Random Rants

I don’t imagine that I would have written this 10 years ago. I might not even have written it yesterday. But, I just simply have to comment that as I am 42 years old, every time I make a decision at dinner NOT to have the french fries, my life gets a whole lot better. Yep, I know–strange thing to write down but people I am telling you, the french fry in all of its various and sundry forms tears my stomach apart, adds weight that I simply don’t need, makes me feel like I ate a grease trap and causes a kind of havoc as it wends its way through the system that is best not discussed in polite family blogs.

So tonight, I had the cole slaw. And I am proud of and most of all–comfortable with–my choice.

OK, what else? I don’t make enough money. Eh. Who does? What are you going to do?

I’m still for John McCain. I was for Rudy and Fred–but they’re both gone and Romney, people, just ain’t it. The guy’s not Presidential material.

I read something the other day on Sunset magazine’s web site that said there really isn’t any bad wine any more in the market. That sparked me to think that I’m deeply saddened that the magazine I so want to write for has what appears to be an extraordinary neophyte writing their wine articles. It’s either that, or Sunset has crossed over to the dark side and refuses to call it like it sees it. I’m inclined to think it’s the latter. Now, do I still want to write for them? Heck, yeah. That is about the most stylish, best designed, most attractive magazine out there. It’s journalistic integrity notwithstanding, Sunset is a cool magazine and I’d be thrilled to publish there. Reading their wine columnist makes me think not only that I could, but that every day they spend not allowing me to is degrading to them.

No bad wine in the market? Try J.W. Morris Cabernet. Take a sip, a good one, and tell me there’s no such thing as bad wine. Oh, I suppose I’d marinate a tri-tip with it, but other than that….
My snobbish and boorish arrogance knows no bounds.

A bit Personal

No, no politics tonight. I’ve made my case–and I haven’t changed my mind. There’s that.

The past few days have seen a topsy-turvy argument in my body. My neck, which has been on the mend, took what I thought was a decidedly nasty turn. Lots of pain, discomfort, stiffness and some arm symptoms, though not as intense as when it all started.

The problem is that I am still not immune to what docs who work on backs refer to as “back-pain syndrome.” This fun little condition seems to affect all of us who injure our backs and it involves a kind of sense of hopelessness, a feeling that this problem will never end–and it can be accompanied by bouts of depression, fear, irrationality, etc. It sucks, people….

Until the next day. Yes, I awoke yesterday morning feeling better, rested, less stiff, clear-headed–and I remained that way all day. Today? Meh. Similar. Not bad–no real problems, plenty of neck mobility. I get the sense that since I am working this problem out through stretching and exercise, I will be faced with “good days, bad days” as often happens when living with back stuff. Heck, it was that way with my lower back for more than 5 years–and even today, occasionally, the lower back lets me know it’s there, too.

The good news is, when it gets bad, I know it’s temporary and I keep telling myself that. I exercise, though I don’t over-do it, and I focus my attentions elsewhere so I’m not thinking about it. At bedtime, I put on the iPod and allow myself to dream away, focusing my mind on the calming rhythms, sounds and stories that I’ve loaded onto said iPod.

I’ve got a story to write this weekend for the magazine and it is about Costa De Oro winery in Santa Maria. I’ll head up there with my family as my good pal Keith lives there and we’ll spend the day with he and his lovely wife, Tina and his daughters. I’ve had Costa De Oro’s Pinot Noir and I was pleased with it, so it’ll be nice to get a sense of it.

Speaking of wine, last night Brian and I did a taste from the barrels of our own after we all went out to dinner–Mexican food. When we came to the house and out to the wine room, we were unprepared for the absurd tastes we encountered. We were in good humor, but it was a worry for us that both the Tempranillo and the Barbara tasted absolutely awful. There were after-tastes, and weird gaseous smells and there was an explosion of air from the Barbara barrel. It was awful.

But to fix matters in our minds, we went back in this evening and all was well again. We assume it was the strong tastes of our evening meal that temporarily discombobulated our pallets and we felt that tonight’s tasting, particularly of the Tempranillo, was just fine. The Barbara continues to be difficult, however. But, like my wife says–I’m pretty difficult at times, too. Most good things are. Aw. Ain’t that nice?

I declare Pt. II

In the beginning of this long and tired race, almost a year ago, I was a Giuliani man. I waffled here and there when Fred got in and thought that I could support him. I did support him, but I always questioned his rather lack-luster campaign. Well–that failed, though it probably shouldn’t have. He would have made a great President. Rudy, too would have made a great President and still may one day. His toughness, his skill, his managerial style of take no prisoners, take no B.S. is something I valued.

I think it’s a shame that his strategy failed.

But if it is true that Rudy endorses McCain, then that sways my vote. I’m one of those you occasionally read or hear about that is swayed by what his/her guy says. If Rudy goes with McCain, so do I. It’s early yet, but all indications are that Rudy will announce that he is out of the race tomorrow and he will endorse John McCain for President. I don’t come at this lightly.

In 2000, I worked “the ground game” in California for Mr. McCain. I believed he would be a better choice than President Bush, but when it was clear he would lose, I backed the Republican nominee. I continue, much to the chagrin of many of my friends and colleagues, to be proud of both of those votes. I think history will record President Bush as doing just fine, thank you–especially during a time of war.

Since that time, Mr. McCain has ruffled feathers. He has gone against the Republican mainstream a number of times. He upsets the conservative faithful and he makes Rush Limbaugh say that his nomination will mean the end of the Republican party as we know it. I don’t disagree, I just don’t care. I’m a big Rush fan and I listen to him every chance I get. I agree with him on conservative principles and I think he’s a smart, serious–and funny–guy. But, I’m not all that big on keeping things as they are–especially when it comes to a shifting and changing nation. I get that conservatism shouldn’t change, but I also think it’s key to win the war we are in and McCain can and will do that.

But, principles are principles. I disagree with John McCain in several areas, but only one key area: I think his adherence to the idea of anthropogenic global warming is absurd and borders on sycophantic. He buys it because in the end, he too believes we can stop it from happening–and that means he believes the government needs to do more. He’s wrong, of course. He’s wrong that global warming is a problem, he’s wrong that it is anthropogenic and he’s wrong that government can “fix it.” There’s nothing that needs fixed.

However, I also noticed that after he got an earful from the Republican faithful that they really couldn’t give a rat’s petootie about global warming–nor his opinion of it–it suddenly faded from his stump speeches. Good. I’m OK with that. Does he still believe it? Probably. Is it going to be a hallmark of his campaign against a Democratic nominee? Probably not.

No, I’m still a voter who considers there to be one major issue in this election and that issue is the War. This war is a serious matter and a clash of ideologies that must be won—and it must be won by the west. John McCain believes that, too–and he will fight to win, even when the chips are down. He’s shown that.

As for the “gang of 14” that conservatives don’t like regarding the 14 senators 7 R’s, 7 D’s) who agreed to vote against filibustering–or whatever, so what? Did it matter? No. As for McCain-Feingold—yeah, that was a lame stunt, but has it made a huge difference? No. As for immigration, sorry–I depart with the conservative faithful here. I’m not a anti-immigration, I don’t think we should end immigration and while I do think a fence would be a good thing, I don’t think it imperative to our life as a Republic. That’s just me, though–and I know there are those who disagree.

On the economy, McCain isn’t really strong. The meme from Conservatives is his vote against the Bush tax cuts, but his vote was principled and I agree with his principle: He said we should not cut taxes if we’re not going to cut spending as well. As Arnold Schwarzzeneger said about my home state of California, “we don’t have a revenue problem, we have a spending problem.” That’s true of the US as well.

He’s got Jack Kemp on his economic team, he’s strong on the war, he’s pro-life, he believes ultimately in smaller government, he might just end No Child Left Behind (another absurd policy that many conservatives love–and I don’t). He’s got a strong presence, a good set of experiences–and he’s from the west (though I know many Arizonans who won’t vote for him).

Nope–he’s not perfect. He’s got some issues with the far right. OK, I can live with that. I can live without Rush Limbaugh’s support of him as well. Whatever the case–now that Giuliani is apparently out of the race and apparently will support McCain, I will too. I’ll be even happier if he picks Rudy as his running mate.

That’s a winning ticket–and I’m for it.

A dream interrupted

My review of Cloverfield is here. Thanks for your patronage…

Today was a dream interrupted, gently. The deep and rich blue sky with cooling winds and white fluffy clouds were too much. I ascended the hill with Scoop to get exercise and I found myself marveling at the wonder. A 180 degree panoramic view at the top of West Highland, a canyon sloped and carved placidly into the hills above Camarillo, revealed white painted mountains to the northwest. Everywhere from the Topa Topa’s across into Lockwood Valley and farther back into Mt. Pinos and Fraser park were blanketed in wintry white.

Where I was standing, it was warm in the sun with gentle and cool winds blowing, swirling actually, against the canyon walls and around and up. A red-tailed hawk was catching the thermals and riding up looking for the mice and the odd rodent that might stray his path. To the southwest, the Oxnard shore, the Edison electric plant and then, the Pacific Ocean. Anacapa Island off in the distance and two large cargo ships inbound for Port Hueneme. It was extraordinary.

So, after Peanut’s rehearsal time this morning we headed off into the mountains with a hope that we’d get to find our own patch of snow in which to play. The whole family came along, even Lucy, the youngest of the two canines accompanied. As we climbed up highway 33 above Ojai, the traffic was fairly dense. It wasn’t city-dense, but a lot of cars. It soon became apparent why. Up ahead at Wheeler Gorge, near the official entrance to the Los Padres National Forest along 33, the Highway Patrol had set up a complete block. No cars allowed beyond this point. Below the pines and the ragged hills, Matilija Creek boiled along rapidly with snow and rain run-off from the hills above. The granite walls of the canyon veritably glistened with water creating a small, but significantly viewable waterfall running right on to the highway. This portended what lay ahead: The weather had made the road impassable, slippery and full of danger. No going up.

Disappointed, we turned around and simply headed down the hill, Peanut dozing in and out of sleepiness brought on by her being at a friends house until late last night. Instead of turning right to go back down to the 101 and home, I turned left and into Ojai proper. We pulled to the curb in front of the Ojai Pizza Company and got a table. The salads, the pizza–all of it were probably the best I’ve eaten in years. The food was far better than our very own and delicious Cucina Isabella here in town. It was tremendously fresh (their dough is made every morning and their sauce is made every night–no cans, no frozen stuff. All fresh–all there. All great). Peanut didn’t eat a lot, but we all enjoyed the fare and we were satiated.

Again, heading northeast on 33 through Ojai, we took the 150 back down into and through Santa Paula. The hills above were white and the hills below were green. If you didn’t know better, you could’ve blocked out some of the ranches and such and thought you were in Scotland. It was pristine.

Back home to a friend of Peanut’s coming over to play and a quiet evening at home just as the rain began to fall. It could’ve been better, certainly would’ve been better had we gotten to the snow. But that would be the only way to have topped this day.


I wasn’t prepared to be moved by what is essentially a modern-day monster movie, but I was. Cloverfield is full of dark and light with a tight, simple and efficient script and a hip but timeless story.

Rob and Jason are Twenty-something yuppie brothers and Rob has accepted a job in Japan. Jason throws a party for him and it’s there we learn that Rob’s previously delightful relationship with Beth has soured. She shows up anyway and as the two argue, it’s Jason and Rob’s best friend “Hud” that try to talk to him and “make him happy.” There’s more to that line than meets the eye, because as Jason’s girlfriend, Lily, utters it, it’s pretty apparent what is being said–at least by this forty-something viewer who knows these kids and knows that they believe that happiness is their birthright. No one should be unhappy. And if they are, there has to be a pill for it at very least.

It’s then that the first explosion is heard and the tremor that rocks their apartment complex is felt. The hip, young crowd decide to go up on the roof to see what’s happening and when they do, the next explosion is seen as well as heard. Shades of 9/11 are felt as the yupsters now move into panic mode. We’re not happy anymore. We’re scared, and we want this to stop now.

The whole film is shot in handi-cam format and while I certainly didn’t get or feel sick, I do admit that there were times, a small few of them, when I got a little tired of the herky-jerky movement. Still, it was a creative, Film 2.0 way to make a movie and I loved it. There was no director’s shot–there were no breathtaking city-scapes or full screen images of the monster. Instead, with no direct or indirect commentary, we are given a story directly from real people who have no answers, no specialty and no direct way to face their fears. Director Matt Reeves seems to understand what Hitchcock did and what Poe did before him: What’s behind the door isn’t scary, it’s the fact that there is something behind the door, or in this case down the block–and you cannot see it that is scary.

Hud is the cameraman here and he follows Rob, Jason, Marlena and Lily as they attempt to get out of the city. While crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, Rob gets a phone call from Beth and the rest of the film is dedicated to Rob’s frantic search to get to her. Paired with the simplicity of this romance, the frightful things that are happening seem not just alien, but demonic, ferocious, and evil. Whatever this thing is that is destroying Manhattan, it’s haunting and violent roars and gutteral yells echoing down the concrete canyons, all that’s left for these people is survival.

It’s relationship that drives the story, then–not the monster. The monster is the unknown, the terrorist, the giant beast, the fierce darkness that threatens to envelop us all. We cannot survive this unknown and our fear will begin to control us if we’re not careful. No pill, no therapy session, no shopping spree is going to save us.

But love might just save us. The group reach Beth in her apartment some 49 floors off the streets of Manhattan in a building that has been knocked off its foundation and is leaning into another building. Beth is injured, badly, and rescuing her involves pain and difficulty–but the group are able to do it. The abyss, however, is just ahead and is even more catastrophic than they feared. The sounds from the streets below after the group rescues Beth are horrific and echoing through the dark night.

It’s enough to understand that in the blank and shivering fear of what is unknown, all we really have is each other. Director Reeves brutally shows his audience the thin thread of faith that is held by each of us and how that thread is woven gently from soul to soul. There is no doubt that this is a monster movie we’re watching–and it’s even a monster movie with a heart. But the heart is not in some misguided and misplaced sympathy for the misunderstood creature, the heart is in Rob and it is in Beth. Survival at any cost does not equate into the ultimate desire for each longing human soul–the desire to be loved and to love. And in a strange way, Cloverfield is a message about what counts in an uncertain world.

Many others, better than I

Cold, wet night outside. Fine by me. Peanut got a little shaken up by the new emergency alert system they carry on our new Fiber Optics TV package. Essentially, the Disney Channel goes blank, a gray screen comes up and text appears, both stationary and rolling. Then those eerie, obnoxious siren blasts and, a new feature, a voice comes over the speaker to announce what the issue is. In this case, it was a tornado and severe thunderstorm warning down in Long Beach area. Not near us, P.–no need to worry.

A busy, if somewhat quiet evening just passing. Had a deadline for the magazine and earlier today was final exams followed by a whir of grading, prepping, cleaning and general teacher housekeeping. It feels good to go into the new semester with that edge. All the files are cleared out, all the counters and shelves are too. So is the desk and both of the publications offices are cleaned out and ready to hum along again. Then, this afternoon, I got to pick up Peanut from school and we shopped for dinner together. When we came home we did her homework which, by the way, is not my forte. You’d think as a teacher, I’d be patient and deal well with it, but alas-no such luck. Luckily, Sue chose that time to come home. It was around 3:00 P.M.

I am in danger, here, of writing slovenly, boring and silly prose with no ability to support the plot, theme or even make it coherent. That happens on deadline days. I’ve been writing, more or less, all day in several different genres and I didn’t save enough for the blog. I am sorry about that, but if I keep going here, what you will end up with is the snorty snarflac’s bearish grin sat glistening on a high rooftop as the refrigerator beckoned to him with eerie oneness. The black leather clad dogs found that there was snorflictistic doodles on the floor-and he simply refused to play that particular farguqerism.

Yeah. I told you.


I am one wired dude–my family is one wired family. Thanks to my pal, Jason, who put up with my surly, angry, bitter and deep bile, I now have four up and running computers in this house–two PC’s and Two Macs. Three are on wireless links and they all run to a wireless printer. It’s just great. Mind, I’m not sure I need them all, but it’s pretty neat just the same.

If it weren’t for the fact that people lost money here and there, I’d be mildly amused at the media’s response to economic news today. I must admit I’m further puzzled that the Fed came out and “slashed rates” three quarters of a point. I dunno, folks–I’m with Lileks on this: I’m no economist, but I don’t things are going straight to hell. I actually think things are going to get better. I will fly in the face of reason and say I think things will pick up this year. It’s a feeling, but it’s also based on following what’s going on out there.

My big fear, though, is that we’ll take our eyes off the ball. Like kittens when a mouse runs through and refocuses our attention away from the shiny, glittery ball–we’re going to forget that there’s a homicidal, maniacal group of religious fanatics of the Islamic sort that want to slit our throats. Rest assured, I have not taken my eye off of that ball. So, if you have nothing else going for you, know that I am looking out for you. Even if you are dunder-headed and disagree with me.

So, while you’re busy checking your plunging–or perhaps rising–stocks in the morning, just try to bear in mind that there’s people dressed in cotton robes and towels out there looking for you to do just that. Right when think you’re not looking, they may just take advantage of that very fact. Now, all I ask you to do is think of this fact–because it is a fact–when you are considering who to vote for for President.

Newer, Better, Faster, Cheaper

Fios has come! Grand, glorious, tinkling and gleeming with technological wonder, the Fios man appeared at my door at noon today. He was a nice guy, though he had not a smile in him. I imagine that installing people’s Internet, television and telecommunications has its roteness to it. He certainly knew his stuff, but it was a big job. He didn’t leave the place until close to 4:00 P.M.

Fios is Verizon’s answer to the monopoly most cities have allowed to take place on their telecommunications needs. You get a cable company–and it’s usually just one–you get a satellite or dish company just so they can say that there is some competition and, of course, your phone choices are myriad. What blows me away is that the model is clear: phone companies must compete for your business and so they do–and it works. But for some reason, probably something to do with laying cable both above and below ground, cities allow only one cable company to hold sway.

For a while, we had Adelphia cable here and they provided both our TV and our Internet service and it was OK. There were outages at times, but they weren’t too frequent and we dealt with it. But Adelphia’s now infamous bad management caught up with it and Time Warner Cable, that behemoth from the east came gobbling up all the lines. We were now Time Warner customers because, well–there was no choice. Suddenly, pixellation of TV shows, Internet outages that became more frequent and the lousy customer service–oh my, how lousy it was.

But Verizon somehow beat the odds and got permission to spend a few days in our local burg digging up the streets and laying fiber optic cable. Time Warner had met its match, so it seems–and competition was brought into the local telecommunications market. So, with a special offer from the Verizon people, we signed on for fiber optic networking and tonight, I write you from that very spot. A new wireless modem with WEP and securely enabled network, a high-definition TV service that so far, has only a few glitches (we’ll get a blank screen for a few moments here and there) and phone service with a flat fee for any phone calls, local or long distance, we care to make. All this for about 135 bucks a month, which for the record is about 20 dollars less per month than we were paying. Ah…competition my friends. The market is a good thing.

With this, I bid you a new–and fast–fiber optic good evening.

Leif Richard Andersen

How do you measure the life of a man? When you’re 42 and have a young daughter, the focus is on making enough money to make certain that you can afford a home and the needs and the occasional want of the child. You will also, periodically, give up time that you could be spending with the child for work that you do thus creating the paradox of which one is more important?

Leif Andersen never seemed to have that problem, though. As a vegetable oils broker who came to San Francisco with his young family in 1974, Leif knew what mattered. This is not to say that he didn’t work hard. He certainly did. And I’m certain that he had his share of frustrations between time spent working and time spent at home. We all do. But if the term Patriarch ever fit anyone, it fit Leif. He was married to Dorothy, a wonderful and wise woman with a thick Brooklyn accent, and together they produced five children. Richie, Janet, Carol, Harold and Debbie. All have gone on to create families of their own and the Andersen clan is large, close and loving.

I met Debbie while I was in college and knew her over a period of years. I introduced her, as it happens, to her husband Roger, a friend of mine at the same college. Together, they have produced two children of their own. It is through Debbie that I knew her father and for almost 20 years, I’ve thought of him as one of the nicest, kindest and wisest men I’ve ever known. Yes, he was a Democrat, but I’ll forgive him for that slight. He used to get me into debates and he’d always say, “You’re great fun. Everyone I know agrees with me. You don’t.”

When visiting Roger and Debbie, which was fairly frequently in the past couple of years, Leif would always make time to visit with us. One time, knowing that I smoked the occasional cigar, he swore he’d get me to smoke a pipe instead. We were standing outside talking and he walked over to his car and brought out a second pipe. “Leif,” I said, “did you bother to clean it first?”

“Clean it? What are you saying–my germs aren’t good enough for ya?” He filled the bowl and lit it while I puffed in and we stood out on the patio and driveway smoking our pipes. He tried talking sports with me, but as I’m not much of a fan, he turned to politics knowing he’d get a rise out of me, which he did nearly every time. But he was such a good and gentle and decent soul and his faith was so in tact, so focused and so abiding that arguments were never really arguments. They were discussions–and even jokes. At that point, I handed Roger my camera and asked him to get a shot of Leif and me with our pipes. We put one arm over each other’s shoulder and mugged a smile for the camera. That familiar flash and whirring sound of the digital motor finished and Leif just laughed. “Oh, your wife’s going to love that…”

It was that picture that the Andersen clan included in a montage of photos from the life of their father, their Patriarch. On his 80th birthday, Leif was diagnosed with kidney cancer and within 5 weeks, he was gone. His memorial service, held at the church that he and Dorothy attended for more than 30 years in San Rafael, CA, was a testament to a man who loved God, who cherished his family and for whom the world was a joy. The presiding Pastor, a friend of Leif and Dorothy’s for many years, shed tears as he spoke of his friend who talked Theology with him and asked child-like questions well into his later adult years. “I wasn’t ready for Leif to go,” he said. None of us were.

His steady hand in the flower bed, Leif was a master gardener, following the aroma of pipe tobacco and the gentle sound of humming coming from the garden, is still in my mind. He dressed up Roger and Debbie’s garden so beautifully that it changed the house with vibrant colors and textured layers of beautiful flowers and plants. But that was Leif. He understood that a calm demeanor, a gentle touch, a little sun and a little rain helped things grow. Indeed, his own large, loving and close-knit family is testimony to that very fact; the only one that matters.


I have to confess, listening to and reading the news has been….instructive. The way the media hypes it, you’d think we were on the verge of the Great Depression. No question that things have turned down a bit, but it’s not that bad, people. It’s just not that bad…

But, hand it to the politicians, instead of allowing markets to do their work and such–the big government is going to step in. I have to agree with Kudlow, though, if you’re going to step in–best do it with a tax cut and keep reminding the people that a tax cut is not a gift–it’s giving you back what was already yours. The government took it from you and they’re giving it back. If there is shame to be had, it’s on the part of those that took it in the first place.

I know, I know–here I go getting political two posts in a row. I usually refrain from that, but it’s an election year so it’s bound to creep in once in a while. I know many disagree with my point of view and it’s always good to have the discussion, I suppose.

Be that as it may, I’m not nearly economically savvy enough to get into deep discussions here, but I think first principles are certainly in order. The economy is cyclical and there’s no question that a market correction, a downturn, call it what you will, is in order. The housing market is a huge gaffe in which I played a role myself, buying a house at nearly the top of the market when I knew that by doing so, I was stretching myself to the limit financially. If I had it to do over again, I’m not sure I’d do it. Though, I write this in the comfort of my living room in a house that my wife absolutely adored and emotions are a bigger pull in house purchases than are practical realities. Truth be told, we got ourselves an A.R.M. and it’s OK for the next 3 and a half years. But if house values don’t inch up just a little in that time, we’re so upside down we’ll be able to see our own footprints on our heads.

Now, I say this knowing full well the implications–and that is the point, isn’t it? It’s my responsibility and I take it seriously. I have faith that we can put ourselves right–and possibly sooner rather than later. The combination of a fairly comfortable tax return this year (and yes, that means we lent too much money to the government this year interest free) and some writing gigs I’ve got going as well as Sue’s consulting work will put us right probably by spring. And yes, there are people far worse off than us that may not be able to do so, but from my anecdotal experience, many of those people made their own boats, just as we did. Is it incumbent upon you as the taxpayer to bail me out? I made decisions that I have to live with and I will do that. I think it’s completely acceptable to demand of people that they take responsibility for their actions, pay their debts and respond to their own financial circumstances.

And that small story is writ large here on our country right now. Economic stimulus package? Well, fine–but that best stimulus package is the one that allows the tax payer to keep more of his or her hard earned money. Cutting the marginal tax rate would be a step in the right direction. Lowering interest rates is fine in the short term, but over the long haul, it’s not really the right answer. Nice that money will be cheaper but as the dollar is already in self-flushing mode, how much cheaper do we want to go?

Alright–enough. I raise more questions than I give answers but again, I claim no expertise here. I’m talking mainly from my own personal experience. That’s what I have to go on and most of the time, I trust it. That trust means taking responsibility for my actions.