I have the best of both worlds. At 66 years, I publish the Birmingham Medical News, a newspaper I started 19 years ago for Alabama physicians and health care professionals. I have a salesman/VP who has been with me since the beginning, four writers, and a designer. We all work from home.
I can easily get my work done in four hours a day - I assign and edit stories; do accounting and keeping up with customers needs.
If I wanted to, I could spend my afternoons hiking or sailing or snoozing, but for the past four years, I've been writing a novel (home stretch of second draft) which for me is fun.
Retirement, or near-retirement age are our best opportunities to begin the journey that will last to the end of our lives - the journey of self-understanding and learning what in life is truly important. In other words, the pursuit of real happiness and peace of mind.
This is my hobby now, even though I am not retired yet at 72, and my wife and I have found that spiritual pursuits at this age yield huge results, buttressed as these pursuits are by what we've learned in all these years.
I know, it sounds all touchy-feely, but I would challenge anyone to suggest a more important pursuit. I've found answers in religious traditions (but not as much in religious institutions themselves), spiritual thinkers (Richard Rohr, Jack Kornfield, etc etc), in psychedelics, meditation, and mostly, just in my day to day interactions with my wife. The pay for this is great, best I've ever made - it just isn't in dollars...
I waited until I was 74 to retire, and, have since wondered where I ever found the time to go to work! Now that I'm 78 my days fly by just doing things around the house and yard. I think the only time I actually take a break is when Jeopardy! and Rachel Maddow are on the tube. (Do people still call it the "tube" even though TVs no longer have tubes?) My list of things I want and need to do every day isn't unnecessarily long, but it seems I barely touch it before it's time to call it a day. I thought I'd get lots of reading done when I retired, but I barely find time to read "Slack Tide" and maybe an article in Harpers, or even a chapter in my mindless book. So my questions to you Matt are, "Where did all the hours in a day disappear to after I retired?" and "Are there still 24 hours in a day?" P.S. I think I'll pass on the yoga pants. If I tried that pose I'd end up in traction, then each day would seem like an eternity.
"Matt Labash would be celebrated as the heir to Tom Wolfe, Hunter Thompson ....
"Mr. Labash inhabits a story so thoroughly that readers feel as if they're at his side, seeing events with his sharp eye, privy to his wisecracks, savoring moments when he reels in what feels like the truth."
Lasswell noted that "Labash specializes in going after catfish of the human variety: the unpopular, the no-hopers, the has-beens and the rogues." While Labash "doesn't pull his punches" ... "he succeeds in producing an affecting portrait of a rapscallion in twilight.... the deep satisfaction of finishing a story and feeling that it couldn't have been told better."
I'm happy to hear colleges consider that "remedial English".
Count me as one of the happy retirees. I believe I have finally found my calling in being a slacker. I was laid off from my corporate job right at the start of 2020 and being age 64 at the time, I decided to retire instead of looking for another job. It has worked out great!
No, I'm not living every minute "to the max," nor do I have any desire to. I like the simple pleasures of a simple life. (I’m also a Thoreau guy at heart.) I meditate, do yoga, and take long walks in the park or the green belt. I read, listen to podcasts, watch videos, stream movies, and go out to movies. I socialize with friends. I go out to eat regularly. I enjoy running errands. And when all else fails, I might clean the house now and then. If this isn't nice, I don't what is.
I shuffled off the work coil in 2017. It was a beeeg deal. I worked for the Marine Corps and those guys take it seriously. Formal ceremony, awards, alcohol and other refreshments. Did I mention alcohol? People fly from all over to pay their respects. Stories are told. Toasts are offered. Of course, alcohol. (Designated drivers are . . . Designated.)
So what can top that? Now my main activity is doting. I dote on my husband. Make his favorite foods, plan our date nights, make sure he is breathing when he falls asleep with his mouth open when we are watching TV.
I dote on my sons and their wives. Send them goodies, Zoom with them, argue politics, make all their favorite dishes when they visit.
But the big league doting is for the grands. They get the best of it. Everything is special down to the detail of chocolate on their pillows when they visit. It is so extreme we bought a house with a leaky pool just so they could lounge, cannonball and call out for the elusive Marco Polo.
It doesn't stop there. The gardens are focus of constant doting. If it ain't planting, it's weeding, harvesting or, in winter, planning. The fruits of my gardens are like the fish of the Chesapeake. A gift from our Creator with just an Itty bitty effort on our part.
But the true object of my doting addiction are my birds. Not ones in cages in my house but the ones who flit and fly wild to my eight feeders. I make sure they are full and worry when the regulars are absent. I note which ones prefer which blends and accommodate those preferences.
I don't question this obsession. It's genetic. I am blessed with a busy-body gene and it is a problem for anyone lucky enough to blunder into the vortex. There hasn't been an intervention yet so I'm just gonna go with it.
Oh my, Dr. Hall or can I call you Deborah? I am blushing. Many thanks for your heartfelt expression of appreciation. I guess I just wanted to share the possibilities that come with the gift of time. Truly a blessing . . . Like you are to all whose life you touch, I'm sure. 💟
Parkinson’s Law—that work expands to fill the time allotted to it—applies equally to leisure. I have discovered two things in retirement: first, as noted by the apparition who comes to Tully’s aid in the eponymous movie, earth days are too short; and second, you don’t really need seven or eight hours sleep a night.
I retired at the beginning of Covid to my former vacation house in Vermont. I exercise every day no matter the season (Must. Get. 50. Ski days. In. This. Year.) I volunteer. Play the occasional round of golf. And read too many Substack newsletter (But you're my fav. No. Really...). Before I know it, the day is over. Never been happier.
Hey, good call! Guess this means I'll have to ditch the old theme song. (Helen Reddy's "I Am Woman Hear Me Roar.") You remind me that I like Vulfpeck, at least the little I've heard of them. Especially "1612." And especially this live version, due to the extra tuba kick. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TiiWR6436Eg
I watched something similar in my own life. My father retired to the golf course just before he turned 60, and never looked back. My mother turned all of her energies to volunteering and was probably working harder in her 70s than at any other point in her life (other than that interlude when she was raising my sister and I). Now that I am on the back nine of life myself, I wonder what camp I will find myself in? Maybe a hybrid?
Absolutely works. For the first few years of retirement I volunteered as a marshal at a muni course. All the range balls you could hit plus free golf. My game never got better—and I had lots of evidence to prove it never would.
I "retired" from lawyering after 25 years and entered pastoral ministry (aka the second time in my life I was drafted). And you never really retire from that, even if you do slow down to part-time (ie fill-in) work.
I've had a number of "retirement plans" over the years. Came up with the first one about 4 decades ago when I was plying my trade in a large General Motors shop. I'd been there long enough to see a lot of guys in their late 60's and even into their 70's leave to retire almost with tears in their eyes. Not tears of joy - well, they no doubt were for some. But for others they were of sorrow and apprehension. They had become what they'd done for all those years, their identity and self-worth all wrapped up in their long-held jobs. Not me, baby. No way. It was gonna' be 30 & out. (I would have been 48 if that had actually happened.) Would still have to work, but I could take that pension and go do something else. Yeah, right.
Knew there might be a speedbump or two along the way. But I was young and dumb and didn't consider the possibility of the several rather cavernous potholes that would eventually open up and derail my scheme. So, after the first one was encountered, I made a new plan. And after the second, another. And so on, until I arrived where I am today 3+ decades later, a little late and not quite where I thought I'd be, but not a bad place, all in all. Turns out I had a pretty good suspension and some rather rugged tires that got me past those obstacles without too much lasting damage.
So, where am I now on the retirement thing? Semi. I ended up working in other shops just as I had planned, but not quite the way, or for the reasons, I'd intended. And I now find myself learning how not to be myself, part-time, 3 days a week. For as it turns out, I turned out to be one of those guys who became what he did and haven't quite learned how to completely undo that. Yet. I still like doing it, though it's not quite the pleasure it was 4 or 5 decades ago. But enough so that it doesn't hurt. And the extra nuts being squirreled away for the winter of my hopeful contentment as an old and truly retired slacker are a plus. So is the respect that I've found with my new employer. My last full-time employer was long enough on the $$'s and a few other things, but pretty short on that. So, no tears were shed when after more than a decade there, they gave me the boot a year ago under the guise of "lack of work", though I suspect it was more about the fact that as I've grown older, I've come to suffer fools less gladly and a whole lot less quietly. Worked out quite well, actually. Those unemployment $$ made for a pretty nice severance package for a while. But the best part was that it freed me up to go back to school and learn something new...how to not be myself and to be something else. I'm studyin' on that pretty hard, and steadily acquiring some new knowledge and skills on that subject. Looking forward to graduation day before too long, though I've learned not to make hard and fast predictions about that particular thing. Potholes, you know.
The point of this is merely a small bit of advice. If you're one of those folks wondering whether or not to pull the plug on employment for other than purely financial reasons, you don't have to power down all at once. If you have a sense of losing something of yourself, ease into it and learn how to be someone or something other than a plow horse, if that's what you want to be. And if you want to stay in the traces, then giddy up and good on you! Somebody's got to put a few more bucks in the pot so Matt can draw his just deserts in 2117. If he can resolve that scheduling conflict. Some potholes are just a little deeper and wider than others.
Full disclosure: I intend to use up as much of that pot as I can before finally clockin' out for good. Sorry 'bout that, Matt. 2118, maybe?
OK. Sorry for the delay. A lot going on yesterday.
My bad for the bad metaphor. I'm not "back in school", as in back in an actual classroom. Been a long time since I sat at a desk in front of a teacher and a chalk board, and while that's not a complete impossibility, it is unlikely to ever happen again.
I was, perhaps a little too cutely and inaccurately, referring to the process I now find myself in that I mentioned above, that of learning how to become someone - or something - other than who and what I've been for a half century now... a skilled and competent workman, a bread winner, a provider, a fixer of things. The go to guy for a lot of stuff for a number of people. For a number of reasons, much of the focus of my life has been my job, my "work", since it was the basic source for what I needed to achieve my most important goals: a good home, both for my family and myself; a good education for my kids; some material comforts and some economic security for the long run. Pretty much the same as anyone else. The mistake I made along the way, and became aware of the past couple of years, is as I said: in engaging so deeply in what I did for a living and in furtherance of my goals for so long a period of time (rarely if ever declining to work any and all overtime hours available, holding down a second part-time job for years on end), I became basically what I did. And now that all of those goals have been met successfully and the need for "work" is no longer really there, I'm basically learning how to be a different person with a different identity, one who no longer looks in the mirror and sees his trade and a timeclock and paycheck reflected back.
I'm sure a lot of folks don't quite get this. But then I'm sure a lot of others do. What pisses me off is that I was aware of this hazard, as noted by my confession to having seen it in other people early on, and in spite of thinking I was too damned smart to let it happen to me, well, obviously I'm not as smart as I thought I was.
But that's ok. What's done is done. Not cryin' about it. Just tryin' to fix it. Which, in the end, is quite a big part of who I am and have been...a fixer. Probably not gonna' be able to ditch that element of who I am. Just need to swap out a few of those other elements for a couple of new ones.
You'll have to excuse me. Just had a phone call from work. Things are slow this week. Don't need to punch the clock for my usual 3 day gig. Maybe not next week either. So, I've got a little studyin' I need to do and some homework to catch up on.
I have the best of both worlds. At 66 years, I publish the Birmingham Medical News, a newspaper I started 19 years ago for Alabama physicians and health care professionals. I have a salesman/VP who has been with me since the beginning, four writers, and a designer. We all work from home.
I can easily get my work done in four hours a day - I assign and edit stories; do accounting and keeping up with customers needs.
If I wanted to, I could spend my afternoons hiking or sailing or snoozing, but for the past four years, I've been writing a novel (home stretch of second draft) which for me is fun.
Which reminds me - you can read my first chapter at https://steveorino.substack.com/p/first-scene-of-my-as-yet-unnamed?s=w
Retirement, or near-retirement age are our best opportunities to begin the journey that will last to the end of our lives - the journey of self-understanding and learning what in life is truly important. In other words, the pursuit of real happiness and peace of mind.
This is my hobby now, even though I am not retired yet at 72, and my wife and I have found that spiritual pursuits at this age yield huge results, buttressed as these pursuits are by what we've learned in all these years.
I know, it sounds all touchy-feely, but I would challenge anyone to suggest a more important pursuit. I've found answers in religious traditions (but not as much in religious institutions themselves), spiritual thinkers (Richard Rohr, Jack Kornfield, etc etc), in psychedelics, meditation, and mostly, just in my day to day interactions with my wife. The pay for this is great, best I've ever made - it just isn't in dollars...
I waited until I was 74 to retire, and, have since wondered where I ever found the time to go to work! Now that I'm 78 my days fly by just doing things around the house and yard. I think the only time I actually take a break is when Jeopardy! and Rachel Maddow are on the tube. (Do people still call it the "tube" even though TVs no longer have tubes?) My list of things I want and need to do every day isn't unnecessarily long, but it seems I barely touch it before it's time to call it a day. I thought I'd get lots of reading done when I retired, but I barely find time to read "Slack Tide" and maybe an article in Harpers, or even a chapter in my mindless book. So my questions to you Matt are, "Where did all the hours in a day disappear to after I retired?" and "Are there still 24 hours in a day?" P.S. I think I'll pass on the yoga pants. If I tried that pose I'd end up in traction, then each day would seem like an eternity.
Another very fun read. Thank you Matt.
I think your writing should/could be used as college writing class curriculum - if it isn't already.
Thanks, Nancy. It's used in several remedial English as a Second Language courses. Foreigners have to walk before they can run.
I have to agree with Mark Lasswell of the WSJ:
"Matt Labash would be celebrated as the heir to Tom Wolfe, Hunter Thompson ....
"Mr. Labash inhabits a story so thoroughly that readers feel as if they're at his side, seeing events with his sharp eye, privy to his wisecracks, savoring moments when he reels in what feels like the truth."
Lasswell noted that "Labash specializes in going after catfish of the human variety: the unpopular, the no-hopers, the has-beens and the rogues." While Labash "doesn't pull his punches" ... "he succeeds in producing an affecting portrait of a rapscallion in twilight.... the deep satisfaction of finishing a story and feeling that it couldn't have been told better."
I'm happy to hear colleges consider that "remedial English".
Count me as one of the happy retirees. I believe I have finally found my calling in being a slacker. I was laid off from my corporate job right at the start of 2020 and being age 64 at the time, I decided to retire instead of looking for another job. It has worked out great!
No, I'm not living every minute "to the max," nor do I have any desire to. I like the simple pleasures of a simple life. (I’m also a Thoreau guy at heart.) I meditate, do yoga, and take long walks in the park or the green belt. I read, listen to podcasts, watch videos, stream movies, and go out to movies. I socialize with friends. I go out to eat regularly. I enjoy running errands. And when all else fails, I might clean the house now and then. If this isn't nice, I don't what is.
And this is why the Millennials are gonna need to skin you alive when the Revolution starts, Dan. Because you're living the dream. Someone has to pay.
I shuffled off the work coil in 2017. It was a beeeg deal. I worked for the Marine Corps and those guys take it seriously. Formal ceremony, awards, alcohol and other refreshments. Did I mention alcohol? People fly from all over to pay their respects. Stories are told. Toasts are offered. Of course, alcohol. (Designated drivers are . . . Designated.)
So what can top that? Now my main activity is doting. I dote on my husband. Make his favorite foods, plan our date nights, make sure he is breathing when he falls asleep with his mouth open when we are watching TV.
I dote on my sons and their wives. Send them goodies, Zoom with them, argue politics, make all their favorite dishes when they visit.
But the big league doting is for the grands. They get the best of it. Everything is special down to the detail of chocolate on their pillows when they visit. It is so extreme we bought a house with a leaky pool just so they could lounge, cannonball and call out for the elusive Marco Polo.
It doesn't stop there. The gardens are focus of constant doting. If it ain't planting, it's weeding, harvesting or, in winter, planning. The fruits of my gardens are like the fish of the Chesapeake. A gift from our Creator with just an Itty bitty effort on our part.
But the true object of my doting addiction are my birds. Not ones in cages in my house but the ones who flit and fly wild to my eight feeders. I make sure they are full and worry when the regulars are absent. I note which ones prefer which blends and accommodate those preferences.
I don't question this obsession. It's genetic. I am blessed with a busy-body gene and it is a problem for anyone lucky enough to blunder into the vortex. There hasn't been an intervention yet so I'm just gonna go with it.
I totally admire you Susan.
What a great life you lead.
I am touched and inspired
by your huge loving heart.
All the life you nourish!
I don't see it as busy-body.
I see it as devotion
Oh my, Dr. Hall or can I call you Deborah? I am blushing. Many thanks for your heartfelt expression of appreciation. I guess I just wanted to share the possibilities that come with the gift of time. Truly a blessing . . . Like you are to all whose life you touch, I'm sure. 💟
thank you so much Susan
am drowning my keyboard
I do believe
this is why Matt writes
he loves his funny flock!
he reaches out to us
with his loving words and humor and insights
we hear him
are edified delighted and enlarged
his transparency of soul
emboldens us
and we reach out to each other here
sharing our lives, our blessings, our encouragement...
Isn't his a beautiful calling
Isn't it exciting as each of us listens for ours
Toujours l'audace
Deborah
Sigh . . . As Anne Shirley might observe, 'a kindred spirit.'
a precious gift
perhaps not rare, but
as Marines might say,
camoflaged so that
your chances of encounter
can only be recognized by the
few
invited to hear through the noise and
come to the circle around the fire
to share their stories
you can only get warm if you get
close to the fire
cozy here with
Matt and Deborah and . . .
so much to share.
I too hear a kindred spirit, Susan.
Indeed a precious gift.
Finding one is rare for me,
as I am a thinker who thrives in solitude.
I walk around in camouflage
because my ideas go rather too deep to converse about.
People meet the warm and friendly aide de camp.
The general stays in the tent.
My husband understands and adores the whole me,
and welcomes my epiphanies, writings and orations.
I have a few close friends who love me,
whom I have had since grade school.
My son and my daughter and their spouses
and my nine grands think I am the cat’s meow.
But a kindred spirit…!
Now that is amazing.
Will wonders never cease?
Deborah, yes, it is much warmer sharing a seat at the fire with you.
(Giggling . . . just a little).
Parkinson’s Law—that work expands to fill the time allotted to it—applies equally to leisure. I have discovered two things in retirement: first, as noted by the apparition who comes to Tully’s aid in the eponymous movie, earth days are too short; and second, you don’t really need seven or eight hours sleep a night.
I know. Ten's more like it.
I retired at the beginning of Covid to my former vacation house in Vermont. I exercise every day no matter the season (Must. Get. 50. Ski days. In. This. Year.) I volunteer. Play the occasional round of golf. And read too many Substack newsletter (But you're my fav. No. Really...). Before I know it, the day is over. Never been happier.
I feel like I've found your theme song. And it's all about my feelings.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dhNfddJRulQ
Now I'm gonna hafta tryta train my inbox to play this as a notification alert sound for your newsletter.
Hey, good call! Guess this means I'll have to ditch the old theme song. (Helen Reddy's "I Am Woman Hear Me Roar.") You remind me that I like Vulfpeck, at least the little I've heard of them. Especially "1612." And especially this live version, due to the extra tuba kick. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TiiWR6436Eg
Such a great column I decided it was time to become a paid subscriber. Dee, you are fabulous!
I watched something similar in my own life. My father retired to the golf course just before he turned 60, and never looked back. My mother turned all of her energies to volunteering and was probably working harder in her 70s than at any other point in her life (other than that interlude when she was raising my sister and I). Now that I am on the back nine of life myself, I wonder what camp I will find myself in? Maybe a hybrid?
You could split the difference, Mark, and volunteer at the golf course.
Absolutely works. For the first few years of retirement I volunteered as a marshal at a muni course. All the range balls you could hit plus free golf. My game never got better—and I had lots of evidence to prove it never would.
Good idea!
I freaking love your writing. Thanks for all of it.
I "retired" from lawyering after 25 years and entered pastoral ministry (aka the second time in my life I was drafted). And you never really retire from that, even if you do slow down to part-time (ie fill-in) work.
Matt your too funny! And Go Dee Dee Go. Very Inspirational!
Go Dee Dee! And thank you, Matt, for writing a heartwarming column that made me smile.
I've had a number of "retirement plans" over the years. Came up with the first one about 4 decades ago when I was plying my trade in a large General Motors shop. I'd been there long enough to see a lot of guys in their late 60's and even into their 70's leave to retire almost with tears in their eyes. Not tears of joy - well, they no doubt were for some. But for others they were of sorrow and apprehension. They had become what they'd done for all those years, their identity and self-worth all wrapped up in their long-held jobs. Not me, baby. No way. It was gonna' be 30 & out. (I would have been 48 if that had actually happened.) Would still have to work, but I could take that pension and go do something else. Yeah, right.
Knew there might be a speedbump or two along the way. But I was young and dumb and didn't consider the possibility of the several rather cavernous potholes that would eventually open up and derail my scheme. So, after the first one was encountered, I made a new plan. And after the second, another. And so on, until I arrived where I am today 3+ decades later, a little late and not quite where I thought I'd be, but not a bad place, all in all. Turns out I had a pretty good suspension and some rather rugged tires that got me past those obstacles without too much lasting damage.
So, where am I now on the retirement thing? Semi. I ended up working in other shops just as I had planned, but not quite the way, or for the reasons, I'd intended. And I now find myself learning how not to be myself, part-time, 3 days a week. For as it turns out, I turned out to be one of those guys who became what he did and haven't quite learned how to completely undo that. Yet. I still like doing it, though it's not quite the pleasure it was 4 or 5 decades ago. But enough so that it doesn't hurt. And the extra nuts being squirreled away for the winter of my hopeful contentment as an old and truly retired slacker are a plus. So is the respect that I've found with my new employer. My last full-time employer was long enough on the $$'s and a few other things, but pretty short on that. So, no tears were shed when after more than a decade there, they gave me the boot a year ago under the guise of "lack of work", though I suspect it was more about the fact that as I've grown older, I've come to suffer fools less gladly and a whole lot less quietly. Worked out quite well, actually. Those unemployment $$ made for a pretty nice severance package for a while. But the best part was that it freed me up to go back to school and learn something new...how to not be myself and to be something else. I'm studyin' on that pretty hard, and steadily acquiring some new knowledge and skills on that subject. Looking forward to graduation day before too long, though I've learned not to make hard and fast predictions about that particular thing. Potholes, you know.
The point of this is merely a small bit of advice. If you're one of those folks wondering whether or not to pull the plug on employment for other than purely financial reasons, you don't have to power down all at once. If you have a sense of losing something of yourself, ease into it and learn how to be someone or something other than a plow horse, if that's what you want to be. And if you want to stay in the traces, then giddy up and good on you! Somebody's got to put a few more bucks in the pot so Matt can draw his just deserts in 2117. If he can resolve that scheduling conflict. Some potholes are just a little deeper and wider than others.
Full disclosure: I intend to use up as much of that pot as I can before finally clockin' out for good. Sorry 'bout that, Matt. 2118, maybe?
What are you studying? Am curious.
OK. Sorry for the delay. A lot going on yesterday.
My bad for the bad metaphor. I'm not "back in school", as in back in an actual classroom. Been a long time since I sat at a desk in front of a teacher and a chalk board, and while that's not a complete impossibility, it is unlikely to ever happen again.
I was, perhaps a little too cutely and inaccurately, referring to the process I now find myself in that I mentioned above, that of learning how to become someone - or something - other than who and what I've been for a half century now... a skilled and competent workman, a bread winner, a provider, a fixer of things. The go to guy for a lot of stuff for a number of people. For a number of reasons, much of the focus of my life has been my job, my "work", since it was the basic source for what I needed to achieve my most important goals: a good home, both for my family and myself; a good education for my kids; some material comforts and some economic security for the long run. Pretty much the same as anyone else. The mistake I made along the way, and became aware of the past couple of years, is as I said: in engaging so deeply in what I did for a living and in furtherance of my goals for so long a period of time (rarely if ever declining to work any and all overtime hours available, holding down a second part-time job for years on end), I became basically what I did. And now that all of those goals have been met successfully and the need for "work" is no longer really there, I'm basically learning how to be a different person with a different identity, one who no longer looks in the mirror and sees his trade and a timeclock and paycheck reflected back.
I'm sure a lot of folks don't quite get this. But then I'm sure a lot of others do. What pisses me off is that I was aware of this hazard, as noted by my confession to having seen it in other people early on, and in spite of thinking I was too damned smart to let it happen to me, well, obviously I'm not as smart as I thought I was.
But that's ok. What's done is done. Not cryin' about it. Just tryin' to fix it. Which, in the end, is quite a big part of who I am and have been...a fixer. Probably not gonna' be able to ditch that element of who I am. Just need to swap out a few of those other elements for a couple of new ones.
You'll have to excuse me. Just had a phone call from work. Things are slow this week. Don't need to punch the clock for my usual 3 day gig. Maybe not next week either. So, I've got a little studyin' I need to do and some homework to catch up on.
Answer coming your way later.