out across town, past the airport, Kirk Douglas and Bob Hope Roads, then east on the Interstate. We were heading toward Indio, though the highway continues to Phoenix and then all the way to Jacksonville, FL.

That reminds me – Here in Palm Springs they’ve got streets named after Frank Sinatra, Dinah Shore, and other show business luminaries. I’m not sure how that compares with New Haven’s Whitney, Goffe and Whalley, though my suspicion is, on this one New Haven wins.

We expected Spotlight 29 to be a little skeevy. Not so. I’m not saying this is Mirage or Mohegan Sun, but it was a passable ‘locals’ casino. I poked my nose into the poker room and saw three tables in use. You can gamble at 18 here, but these were grownups.

We went to the restaurant. My hamburger was pretty good and the meal uneventful… until I walked out to meet up with a friend of Helaine’s and forgot to pay the check!

I had it in my hand, as I walked across the casino floor. I guess I would have gotten away with it had I not looked down, let out a little shriek and run back to the restaurant.

Dinner was cheap – around $16. I wouldn’t normally mention that, except that’s what I won on a slot machine. Free meal. Thanks Spotlight 21.

We headed into the theater for the show. I was impressed. It was a nice room with a large stage. There was no curtain, so we watched the last minute on stage preps as we took our seat in the center of the first row.

Oh… yeah… one more story. I was there as Helaine purchased the tickets online, though it’s still tough to believe. They went on sale one morning at 10:00:00AM and Helaine bought our two at 10:00:05 AM.

They were truly the best seats in the house. I was surprised they hadn’t been held for the casino’s use.

Rick Springfield took the stage around 8:15. This was my fourth time seeing him, though not all the others were complete shows. Helaine has run out of the necessary fingers and toes to count her attendance.

As you might expect, the audience was heavily female and mostly old enough to remember his first trip through General Hospital. Lots of them were hard core fans who attend his concerts on a regular basis.

What most people don’t realize is, Rick Springfield is a real rocker. Honest. Sure, my wife would want me to say that, but it’s still true. There’s really no way you’d know without seeing him perform.

The guitar work is much more energetic and rough edged than you’d expect and I don’t remember any ballads. This is not a pop show from a pop artist.

Before General Hospital, Rick Springfield was a musician. He had a minor hit that I played on the radio: “Speak to the Sky.” That was long before GH and Jessie’s Girl.

As the band opened, playing “Who Killed Rock and Roll,” the audience came alive. As it turns out, the regulars are a bonus to those who are casually coming to see that “Jessie’s Girl guy.” They’re already sold on the fact they’re going to have a good time – so that’s what they do. In an audience, a good time is contagious.

The concert continued and I snapped pictures. It’s a Fox Family tradition, passed from mother to daughter and now father. Being in the first row helped, but there were other interesting picture taking opportunities as he went deep into the audience.

Both Stefanie and Helaine have taken some great photos at Springfield concerts. I wanted my turn. Though I know more about the camera, their advantage is being able to predict his moves.

I have some good shots, but I know when I’ve met my match.

Helaine had a great time and so did I. Part of my enjoyment was turning around and just watching the crowd. To me, that was part of the show. Some of these women were quite emotionally involved with what was going on on stage.

We’re back at the hotel now. Helaine’s gone to bed. I’m near the pool with my feet up on the brick ledge of the gas fire pit. I see tall, thin palm trees in every direction. They tower over the mostly one story buildings in this older neighborhood.

It’s a little chilly tonight, but my feet are warm.

Oh Paris

I’ve got MSNBC on the TV now. It’s a live shot, split screen. That means two live cameras, one from a copter, to two satellite transponders, as we await Paris Hilton’s return to the ‘system’.

I’ve tried desperately to avoid this story – not just here on the blog, but in person. It’s impossible. It’s too juicy.

“I want to see the house,” said Helaine, speaking directly to our TV screen.

The all-female MSNBC anchor team is starting to get a little catty. Did Paris have a party planned for tonight? Did she need hair and makeup before returning.

Is there anyone rooting for Paris anymore? She is the poster child for spoiled rich kid. Incarceration in your mansion is not the same as serving jail time.

Uh oh… MSNBC, CNN and Fox News have pulled away to cover Defense Secretary Gates’ press conference. Where are their priorities&#185?

OK – don’t answer that.

Neither E! nor CourtTV is covering the re-incarceration. Now we’ve got problems.

Luckily KCBS-TV in Los Angeles is streaming the video live! And you thought my vast knowledge of call letters was worthless!

This is unreal. Live, on TV, as Paris was being spirited away, a gaggle of press photographers swarmed the car. I was amazed no one was hurt!

This story has drawn me in. It’s jumped from ‘celebrenews’ to real news. Even those organizations who’ve attemped to keep about the fray will have to add this story to their news budget. I’m talking about you NY Times&#178 and PBS News Hour.

She will always be notorious. The question is, will this be the end of Hilton’s commercially exploitable celebrity?

&#185 – Uh oh – I’m starting to think like TMZ.com! Take a look at this entry they posted at 1:06 PM. I’m not proud of that.

&#178 – Late this afternoon the Times bit the bullet and ran the story.

Calling France – Bonjour Farrell

How much does it cost to call France? Don’t answer yet.

Stef has an assignment for a journalism course. She has to compare media in the United States with media in another country. I know two people who’ve worked in media in Singapore. I suggested she choose that. Contacts are invaluable.

My friend Farrell, who now runs a TV network in Poland, used to run stations in Singapore. Usually we talk on the computer, using IM or email. To ask some questions for Stef, I figured I’d call.

It’s not that easy.

There’s a broadcasters’ convention currently underway in Cannes, France. Farrell is there.

He gave me his phone number, tapping it out on his Blackberry via IM and I called the hotel… but instead of getting it, I got a recording telling me my call couldn’t go through and I should check with my system administrator.

That’s me! I hate when that happens.

A quick call to my VOIP phone provider, Broadvoice (where tech support answered on the FIRST RING!!!) brought an equally quick answer. Buried two menus deep on their website was a checkbox allowing international calls on my account. The box was unchecked.

When you call a hotel in France, they answer in French. I don’t know enough to ask for a room, so I panicked and blurted out my request in English. The operator totally understood.

“Merci,” I said… though probably too late for her to hear. Farrell picked up a second later.

I have to say, the quality of this call was very impressive. Because I was typing notes, I had him on the speakerphone. Helaine commented he sounded better than if he were on my cellphone.

So, how much for the call? My plan, Broadvoice’s least expensive, is $9.95 per month for unlimited calls to Connecticut. International is extra.

Ready?

Each minute to France was 3&#162! That’s crazy.

I remember, in 1967, when AT&T totally overhauled its rate structure for domesticlong distance calls. Station-to-station, direct dial calls within the United States went down to 10&#162 per minute as long as the call was placed after 11:00 PM or on the weekend.

We live in amazing times for technology.

Car Buying Time

The word is out. It’s time to replace Helaine’s SUV.

Of all the purchase decisions in our lives, this is the one we enjoy the least. Seemingly, there’s no good way to buy a car and guarantee you’re getting something good for a good price. How can you not have buyer’s remorse?

I’ve been pouring through Consumer Reports. Most of their info is good. They seem a little heavy handed in the way they push their own service, which provides the actual price a dealer pays for vehicles. I’ll probably swallow hard and buy it anyway. Isn’t Consumer Reports supposed to be a little less self serving?

We went to two dealers today. At the first we looked around, acted sheepish, looked at a few cars and decided which might do.

We realized, after about thirty seconds, their midsize model was too small and their big model too pricey. A salesman came over as we were deciding to leave. I apologize here for costing you an ‘up’.

We’ve scouted out financing, but there’s a ‘deal’ currently underway from the manufacturer. Zero percent for 36 months. That’s a better price (duh) and there are legal advantages to dealer financing.

I have some rules at a car dealership. If you’re my salesman, we are joined at the hip. You cannot leave my side to consult with your manager. If you go, I go. They never like hearing that.

You may not treat me like a fool. If you lie to me, and believe me it’s happened, I will call you on it before I walk out. Lying infuriates me. I do not suffer fools or liars gladly.

Helaine made me promise not to make anyone at the dealership cry. I get a little nuts during the heat of battle, but it’s their fault. Decisions at the ‘car store’ are stacked in their favor. They have all the info. You have little. And, the salesmen have incentive to make you pay as much as is possible.

In the end, we’ll find the car we want and desperately try to get bids from three dealerships. I did that when we bought Helaine’s first SUV and I think it worked well.

I should probably sell Helaine’s car privately. Do I want to be in the used car business? Of course, you lose a lot when you trade a car in.

During the last shopping cycle, long after I left one dealership, the manager related to a friend of mine who just happened to be there, “Geoff Fox was here. He was shopping on price. He won’t be back.”

You’ve got that right, bucko.

Beware Of Daughters Carrying Laptops

A week ago I got my first inkling something was wrong. Helaine told me Stef had told her “BabyLaps,” her laptop computer, was running really slowly.

I had Steffie load some remote assistance software and attempted to fix things from here. The computer only ran slower!

“Bring it home,” I said. And so, tonight she did.

When I walked into my office, there was the laptop sitting under a note with the sketch of a tearful face and three words, “fix me please.”

For three hours, I’ve been trying just that – and failing. This is so frustrating!

There are no outward signs pointing to the reason the computer has become slovenly. There is definitely something wrong and it’s waiting to be discovered!

OK – that’s the bad news. The good news is, I can get in as the Administrator and run the machine perfectly in safe mode. In other words, there’s no hardware problem and the operating system seems intact.

This will take a long time.

Strange Storm

Wednesday’s storm is over. Not as much snow as I thought, but sleet/freezing rain took center stage. I’d played that up on the air, so there’s some relief deep inside the inner Geoff.

Yes, I’d like to get snow totals right, but in this case the slickness of the precipitation trumped everything else.

Frank came and plowed the inch or two in our driveway. Helaine told me. It was hard to tell by the time I got home at midnight. This is his first plow of the season. He’s got to be hurting.

A truck from the town finished plowing my street a few minutes ago. He painstakingly traced the edge of the circle at the end of our cul de sac. A quality job.

Does the time of day and his current hourly rate enter into his desire to be thorough? I’m not complaining.

Every storm is different. This one will be exceptionally difficult to treat. It’s very cold outside – that certainly enters into it. I also suspect, the less porous ice isn’t absorbing the salt/sand as deeply as snow would.

In any event, it’s very slippery out. Many schools will start late, or won’t start at all, in the morning. I will be the student’s friend.

On to the next storm.

Sunday With The Folks

Last night Helaine and I slept on a blow up bed in my parents’ spare bedroom. I’m not complaining. We used to come here to Florida and sleep on a pull out couch.

You can’t spell couch without ouch. It used to kill my back.

My mom had a great breakfast for us. Bagels and lox. Pickled herring.

Hey, we’re not Presbyterians. We are not a Wheat Bran family.

After breakfast we went to visit my cousins, Carol and Howie. Carol is the daughter of my grandmother’s sister. There’s an correct term for our relationship, but in our small family cousin works fine.

One of their sons, Michael, came by. I’m related to him too, though I won’t even venture a guess what the correct title is. Michael’s a physician in the ER of a local hospital.

Yes – one of their sons became a doctor. Mission accomplished!

We went back to my folks condo, looking for something to do. Before we left Connecticut, Helaine told me, no flea markets – no shopping.

You have to understand, for my parents, going to Costco or BJs is entertainment in and of itself. We really wanted no part of that exciting South Florida lifestyle.

Helaine suggested seeing a movie. Luckily, there’s a theater two minutes away where Dreamgirls is playing.

We got there a few minutes before showtime, but waited through the scheduled start when the ticket machine ran out of paper… then jammed after being reloaded.

It’s OK – we missed the commercials and coming attractions but saw 100% of the movie.

I convinced my dad, who wears two hearing aids, to get the headphones many theaters offer. A few minutes into the movie he threw them off. That came a few seconds after he said “Too loud,” very loudly.

I went to adjust the volume, but found the theater had set their input volume so high, anything coming out of the headphones was going to be terribly distorted. There was nothing that could be done at the headphone end to fix it.

What a shame. The theater spent the money to offer this service, but by misaligning the equipment their investment is worthless. I told the young girl at the ticket counter, but I doubt that will do any good.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a movie that was sold out. This one was. Maybe it was the Sunday afternoon price of $5.25? We actually sat in the first row – something I’d never done before.

Now on to Dreamgirls.

Wow! I was pleasantly surprised. This is one of the best movies I’ve seen in a long time.

The true star of the movie is Jennifer Hudson. Again, wow! She can sing. She can act. When she is on the screen, you cannot look away.

I’m not an American Idol viewer, so she was new to me. Now I’m a fan.

Though there is plenty of denial, Dreamgirls is obviously based on the Supremes. Beyonce Knowles is Diana Ross. Jamie Foxx’s character is Berry Gordy.

Dreamgirls is a true musical, with much of the dialog sung (especially through the second half). There’s a lot of Motown influence in the beginning, and I was reminded how much I liked Motown music in the 60s and 70s. Much of the rest of the music is “Broadway” styled. Still, a farewell song was so reminiscent of “Some Day We’ll Be Together,” I started to hum the original at the hooks.

Most of the movie was great and none of the movie was bad. Performances by Eddie Murphy, Jamie Foxx, Jennifer Hudson, Keith Robinson and Danny Glover were superior. That’s a lot of excellent acting. How can you not credit the director for that?

Dreamgirls is stylish. It is compelling. It moves (though I’d have been happier had it been 25 minutes shorter). I really liked it a lot.

Chalk up another good recommendation from Helaine.

Busy Sunday

Another beautiful winter’s day in Connecticut.

Sure it’s Sunday, but it’s also the third night of Chanukah&#185 – the Jewish Festival of Lights.

It is not ‘our Christmas’ – though I sense the hoopla over this lesser holiday is our defense mechanism. It’s tough to compete with Christmas.

Trust me – growing up Stef never objected to eight nights of gifts. She probably still doesn’t!

Every year around this time, our friends Harvey and Sandy throw a Chanukah party. We weren’t able to go to the last few, but said yes tonight.

Then we saw the calendar. The Eagles would be playing the Giants in a meaningful game right as the party was getting underway.

Hey, a commitment is a commitment. We went and had a great time.

There’s a special tradition that goes with this party, though we only knew a few of the 50 or so adults and children there. Along with the people and the food and the being incredibly jealous of whatever new adult toys Harvey has acquired in the past year, there is the lighting of the menorahs.

Each night during Chanukah, at sunset, one additional candle is lit on the menorah (One the first night, two the second, and so on), accompanied by a few Hebrew prayers. I’m not particularly religious, but this is tradition worth keeping, especially with all the kids this year.

Before we left our house, Helaine and I decided we’d record the football game and then try and avoid any mention of it. But seriously, how could a Giants game be ignored here in Giant’s territory?

As it turned out, no one said a word about the game. We were stunned. Does this speak to the athleticism of Jews, or Harvey and Sandy’s friends, or did we just luck out and avoid discussions that were ongoing, but out of earshot?

When it was time to go home, we headed out with the radio off. By the time we picked up this 4:00 o’clock game, it was nearly 9:00PM.

If you’re a football fan, you already know, the Eagles won. If you’re not a football fan, you don’t care. This entry will no game details.

There is one observation I must make. Helaine and I were surprised… no, astounded, to see the Eagles win. This was especially true, since they were their own worst enemy with stupid penalties at crucial times. The Giants didn’t take advantage and the Eagles didn’t quit.

I believe this Sunday was a total success.

&#185 – Chanukah, being a Hebrew word, is only approximated in English. This spelling is one of many. I am of the personal opinion that if you say it right, people near you will get wet.

NFL Network

Comcast has seen fit to give us the NFL Network on cable’s digital tier. It’s somewhere in the 160s or 170s – who can be sure?

What exactly will they do to fill February through July?

Yesterday, with the Eagles game not being shown in Connecticut, I tuned in hoping to find some post-game highlights. You’d think they’ve got the best access.

I stayed for a while, but never saw the Eagle’s clips. Helaine noted the in-studio coverage wasn’t very exciting, though that wasn’t my problem.

I can’t say I’ve ever seen a channel with this many commercials! It was comparable to MTV or the second half of a movie on TBS&#185.

I didn’t sit there with a stopwatch, so maybe I’m wrong, but that certainly was my perception. And it’s not like I’m anti-commercial. Commercials pay my salary.

We left and headed to something more established.

&#185 – Why is the first movie segment 20 minutes long and the last few around 90 seconds. It’s a rhetorical question – I do know the answer.