Work continues to progress like a freight train headed for an unfinished bridge. Annie is ticked, I am exhausted. I've begun messing up. My multi-tasking skills are beginning to suffer. I was working on a system Thursday and did something stupid. Basically, the processor came off in my hand and scraped on the motherboard. Some pins were bent and at least two were broken off completely. I swallowed my pride and told the project manager what had happened. He was very kind. He said he would get me another one, and then followed with, "will that be cash or credit?"

I also seem to have lost my ability to think before I talk. On a conference call with management yesterday I said that I would work this weekend to see if I could find a solution for a problem before the vendor for the module came in to look. My director asked, "really? What makes you think you can fix it?" My response? Without thinking about the audience I said, "because I am an arrogant prick, and I think I can fix anything." My director busted out laughing, and another manager said (loudly), "What did you say!?!?"

Oh well, at least if I get fired I can take some time off.

I can fix anything, though...

I have lost track of time, but a lot has happened over the past week. Well, mostly it was work, but we had a couple of issues to deal with. The first one I won't get into. Annie had a melt down about a topic that I don't feel comfortable discussing.

The other had to do with a mistake I made. When I moved the chicks to the coop, I wedged the grating up to ensure they could reach the food. Over the next few days there were a number of times that Annie and even Annie and a friend went to check on the chicks. I don't know that that had anything to do with what happened, but I was pretty sure I had the grating wedged in tight. At any rate, Thursday morning we were moving very early, so I decided to take a peek at the chicks just to make sure all was well. The grating had fallen and trapped three of them on the side where the food was. They were ok, just scared. Unfortunately, one of them wasn't fast enough and it got caught underneath. I don't think it suffered. It looked like it's neck snapped immediately.

Annie was devastated. We had a teary funeral in the garden before school. She held the chick and petted it while I dug the hole. Then she got a paving stone and placed it over the grave. She was still upset when she came home. It was not a good day.

Back to work...

I have hopefully just returned form my last trip as an UnDistinguished Lecturer for the IEEE. It has been educational, but I think I have done my bit. When I was first asked to do this, I asked how many presentations I would need to give. I was told that I was requested to do up to six each year for two years, but, the informant admitted, few actually reach that number. Well, I have done twelve in the last thirteen months. I have politely declined requests for four more. Technically, my tenure in this role goes until December, but those are the breaks.

The trip had a bit of a rocky start. After I dropped Annie off at school, I went over the mountains. I stopped for some supplies at a store, and had a quick breakfast. The truck was parked and I was entering the 'crappy' terminal at San Jose way too early. Oh well, what was I going to do. Up to this point, all was good. I got in line to use the wonderful electronic check-in. I freakin' love those things. However, it was then that my patience and understanding was pushed. It shouldn't have been a big deal, but for some reason it irked me. All around was a large group of people that... well, were obviously going on a chartered trip together. They had all long been enjoying retirement, for which I was both in admiration and jealousy (I know... what would I do if I were retired... sit on the deck all day?). There were about fifteen in front of me, and folks at the counter kept saying, "sir, I can help you now... sir?" No one was paying attention. Then all the folks standing outside the line started coming in. They didn't come in behind me... oh, no. They just cut in front of me. One lady walked with her large bag around the front by the counters, came in on the side of the line, and went under the rope to cut in front of me. She didn't have to bend down very far, either.

Well, at that point I had had it. There were empty terminals everywhere. I got out of line and just walked to one. I received a few scowls, which I returned with a direct stare until the individuals turned away. I checked in and flew through security. Other than the flight being delayed by a half hour, it went pretty smoothly after that. I mean I have sort of become accustomed to people running into me all the time when they navigate the aisle on a plane. I did think it was rather appropriate that I had to enter the plane at the rear... not the door near the end of the plane, no. I had to climb stairs into the asshole of the plane. I climbed the stairs, thinking, "yup, this is the way it should be."

Bing, bang, boom, I was in Seattle, I had my rental car, made it to the hotel, and was on the computer checking what work requests had been made while I was off-line. I only had a 23 mile drive to the place where I was to give my presentation, and I figured 45 minutes should be sufficient. I was wrong. I turned the corner by the hotel, and came to a complete stop as I headed toward the interstate. I could see it, but I couldn't get to it. After twenty minutes, I got there, and it started moving fairly well. In fact, I exceeded the speed limit for about 500 yards. Then it stopped. We all crawled along for what seemed like an eternity. However, when I saw what was making everyone slow down, I realized it was appropriate. It was just human nature. There was an accident. It wasn't on the freeway. It was on a road next to the freeway. However, it involved someone getting out of control and taking out a PortaPotty. I mean, come on, who can not slow down and even stop to look at a big truck that slammed into a PortaPotty. After that the traffic moved in spurts and I made it. It took an hour and a half.

I talked to some good people, gave my presentation without anyone falling asleep, received a gift of a pound of Seattle's finest coffee, and was on my way back to the hotel. I worked a bit, and went to bed. Unfortunately, I have this problem with worrying about missing my flight. I know, I worry too much about too many things. I can't help it, and that's why I woke up every hour. Finally, I got up, ate some complimentary breakfast, checked out, and headed to the airport.

It's not that far from Seattle to Portland, and some folks chuckled that I was flying the distance, but the timing was such that I couldn't drive between the two and make my committed times. I returned my car, got my ticket and got in line for security. It was complete chaos.

TWO DAYS LATER: I had to get back to work, and am just now finding a moment to complete this. Granted, I am at work, but I have to wait for the test software to do its thing. So, I have five minutes.

Where was I? Oh yeah... chaos. The folks working the x-ray machines and metal detectors did not appear to have a clue about how to direct people. After depositing my gear on the conveyor belt, I was told to get into another line for the metal detector. I waited and waited. Most of the people in front of me had their stuff on the belt associated with this detector. Others like me had been redirected to this line, and were watching our possessions getting lumped together at the end of the belt some twenty feet away. Apparently, some people were being told to just push their way to the head of the line... which they did... without a single show of politeness. Well, that didn't work either because the genius operating the detector didn't seem to realize (or care) what was going on. Finally, a lady started to push her way past me with her whole entourage. I glared down at her from my reasonable height, and she balked for a minute and then said that she had been told to go to the front because her things were on the other belt. I laughed and informed her that so was mine, and so were some other people in the line. In fact, my stuff was almost in front of the pile that was being squashed. She stopped.

Finally, we were through there and I was off to the gate with my typical, although undesired, earliness for the gate. I read and listened to music until I could board. The little twin prop plane was only slightly larger than my truck... The trip was uneventful except for the landing... which was more like something I have experienced on a ride down at the Boardwalk. In no time, I had my bag, my car, and was pulling up to the hotel. I started working immediately, while watching the clock to make sure I gave myself enough time to get to the presentation location. It was only twelve miles away. Shouldn't be a problem, right? Obviously, I never learn. It took me an hour. I left the hotel and immediately came to a stop as traffic inched its way towards the interstate. I only had to be on the freeway for a mile, so I thought I'd be alright. Again, I never learn. I took my exit to find that it was under significant construction. I couldn't find the next road I needed.

I drove around, asked someone who was stopped in traffic with me, and finally found the road. I was off again. After that it went pretty smoothly. I pulled up to the university, parked, and started off to find the building I needed. I figured that I would just ask a student walking around. It was a freakin' ghost town. I walked around all over the place. Finally, in the distance I saw some people. I hurried in that direction, and found two people studying a map of the campus. Great. Fortunately, they were able to point me where I needed to go. I got to the door just when my phone rang with a concerned individual wondering when I was going to get there.

I gave my spiel over the next two hours, talked to a guy who I knew from school, and headed back to the hotel. I worked until almost midnight, and went to sleep. As usual, I woke every hour or so, and finally just got up. I took care of my morning business, and headed to the airport. Portland has a pretty good airport, and in no time, I was sitting at the gate. Fortunately (one of the reasons I like that airport) I had free wireless access, so I pounded on the keyboard some more before boarding the plane.

I decided to drop my stuff off at home, and then go get Annie. I can't say that I got a warm welcome. At the house, Tolkien didn't even come out of the garage to greet me. Lilo sleepily opened his eyes from his vantage point on the bed, and went back to sleep. Annie seemed disappointed to see me with comments like, "I thought Nana was going to pick me up." And, "are any friends coming over?" Oh well, it was the last trip for lecture purposes. Unfortunately, I may have to go to Taiwan pretty soon. I hope it gets postponed at least until Annie is out of school...

Back to work...

Just sharing the end of a beautiful day with the computer. It was very warm, but it is cooling off now, so I'm sitting on the deck with the chimenea warming my side, and watching the colors change in the trees across the valley as the sun sets.

I took the day off except for answering phone calls and checking e-mails for emergency issues. I had a blast. Roughly translated that means I worked on my room. I finished casing the doors, and almost finished the baseboard. I have the final pieces cut, but I ran out of the finishing oil I was using. The streets of Boulder Creek pretty much roll up by six, so the finishing touches will have to wait until tomorrow. It was an interesting experience cutting all the funky angles. Anyone watching (Lilo in particular) would have found it very comical.

One area in particular reminded me of a story (probably fictional) that I heard about Thomas Edison: A new engineer was working at a lightbulb factory, and Edison asked the engineer what the volume of a particular lightbulb was. The engineer attacked the problem. He made precise measurements of the lightbulb given him. He drew them out on a paper. He formed an equation in two dimensions that described the curvature of the bulb. He rotated that around an axis and integrated across three dimensions to precisely give the volume of the bulb. He proudly gave the result to Mr. Edison. Edison took the bulb, removed the end cap, filled it with water and poured it into a measuring cup (actually a graduated cylinder). Edison looked at the cup, and exclaimed, "good work! You were very close!"

Well, I had the something similar happen today. Of course, always working alone, I was both Edison and the Engineer. I was fitting a piece of baseboard around a rounded corner, and decided to jog it over rather than meet at a 90 degree angle. It took no time to determine the angles involved, but I needed to figure out how long the transition piece should be. I spent about forty minutes solving a set of equations that I generated based on the geometry. Everything was right and accurate. I had equated the distance I needed to the radius of the corner curvature. Well, I didn't know what that radius was, but I knew how to measure it. As I placed the square on the corner, I realized yet again that my walls are anything but straight. The measurement was crap. I made a couple of test boards, and had the dimension I needed in five minutes. It doesn't look too bad, either.

As I indicated, the trim work in the room is almost installed. I will never get the knack of staining with consistent results. Each piece is a slightly different color with color variations all along the wood. Still, I like it. It is so much better than what it used to be. It looks like a room constructed on purpose. Well, it does if you ignore how everything slopes out of level, and nothing is square. Remodelling sucks. Insurance companies should have a clause in insurance that allows for a one-time mercy burning of a building, and fund the new construction.

While cutting the baseboard, I had another one of those instances that show how screwed up my head is. One of my gifts/curses is that my brain takes input from my senses and continues processing without my asking it to. As an example, I was coming home from work one day, and had just started into the mountains. I suddenly had an impulse to accelerate, and I did. A tree came crashing down over the road right behind me, missing me by only several feet, and bouncing off the vehicle that was coming down from the mountains. After that escape, I realized that I had noticed that the tree was hanging lower than it had been on previous trips, but I was not thinking about it at the time.

Well, my saw seemed to be dying on me. After every cut, it started giving a horrible whine as it spun down. Expecting the worst, I assumed in the front of my brain that the motor was giving out, and would probably try very hard to do it right before my final cut. Most things in the world seem to work very hard to piss me off, so that made sense. I made a few more cuts, and noticed that the wood seemed a bit frayed, as if the blade wasn't able to hit the intended RPM. I kept on going, hoping I could finish the last cut before it died. I wasn't really doubting that it was coughing out its last work. I finished another cut, and the saw started whining again. I was thinking about solving that problem. I was thinking about the dimensions of the board in my hand. Suddenly, my brain fired a message from the rear. Urgent. Please note the following: the apparent slower RPM, and the whining correlate to a loose blade. Well, not being one to dismiss information without looking into it, I looked at the blade. Sure enough, it was loose. I tightened it, and we were back to full utility. Sometimes it is like someone else is talking to me. The voice sounds a lot like mine, but he is much smarter.

At any rate, progress is being made in the room. The finished product is right around the corner.

Has anyone seen my camera memory card?

Annie and I have not had much excitement. Annie had a friend spend the night last Friday, but other than that, it's been pretty much business as usual. Work, school, homework, food, and vaulting. I have managed to finish the grout in the bedroom floor. Annie and I have played a lot of games (mostly Sorry).

Well, tonight, just to spice things up, Annie and I donned a couple of sarongs. Yeah. We are all about excitement. Eating dinner in our sarongs while watching Jurassic Park III.

That's ok. A little omission of excitement every now and then isn't a bad thing.

Chillin'

Yeah, I'm wondering if I have a psychological aversion to my bedroom. I keep coming up with issues that I think I need to fix. I don't like the way the grout ended up. Of course, a lot of that had to do with starting the grout too late in the evening, and not doing a good job of cleaning up. Ok, I did an absolutely miserable job. When I go over the tile with a wet sponge, I can see grout in the texture of the tile. So? I am scrubbing every square inch of the tile. No chance of installing the baseboard this weekend. Also? I'm fixing the stress fracture in the drywall. I just did the first mudding. It will take a week of drying and sanding to get it finished. I just hope it blends well.

I've also been looking at beds online. I don't love any of them. But, there are a few that I can live with. How am I going to do the furniture? How am I going to choose curtains?

Maybe there is a monster living in my room. I'm afraid of her (it has to be female). She comes out, complains, and breaks something. She probably caused the stress fracture. She's also diving into the septic system, and trying to clog it up to cause further messes. She can do what she wants, I'll be in there very soon...

Fighting the closet monster...

I'm often amazed at my own stupidity. It's funny how I can attack a set of partial-differential equations with gusto, and still fail to use my brain in other places. I decided to work from the deck this evening, and wanted a fire in the chimnea. The sky is clear, and it was sunny all day, but the chimnea had been drenched over the last few days, so I knew starting a fire was going to be difficult. My first two attempts with newspaper and kindling smoldered, so I decided to just get it over with and use an "accelerant." Yes, I watch CSI. I had a little gasoline in one of my tanks, and squirted it on the wood. I did this multiple times in between working on the computer, and nothing took. This had a lot to do with my throwing junk mail into the chimnea, which had become saturated. I went in to the garage looking for lighter fluid. Didn't see any, but I saw some white gas on a shelf on the other side. That should have been an easy trip, but no. I have about eight months of recycling piled up in the garage. I stretched and tip-toed across to the fuel, and made it back without falling prey to any of the piles. I sprinkled and sprayed the gas over the wood and stepped back. I took a piece of newspaper and lit it. I approached the inferno to be, and put the flame to it. No luck. I moved closer and deeper into the chimnea. Still no luck. In frustration, I leaned down and shoved the flame into the depths of the chimnea. A volcano erupted. I fell back, but still smelled the stench of burnt hair. Yeah, my normally long eyelashes are a bit trimmed. Idiot. Then again, I've had a nice warm fire ever since...

Well, that goes along with my trip in Chicago. I haven't written about this, yet, so I thought I'd sing the praises of stupidity before I go to bed. My second presentation in the Chicago area was supposed to be about an hour away from the hotel. I got ready in what I thought was the right amount of time. Actually, I planned on even more time so that I wouldn't have to find the place in the dark. The engineer in me was very displeased with the toll arrangement of the interstates in Illinois. However, I had been collecting change in my pocket to deal with it. After I paid my first two tolls, I was cruising down a predominantly agricultural area. I had a brief thought that the tolls were over. Then I started to notice the exits. The typically indicated that one could exit, but not re-enter the interstate. This was part of the toll strategy. Twenty percent of the Illinois population must be involved in running a freakin' toll booth.

Along with this, though, came an interesting observation. In California the traffic fines are doubled in a construction area. The signs do not suggest that anyone might do anything really horrible in a construction zone. In Illinois? They pull no punches. The signs come right out and say what the concern is: if you hit a road worker you will be find $10k and go to jail for 14 years. Thank you! Now we know precisely what road workers in Illinois are worth. Fairly impressive, really. I think if someone whacked me on the road in California, they'd probably get probation and have to take a self-help class.

At any rate, I sped on down the road looking for my exit. $3.20 later, I saw my exit. I pulled on to the exit ramp of U.S. 20, just in time to see the road sign that said the business exit was a few miles down the road. Navigating by myself, I wasn't sure which road I was supposed to take. I pulled over and checked. You guessed it. I needed the business route. I couldn't get back on the interstate, so I drove on. Idiot. I drove, and I drove. I saw six exits for the town I needed, and none of them rang a bell for what I wanted. I turned around, and took the exit towards Main Street. I drove through the seedier side of Rockford, and came to the downtown area. Frankly, it was very attractive. I kept taking turns that I thought should be right, and then I saw it: Business 20! I cruised down the road watching the cross streets fly by. I stopped at a gas station to get some caffeine and asked how far it was to the road I needed. It was a mile ahead. In no time I was back on track.

The directions were fairly convulted. I finally got on a road that went for some distance, and noticed that I was passing many of the roads I had passed in trying to find my way back to where I was supposed to be. It was at this point that I decided that it would be worth the extra money to have a freakin' navigation system in the rental car.

I finally made it where I was supposed to be. It had taken an hour and forty-five minutes. Afterwards, I made it back to the hotel in an hour and ten.

Hmmmph...

I'm making two posts in reverse order. Well, if I am aware enough to make that happen. I'm pretty beat.

Well, I got home yesterday afternoon, and was exhausted. I had had about twelve hours of sleep over the last three nights, and I didn't know how long I was going to hang on. I had voicemails and e-mails indicating "urgent" matters that I had to deal with. I did. I went to bed very early. I woke up only once and noticed that the power was off. I slept an unheard of 12 hours. I got up. The power was still off. I called the power company and learned that the power would not come back on until 2:00 pm. I needed power, and excitedly planned to use my generator with the new switch.

I ran down town to fill a gas tank. I returned and drug the generator out of the garage. I put it on the deck, and gave a number of pulls on the starter cord. It started up, and I went down to get the house cord. I grabbed the cord, and reached up for the switch. About that time, I noticed that the indicator light was a bright green. The power was back on.

I was so disappointed...

Next time...

Finished work today, and looked in my bedroom-to-be. It's early enough that I could do a significant amount of tile work tonight, but I just didn't have it in me. It is such a gorgeous night that I decided to pass some time out here on the deck with a fire in the chimnea. It feels practically like summer, and I even hear some sounds in the trees that I associate with the long days of summer. So what to write about? Hmmm... my brain is still a little groggy from my sister calling me at 3:00 am yesterday. I never seem to catch up on sleep. At any rate, what comes to mind is the increased frequency of frustration while driving.

I try not to let it get to me, especially when Annie is with me. My voice only has to get a little louder than normal speaking level, with that bite in my words that I get when I'm angry, and she says I'm yelling. If I get caught off guard, and curse, she tunes into it right away. "Why did you call them that?" Come to think of it, I had a girldfriend once who thought the same thing.

... bringing my mind back from when I had a girlfriend. I live on a road that is way up the side of a small mountain. There is a sign posted by the county near the top to remind people going down the hill that they have to yield to uphill traffic. I read it that way, but maybe it is written in a language that most people can't read. I believe it reads, "Yield to Uphill Traffic." This is especially important when it is the rainy season. The road is covered in redwood needles that are beginning to decay, become mixed with rain water draining off the mountain, and become nature's snot. Sorry, that's the best way to describe it. I have used the 4x4 feature of my truck more for driving up the freakin' road than I have for what is normally 4x4 terrain. The reason? The sign doesn't read, "Hey, butthead, pull over if you see a car or truck coming, or someone is going to shove you off the cliff in anger..." This has become more of a difficulty lately because of the ownership transfer of what has long been endearingly named "the Crack House." I believe a bunch of kids have pooled their resources and bought it. I couldn't care less about who owns it, except that it has no parking, so there are now five cars parked on the road at all times. No big deal? The road was barely wide enough for one full-sized vehicle before. Now there is absolutely no way that a vehicle and even a bicycle can fit through there. So, here I am innocently driving my truck up the road, and this lady comes rocketing down the road. She sees that there are a ton of cars on the side of the road, and my headlights are blaring at her from thirty yards away. Well, apparently she recognized that it was not her fault that the cars were parked there, so she continued her rapid descent from the mountain. Frankly, I was expecting it. It's been happening every durn day. I pulled over, and she zipped by me with inches to spare. By the way, if a passenger had gotten out of my truck right there, they would have fallen down the hill to end up on someone's deck fifty feet below. No wave. No apology. I shook my head and restarted my ascent. No dice. My back wheels continued to spin in Nature's Snot. I turned on the 4x4, got traction, and went on my merry way.

I guess it just irritates me that people never consider their impact on other people. In fact, when one does react politely to circumstance, it shocks the recipient of said politeness. Case in point: at the bottom of the hill, the road snakes among some redwoods before coming out at Highway 9. It's a tight squeeze, and out of my expectation that someone is going to run me into a tree, I often pull over if I see someone coming. I saw this car coming one day a couple of months ago, and pulled over. She stopped on the other side of the trees, and cautiously pulled forward when I flashed my lights. She pulled up next to me, and rolled her window down. I put the window down to hear, "I was just curious. I thought you had the right-of-way. Did I have it, or were you just being nice?" Actually, there is no right-of-way down there. But, she was just surprised that someone would be considerate.

School is the worst place for inconsiderate drivers. In the morning, it is not too bad, in my opinion. The ladies that move traffic keep it moving fairly well. Except for the people that park in the No Parking area, and force me to fold my side mirrors in to keep from scraping them, are the only problem. The lady typically on my side of the drop-off routine is a bulldog. I've seen her physically place herself in front of an SUV that was trying to go where they were not allowed, and was impressed with her calm delivery of instructions while the driver shouted at her, and ultimately almost drove over her to get where she wanted to go (the wrong way). Ok, there is another issue. Some parents refuse to let their kids out of the vehicle if they are not completely in front of the line. That's frustrating, too. Traffic on this street stops. I am fourth or fifth in line. The oncoming traffic in the intersection is turning into the bottleneck of a road that egresses all the hurried parents. The first car is letting their kids out. The second car is letting their kids out. Third and beyond is just waiting patiently. Finally, it is our turn. Let's go. Let's boogie. We pull forward and the car inside of me stops right before the turn to let kids out. What the freak!?!? Now we have to wait until the next cycle to save what are often kids that could do with some more exercise anyway from walking an extra forty feet or so.

Afternoons are the worst, actually. The guys that direct traffic then do not radiate an aura of confidence and control. I've learned to park farther away so as not to deal with it, but it took a few attempts to discover that necessity. My example: I got to school to pick up Annie and take her to horseback riding lessons. As always when I pickup or drop off, I parked on the side of the road, and walked to the classroom. As long as Annie will let me, I will hold her hand between the classroom and the truck. I don't figure I have much more time with that. We returned to the truck, and I pulled out into the line of vehicles leaving school. The vehicle I was following was allowed to go, but came to a stop. The guy directing traffic looked at the driver, shrugged his shoulders, and put up his hand to indicate we were stopped. A few minutes later, he tried to wave us forward. The little SUV in front of me didn't budge. He waited a little bit, and then blocked us again. I was losing my cool. I had ten minutes to make a fifteen minute drive. I was close to honking. We were pushing ten minutes when this fat lady got out of her vehicle to shout at her kids that were still on school grounds. The kids came running to the vehicle, she yelled at them as they loaded up, and I glared at her with daggers that would have given her a heart attack had she looked up at me. There wasn't a one of them that didn't need some exercise. She could have driven around the circuit a few times, but no. Biotch...

Anyway, I didn't lose my cool, and I'm proud of myself.

No gun rack, yet.

I spent most of the day working on the tile in the bedroom. Unfortunately, I ran out of spacers, so I looked for other projects. I have a bunch of wood outside that needs to be burned, so I started that. Along with that came a special task. Six years ago, I was given a six foot long American flag. It was beautiful. I hung it between two redwoods where it could be viewed when one entered the driveway. My parents were here when I got it, and my dad (ex-marine) and I folded it carefully and respectfully before I put it in up in the trees.

It has taken a beating over the years. The wind, rain, and sun have stressed it beyond reason. It hung in tatters, with faded colors, but it still hung proudly. With all the damage, it represented a belief in a country that fought when it felt necessary, and allowed vigorous dissent from the public about what the policy was. Over the past few years, its tatters probably showed the dissent in stark relief. When I finished the tiling, I started burning a pile of wood that needed to be removed. I did this mostly because I knew that I needed to remove the flag. The redwood trees were being strangled, and the flag was beat to heck. I climbed up a sixteen foot ladder to reach the flag that was at over twenty feet. With great care, I cut the wires that held in place. I caught the flag as soon as it was free to keep it from hitting the ground. I bundled it with great care, and with great reverence I placed it on the fire.

Perhaps I will have another flag someday. But for now, I think about Johnny Cash's song about the flag that I think is very appropriate...

I walked through a county courthouse square
On a park bench an old man was sitting there
I said, "your old courthouse is kinda run down."
He said, "naw, it'll do for our little town."
I said, "your old flagpole has leaned a little bit
And that's a ragged old flag you got hanging on it."

He said, "have a seat," and I sat down
"Is this the first time you've been to our little town?"
I said, "i think it is." he said, "i don't like to brag
But we're kinda proud of that ragged old flag

"You see, we got a little hole in that flag there when
Washington took it across the delaware
And it got powder-burned the night francis scott key
Sat watching it writing say can you see
And it got a bad rip in new orleans
With packingham and jackson tuggin' at its seems

"And it almost fell at the alamo
Beside the texas flag, but she waved on though
She got cut with a sword at chancellorsville
And she got cut again at shiloh hill
There was robert e. lee, beauregard, and bragg
And the south wind blew hard on that ragged old flag

"On flanders field in world war i
She got a big hole from a bertha gun
She turned blood red in world war ii
She hung limp and low by the time it was through
She was in korea and vietnam
She went where she was sent by her uncle sam

"She waved from our ships upon the briny foam
And now they've about quit waving her back here at home
In her own good land here she's been abused --
She's been burned, dishonored, denied, and refused

"And the government for which she stands
Is scandalized throughout the land
And she's getting threadbare and wearing thin
But she's in good shape for the shape she's in
'Cause she's been through the fire before
And I believe she can take a whole lot more

"So we raise her up every morning, take her
Down every night
We don't let her touch the ground and we fold
Her up right
On second thought, I do like to brag
'Cause I'm mighty proud of the ragged old flag."

God bless America...