Too many so-called affirmations are overly positive and unrealistic, making them trite and meaningless. Have a random look on the Internet and you'll see what I mean. They are becoming such a hype that what was once a fairly good concept has turned into one big laughing contest.

So here's one I happened to think up while jogging in the dark late this afternoon. I found it an interesting play on words considering what I wrote above, kind of an unusual mix of the seemingly positive versus the more realistic (yet not too obvious).

Affirmation #86

Laughing can be good for the soul because it makes you feel good, but too much laughing at inappropriate times can give you a painful side-ache.

The Dutch government has decided to call it normal time instead of winter time. The clocks have been turned back an hour and we have "returned" to so-called normalcy. I guess that sounds alot less depressing. Leaving the wonderful, sunny climate comforts of summer time only to be blanketed in the darkness of winter time is not easy, so why not just pretend that everything is returning to normal mode?

Positive thinking often helps, but not always.

One must never over estimate the power of positive thinking, as if it alone can solve all of your problems.

There are many more other factors which can influence one's pursuit and mess things up for good.

Being prepared for unexpected obstacles and let-downs will gear one up for overcoming the disadvantages of positive thinking.

You'd think that finally after all these years of struggling with my own kids when they were little, now they are all grown up and independent, I could kick back in the backyard, relax and read a good book once in awhile.

No I guess not.

The only problem is now two new families have moved in next to us and behind us, making a total of five cranky screaming kids new to the scene.

The new generation of moms and dads don't appear to care that their little loved ones might be disturbing the neighbors with all their shouting and fighting and cussing.

When our kids were that age I felt so overly conscious about bugging the neighbors. Upon the slightest argument and/or raised voices, I was quick to bring them inside, where I would sternly warn them with a wagging forefinger that they better behave themselves or else. The ultimate threat of sending them upstairs to their rooms for the rest of the afternoon would make them pipe down for a bit.

Not so nowadays, no way. The kids are the bosses, the parents are the ones who must listen, and the poor neighborhood souls can just forget about any peace outside at all.

Well, that's not quite true.

After ten o'clock or so in the evening, when the awful kids have stopped sobbing and crying in bed and have finally fallen asleep, my one hour of peace can be spent just before the evening gets dark.

Ah what a relief it is, and boy how much I appreciate the perfect silence and harmony.

So I thought that the long and boring job of painting the dormer was nearly done. But it isn't, not by a long shot. Damn.

I've discovered that I still have to struggle to scrape off all of that sticky masking tape that refuses to come off without a mighty fight. It's almost as if that adhesive stuff has melted and bonded with the glass surface underneath.

I'd planned to be able to just rip it all off in one go, maybe at most just scraping off little spots and tidbits of paint drips here and there. But that was never meant to happen. What a pain in the butt.

At least I'll be enjoying a sunny day and getting a nice tan out of it at the same time. Be positive.

As far as I was concerned, my shoes were holding up just fine. However, my wife said they were falling apart and looked worse than awful.

While my view was that they would hold out just nicely for a few more months, she insisted that they needed immediate replacement.

I am undemanding and find attire less important, and she wants me to look nice and remain representative for my work.

So she urged me to go into town this morning and together we found a couple pair of brown shoes to keep me going at least another two years.

Once again I'm all set thanks to my wife's inspirational moods.

Why is it that whenever I try to grow a beard everyone bugs me endlessly about how awful it looks until I end up shaving it off in shame?

Comments like: don't get near me, you look like an old man, when are you going to get rid of it, haven't you shaved it off yet, oh god it looks awful, you could be a wino living on the street, ad infinitum.

If only they would be more patient and give me a couple more weeks, they'd be able to appreciate themselves what a full and glorious beard it would become.

Spent the whole afternoon cleaning all of the windows in the house from top to bottom and don't really notice any difference.

However, the water in the bucket was slightly brown after every floor so I guess that that means my effort was worth it.

Another year and it will be spring cleaning again.

I was on my way to get a haircut today walking through the shopping mall, when a loud crash startled me.

Over to my left and ten meters behind me, there was this tall toy stand which had tipped over. The few plastic items on display had fallen to the ground and had spread out like a small explosion of boxes, wings, wheels and other things.

Whoever the culprit of this terrible mishap might have been, was more than likely long gone and disappeared around the corner.

People just kept passing by the carnage, minding their own business like nothing had ever happened, sometimes even stepping over one of the smaller boxes, while subtly increasing their speed to move on and out of the way.

If I hadn't had such an important meeting with the hair stylist I could have helped, but I was just as guilty as all the other uncaring egoists speeding on to future appointments.

After twenty minutes overly pleased with my nicely cut blob of hair, I returned in the opposite direction and saw that indeed the carnage had been cleared and restored to produce yet another precariously leaning toy stand.

No one saw the little plastic wheel wedged underneath the far corner of the bakery stand about twenty meters in the other direction.

I hate to admit it but I think it is finally time to replace my summer coat with my much warmer winter coat in order to survive this sudden extreme drop in temperature.

Needing a coat for summer might seem to be strange for those folks like myself coming from warmer climates like California.

Back home they would ask: a summer coat, what's that?