Friday, September 04, 2015


In some traditions, at a birth, an important family member will whisper some special first words into the child's ear.

Usually they are certain prayers or words of welcome.

At this moment in my life I would not be at all surprised if the first words to be reverently uttered into my newborn ear was the phrase,

"Deflated balls."

Seriously, all I have been hearing about for the past several months, almost constantly, has to do with Tom Brady and the deflated balls.

I have become a pro at conversational detachment-I am Horst's daughter after all.

If a person makes mention of Minecraft you tube videos, Star Wars the Old Republic, any sport, politics or whenever Horst starts to talk,  my brain automatically defaults into detachment mode.

I may look interested. I will nod in all the right places, but in my head I will be doing other things, creating stories, planning a hair washing or praying to whatever deity that may be listening that the speaker will be stricken with a sudden case of pharyngitis.

I believe that this is why after all these months of deflated ball talk, it was just last night during dinner, B at it again about Tom's deflated balls, I finally put two and two together and snickered.

"It's not funny!" B snarled icily.

Months of enduring talks about deflated balls in silence,  I laugh for the first and only time.

He will not even give me that.

In my family, hearing loss is common later in life.

I do so look forward to my dotage.

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