Today I was slobbered upon by an extremely friendly and sweet Rottweiler.

Somehow that just seems to be a metaphor for how I feel about things right now.

Things are never what they seem. You need to look beyond the surface - look beyond what they are telling you and somehow try to come at the truth on your own.

I wonder if what the media is telling me is the truth, or a clever interpretation. I guess I'm hoping that there's some bit of embellishment, because if it's really the truth then it's much more frightening than we realize.

I'd like to think that all of humanity has some sort of moral compass - but if the Iraqis are dressing as US troops to accept the surrender of other Iraqis so that they can execute them, then I despair for the future of human kind.

We placate ourselves and say that we should learn from history so that we will not repeat it. And I think that Americans are pretty darn good at following that dictum. But this news of what Saddam's troops are doing is so upsetting. So depressing. So very wrong.

The malaise continues at work. We haven't lost any school groups yet, like many area museums have - but the toll this is taking on staff is rather severe. We have a few folks who are directly affected - who have someone overseas right now in harm's way.

I cannot even begin to imagine what they must be feeling right now. I don't know what I would feel nor what I would do if Jim was over there now. How do people cope with that? How do these families whose husbands, mothers, children are now prisoners of war cope with the horror that is now their reality?

I know that I'm incredibly fortunate. My husband is here with me. During the day he's a phone call or email away, and at night he's right here. I don't have to worry or wait too long to hear from him. I know people who are lucky to hear from their husbands or wives more than once a week. Sometimes not even that. I am so insanely lucky.

My dad was in World War II. It's something I've known all my life, something we talk about every now and then. He was only 18 when he left, the baby of the family - and he was on his way to the Pacific - to Okinawa I think - but thanks to a bizarre twist of fate he was pulled off of his transport with a handful of sailors to go to Eniwetok to work there.

He was a SeaBee - he would have been right in the middle of the action, one of the primary targets since his role was to repair things and support the combat troops. And his parents and family - my grandparents and aunts and uncles - had to deal with that uncertainty. Where was he? Was he safe? Was he OK? Was he warm and did he have everything that any family would want for their own? Was he scared? Was there someone there to look out for him when his mother couldn't? I can't even begin to comprehend what they must have gone through before they knew he was safe.

My heart and all my thoughts go out to everyone suffering right now - not knowing where their loved ones are - whether they are safe, warm, well. And for my own staff - I wish I knew what to do for them. Hugs and stuffed animals and encouraging words only go so far. I can't bring their loved ones home. I can't do a damn thing. And I feel so helpless.

Anyway - it was a really sweet dog.