I guess my poor eyesight is genetic, although neither one of my parents suffered from being nearsighted. No glasses for them. My siblings escaped it. Just me, the lucky one. I hated those eye charts, feeling like a failure unable to pass that test. My desk kept moving closer to the chalkboard.
I’m sure the doctor related that information to my parents but a tight budget left little room for eyeglasses. Finally, the school called and that did the trick. Got my first pair at 10 years old. Remember those cat eye glasses? Mine were two-toned blue and green…matched our Chevrolet. Now they’re considered ‘vintage’ or ‘retro’ and loved by celebrities…really.
What a revelation when I first put them on. I could see! I saw the formations in the clouds. I saw dairy cows from hundreds of yards away. I could sit in the back of the classroom…which didn’t last long as I was a talker and got into trouble. Thus, started my love-hate relationship with my spectacles.
I tried contacts in high school but that was way before soft lenses. Yes, I got rid of the glasses, but I was constantly tearing up and my eyes were chronically bloodshot. Most of the time, I felt like I had a knife in my eye. Not attractive.
The next decade or so, the first thing I reached for in the morning were my glasses. Eventually, I got very thin soft lenses that worked for about 25 years. And then they didn’t. Why? Because I did not listen to my doctor. Yes, I knew I had chronic dry eye. My eyes do not manufacture enough tears. I was told to take them off as soon as I got home from work. I didn’t. Eventually, it became too painful to wear them.
I investigated Lasik surgery. Not a good candidate. “You’re going to have to wait until you need cataract surgery.” Well, that was about ten years ago and…. voila!… it’s here.
It came on slowly…halos around oncoming car lights at night….slight blurriness when I was reading. I’d always had perfect up close vision. Last summer, my ophthalmologist told me it was time. I wanted to jump for joy! Yes! I can finally get rid of those pesky glasses.
My mother had just had hers done the year before and she just raved about her sight. She could now get her driver’s license renewed….she’s 90. And she is still a pretty good driver. She also claims she’s never had an ache in her life. A slight exaggeration to be sure.
Not so fast, my doctor cautions. You have nodules on both of your corneas that will have to ‘scraped’ off before we can consider cataract surgery. Evidently, this surgery is a lot more painful and has a longer recovery period than cataract surgery. Great….but the timing is no good, butting up against my son’s wedding.
I elect to wait until we return to Florida to go to the renowned St. Luke’s Eye Institute that my family absolutely swears by. My heavens, these are my eyes! It’s not like getting a bad haircut that can grow back in a month. My eyes are so bad, I’m horrified by the prospect of a botched job.
And, so I went to the experts. Three hours of exams and the cataract specialist tells me I’m a special and complex case….my eyes are bumpy, not concave like they’re supposed to be. I looked at the computer drawing and was horrified. Significant astigmatism. Not sure if we can give you good vision. Yes, we can improve it but you may have to continue wearing glasses.
NOOOO! Not what I wanted to hear. Next step? The cornea specialist.
Who totally confirms he has to scrape nodules off both my eyes. That sounds daunting as does the warning that I’ll feel like I have a brick in my eyes for three days. But, the hell with it. I’m plodding my way through this. They put numbing drops in my eyes and sure enough, he scrapes the nodules off both eyes, a week apart.
The first day was awful, the second day much better, the third day…no problem at all. However, I will say that Nyquil was a dear friend during this period.
Last week, the cataract specialist looked again at my new results and was downright giddy! “Wow, you have great options now.” I tell him I want long distance vision in one eye and near vision in the other, so this week I’m wearing contact lenses to see how I’ll adjust.
He put them in and after two minutes, I told him I’m ready. Whoa….not so fast. He insists I try it for a week. OMG! This is a whole new world for me. I can see when I get up in the morning. I see the sky at night when we’re soaking in the hot tub. I can see the TV and movies.
Hopefully, by the end of the month, I’ll have new eyes. I am SO EXCITED!!! A dream come true.
Thursday, February 25, 2016
Tuesday, February 16, 2016
Visions
I’m a believer….a firm believer in life after death. In my world, death is just a transition to our next life. The afterlife which is really eternal life. I didn’t get this from being a religious person. I’m not particularly religious but I try to be spiritual. I eschew religiosity. I’m just not too good at following all the rules.
Everything changed for me at the age of 19, when I visited a spiritualist colony, Cassadaga, in central Florida. It was a lark on a slow, sunny Sunday afternoon and my sister had been dying to go. Many Sunday afternoons we spent going antiquing or taking in film festivals starring Greta Garbo or Gloria Swanson, but Cassadaga was a new adventure. Trust me, it didn’t disappoint.
We just walked up to a medium’s front porch, knocked on the door and asked for a reading During my turn, the medium started coughing like a madwoman and she managed to ask me if anybody had died from throat cancer. Well, that was my great grandfather who told me in that session I would be speaking in front of people one day and I needed to get back in school.
That turned out to be somewhat prophetic as I had dropped out of college and would go on to be a teacher and later an administrator. There was also devastating news. My grandmother was very ill and would not recover. When I told my mother, she told me to stop cavorting with the devil. A month later, my grandmother was diagnosed with terminal cancer.
I’ve been to Cassadaga dozens of times now and I have a cast of characters who seem to always visit me there. My grandmother, my friend, Marcia, who passed in her early 50s from a brain hemorrhage, my ex-boyfriend’s mother, Edith, who advised me to kick him to the curb. My Uncle Vinnie came about a month after he passed. I swear it is like having a ‘normal’ conversation with my friends and family members who have gone on. They know what’s going on in my life. It’s like they’re here with me. Which on some level they are.
None of this is lost on BH. He’s not a believer. If it ain’t tangible, it just can’t be. Or not until he has actual proof. I tell him there are pretty good odds that I will pass before him since he’s been taking good care of himself his whole life and I’ve been taking good care of myself for three years. I tell him not to worry because I will definitely send him a sign from the other side so he’ll know it’s real.
Today, I read in the Herald-Tribune that palliative care physicians are finally starting to research the role of patients’ end-lo-life dreams and visions. These have been happening for thousands of years and have shown up in medieval writings and Renaissance paintings, in Shakespeare’s works and in 19th century American and British novels. We’re not talking near-death experiences, these are visions that happen as people get closer to death.
How amazing that our culture can finally start to appreciate this perfectly natural phenomenon and not pooh-pooh it! We’re so quick to say the patient is delirious or losing their mind or over-medicated. One of the most powerful stories I read was about a 13 year old girl who was dying of bone cancer. She had a vision where she saw her mother’s best friend who had died of leukemia years ago playing with the curtains in her mother’s bedroom. She turned to her mother and said, “I had a feeling she was coming to say, ‘You’re going to be OK.’ I felt relief and happiness and I wasn't afraid of it at all.”
I remember my own grandmother weeks away from her passing speaking to her mother as if she was there. And I think she was. She had come to comfort her, I believe.
Days before my husband, Kevin, left us, he awoke and was startled. His eyes opened wide and he declared, “I’m not supposed to be here. I died.” They were already surrounding him. I asked him if his Aunt Daisy was there. He nodded. She had never married and she contributed greatly to his college education. He adored her. I knew she would come. He was hovering between life and death and her presence lessened the fear.
So far, no visions for me. I can’t even remember any of my dreams. Guess I ain’t going anywhere for awhile!
Everything changed for me at the age of 19, when I visited a spiritualist colony, Cassadaga, in central Florida. It was a lark on a slow, sunny Sunday afternoon and my sister had been dying to go. Many Sunday afternoons we spent going antiquing or taking in film festivals starring Greta Garbo or Gloria Swanson, but Cassadaga was a new adventure. Trust me, it didn’t disappoint.
We just walked up to a medium’s front porch, knocked on the door and asked for a reading During my turn, the medium started coughing like a madwoman and she managed to ask me if anybody had died from throat cancer. Well, that was my great grandfather who told me in that session I would be speaking in front of people one day and I needed to get back in school.
That turned out to be somewhat prophetic as I had dropped out of college and would go on to be a teacher and later an administrator. There was also devastating news. My grandmother was very ill and would not recover. When I told my mother, she told me to stop cavorting with the devil. A month later, my grandmother was diagnosed with terminal cancer.
I’ve been to Cassadaga dozens of times now and I have a cast of characters who seem to always visit me there. My grandmother, my friend, Marcia, who passed in her early 50s from a brain hemorrhage, my ex-boyfriend’s mother, Edith, who advised me to kick him to the curb. My Uncle Vinnie came about a month after he passed. I swear it is like having a ‘normal’ conversation with my friends and family members who have gone on. They know what’s going on in my life. It’s like they’re here with me. Which on some level they are.
None of this is lost on BH. He’s not a believer. If it ain’t tangible, it just can’t be. Or not until he has actual proof. I tell him there are pretty good odds that I will pass before him since he’s been taking good care of himself his whole life and I’ve been taking good care of myself for three years. I tell him not to worry because I will definitely send him a sign from the other side so he’ll know it’s real.
Today, I read in the Herald-Tribune that palliative care physicians are finally starting to research the role of patients’ end-lo-life dreams and visions. These have been happening for thousands of years and have shown up in medieval writings and Renaissance paintings, in Shakespeare’s works and in 19th century American and British novels. We’re not talking near-death experiences, these are visions that happen as people get closer to death.
How amazing that our culture can finally start to appreciate this perfectly natural phenomenon and not pooh-pooh it! We’re so quick to say the patient is delirious or losing their mind or over-medicated. One of the most powerful stories I read was about a 13 year old girl who was dying of bone cancer. She had a vision where she saw her mother’s best friend who had died of leukemia years ago playing with the curtains in her mother’s bedroom. She turned to her mother and said, “I had a feeling she was coming to say, ‘You’re going to be OK.’ I felt relief and happiness and I wasn't afraid of it at all.”
I remember my own grandmother weeks away from her passing speaking to her mother as if she was there. And I think she was. She had come to comfort her, I believe.
Days before my husband, Kevin, left us, he awoke and was startled. His eyes opened wide and he declared, “I’m not supposed to be here. I died.” They were already surrounding him. I asked him if his Aunt Daisy was there. He nodded. She had never married and she contributed greatly to his college education. He adored her. I knew she would come. He was hovering between life and death and her presence lessened the fear.
So far, no visions for me. I can’t even remember any of my dreams. Guess I ain’t going anywhere for awhile!
Tuesday, February 9, 2016
Welcome to the 21st Century
I’ve been on the hunt for a new car for months. For years, I drove a SUV….Ford Explorer then a Toyota 4Runner and a RAV4. They were perfect for transporting kids and equipment to sports events followed by moving them in and out of dorm quarters. And then it all ended and one day I decided to search for a Toyota Solara convertible….the beautiful blue one with a black top.
My mom days were over as were my staid days as a school principal. I’m single. Time to live a little, change the image a bit, put that top down, feel the wind in my hair. But Toyota had stopped manufacturing those convertibles by the time I wanted one so I consulted my brother to find me one and he did. A real gem….a 2006, blue with a black top and leather interior and only 38,000 miles. I bought it and he sold my 2006 RAV4.
It was a new day and a pretty good deal. That was five years ago and I put about 100,000 miles on that car, traveling up and down the east coast. At first, I was totally in love but then I started to notice little flaws….just like in any romantic relationship. It didn’t have a jack for my iPhone. The sound system wasn't great but who can hear anything with the top down? I sat so low in the seat I could barely see over the steering wheel.
Okay, I admit I’m short…very short…but I abhorred having to sit on a pillow to see out the front window. And the visibility in the rear? Awful! I hated having to back up or back into a parking space. Not to even mention that my eyesight isn’t the best!
Most of the time I didn’t even want to put the top down. As opposed to Buff Honey who also has a 2002 Solara convertible…black with a tan top with almost 250,000 miles on it. Yes, the car has dents and scratches and a cracked leather interior but he is still in love. He cannot bear to have the top up. Of course, he used to ride a motorcycle daily through any kind of weather in Washington DC commuter traffic. Many days it took hours to get any feeling back in his feet and hands. He went from his motorcycle to a convertible. He still loves the wind in his face. He needs his convertible.
For me, it was just a whim. I had this dream to have a convertible. I mean, I’m getting up there so if I was going to do it, I should just go ahead. I did and didn’t love it. I started looking nostalgically back on my RAV4, sitting up high…no pillow necessary…and being able to see everything out the back. I wanted that fabulous turning radius back. But I had to ditch my ‘dream’ car before I could fall in love again.
I tried selling it on cars.com and craigslist and there were several bites….mainly from crackpots. They actually thought they could get my bank info or my PayPal info so they could ‘deposit’ their money for the car. I’m no whiz kid but I wasn’t buying that. That went on for months and I wasn’t getting closer to my next car. With winter on the way in Maryland, no one was thinking they just had to have a convertible ,so I drove it to Florida with the express purpose of getting rid of it as soon as we landed.
After two weeks on Craigslist in Florida and dropping the price drastically, I gave up and went into a Toyota dealer’s showroom in Venice. I told him up front I wasn’t buying today but wanted to drive a new RAV4. There was also a female sales associated with him that he was supposedly training.’ He asked about my convertible and I told him I’d tried to sell it myself and he immediately went into gales of laughter. Why that was so darn funny I have no idea.
I drove the new car, loved it (of course) and he told me they’d give me a trade-in of $1500 for my car. So, I went into gales of laughter. This went on for awhile until the sales manager came into the negotiations and said he’d give me $6000 for it if I bought that minute. I balked and walked out. Okay, maybe I walked out on the deal of a lifetime but I didn’t like these two slicksters. How can they say $1500 one minute and $6000 the next? They’re not getting my money. Done.
I made an appointment for the next day at a dealership in Sarasota. I walked in at the appointed time and the guy I was supposed to meet with was off that day. Really? I had just talked to him the day before. Now, I’m down on Toyota and decided to go to the Honda dealership.
That’s where I met Andrew, probably in his mid 20s, very professional, didn’t promise the moon, was honest and professional from the beginning to the minute I drove that silver CRV off the lot. The third time was the charm. They gave me $5500 in trade-in and I’m sure I didn’t get the deal of a lifetime but it was fair.
Plus, who could not love these new cars? It’s got the back-up camera, the blind side camera for changing lanes, the flashing BRAKES signal if you get too close to the car in front of you, a fabulous sound system that meshes with your iPhone, the car mileage data proving that these really are fuel efficient vehicles and the pick up on the highway is outstanding. I still have a lot to learn and have returned to Andrew for a couple of extra lessons. I am slowly entering the 21st century.
It still has that new car smell. I love all the safety features, so much so that I can’t imagine not having them. Every time I get in that driver’s seat automatically calibrated for my size, I breathe a heavy sigh. Ahhhh….I’m in love!
My mom days were over as were my staid days as a school principal. I’m single. Time to live a little, change the image a bit, put that top down, feel the wind in my hair. But Toyota had stopped manufacturing those convertibles by the time I wanted one so I consulted my brother to find me one and he did. A real gem….a 2006, blue with a black top and leather interior and only 38,000 miles. I bought it and he sold my 2006 RAV4.
It was a new day and a pretty good deal. That was five years ago and I put about 100,000 miles on that car, traveling up and down the east coast. At first, I was totally in love but then I started to notice little flaws….just like in any romantic relationship. It didn’t have a jack for my iPhone. The sound system wasn't great but who can hear anything with the top down? I sat so low in the seat I could barely see over the steering wheel.
Okay, I admit I’m short…very short…but I abhorred having to sit on a pillow to see out the front window. And the visibility in the rear? Awful! I hated having to back up or back into a parking space. Not to even mention that my eyesight isn’t the best!
Most of the time I didn’t even want to put the top down. As opposed to Buff Honey who also has a 2002 Solara convertible…black with a tan top with almost 250,000 miles on it. Yes, the car has dents and scratches and a cracked leather interior but he is still in love. He cannot bear to have the top up. Of course, he used to ride a motorcycle daily through any kind of weather in Washington DC commuter traffic. Many days it took hours to get any feeling back in his feet and hands. He went from his motorcycle to a convertible. He still loves the wind in his face. He needs his convertible.
For me, it was just a whim. I had this dream to have a convertible. I mean, I’m getting up there so if I was going to do it, I should just go ahead. I did and didn’t love it. I started looking nostalgically back on my RAV4, sitting up high…no pillow necessary…and being able to see everything out the back. I wanted that fabulous turning radius back. But I had to ditch my ‘dream’ car before I could fall in love again.
I tried selling it on cars.com and craigslist and there were several bites….mainly from crackpots. They actually thought they could get my bank info or my PayPal info so they could ‘deposit’ their money for the car. I’m no whiz kid but I wasn’t buying that. That went on for months and I wasn’t getting closer to my next car. With winter on the way in Maryland, no one was thinking they just had to have a convertible ,so I drove it to Florida with the express purpose of getting rid of it as soon as we landed.
After two weeks on Craigslist in Florida and dropping the price drastically, I gave up and went into a Toyota dealer’s showroom in Venice. I told him up front I wasn’t buying today but wanted to drive a new RAV4. There was also a female sales associated with him that he was supposedly training.’ He asked about my convertible and I told him I’d tried to sell it myself and he immediately went into gales of laughter. Why that was so darn funny I have no idea.
I drove the new car, loved it (of course) and he told me they’d give me a trade-in of $1500 for my car. So, I went into gales of laughter. This went on for awhile until the sales manager came into the negotiations and said he’d give me $6000 for it if I bought that minute. I balked and walked out. Okay, maybe I walked out on the deal of a lifetime but I didn’t like these two slicksters. How can they say $1500 one minute and $6000 the next? They’re not getting my money. Done.
I made an appointment for the next day at a dealership in Sarasota. I walked in at the appointed time and the guy I was supposed to meet with was off that day. Really? I had just talked to him the day before. Now, I’m down on Toyota and decided to go to the Honda dealership.
That’s where I met Andrew, probably in his mid 20s, very professional, didn’t promise the moon, was honest and professional from the beginning to the minute I drove that silver CRV off the lot. The third time was the charm. They gave me $5500 in trade-in and I’m sure I didn’t get the deal of a lifetime but it was fair.
Plus, who could not love these new cars? It’s got the back-up camera, the blind side camera for changing lanes, the flashing BRAKES signal if you get too close to the car in front of you, a fabulous sound system that meshes with your iPhone, the car mileage data proving that these really are fuel efficient vehicles and the pick up on the highway is outstanding. I still have a lot to learn and have returned to Andrew for a couple of extra lessons. I am slowly entering the 21st century.
It still has that new car smell. I love all the safety features, so much so that I can’t imagine not having them. Every time I get in that driver’s seat automatically calibrated for my size, I breathe a heavy sigh. Ahhhh….I’m in love!
Tuesday, February 2, 2016
One Last Shot
I admit it. I’m obsessed. With my weight….I guess, like a lot of women. But, I obsess over being obsessed. I’m in my late 60s….is there any chance things will really change at this point? I mean, really….it’s been 30 years since my last childbirth.
Every year, I make the same resolutions….eat healthy, exercise daily. Totally unoriginal. I use my Lose It app most days, measure my steps. Same old, same old. Unfortunately, same old results. Not much difference.
I envy my skinny friends who jumped right back into their skinny jeans after their last baby and kept it off. Just disgusting.
Part of my obsession is that I was the skinniest girl in high school and for years afterwards. Didn’t hit 100 pounds until I was in my mid 30s. My metabolism was crazy. I would come home, eat a family size bag of potato chips and never gain an ounce.
My parents were so worried about my weight they tried all kinds of remedies, including an ounce of cod liver oil everyday… the most vile tasting thing I ever had in my life. Then there was the period where my mom made me drink a milkshake with a raw egg in it every night. I hate eggs so that milkshake didn’t stay down long.
Now, however, my metabolism has absolutely disappeared. Not a good thing for a girl who’s only 5 feet tall. Just like both of my grandmothers who didn’t lose the weight either.
I know what my issues are. French fries and potato chips. Oh, and then there’s the red wine and the dark chocolate. I remember once trying the South Beach diet and wine was banned for the first 10 days. Couldn’t do it. I’m not proud of that, mind you, but my will power was lacking.
I did Weight Watchers for several months years ago and that was helpful but I wasn’t crazy about weighing in every week and listening to everyone’s success stories. Also, my weight was on the high side of normal so my loss was agonizingly slow. And nobody wanted to hear my story.
Recently, the craze was Garcinia Cambogia extract, “an exciting weight loss breakthrough in natural weight loss.” Thank you, Dr. Oz. Just more garbage claims that have resulted in multiple pharmaceutical companies increasing their take from desperate people trying to lose it. I am through with you, Dr. Oz. Total bunk.
My cousin, the one who teaches in Islamabad, posted a picture of himself with an obnoxious protruding stomach on Facebook last summer. A “Before” picture. He swore he had to lose 30 pounds and was going on the 5:2 intermittent fasting diet. Fasting?! I can’t even imagine doing anything like that. But, he has discipline to spare….I think he got the better gene pool.
It works like this. Two days a week, you cut your calorie intake significantly….500 for women, 600 for men. The other five days you eat normally. 500 calories. Well, that would be one boiled egg, one banana, a cup of cottage cheese, and an apple. Voila! That’s it. And you do not increase your intake by the amount of exercise you’re doing.
If you don’t starve yourself to death, this definitely has to work! No more fries, chips, chocolate and red wine on those days. This is my resolution for 2016. I’m still doing the strength training and the cardio daily but now I’m adding this 5:2 diet. Of course, I live with my dear Buff Honey who loves his Cracker Barrel 3,229 calories Baked Apple Dumpling dessert and still gains no weight thanks to a metabolism that functions just fine due to his fitness routine.
But, he’s the best. On my fast days, he doesn’t tempt me with his fresh baked chocolate chip cookies or grilled steak. Last night, he commented, “I don’t know if you’re losing weight but you’re sure losing inches.” Hopefully, that was a reference to my waist.
So, this is it. One last shot at returning to Skinnyland.
Every year, I make the same resolutions….eat healthy, exercise daily. Totally unoriginal. I use my Lose It app most days, measure my steps. Same old, same old. Unfortunately, same old results. Not much difference.
I envy my skinny friends who jumped right back into their skinny jeans after their last baby and kept it off. Just disgusting.
Part of my obsession is that I was the skinniest girl in high school and for years afterwards. Didn’t hit 100 pounds until I was in my mid 30s. My metabolism was crazy. I would come home, eat a family size bag of potato chips and never gain an ounce.
My parents were so worried about my weight they tried all kinds of remedies, including an ounce of cod liver oil everyday… the most vile tasting thing I ever had in my life. Then there was the period where my mom made me drink a milkshake with a raw egg in it every night. I hate eggs so that milkshake didn’t stay down long.
Now, however, my metabolism has absolutely disappeared. Not a good thing for a girl who’s only 5 feet tall. Just like both of my grandmothers who didn’t lose the weight either.
I know what my issues are. French fries and potato chips. Oh, and then there’s the red wine and the dark chocolate. I remember once trying the South Beach diet and wine was banned for the first 10 days. Couldn’t do it. I’m not proud of that, mind you, but my will power was lacking.
I did Weight Watchers for several months years ago and that was helpful but I wasn’t crazy about weighing in every week and listening to everyone’s success stories. Also, my weight was on the high side of normal so my loss was agonizingly slow. And nobody wanted to hear my story.
Recently, the craze was Garcinia Cambogia extract, “an exciting weight loss breakthrough in natural weight loss.” Thank you, Dr. Oz. Just more garbage claims that have resulted in multiple pharmaceutical companies increasing their take from desperate people trying to lose it. I am through with you, Dr. Oz. Total bunk.
My cousin, the one who teaches in Islamabad, posted a picture of himself with an obnoxious protruding stomach on Facebook last summer. A “Before” picture. He swore he had to lose 30 pounds and was going on the 5:2 intermittent fasting diet. Fasting?! I can’t even imagine doing anything like that. But, he has discipline to spare….I think he got the better gene pool.
It works like this. Two days a week, you cut your calorie intake significantly….500 for women, 600 for men. The other five days you eat normally. 500 calories. Well, that would be one boiled egg, one banana, a cup of cottage cheese, and an apple. Voila! That’s it. And you do not increase your intake by the amount of exercise you’re doing.
If you don’t starve yourself to death, this definitely has to work! No more fries, chips, chocolate and red wine on those days. This is my resolution for 2016. I’m still doing the strength training and the cardio daily but now I’m adding this 5:2 diet. Of course, I live with my dear Buff Honey who loves his Cracker Barrel 3,229 calories Baked Apple Dumpling dessert and still gains no weight thanks to a metabolism that functions just fine due to his fitness routine.
But, he’s the best. On my fast days, he doesn’t tempt me with his fresh baked chocolate chip cookies or grilled steak. Last night, he commented, “I don’t know if you’re losing weight but you’re sure losing inches.” Hopefully, that was a reference to my waist.
So, this is it. One last shot at returning to Skinnyland.
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