.Hello..." you stammer, blown away by the beauty of yourartwork. She stares at you, wide eyed with fear."Who... who are you? What... where..." she stu...ters, looking you up anddown. "What's going on?!" I, uh..." You blush, holding up the pencil. "I'm your artist - I gaveyou... er... brought you to life."She looks at the pencil, back at you, then back to the pencil. A look ofrealization and understanding flashes in her eyes, which quickly furrowand glare at you."Yes," she says in a low voice.. My hubby quickly removed his jersey and tossed it to me. I pulled it on quickly. We all simultaneously turned and watched the play: 3-2-1; delay of game, five-yard penalty. All heads swiveled back to me and focused on me intently. Somehow the penalty was my fault. A tribute to the football gods was necessary. I scanned each face for leniency. Clearly we needed more team spirit and my hubby’s gesture was not enough. I had time. I offered to race upstairs and don my jersey; I would be back before. More

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