Rescuing Joseph and teaching an Old Dog New Tricks

My faithful treybooshkas,

I asked Joseph, above, for help with this, but as is usually the case, he was in deep meditation and unresponsive. But my son Isaac, a 15-year-old iPod and all-things-digital devotee, explained that I could actually embed "Fibromyalgia-ADD Blues" directly into a blog without asking readers to click on a link. My, we are getting lazy, aren't we?

The new song has yet to go viral and, by my standards, isn't even approaching bacterial. At this point, I'd settle for a mere head cold (listen to the song).

In case you're curious, I found Joseph a couple of years ago on a back road that Northland hillbillys employ to toss out beds, broken recliners, defunct large-screen TVs and, apparently, key members of traditional manger scenes. I'm not Christian myself, but how could I leave Joseph lying by the side of the road in a heap of castoff worldly possessions?

I loaded him in the back seat, buckled him up safely and took him home. He's been a valued member of our household ever since, and never a peep out of him! Joseph, you rock! He's not just our rock ... he's our standard of serenity.