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Choices?

Like everyone else we all know, life is busy.
There are an infinite selection of choices to make in a person's life, on a daily basis, and bit by bit, it will define your life.

My oldest son was telling me that in his job for his first year away from the university life at Florida State, there was just so much work to do, but someone keyed him in on the fact that when overwhelmed with the work, the work that he does shows who he is and what his interests are.
I had never given that any thought until that conversation, but I have come to realize that that is a nugget of wisdom for anybody.
Wow, I better lay off of the Bejeweled on Facebook.

But the people we meet, people we never know, people who make headlines, all make choices from an infinite variety of decisions on a daily basis. Did you know that an average person makes hundreds of minor decisions every day, from what time one gets out of bed to whether or not to brush one's teeth, on and on. A person who makes decisions that lands him in jail has his electives whittled down to something like 11. (A little detail recalled from my husband's days working with prison ministries.) Often when an inmate is released from incarceration, his decision making abilities is rusty.

My daily life seems full of things that have to be done, without a lot of decisions to be made on a particular day, but they have all come about from the accumulations of years of choices. Actions taken while young enough to think they didn't matter cast shadows or lighten dark corners years later.
One of my best decisions was to talk to that new boy who came into my Advanced Algebra class in tenth grade. And a choice we took together was to walk through life trying to follow the way of the cross. Years later, I wouldn't have it any other way. Oh, there are times when life has been frustrating, and trying to do the right thing was not doing the easy thing, but after living 51 years and seeing people who reject Christianity, no thanks. "As for me and my household, we will serve Yaweh."
Following G-d has made the tough times easier to bear, and reminds us to be thankful in the better times. He reminds us to do what is right, and not only that which works out for our own interest. He reminds us to be forgiving of one another, but to strive to do our best so that we don't always have to be asking to be forgiven, but know that He is willing when our hearts are right.

So many fight to release us as a people from the presence of G-d in our lives, but wonder why we see the beating of children by other children as seen on a school bus video, or that cell phone video from South Chicago. We choose to make morality an elective but fail to see the connection when young people especially behave violently in a normal days interaction. Because so many work on this agenda, no one thinks they have any blame when the repercussions fall.
John Adams told the military of his day, "We have no government armed in power capable of contending with human passions unbridled by morality and religion. Our Constitution was made only for a religious and moral people. It is wholly inadequate for the government of any other."
As we abandon religion and morality, our infrastructure crumbles. Keep up the good work, my fellow parents who strive to teach your children to walk in truth, in obedience, in morality. Our future depends on it.

The rest of an old story

The people of my family are quiet and not fodder for media coverage, but we have one story that recently swirled back into our focus this summer.
The town was Waukesha, Wisconsin where in 1943 my dad was a young man of 17. His curiosity lead him to fill several balloons with hydrogen (how he obtained that, I do not know) that he let loose, hoping that when they returned to earth, they would be found and the notes attached to them would be returned to him, revealing how far they had traveled.

He heard back on three balloons, one traveling only 5 miles, another traveling farther, near Racine, Wisconsin. Not too bad for amateur science. At some point, months later, he received a letter from a Lieutenant Vernon Paux of Pampa Army Air Field in Pampa, Texas. He wrote "This slip of paper was found in a balloon near here. I don't know what color the balloon was, but I am sure it will interest you to get this letter.
"I was greatly interested in it because my home is at Odell, Wisconsin. I also have several relatives living in Waukesha, the Hughes brothers who operate a farm several miles west of town. I hope you have as good luck with the other balloon you sent out."
Well, this amazing journey set off by a 17 year old boy caught the attention of the local press, and even the Milwaukee Journal mentioned it. There was a local scientist who thought it possible for a balloon to travel that distance, but the direction seemed implausible without highly unusual weather conditions. A balloon released in Waukesha ought to go east, not south.
It was a few moments of fame, such as predicted that we all get in our lives, and the story was not an important one as stories go.

Time passed, my dad graduated from Waukesha High School in 1944, and served in the United States Navy, being on a ship headed for Okinawa when the
Bomb was dropped that ended the war. He returned to Waukesha and eventually started a TV repair business with his older brother, Arthur.
Years later, Arthur was on a repair call, and asked by the clients if he knew a Francis Richardson. It turns out that this family had a good laugh at the story of the balloon that flew to Texas because they had found the balloon near the Waukesha airport, and mailed the paper to relative serving in the army in Texas, who then mailed it to my father, starting the 'media frenzy.' They never revealed themselves to the local paper when the story was reported, and it seems only by merest chance that my family ever came to know the truth. Perhaps they sought out Richardson Brothers TV and Radio Repair just to pass on the rest of the story.

The TV repair business was closed down many years ago. Arthur moved to Kansas and has long since passed away, while Francis remains in Waukesha to this day, along with children and grandchildren. The local paper recently reran the story as a retrospective feature from 65 years ago, which caught the attention of the family, now expanded and spread out but with a core still in the area.

It goes to show you that even the smallest of media stories can re appear when you least expect them to!

Summertime Joys

Summertime!
Wouldn't you hate life without summertime?

Living in a rural area, we have a field next to our home that is usually busy growing soybeans. I don't make the decision about what to plant there, and soybeans are low plants, keeping the farmer happy and me from being claustorphobic.
This year, though, he planted sunflowers.

What a treat! Luckily for me, they aren't the very tall ones, so we can still see across the field, thus claustrophobia isn't something on my mind.

I took a walk over there today with the camera just to get a couple of photos of the blossoms. It is a joy to see these cheerful flowers in the field. And I realized the other day that the wonderful sight of sunflowers is like a secret garden for our family. While we have a good view from our living room window, the field is surrounded on two sides by a double line of fast growing evergreen trees that obscure the delights of the yellow heads from the travelers on the road. It is like a secret view for our family. How deliciously exclusive!

I hope you enjoy a couple of shots of our secret delights!

Will your GPS lead you astray?

Can you trust your GPS?

This week end, I took a quick trip to South Carolina to meet up with our buddy who runs an auction in Georgia. With our ebay business, we end up with excess stuff that has to be disposed of in some way, and our Georgia auctioneeer friend has been a good fit for this purpose, benefitting both parties.

I like the chance to hit the road once in a while. It would have been nice to have a companion, but I am also perfectly content to travel alone.
Every time I go off on the road by myself, my husband's sense of direction stays home, and boy do I miss it! He seldom gets lost or confused about where he is headed, and can easily get back to the road after a little side trip. This time, though, a GPS unit was along for the journey to send me back on my way after a detour. Anyone who has one of these will sing its praises. They are fun and useful if you are looking for a coffee shop, or museum or other points of interest.

This morning, I used it to find a coffee shop. Since last fall, I have been buying my coffee from s small batch roaster in my area, and have gotten totally spoiled with a strong fresh pot every day at home.
It took me longer to get to it than I anticipated, but a good cup of coffee is worth it to me, and finding one is not always easy to do when out of my home territory. The drive was nice; I even passed a Harris Teeter store along the way, (good grocery stores are missing in my neck of the soybean fields) and I thought that I might get back to it for some road snacks once I had a good strong dose of coffee in my cup holder. The drive took me quite a ways farther before I finally turned left into a shopping center where the shop was located.

Like I said, the drive was longer than I expected to the coffee shop, and once there, the barrista told me that I was way on the other side of town from where I started. He poured me a large cup of Sumatran and I continued on my way.
Once I was back in the drivers seat, I used the GPS again to locate a gas station, and turned left out of the shopping center to get to my next destination, guided by my faithful navigator.

To my surprise, about a half mile down the road from my coffee shop was an intersection that I had gone through on my way over, but the GPS had me turn right instead of go straight, which would have been much faster, and at least 8 miles shorter!

Did Wal Mart pay the GPS company to steer clueless drivers past its stores or something? Why on earth would this guide take me so far out of my way? It does ask if you want the fastest or shortest route, but I don't recall the scenic option.

I am puzzled. Although we have been using this unit for several months, we have learned to operate it through trial and error. There isn't much of an owners manual, except on a CD which I finally put into the computer today, but naturally my questions are not part of the instructions.

It is all a part of the adventure of life, even if the high tech leaves me puzzled.

Traveling in France

While in France last month, we depended on public transportation for the first time in our lives. It was an interesting experience. I saw young women with small children managing what to me would have been an impossible transportation situation, taking a preschooler and a sack of groceries, including the daily baguette, home for the day. One mom I saw was on an escalator with a baby in a carrier, with another small child (twins, maybe?) in a soft carrier on her chest, dragging a large suitcase on wheels. That seemed like enough of a nightmare scenario to me to not even attempt whatever trip she was about to embarque upon.

One observation was the lack of loudness of the other passengers. The days of boom boxes seem to be in the past, thank goodness! Because we were traveling in a group of six, we tended to talk to each other loud enough for many to hear. Most of the other riders were either alone or in smaller groups, so we didn't hear lots of group conversations, or maybe being regular travelers on public conveyences, kept their voices down as a courtesy to others. We may have lived up to the ugly American stereotype.

On a bus in Paris, as it ran its route, I gave my seat to an older woman. She thanked me (I understood that word, at least!) and when she reached her stop, spoke to me in French, a language that I don't understand. I like to think that she was grateful to someone for giving up a seat for her, but maybe she had the sentiments of another man who was mumbling under his breath. My daughter in law understood the word 'tourists' so maybe he didn't like this crowd of six, wearing matching tie dyed tee shirts, on his bus.
Oh yes, we were all wearing tie dyed tee shirts. I know, they look silly, but shucks, are they easy to spot when in an area with lots of people. Unless of course, the day you choose to wear them is cool and everyone has a jacket on.

Paris is a city where most all of the buildings are 6 or 7 stories, and I didn't notice a lot of parking garages. You can see in an earlier blog post the tight parking on the street. So with that sort of density of population, and lack of dedicated car accomodations, it must be a normal part of the daily ordeal to park your car. That makes me appreciate more the country life here where I don't have to parallel park with no spare distance between vehicles.

The evening that we left Paris, the six of us, dragging luggage, went through the Metro system to catch a train heading south to where my son and his wife lives. It was Sunday night, and the trains were busy with people who came to the city for the week end, now heading back towards their homes. It was almost musical, as passengers raced through the hallways towards the trains, trailing their wheeled suitcases, collapsing the handles when hitting an escalator, extending them again when it was time to get off and start walking again. The timing was like a symphony without a conductor!

One of the trains must have been running behind. The six of us were getting on it and too quickly the alarm sounded to let passengers know that the doors were about to close, with one son still not on the train! I looked at him through the glass thinking that he wasn't going to make it on the train, but knew that he must get in that car. I grabbed him through the closing of the door to make sure he was not left behind. At the next stop, which was our destination, once again after just seconds, the driver sounded the alarm that the doors were closing while we were still getting off! Norb had to pull his leg out of the closing door. The people waiting to get on it were out of luck. The train was on its way without them.

We finally made it to the high speed train to take us south. Dusk was falling as we began to roll out of Paris, so we were unable to take in the countryside. After the day of sightseeing we were all tired, so the trip was a good chance to relax. The rural area would have to wait until the train ride back to Paris.

Once we got to Montpellier, still wearing our tie dye tee shirts, one young fellow asked Norb if he was a hippie. Then he tried to bum a cigarette! Boy, did we send out the wrong messages with the multi colored wonders on our backs!
The last of the week end partiers were waiting with us for the final tram of the week end. With jet lag and two days of walking through Paris, we were worn out and a little punch drunk with fatigue. We had the best time!

Bird Watching on the Porch

One of the things about our country life that I love is the way the swallows nest on my front porch.
When we returned from France, I woke up to the familiar chirp of homemaking birds, and it brought a smile to my face.

These acrobatic birds are mesmerizing to watch. Building their nests, setting upon their eggs, and feeding the babies, they are very diligent in their duties. Once the eggs are hatched, the mother and father bird fly all day long in an effort to keep their babies fed. This is really great for us as mosquito control, but has to be tiring for the parent birds.

The babies grow really fast, and this morning I was watching the nest as they have gotten quite mature looking, and wanted to do a count. I could hear the parent birds chirping, but they were not feeding the babies, who have gotten big enough to leave the nest. The parents are trying to coax them out, hovering near the nest, yet the babies are still opening their mouths hoping for the parental hand out. The parents will still feed them some, however, the gravy train ride is over. The babies are crowded in that tiny space, and I think that one has already fled, and the clock is ticking on the ones that remain. It is time to leave the comfort of the hand out.

Don't you think that there are some life lessons here for all of us?

Pain in Dogs

I am a reluctant dog owner.
There, I have confessed it. I think that if someone has a dog as a child, then they want their children to have a dog as well. Being in a 'mixed marriage' dog wise, my hubby and I have different opinions on the importance of having a dog in the family for the children.
So now you know that I cannot win a disagreement with my husband either. Because we have THREE dogs.

This past week has been quite dog centered, and I learned that I actually care more for our dogs than I normally admit.
One of the dogs suffered a ruptured disc this week, and of course, our regular vet is on vacation.
My middle son told me that he thought that his dog needed to go to the vet as he was trembling and walking stiffly. It was Memorial Day, naturally, as most crises in life take place when the facilities to deal with them are closed. Is that part of Murphy's Law? I gave the dog an aspirin and tried to keep an eye on him.

Tuesday morning, my hubby told me that this same dog was outside in the rain at 2 AM, and didn't seem to want to come into the house through the doggie door. He moved stiffly that afternoon, and when I returned from running errands, he had stopped walking entirely. Our son's dog was COMPLETELY PARALYZED FROM THE WAIST DOWN!! No wagging his tail, no anything. He still felt pain back there, but paralyzed none the less. When he did try and walk it was just dragging his hind quarters, feet flopped over and pointing in the wrong direction, much like the painting "Christina's World" by Andrew Wyeth.

All this time, we were searching on the internet for the symptoms and thinking that maybe he had Lyme disease. We called the most knowledgeable person in dog issues we know, a dog breeder. She strongly advised that we not hospitalize the dog in an after hours clinic. Do a tick test and get some meds to get through the night.

My son and I took the dog to a Pet ER, and that trip simply did not go very well. The vet gave me three options for treatment, and I chose to bring the dog home with some medications for the situation with instructions to follow up with our regular vet the next day. We all prayed for him when we got home.

That evening and the next day, we began to realize that this dog was in bad shape. With our vet on vacation and a holiday week end just passed, finding an available appointment was challenging. I finally found one with a 6 PM slot, and I let them know that we might be putting the dog to sleep.

Several times in searches, acupunture was mentioned, so I started to search for canine acupunture in this area. There is only one, so I called that office only to be told that there weren't any openings for at least a week. They later called back and asked us to come in early the next morning to try to help this dog.


It won't be a quick fix, but two days later, we are seeing this dog begin to try to walk again. We are so happy to see him make a few steps!
It is not expected that he recover 100% and his back end is not stable right now when he is on all four feet. His boy is thrilled that his friend is still with us.

I said all of that to say this.
I did not recognize the signs of serious pain.
A dog that has suffered a disc injury will exhibit symptoms such as: yelping when handled, lethargy, shivering, whimpering, poor appetite, inability to urinate, clumsiness, reluctance to climb steps, walking “drunk,” hiding under the bed, unable to move, paralysis of back legs. The faster you can get treatment for your dog, the better.
Perhaps one of my human failings is that I find it difficult to sense serious situations, and always hope that things will just sort themselves out, given time for natual healing to take place. It would have been helpful if the discussions with the first vet would have included a phrase such as, "This is a serious condition in this case." Or "He will be fine, just give him time."

We are glad that you are still with us, Cookie!
www.hhahsalisbury.com

One Item from the Bucket List

Well, we did it. We said, "What the heck?" and went to France to visit our son and daughter in law.

Lots of people have done it. But I hadn't, until earlier this month. Ever since being in Miss Schomberg's class in fifth grade, I have wanted to go to Europe, and finally got there, too many years later. It took the presence of our oldest (or should I say 'eldest?') son for a year of post doc work to get us there, and I am so glad that we went.

One of the things that caught my eye was the size of the cars, and considering the scarcity of parking, small cars make sense. We found ourselves on a street in Paris where cars were parked like beads on a string. The French must excel at parallel parking. It would have been interesting to wait for one of these drivers to claim their car and maneuver out of these tightest of parking places.

When I was a young girl, I loved bakery products. Now as a middle aged woman, bakeries are not what they used to be. But they were everywhere in France. I told my husband that if I had known that when I was about 18 years old, I might have emigrated to France and gone native.
A normal part of everyone's day was to pick up a baguette and carry it along, in a backpack or just in the paper wrapping from the bakery. I suppose there are as many ways to use your daily baguette as there are bakeries that produce them.

Our family went to France, thinking that it would be a once in a lifetime event. But I sure want to do it again!

Old Fashioned Dad

My dad had his 83rd birthday this week. This picture of him tells a lot about him. He likes to go fishing, and when I was growing up, he wanted a boat, but did not have the budget for one. He built one for himself in the garage. It took him three years, at least that is what I remember. That showed me patience and perseverance, not to mention responsibility in that he did not spend money he didn't have to get himself a toy.
That boat was a part of every vacation after that, following the loaded station wagon on our way 'Up North.' I liked it because he would bring our bikes along in the boat, so we could ride country roads while away from home.

Every day, my dad got up earlier than we did, and drove off to some mystery place called, "Work." My mom got up with him and packed him a lunch to carry in the metal lunch bucket. Does everyone have memories of waxpaper wrapped sandwiches, folded just so, the drugstore fold, my mom called it, to keep the bread from drying out?
That short time every morning was probably the only time my parents had a few quiet moments to chat together. Sometimes I liked to get up early and catch Dad before he left, but mostly it was their time.

My dad was not an executive. He came home with dirt embedded in the creases of his hands that didn't come out until he retired. But my dad came home after work, took care of his family, didn't drink or run around. In my mind, that makes him a hero.
I love you, Dad! Happy Birthday!

Fight? At What Cost?

Today DH and I watched the movie 'Flash of Genius' which is one of those stories of David vs Goliath. Not an especially unusual premise, but this one was a little tough for us to watch.
It is the story of a man who developed a windshield wiper control to give us what is now known as intermittent speed wipers.
He wanted to manufacture and sell the units to the companies that build cars, and thought that he had a deal to do so but instead was pressured to provide a unit for safety testing, and then found himself without a contract, while his invention turned up on cars months later.

As the story unfolded it reminded us of some of our ventures and adventures over the years. Just having a flash of genius is only the beginning of a long process, and the hoped for outcome is never as easy to achieve as it ought to be. Negotiating with others has to be done skillfully, and there is always something that you don't expect that will surprise you along the way. Not everyone will deal with you in good faith, and often you find yourself cut out of the process while your idea continues in someone else's hands.

The character in the movie was taken advantage of, and he fought back, but paid a terrible price to do so. It alienated his family, and cost him his marriage, along with years of his life as well. Was that worth it? To destroy his family to take on a soulless corporation, which did appear to have done wrong. Should he have let the issue go, and continued with his life, sadder but wiser, with the injustice eating at his belly?
Part of the story was that he heard from other inventors who had developed things only to have the patents go to corporate interests while the inventor is left empty handed and broke. I can begin to understand why some seem to hate the business world.

Morality is something we all need, individually and corporately. Sometimes we take a hit by doing the right thing, but isn't our integrity the only thing that we really have? Somewhere along the way forward, you will sow what you have reaped. Do the right thing.

Reconnecting and Renewing

Reconnecting is always a thing of joy, isn't it?
I had the chance last week to reconnect with the ladies from the church in Jacksonville that we attended while living there.

It has been five years since leaving Jacksonville, but whenever we have the chance to get together, time does not feel as if it has separated us.
Years of fellowship, the crises that we have prayed one another through, the joyful occasions in our lives have knit our hearts together.

My dear friends had arranged to rent a house on the beach, where there was one morning that even my night owl self was up early enough to see the sun rise on the ocean. What a treat that is!

I tackled a small knitting project, knitting a scarf for a friend's daughter. I love to knit, but don't have the sit down time too often to do it, so that was a treat, especially to be able to actually FINISH something. It's been too long. (I have a blanket that I started for a baby who is now 15 years old. But I made a mistake with the gauge, so it doesn't go together properly. Who knew that making white squares and black squares would turn out different sizes, even using the same crochet hook?)

A barefoot walk on the beach, the friendships rekindled, the time to relax. I feel renewed.

And then getting back home was delayed by a blizzard that pounded the East Coast. Our normal mild winters had one last hurrah, that gave me an extra day in Florida. The night I got home, it was 5* outside with several inches of snow. I was reminded of winters in Wisconsin. Now it is 5 days later, and we have the windows open. Yup, climate change! It's all good, it is supposed to be like that. Winter changes into spring. There is a time to plant and a time to harvest. Sometimes we need to renew ourselves to be able to continue to serve our families, and the time at the beach was good for that. Thank you to all who were a part of that.

Under the Radar?

While the media has been fixated on the first days of the new administration and the rushing of the stimulus bill through the Congress, there is another change that has taken place much more quietly but not benignly.

In thrift stores all across the country, children's items are disappearing with little fanfare or explanation.

Well, I don't mind explaining it. A new law was passed last year after some problems with toys imported from China that had some toxic materials in them. The issue surely needed to be addressed.

The new regulations require that anything marketed to children under the age of 12 be tested and certified to be within the limits of the new guidelines for lead content.
The testing and certification are not practical for resellers and those who depend upon the secondary market for clothes and toys and books for their family will no longer be able to do so.

No one is in favor of children being poisoned with lead. But the cost benefit analysis is missing, and the wholesale destruction of books is at hand without a single case of a child being injured by them.

This is a law that has far reaching consequences, and because of the heavy penalties over the heads of resellers they have no choice except to no longer deal in children's items. The congress has once again made decisions for us and appears to have no interest in changing it, no matter the reprecussions upon the people who elected them.

Valerie Jacobsen is a homeschooling mom with a family business in used books and has been staying on top of this issue.

She wrote this earlier this week:
I called the SBA Office of Advocacy today and was told that CPSIA is a “huge
undertaking on many levels,” introduced with “poor timing.” I was encouraged
to contact the House and Senate Commerce Committees and “turn up the heat”
with “lots of calls.” I was told, “The more calls, the more influence.”

What we need to understand is that the Senate Commerce Committee is
restricting hearings on this.Henry Waxman, chairman of the Committee on
Energy & Commerce and Bobby Rush, chairman of the Subcommittee on Commerce,
Trade, and Consumer Protection don’t want any reasonable amendment and are
refusing to allow any discussion.

They don’t want more hearings. They don’t want more talk. They want
compliance. Waxman and Rush are the original sponsors of CPSIA, so you can
see why they don’t want the damage they’ve caused to go on the record.

But we do!Make some calls–and make a difference. I’ve been writing, calling,
and talking about this for *weeks*, and I’ve only met one person who thinks
CPSIA is within the realm of reasonable legislation, one person who thinks
it’s okay for the CPSC to censor the canon of children’s literature, one
person who shrugged off the suggestion that some harm could be caused as
thrift stores discard books, blue jeans, and winter coats.

The vast majority of Americans,who know about CPSIA,can see that it’s junk
legislation, but many expect that it will dissolve into oblivion with no
effort.

That’s not the way it works. We need to TURN UP THE HEAT on Waxman and
Rush–and anyone who can turn up the heat on them. Here are some numbers to
call…. How does CPSIA affect you, your family, your business, or your
community? The only place I have had to hold more than 30 seconds was at the
White House.

CHANGE THAT! Flood them with calls.

Senate Commerce Committee 202-224-5115
Majority–202-224-0411
Minority–202-224-1251
(Becky Hooks takes care of this for the minority.)

Commerce committee members are listed at
http://commerce.senate.gov/members.htm

Call those senators!

House Commerce Committee (202) 225-2927

Commerce committee members are listed at
http://energycommerce.house.gov/index.php?option=com_frontpage&Itemid=1
Click on “About the Committee” and then click on the “Membership” tab.

Call those representatives.

You can also call–
White House Comment Line 202-456-6213
Your State Senators (both)
Your Representative
Small Business Administration Office of Advocacy 202-205-6533
CPSIA Sponsor Henry Waxman 202-225-3976 or 323-651-1040
CPSIA Sponsor Bobby Rush 202-225-4372 or 773-224-6500
CPSC Small Business Ombudsman 888-531-9070 or sbo@...
Senate Small Business & Entrepreneurship 202-224-5175
House Small Business 202-225-4038
House Committee Education & Labor 202-225-3725 (think: schools and
libraries)

Thank you!

Valerie

You can find Valerie on Facebook
http://www.facebook.com/people/Valerie-Jacobsen/1319666953
or at her blog
http://www.bookroomblog.com.


This is a time when we must be vigiliant of our lawmakers. We are going to have to keep them aware of our displeasure when they enact laws that go against the people who put them into office. We are all busy, but we have an interest in making sure that they don't abuse the power we give them with our votes.

The Music in Your Head

We have all had it happen. A song gets stuck in your head, playing over and over again, making you feel a little crazy. Advertisers loves it when this happens with a jingle that sells a product, hoping that it will cause you to purchase something that seems familiar to you.

One day at home, my husband was singing his famous little jingle, "I'm an incredibly handsome guy..." and when I compared that to the song that plays itself in my head, which I will decline to quote because it is too depressing, it made me wonder about the source of these stupid little tunes in our heads. Why does my husband sing about how wonderful he is, but my song is the complete opposite?
Oh, I have all of the teachings from different points of view, spiritual or psychological, but no matter how many birthdays I have, I can't seem to make the ugly song go away.

What is the music that is being written for my children? Am I giving them beautiful music that will encourage them to do their best, and stretch their efforts to exceed what they think they can do? Or am I writing music that will torment them for their entire lives?

It has become a cliche to say that parenting is the toughest job in the world, and I will not argue that one. And I think that as human beings, we like to tell ourselves that our life is tough. But let's try to create music that won't be a dirge.

Is there such a thing as a reverse fan?

We attended a special event to watch the two playoff games on Sunday, just for the fun of it.

My emotions are not tied into football teams, although the Jacksonville Jaguars have a special place for a number of reasons. This was the sort of year when the best they could do was do get a good draft pick in the spring.

Back to the event today. The playoffs were of four teams, three of which just happen to have lots of fans in this area. The first game was played, in quite the dramatic fashion, with the score going back and forth. The table we were at had very vocal Eagles fans, and we joined in with them. It was heartbreaking when Arizona finished up as the winners.

On to the second game. Pittsburgh against Baltimore. Once again, still feeling as if we didn't have a dog in this hunt, but we have closer ties to Baltimore than to Pittsburgh, despite playing at Heintz Field, which should be a good reason, because this family bleeds Heintz Ketchup.

The teams we sympathized with both lost today.

I am thinking of selling my football sympathies to someone by rooting for their opponents.
Can a team have a 'reverse fan?'
Maybe this is a new type of 12th man.

A bad luck fan who will root for your opponent.

See me before the Superbowl.