Is the ice cream afterward.
Neil and I are heading out for a 5-day canoe trip in mid-August.
Any paddlers out there have any tips, tricks or recommendations to share for training, packing, portaging, etc?
Remember that post I wrote before I left, in which I said I wanted to not gain weight on my trip? Let’s see how that went, shall we? Oh, and this is loooooong, you may want to take a bathroom break before settling in.
Bring workout DVD and clothes. We’ll have a computer to play them on, so there’s no excuse for not getting in a 30-minute workout in the mornings after Neil’s gone to work.
Ok I did pack all those, however they didn’t come out once. Not to say I didn’t exercise and wasn’t active - I didn’t have a single day that didn’t involve a lot of walking.
Try out the litebook elite to combat jetlag. I’ll let you know how that goes. If it does work as promised, It’ll certainly be worth its weight in something moderately heavy and semi-precious.
Oh I got jetlag. Bad, bad, BAD jetlag. I generally do. Did the lightbook help? Not me. Mostly because it was completely impractical to use as recommended. In order to re-set my internal clock, the lightbook site has a scheduler of when to avoid direct sunlight and when to use the lightbook. Avoiding daylight, when arriving at 11:30am, is pretty darned impossible. Not only when arriving in the airport, but even on the airplane when everyone starts opening their windows to let the glaring sunshine in. The people at lightbook do sell some daylight-blocking glasses, but I didn’t figure that bit out until far too late to acquire a pair.
Then there’s the issue of actually using the lightbook during the timeframe in which one is supposed to subject one’s self to direct theraputic light. When I’m on vacation, I don’t sit still. I get to the hotel, dump my stuff and walk around for a while. The last thing I want to do after being on an airplane for 9 hours is be still. Yet the lightbook scheduler recommended I use the appliance for TWO FULL HOURS. I have better things to do with my time.
Perhaps those who travel often for business, go directly from airport to office, and have a place to be still and something upon which to prop their blue box would benefit. I used the lightbook when I could in the recommended range, and first thing a couple mornings, but it didn’t help any. My jetlag was just as bad as it’s always been - probably compounded by the stress of knowing that shit was about to hit the fan at work (I got an email while I was away to set up a meeting immediately upon my return) once I got back, affecting what little sleep I was already getting.
Eat “real food†for breakfast/lunch when at all possible. That means no processed, fast food junk. If I can get to a market and grab some bread, cheese and fruit, I think that’ll serve me better than most takeout I can find. Besides which, I need to save the calories for carry away vindaloo for after the pub.
I have three words for you: Full. English. Breakfast. In its most basic form, this includes eggs, bacon, sausage, toast and baked beans, and is often accompanied by juice, fruit, cereal and hot tea or coffee. In our fancy-schmancy Oxford hotel, it also included yogurt, pastries, bread with deli meats & cheeses, and black pudding.
This is what you get, rather than a continental breakfast in England.
Normally on weekends I absolutely RELISH the chance to gorge on bacon, eggs and toast - however something in England saved me: my abnormally sensitive sense of smell. Something about the smell of the eggs in England just sent me over the edge and reeling into waves of nausea each and every single morning. It’s probably just the style of farming - it took me a very long time to adjust to the stronger smell of organic, free-range meats (especially chicken) when I started eating those instead of regular battery-farm product. Now non-organic, non-free range meat tastes like cardboard to me most of the time. I suspect it’s a similar issue with the eggs. I do eat free-range organic at home, but these just smelled “farmier” and “gamier” and “eggier” to me.
So my days usually started out with steeling myself for the experience, downing as much of my breakfast as I could before the urge to spew totally took over, racing back up to my room to lie down and pant through the waves, willing myself not to ralf, then carrying on with my day. I never did manage to get much food in on most mornings. I’d only managed to work my way up to one whole egg, 1.5 slices of toast, and 3/4 of a rasher of bacon on our last day.
I spent most of the trip pretty nauseous though, thanks to stress and jetlag, so I picked at pretty much everything that was set in front of me and probably didn’t consume anywhere near enough calories on a daily basis.
No fish and chips. Period. Apparently only tourists eat that shite nowadays anyway.
Success! Though I certainly didn’t eat anything all that healthy in its place. Unless Sunday Roast (complete with yorkshire pudding and a plate swimming in gravy) and creamy curries are in fact healthier.
Dancing with myself. The best place to make a fool of one’s self is in a foreign country. A prime example is Norebang (karaoke) in Korea. I shall go to the clubs and dance like I’ve never danced before. As long as (like in the Norebang incident) all photo/video evidence is destroyed.
I never did make it to any clubs. Lots of pubs - but no dancing. I didn’t realy suss out a “get down, get funky” vibe from the English. Of course, I was too busy downing pints of Strongbow to look much further than the end of the bar.
Water, water and more water. Along with helping me fare much better when it does come time to drink, it should keep the rest of my body’s systems functioning at optimal levels.
I tried to maintain my hydration levels. It did not work. I got ice water everywhere I went, alternated regular water with alcoholic drinks, and even forked out for bottled water when I was roaming around. It did not help. I still ended up with a horrible urinary tract infection once I got home. Boo-urns.
Walking is the new black. I walk a lot when I’m home. To the bus for work, down the street for lunch, home from the bus, out with the dog, over to the store to get milk. I need to find reasons to walk. Fortunately Oxford is supposed to be a beautiful city to do walking tours of - I just need to find other excuses to walk when we bid Oxford adieu.
Oh my hell did I EVER walk. Walking tours of Oxford. Walking along the Thames in Henley. Walking through museums. Walking from pub to pub. Walking through Hyde Park on Sunday morning (officially one of my favourite moments).
Our biggest walking day was the Saturday we spent in London. We first tubed to the Tower of London and spent 2.5 hours doing the Beefeater tour and exploring the rest of the grounds of the tower. We then walked from the Tower of London across Tower Bridge and down the South Bank of the Thames to Borough Market, stopping briefly for some market-stall lunch, then to and around the Tate Modern. After that, we ventured across the Milennium Bridge and past St. Paul’s, and let our weary feet rest over a cup of tea. From there, it was back over the river to check out the London Eye, then across one more bridge to see the Parliament Buildings, Big Ben and Westminster Abbey. We headed through St. James’ Park to go past Buckingham Palace just after dusk. Then we wandered over to China Town for dinner, then to the closest tube, because enough with the walking already and back to our hotel. Overall we figure we walked for about 9-10 hours that day. It was awesome - and I actually mean that totally sincerely!
Join the “mile high†club. Sex burns calories, right? And what better way to liven up a 9.5h airplane ride? Perhaps I’d better save this one for the flight home though - just to ensure our return tickets aren’t revoked.
Between the onset of my UTI, the fact that I hate airplanes at the best of times, and Sir Screamy McToddler who Screams a Lot All The Time And Giggles About It Because It is Fun and his parents, the King and Queen of Ambivalence and Lazy Parenting in the Kingdom of Tune the Child Out, or Pass Him Over the Seats to His Other Parent was sitting directly in front of us, it was all I could do to not commit crimes that would have me strapped down in the galley by a sky marshall - nevermind getting hot and heavy in the airplane bathroom.
Who brings a 2-year-old on an intercontinental flight anyway? I don’t know any children that age who can be inoffensive for 9 minutes, let alone 9 hours. Sure there were lots of other kids between 0-6 on that flight, but he was the only one who felt it necessary to shriek like a banshee the entire time. The primary source of his outrage seemed to be the grave injustice that was the airplane seatbelt he was required to wear when we were taking off, landing, or going through otherwise bumpy patches of sky. My only solace comes from the fact that his parents seemed only too willing to give in to his tantrums and remove the seatbelt - but the flight attendants wouldn’t let them. If they’re so permissive, perhaps they are just as negligent in their private vehicle, and Darwin will take care of their tiny terror for me.
ANYWAY.
Looking at all the things I did, I had no idea if they would balance out for a net gain or loss. Only the scale could tell.
And tell it did!
According to my cheap bathroom scale at home, I went from 135lbs at departure to 128lbs by return. Seven lbs lost. Hooray!
Except losing them wasn’t exactly pleasant. I’m sure a week of sleep deprivation and constant nausea were what contributed most heavily to the situation, and I wouldn’t recommend them to anyone.
Besides which, it’s once again Roll Up the Rim to Win time - and I’m sure my coffee and tea (with milk and sugar of course, and maybe a doughnut since I’m there…) habit will contribute to gaining back what I lost in a hurry.
I suppose I said I’d share the details of the trip, and fast-fading as they are, now is as good a time as any.
However I am still tired from the jetlag, further compounded by some various and sundry other illnesses that I picked up on the plane. So a brief summary will have to suffice. (Oh, and the pictures are all here.)
Stuff that was done in Oxford:
Stuff that was done in London:
Impressions of Oxford
Spending time there, it’s a beautiful town with incredible architecture and history. The longer I stayed though, the more my jealousy grew. Amazing scholars have been gracing those hallowed halls for centuries, producing some of the finest writing, and most significant math, science and economic breakthroughs in the history of higher learning. Watching the students, it seemed to be everything I wanted my university experience to be, but never was. I want a do-over. I wish I had the grades and finances to pursue a graduate program there.
Perhaps it’s the academic intimidation factor (most college grounds aren’t open to non-students/faculty, and have large iron/wooden gates and signs to tell you so), but I felt very much like an uneasy tourist there. I actually found that the entire town had a very “fuck you” feel about it. Most people were oblivious, and those I encountered in customer service were ambivalent at best. I distinctly understood why Canadians are perceived as so friendly. Not that anyone was unfriendly - but having to interact with us, offer assistance, or (heaven forbid) do their job (even the cashiers at Sainsbury’s and Boots) came across as a huge chore. Everyone just came across as very… sour.
Impressions of London
The insistent and haphazard mix of centuries old buildings with ultramodern architecture was disconcerting to say the least.
Charing Cross Road is now devoid of traditional pubs, with a slew of US and UK-but-modeled-after-US franchises, like TGI Friday’s, O’neil’s, and some now-forgotten but ubiquitous steakhouse. The iconic Spirit of the West song has now been ruined for me.
Everyone I’ve spoken to who’s been to London in the past 6 years has said that “wow, the scaffolding over St. Paul’s was already up when I was there…” Not exactly a model of restoration efficiency or effectiveness.
The one tourist thing we paid for was the Tower of London. The Yeoman Warden (Beefeater) tour was really entertaining, and while I couldn’t bring myself to believe that the jewels in the Crown Jewels were the real ones (having heard too many times that the ones on display are fakes), the artisanship that went into creating those pieces is still extraordinary.
The London Tube is the least accessible public system I’ve ever encountered. Stairs everywhere - very few escalators and lifts, and even those that do exist only go to street level, and not between lines in a station. Example: you can get from a far underground tube station up to street level, but to change lines, you’ll still need to hike 3 flights of stairs up and over tracks to the other platforms. Highly inconvenient for those who are burdened by wheelchairs, strollers or (like ourselves) luggage.
With the notable differences of modernization and obvious indicators to which trains are on which lines (for the slow and jetlagged, like myself), and the fact that the London Tube had significant service problems while we were there, it’s very similar to the Seoul subway system. I think that for the relative size and age of the city, Vancouver is doing just fine in terms of providing accessible, relevant and cost-appropriate transit systems. What we need now are longer trains and more frequent (and further reaching) service. Also, we need turnstiles and RFID chip payment cards. Seriously. Whoever decided against those is a first-class idiot as far as I’m concerned.
Another tidbit in terms of being a “world-class city” - I didn’t find any shopping in London or Oxford that I couldn’t have reasonably done at home (different store of course, but essentially the same merchandise is available). I did pick up a few things at H&M and Dorothy Perkins, but again comparing the size of the cities, Holt Renfrew and Robson Street offer exactly the same shopping opportunities as Selfridges and Oxford Street. Except popular London fashion is about 6 months ahead of what’s being worn in Vancouver, and (as everything except beer is in london) about twice as expensive.
Even though we had a great time chatting with both Neil’s colleagues in Oxford and family in London (proving certainly that the Britons can be great and friendly people), and that we were treated to a fantastically beautiful Saturday during which to wander the banks of the Thames, I never felt welcome in England. As a tourist I was merely an entity to be tolerated. The history, the beauty, the significance of the Empire and its role in the shaping of the world seems entirely wasted on the English, who would rather sneer at those of us who come to admire it, and adop0t an unexplainably sour disposition the rest of the time.
Perhaps after another 600 years of history and tourists, Vancouverites will seem just as bitter and jaded, but I certainly hope not.
Then again, perhaps I shouldn’t expect too much from a people who have collectively managed to completely bastardize, assault, and otherwise ruin the noble sandwich.
Safe and sound, and busy!
Things improved vastly after my online hissyfit, and pictures and stories will be up sometime tonight - if the giant mountain of laundry doesn’t eat me first.
So we’re sitting at an internet cafe in London, because so far, the city kindof hates me.
We asked the friendly concierge(s) at our Oxford hotel and the Oxford-London bus guy where to get off to get the tube to Paddington station. They sent us about 8 tube stations too far away, when the bus actually stops in a few places that are WAY closer. Thanks.
So we make it to the tube. With 3 suitcases, two of which are very large and heavy. No lift (at least not that we could find). One suitcase paid the price of its extendo-roller handle halfway down the stairs. Of course, of the three suitcases, it’s the one we borrowed from someone else.
Then the tube breaks. For twenty minutes.
So we finally make it to our hotel. We figured things would obviously be different now that we’re not staying on the company dime, but holy hell. The neighbourhood is nice. The hotel is clean - but it really is a complete shitbox. With no internet - hence the cafe.
We’re also in cash-panic mode. Despite settling the skimming thing, and having it confirmed (twice) that I would be using my debit card to take out cash in the UK between Feb. 23 and March 5, my card’s been cut off. We had to resort to a cash advance from my Visa, because we just had no more cash, and don’t really want to have to do that again. Especially since we put a whole lot of cash into my bank account, specifically for taking out during the trip.
So that lands us at the internet cafe, checking my vonage account for whether the bank tried to call me (they did) and if I had any voicemail messages. I do, so now it’s back to the hotel to rack up some lovely international calls to try and sort this mess out.
Also, it’s raining. Uncharacteristically Hard. And my umbrella gave its life valiantly in a windstorm in Henley.
On the plus side, there is an H&M here, and the ethnic food is fabulous! I just wish the British would figure out how to make a damn sandwich properly.
I am frightfully hungover today. So random sentences will have to suffice.
Oxford is old and beautiful. Our hotel has a tiny, crazy lift and when we took it, the desk man said “it looks old, but it’s very reliable - best you can get for a 14th century building!” Being from the City of Glass, where everything old is just… old and gets torn down, I’m still having trouble processing the fact that things that old not only exist, but are the norm.
Best daytime stop so far? Blackwell’s books. Incredible. Amazing. I would like to live there please.
Best nighttime stop? The Zodiac. Holds the well-deserved title of Best live music venue in Oxfordshire. Saw The New York Fund (awesome), The Checks (not-at-all-awesome), and The Hold Steady (loud, drunk, energetic and quite good!).
Danger Will Robinson: I ducked into a pub yesterday to escape from the rain for a few minutes at about 3:30pm… and just…. didn’t leave. I made friends with some locals (pictures forthcoming), had a wonderful Sunday Roast, drank LOTS of Strongbow and realized this morning that my training efforts completely failed me.
Newsworthy things here today: A huge train derailment that killed an 86-year-old woman and injured many others, and a bomb attempt at one of the Oxford colleges by the Animal Liberation Front, protesting the use of animals in research. Neither of those affected me a whit (I’ve not taken the train yet, and most of the colleges aren’t open to the public) - but they’ve been on the beeb all damn day, so I figured I’d mention them.
We arrived safe and sound after a typical but still traumatizing plane ride. I still hate flying for more than 3 hours.
Also, people from the plane I’d like to offer a giant middle finger to:
But we’re here, and it’s lovely, and I’m about to go on a self-guided walking tour while Neil’s stuck on a bus to go do some “team building” (sucker!).
While I don’t have too much to say about Oxford at this point, a picture is of course worth 1000 words - so keep an eye on my flickr stream as the trip progresses.
While I’m furiously trying to get all those “last minute” things onto a list so I don’t forget to throw them in my suitcase tonight before heading to Jolly Old England tomorrow, there’s one thing I’m going to seriously try NOT to leave room for on my way back: extra weight on my person.
I’m as guilty as anyone else when it comes to putting on some extra pounds when on vacation. Lack of sleep (from both partying and jet lag) contribute to feelings of hunger and sloth combined with the vacation mindset that says one should indulge whenever possible in food, drink and luxuries like just standing on the damn people mover instead of actually walking between airport gates all contribute to a fatter middle by the time the return flight home is leaving.
I must say though, I’ve been feeling really good about my fitness and diet regimen lately (beer consumption training notwithstanding), and would hate to see a month of hard work ruined by a week of reckless indulgence.
So I’m pretty pleased I stumbled across this great article on ForbesTraveler.com by Peter Greenberg about how to travel and stay thin.
His tips include navigating the airport cafeteria, being mindful of preparation and portion size when eating away from home, and exercising at the hotel, even if (and especially when) you don’t feel like it.
So here are my plans for this week away:
Any other ideas from the peanut gallery?
No, not the fitness blitz that Neil and I started. This is an entirely different regimen.
I realized last Friday night that I am completely and utterly ill prepared for a trip to the UK.
I have completely and utterly lost any and all ability to hold my liquor.
I thought the Cinco de Mayo tequila bender was an isolated affair.
But then this past New Year’s Eve, half a bottle of wine and 2 glasses of champagne had me tossing my caviar mere moments into 2007.
And then on Friday night, 3 pints of beer (which would be nothing less than a year ago: witness - the amount of soju and beer consumed in Korea without repercussion) knocked me so flat on my arse that despite the 3 attempts it took to expunge the ale-soaked poutine from my body, I still had to “sleep” sitting-up on the couch, because the damn room refused to stop spinning. And I didn’t start feeling any sort of normal until well after noon the next day.
Considering I’m about to be let loose in a country with nearly as many pubs as people, this most certainly Will. Not. Do.
So I have put myself on a strict training regimen.
Starting tonight, I will drink beer, EVERY NIGHT, in increasing amounts until we leave. I have 8 days to get myself back into respectable drinking shape and avoid completely embarrassing myself on one of the UK’s omnipresent public cameras.
Combined with this, I’ll actually attempt to continue to get up and exercise each morning; the better to get used to hauling my sorry arse out of bed and doing something, even (and especially!) when I feel like doing anything but, and also to ensure that I still fit into my jeans (beer has serious calories!) when we leave.
And now, considering what very well may be the biological implications of such an endeavor, I am finally glad we have the awful rental apartment carpets that we do. I’d hate to do that kind of damage to our new hardwood.
I was about to leave the house this morning, when my home phone rang. It rarely does this (since the only folks who have it are telemarketers), and even more rare is it ringing in the morning.
So I answered.
On the other end of the line was a gentelman from my bank, Coast Capital Savings, letting me know that my debit card has been cancelled, since it was used at a confirmed card skimming location. I got the number for my new card over the phone so I can continue to use online banking, and it was suggested that I take a look at my bank records for the past 30 days to ensure nothing out of the ordinary had gone on.
I wasn’t terribly worried about the situation - I’d just downloaded my January transactions and reviewed them at the end of the month anyway, so I knew they were fine.
But Lo! In the last two days, someone’s certainly been taking some far-reaching liberties with my account. The last transaction I made was to deposit a cheque on Saturday afternoon. Two hours later, a $500 withdrawl was made (my daily cash limit), followed immediately by a $2000 “deposit” (likely an empty envelope). Sunday another $500 was withdrawn, and this morning my card was cancelled.
At first I thought maybe my card number was skimmed at some shady corner store I’d stopped in at some point on my travels. But looking at the transaction pattern, I’m significantly more creeped out.
Because my financial institution is a Credit Union (instead of a bank), I’m able to use the services of any BC Credit Union ATM. The closest ATM to my home isn’t a Coast Capital machine, but it is a credit union nonetheless, so I use it most often - and Saturday afternoon was no exception.
Looking at my transaction records, the fraud was committed at the EXACT SAME BRANCH I’d just deposited that cheque at a mere 2 hours earlier. Coincidence? I’m not so sure. I’m thinking back to that night - I used my card in the outdoor card-reader to open the door. I put my card in the machine. I entered my pin. I don’t remember if there was anyone else in the bank, but I don’t think there was.
Because the investigation is ongoing, the fraud protection people weren’t able to tell me which location my card was skimmed at - but I’ve used my card MULTIPLE times at all of the places I’ve got in my bank statement in the past 30 days, and that bank machine is no exception.
So there’s your lesson kids. Cover your PIN, no matter where you are or how safe things seem. The bank people tell me that compared to the amount of cardholders and transactions that take place each day, card scams are generally pretty rare, but clearly they do happen!
Some of you have probably heard over the past couple days that a village was uncovered near one of the seven wonders of the world, Stonehenge.
That’s so cool, I think I’ll go visit it.
Ok, so the decision wasn’t exactly that easy, and didn’t have anything to do with Stonehenge. But I am going to the UK (primarily Oxford area) for 8 days - leaving Friday evening Feb. 23rd, returning Monday afternoon March 5th.
Neil and a few other managers have been summoned by work to the UK office for a few days, and since accommodation and his flight are covered, it’s a bit of a no-brainer that we’d spring for the extra plane ticket and I’d go along and turn it into a bit of an adventure.
The plan thus far is that Neil will be working Saturday through Tuesday while I putter about and explore Oxford and surrounding area. I may train into London one of those days and do some shopping (mmm… Harrods).
Other than that, we’ve planned on an XTREEM driving day-trip circle-tour from Oxford, North through Stratford on Avon, Birmingham, up to Liverpool (for my love, the Beatles nerd), over to Manchester, and back South through Nottingham. Hopefully we’ll do another, slightly less extreme driving day Southwest to see Stonehenge and perhaps visit Bristol, then two or three days in London together to be touristy and explore.
Since this trip wasn’t exactly budgeted for, and is instead a “too good to pass up” opportunity for me to visit somewhere I’ve never been and for Neil to explore the UK a little more, which he hasn’t done since he was 8 or so, the budget’s more Oliver Twist than Victoria Beckham, but I’d still like suggestions from those familiar with the UK on the following:
Oh my hell.
I love snowboarding, I really do - what I don’t love are the typical injuries that come along with it.
I know most snow sports are inherently dangerous, and to date I’ve still hurt myself far worse skiing than I ever have snowboarding.
But Sunday I took a tumble, and my poor coccyx (tailbone) took the brunt of the impact. It’s bruised and kinda swollen. And this is one of those times that being bootylicious is a liability, rather than an asset: every time the rest of my butt moves, the swollen tissue is forced to adapt, and vehemently expresses its displeasure at that fact.
Do you know how often your butt moves during the course of a day? I bet you never thought of it before, but think about what happens to all that fat and muscle between your lower back and upper thighs when you sit, stand, walk or shimmy. Did you know that the connective tissues around your coccyx move substantially when you contract your sphincter? Yah, neither did I, until Sunday afternoon.
So now, in spite of taking enough ibuprofin to choke a horse and being on a near constant Robax high, I present to you a (far from complete) list of things that still hurt like a sonofabitch:
-Sitting on anything (chair, car seat, bench, couch, toilet - go ahead and contemplate that last one for a second)
-Getting from sitting to standing and back again
-Walking
-Lying on either side or my back
-Getting up from lying on my stomach (so far I can’t levitate my way to standing)
-Rolling over in bed
-Bending over to put on socks and shoes
-Farting
And do you have any idea how many people bump into you while standing on the bus? I’ve already established that sitting on bus seats right now is somewhere approaching the 7th circle of hell - but standing isn’t much better. I get nailed from all angles, then have to make sudden movements to steady myself, or risk falling (again) on my ass. None of which are terribly comfortable.
And while the idea of heading up the mountain tonight is a complete write-off, I really hope that I’ve healed enough by next weekend, so I can go out and do it all over again.
Snow awesomeness: skiing & boarding! Snowball fights! Snow days from work!
Snow not-so-awesomeness: the cold! The bad drivers! The endless slushy muck! did I mention the cold?!?
Holy hell Batman, there’s a reason I don’t live in Toronto, or Edmonton, or Montreal, or Juneau.
This perpetual blizzardiness can just feel free to fuck right off now.
Bring back my tepid drizzle!
What had me so tired yesterday? A few hours of playing in the snow.
Especially a few hours in the snow, trying to keep up with this crazy beastiie who LOVES the white powder, and acts every inch the crackhead when she gets to run around in it.
Check out the entire set on flickr.
Outside the Thai House, next to Spence Diamonds this afternoon:
Dude 1: smoking on the stairs between the Thai House and Spence
Dude 2: runs out of Spence to put money in his meter
Dude 1: You know, Spence has free parking in the back…
Dude 2: (shrugs) Ah well, too late now.
Dude 1: Yah, I suppose that compared to what you’re about to spend in there, 50 cents isn’t really an issue right now.