The Crab Chronicles

Pool Party Day

We had a great day today. The weather was beautiful - about 88 degrees, and a good breeze - what we called the hurricane winds..

We hit the Kroger this morning because the afternoon was going to be busy. We also still haven't settled on a new church yet.

We came home and decided to head down to Buckhead [which is Atlanta's version of Rodeo Drive] to a new store called Savor , where my cousin Leslie works. It's a very upscale, ritzy place, in a very poncy shopping center.

I felt like country come to town. As I limped in on my arthritic knee and held Mother's hand, with Michael bringing up the rear holding Granny's purse, I wanted to shout "Come on Granny, let's see where they make them fancy vittles! You're wearin' your Sunday choppers, let's give 'em a test run!" I was tempted to ask if they had any fried possum, just to see the looks on the faces of the rich patrons.

The greetings we got from the folks behind the counter were frosty. No smiles. They obviously reserve actual customer service for the rich people. I mentioned my cousin Lesleigh works there and the woman looked at me like "So?!"

Again, the mischievious side of me wanted to shout "Hell, Les said she wuz workin' at a place where she had to wear SHOES! Dang!"

They looked annoyed when we blanched at paying $15/lb for some cold shrimp and pasta salad. I tried to get some soup and it took them 5 minutes to figure out they were out of soup.

Lesleigh has been working at this store for a year. She likes the store's owners very much. She wasn't there today, though. The new location is really big. There's a fireplace with a sofa in front of it, and some very expensive food and kitchen stuff. They also sell sandwiches. We got some food, to go.

Mike and I decided against the sandwiches. [We got the better deal. I had an omelette for lunch and Mike had some soup - both prepared at home.] Mother had some tuna salad that she said was full of carrots and had no mayonnaise. YUCK! Alesia's turkey sandwich also had no mayo, and she said it tasted "funny." I guess the snooty store owners think mayonnaise is for the commoners.

I'd like to say I completely resisted temptation but I cannot. They had some imported Scottish shortbread and I bought a package. MUCH better than Walker's - which I used to think was the best.

We came home and Mike's new tennis team buddy Clay came over. We took him with us to the MAPREC pool party. [MAPREC is my parents' group for folks in Atlanta who have adopted from Russia or Eastern Europe or Kazakhstan.].

The party was held at the home of our longtime members Dana and Phil Havlicek. The kids had a marvelous time playing in their lovely backyard and pool. I had a great time visiting with the other parents. Usually we only get a light turnout. Not this year.

We had the best turnout of any MAPREC summer event! Dana and Phil were wonderful hosts, and put out a huge spread of food. I was delighted to see my friends Judy and Liza, other single moms with older kids. We single moms tend to stick together.

I was also tickled to see Jeanette and her husband and their two daughters from Russia - 5 years old and 14 years old, and home 9 months. They are doing great. [See photos in the MAPREC folder at right.]

My kids are watching Mr. Deeds on my TV and I am longing to go to bed...

Bongo Mama

Michael played in his first tennis tournament this morning. It was a round robin tournament, against kids in the neighborhood. He did well but he didn’t make it to the finals – as Coach pointed out, all the kids who made it are the oldest in the group and they have been playing the longest. Michael has been playing about 5 weeks.

He was not pleased about his poor showing, however. Logic had nothing to do with it. he plays to win.

 

He almost didn’t play. We had a real shouting match over his shirt. He wanted to wear a long tee shirt and I said nope, you need a shorter shirt so you can retrieve your balls from your pocket quickly. He refused, even after the coach told him he had to wear a shorter shirt. I was so ticked off. I finally realized, Michael was nervous. The way he copes is that he gets very obstinate and cranky. I gave him some TLC and cajoled him into wearing the right shirt.

Next week at their first official match they are supposed to all have team shirts, thank God.

 

It was almost 2 by the time we ate lunch. We went to the fish store, and the produce stand. I got some fruit for tomorrow. I am hosting a MAPREC pool party and I wanted to take a fruit tray. Alesia cut up watermelon and I cut up a cantaloupe and washed some strawberries.

I must admit something here - I occasionally spend some time surfing YouTube and the kids and I watch various videos, almost always funny ones. [They have NO access to the internet at my house without my direct supervision.] While Mike and I are watching, Alesia comes in carrying a huge bowl of what I think is just cut up fruit - apples, plums, etc. Then I notice at the bottom she has a number of tiny tomatoes from our garden, and cucumbers, cut up! It's a fruit AND veggie salad. Great snack. She just sat there and methodically ate it. If I ate something like that I'd have to sprint for the bathroom!

 

Oh, I forgot to mention something interesting. I stopped on the way home yesterday and bought Michael a recorder, for music class. I kept forgetting to give him the money and he needed to work on the fingering, I felt. I didn’t want to come home with nothing for Alesia, so I got her a set of bongo drums that were on sale.

 

Mike loves both instruments. Alesia looked at the bongo drums like, are you kidding me?! She has a great sense of rythm but she just didn’t get into the drums. I have to confess something here – I LOVE the bongos! I had such a good time this afternoon playing music and playing the drums along with the music.

 

I felt very primitive. I had this funny image of my Celtic ancestors with blue faces talking through my DNA going “Aye girl!!” or whatever. Somehow when I hear my Celtic ancestor voices in my head they sound disturbingly like the little cartoon characters on the Lucky Charms commercials….   

 

Mike likes to beat the bongos too. We found he does best with an old toothbrush. Very therapeutic.

His favorite way to hang out around the house is without a shirt. He likes to bop around in his boxers, too, and leave his shoes everywhere. He also likes to pour hot sauce all over his meat. Reminds me soooooo much of his grandfather it's eerie...

Michael and School

I am afraid today's post will not be a happy rah rah hooray it's Labor Day weekend kind of post. Nope, I need to vent. Yesterday was a horrible day.

I was watching a story on the Today show yesterday about a baby who has cancer of the eye. Horrible situation. A friend of the mother's spotted the odd pupil color in a photo and let the mom know to go get her checked, and they found the cancer. Michael asked me about cancer. I started talking about it. Then I just started crying. I couldn't stop.

My father died of cancer in 1996. As I've mentioned, I think, a dear friend of mine just told me last week that her cancer has returned. I started thinking about how if she doesn't make it, her little boy will have no mama. Oh man, it got to me.

I got Mike to school and dropped him off without excessive waterworks, then I just went home to cry some more. I was afraid to drive in that state of sorrow. I was late to work.

The worst part about cancer is the uncertainty, I feel. Sometimes people beat it and live for years. More often, it seems, it goes into remission, then comes back with a vengeance and the person dies quickly, when it's unexpected and therefore more nightmarish.

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When I got home last night, Mother was in a tizzy over Mike's procrastination with his homework. I could tell she was at the end of her rope.

We have always had a system - she helps with homework, and when I get home I can finish dinner and visit with the kids, check on the garden, etc. It has evolved this school year that I've been reading with Michael when I got home, as often as possible.

Michael wants my full and complete attention 24/7. He wants me all to himself. He only happily surrenders me when the computer games or the gameboy beckon.

I realized last night that what he has started doing is not doing his homework quickly and efficiently with mother, because he wants me to come home and do his homework with him. I don't mind helping him a bit, but if I have to start in and do it ALL with him, teaching him the material, then it's 10:00 before I can stop and get to bed. That is unacceptable.

I have to be able to come home and relax a bit.

He doesn't like to take responsibility. So making him face the music provoked a lot of resistance in him. He was very pouty and spent a long time sitting on the steps looking forlorn.

He complained bitterly to Mother that he had scored low on a timed math quiz where he had to do multiplication problems. She pointed out that we've been telling him for months he has to memorize the multiplication tables. There's no time to sit and calculate answers on a test like that. He hates learning them. I've tried lots of different methods, even ordered an expensive system of picture cards, and he's still not got them. Mother is very frustrated. She has worked hard.

Often, his brain is just in neutral, when it needs to be in drive.

Mother asked him to look up a word in the dictionary, which he knows how to do. Instead of looking it up, he spent 15 minutes flipping through the dictionary and reading.

He failed to bring home his social studies book or language arts book yesterday. 

Mother and I talked over what to do about this, and how to motivate him. We finally decided to just tell him he has to do his own homework, not rely on us to re-teach it. He must bring home books. He must complete assignments on his own. He knows a lot of English so it should be no problem for him. 

Granny and Alesia are there to help if he gets stuck, but not do anything for him. We have tended to just do things for him too much, or re-teach him things, and that's what drags out homework. We have enabled him, babied him too much.

I told him from now on, I will not help him more than 1 hour a night, and my primary role will be to make sure he's done everything and listen to him read for 30 minutes. Nights he has tennis practice he will likely only get 45 minutes from me.

I sent his teacher a lengthy email telling her this. I wondered as I was typing if she would think me some sort of awful parent. One's tendency is to pity him, and cut him way too much slack. When he doesn't get his way he cries and pouts.

I read him the email. He was horrified. I told him if he doesn't finish his homework before dinner each night, he will have to turn it in incomplete. This could cause him to get bounced back to 4th grade or have to repeat 5th grade.

More pouty face was the result. He said he just wanted to go to bed.

We tried to get him to understand, he is going to have to grow up and bit and take the responsibility for his schoolwork. He will have to pay attention carefully in class. He will have to do what is needed. 

I tried to reassure him we are going to help him.  

We thought about threatening to take him out of tennis if he doesn't do his homework, but we agreed he really needs to get outside and get the exercise. He should be able to manage one extracurricular activity and his schoolwork.

I tried to tell him how much we believe he can do this, and what a smart boy he is, but he kept his mouth turned down.

After we watched a little more John Adams last night he was in something of a better mood.

I said "Michael, don't you remember how anxious you were about camp last summer? You said you couldn't do it, didn't want to go, why was I being so mean, etc.?" He shrugged, his face buried in my shoulder.

I pulled back and looked at him. "Then, you WENT to camp and you had a WONDERFUL time! You told me you wanted to go right back, as soon as you stepped off the bus!"

He smiled.

I thought, see kiddo, you can trust me. I won't steer you wrong. I've proved it.

This morning he was pouting again on the way to school, though. I repeated my mantra: "Michael, a positive attitude is essential. If you tell yourself you're stupid and you can't do it, you will not be able to do it. If you tell yourself you CAN do it, then that will become the truth."

Maybe if I tell him that 200 more times he will believe me.

FINAL NOTE:

When I got home Alesia had painted her fingernails bright green. After the day I had had, and after the crisis with Michael, I just thought whatever. Keep your trashy green fingernails. I'm too tired to fight about it...

Singing in the Car

I was very tired last night when I wrote my post and it occurred to me later I had left out something important from yesterday.

Alesia and Michael like to sing, but they naturally sing very off-key. Michael loves music a bit more, I think. He loves to noodle on the piano.

He was singing in the shower last night too, but it was mostly ghoulish caterwauling of "My knee hurts soooooo muuuuuch! Aaaargh! Lalalalala!"

I am the meanest mommy alive because I didn't let him get out of showering due to his scraped knee.

When we were in the car driving home from therapy, Alesia said something in Russian and rolled her R. Russians roll their R's as much as Italians. I teased her by saying something and rolling my R, too, but when I do it I sound more like an insane scotsman. She dissolved in a fit of giggles. I told her about the different voices she has - the high "head" voice, and the lower "chest" voice. I showed her some funny vocal exercises I used to do. More giggles erupted. She tried to do the vocalizing. Giggled a lot.

It occurred to me to see what she could imitate. I told her to imitate me. She did it. Her pitch wasn't right but it wasn't way off. I tried singing different pitches and getting her to tell me which one was higher. She did OK on that. I then tried singing a bar or two of simple songs like Row Row Row Your Boat. She couldn't get close to the right notes. I got an idea.

"Alesia, I am going to sing a phrase, and I want to you mirror me, like you were looking in a mirror, OK? Except do it with your voice. Also, tap out a rythm while you do it."

Alesia has a great sense of rythym. I've always thought she could be a drummer.

I sang "Row Your Boat" and tapped. She sang it and tapped - and was almost totally correct!! We went through some of You Are My Sunshine and By the Light of the Silvery Moon and Please Mr. Postman. As long as she was tapping, and I reminded her to just mirror me, she did fine. It was fascinating.

When I got home, we were all sitting in Mother's room and I showed her what I did with Alesia. We got Michael to do it, too. He has a nice voice. Both kids were delighted.

Mother said "If you could sit down at the piano and work with them you can get them to sing correctly."

She is probably right, but I just seldom have time to sit at the piano these days. I am determined to try and find some time this weekend. I want to keep it fun, though.

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It occurred to me today I have not talked about how Alesia is doing in school. I can go online to a protected website and check her grades. To my immense relief, she is making all A's and B's right now. Here's the breakdown [after almost 3 weeks of school]:

History 84

Spanish 98

Physical Science 86

Int. Design 84

Intro Team Sports 100

Geometry 90.37

World Lit 0 [no grades yet]

 

She loves Spanish. I have told her it's a valuable language to learn. I wish I knew Spanish. She is good about learning it. Maybe her experience having to learn English has made it easier for her.

Of course, she asks me things about Spanish and I am clueless, unless the word is a cognate of Italian. If someone asks me if I know Spanish - and I actually do know some words besides taco and burrito - the first thing that pops into my head is Hasta la vista, baby!

Yeah, that phrase really impresses everyone.

Pace Yourself

I returned to work today, blessedly not in the pouring rain, although the skies were really gray all day. There were sprinkles, but that was all. It reminded me of the summer I studied in England.

I was impatient to know how Michael did on his first day of fifth grade. He called me, as usual, when he got home from school.

“I LIKE fifth grade!” he said enthusiastically. I laughed.

The teacher had the wisdom to introduce him to the class. He knew several of the students already. One child lives in our neighborhood and Michael has played with him at the pool.

He said in PE, they did a tug of war competition, and the boys in his class beat the boys in the other fifth grade class. However, they were then defeated by the girls. “They got some BIG girls in there, Mom!” he reported.

He has a project due Monday, on one of the Olympic athletes from our state. I found one who is a tennis player, which is great.

Michael assured me the scraped knee he got yesterday was killing him with pain all day. He had certainly acted mortally wounded last night. He was like a little civil war re-enactor, hobbling around, groaning melodramatically. He went to school with a gauze bandage and a loosely wrapped Ace bandage holding it in place. I asked him on the phone how he was going to feel, not getting to go to tennis practice. “Oh I can play tennis, Mom!” he replied, with exasperation. He played the entire hour, and rode his bike back from the pool.

When we got home from Alesia’s therapy appointment, we read 15 pages from his social studies book, on the civil war. Since we watched the miniseries The Blue and the Gray, he was generally familiar with the civil war. I enjoyed reading the social studies book. I read some of it, and Mike read some. I went over the vocabulary with him. It was interesting to me. When I was a kid we were still told to call it “The War Between the States.” When Mother was growing up in the 1930’s it was simply “THE War” – as if the Spanish American War and WWI hadn’t occurred.

We watched another episode in the miniseries John Adams. Excellent acting. I swear, though, Paul Giamatti has the most enormous nostrils I’ve ever seen.

Michael ate a big helping of Granny’s pot roast, covered liberally with Paces picante sauce, plus mashed potatoes, for dinner. He immediately got a bellyache. I reminded him that we warned him not to eat so much, but he ate it anyway. It’s good stuff. Mike and Mother put away a lot of Paces. [They eat medium, not mild, I just couldn't find a photo of it.]

 

Rain Rain Go Away

I must confess, I love checking the map to see where folks are popping in from. I appreciate the loyal readers I have in Germany and England. I also get folks from Spain and France occasionally. I wonder if they were just googling crab recipes and found my site and thought "What the...?" Today I had visitors from Hungary and Greece. Very cool. Reminds me of something I used to say as a kid which I thought was hilarious: Hungary fried Turkey in Greece! Get it? Hungary?

Yeah, that's why I knew I could never be successful as a stand up comedienne...

Mother's felt poorly and I have had a bad stomach all morning. Add to that absolutely torrential rains and you've got a very unpleasant day. According to the rain guage we have gotten 2 1/2 inches of rain in the past 24 hours. Yikes.

I felt better this afternoon, and went to a meeting at Michael's school, about his 504 plan. We added that he may need extra time on writing assignments because he writes slowly. He's not wearing his prosthesis much, so occupational therapy isn't needed, in my opinion.

After the 504 meeting, to my immense joy, the assistant principal met with me about promoting Michael. She said the testing he did showed he could handle 5th grade! So he's moving up tomorrow! I am SO excited for him. I met his teacher, a really sweet lady from Singapore. She understands what it's like to try and function in a second language. Both ladies said many nice things about Michael - what a sweet boy he is, and how smart and helpful he is. He has a reputation around the school as a good kid.

When I told Michael he was beyond excited. I think, perhaps for the first time in his life, he is starting to believe he is a smart boy. You know, I've been telling him that for months. The fact that the school teachers and administration have faith in him, though, now that really carries some weight with him. I have to chuckle.... LOL

He is also a bit apprehensive, but I told him everyone at school has faith he can do it, and he CAN. I told him we'd give him all the extra help needed. He has 3 tutors!

He watches very little TV, but this is his favorite activity - lying on Mom's bed watching Spongebob or Fairly Oddparents.

We were taking photos of Alesia the other day because so many of them turn out poorly, and out of the dozen or so shots, this was the only one that came out well, but it's a keeper:

Gross Things

One of my favorite songs as a kid was a novelty tune by Jim Stafford called "I Don't Like Spiders and Snakes." [I can still sing the entire chorus, but I cannot remember anything I learned in school. Isn't that sad?!] I was thinking of that song this morning, when Mother called to tell me about the repairs needed to our fridge and then spoke about Coco's adventure this morning.

Mother saw a big spider in her bathroom and stepped on it. She returned a moment later to scoop it up with a Kleenex, just in time to see Coco swallow the dead spider. It never ceases to amaze me what dogs will eat.

My parents' last home in Knoxville was on the lake, and they had 3 dogs while living there. All the dogs loved to find dead fish and roll around in them awhile. They also liked to play with skunks. I think about that every time I get the thought in my head that it would be nice to live in the country.

Michael was given a "dinosaur egg" at school on Friday, for some reason he couldn't articulate. We put it in a jar and covered it with water, as instructed. What actually emerged was a coiled rubber snake. I told him to keep it in his room, for heaven's sakes, as Mother got the willies just looking at it. This is what it looks like:

Speaking of gross things, we were watching the HBO miniseries John Adams yesterday, and it proved more educational that I had thought it would. There are scenes of Adams, in the Netherlands, sick, and being bled by a doctor. I had to explain to the kids how primitive medicine was then. There's also a scene of a really bloody amputation that results in the patient's death. Michael watched it with fascination. He didn't seem to make a connection between it and his experience, though.

I guess I am naive. It never occurred to me giving the kids a little history lesson would mean watching such gore. While the miniseries is really good, in most respects, I could do without those bloodletting scenes. I am not squeamish about blood, I just find them rather disgusting. Having spent a good bit of time at hospitals with my parents, I can tell you, being reminded of illness and blood isn't something I look for in entertainment.

For the movie last night after dinner, the kids were not inclined to watch another episode of John Adams, which moves, at times, glacially. I couldn't face another action tornado like X-Men, though. So we watched a movie I have owned for a while, Leap of Faith. In it, Steve Martin plays a con man/preacher who holds tent revivals that look more like rock concerts. It has awesome music. It's a complex film, too - I had to explain to the children there are some really unscrupulous people out there claiming to be men of God.

At one point, the evangelist's assistant explains that he grew up in an orphanage, after his mother left him on a street corner at age 5. It's a heartwrenching story, told touchingly but without fake sentiment, by Debra Winger. Alesia made a small sound of distress and sympathy. She then said to me, softly, "Has my life been as bad as that?" I was dumbfounded. Tears gathered in my eyes but I blinked them back.

"Sweetie, it would be hard to say. The hardest thing any child can face is being abandoned by its mother. You are lucky, though, because you were adopted by a loving mother when you were 13." She looked satisfied with that answer, and just nodded.

I don't think she was looking for sympathy. I think she was trying to put into perspective her own loss of her birthmom. Until we started therapy, I don't think she had ever really thought much about the fact that she had a birthmom who was a serious alcoholic and refused to even try and care for her. She lived in the moment. When she talks about it, she has sort of a disassociation about it, like it has to do with someone else. It's a survival instinct. We are working to get her to re-connect with her "inner child" - I hate that phrase but I don't know how else to explain it. You cannot mourn a loss you do not acknowledge.

I told Mother about this on the phone this morning and I started crying. I am such a big softy that when I think about children who are neglected or abused - any children, but god forbid my own - it just tears me up. I also cannot watch another human cry, even in a movie, and not start crying myself. The kids have learned to watch me and grab kleenex for me. It can be embarrassing. I guess it's better to feel too much, however, than not enough.

Hurricane Rain Day

After a week of anticipation, we have finally gotten some rain from Tropical Storm Fay, or whatever it’s called now. We’ve had periods of bright sun, then drenching showers, all day. I doubt it will bust the drought, but it’s something.

We have had a pretty quiet day. The weekly trip to Kroger was all the excitement for the day. Well, that and mopping up the water in the kitchen. We’re pretty sure it’s a line to the ice maker that has malfunctioned. Mother has the plumber coming in the morning.

Our neighbors Brian and Daryl came over for dinner. I fixed my homemade lasagna, French bread, and a salad. Mother makes the best salads out of the little Boston bib lettuce, mushrooms, and her own dressing. It was so nice to see the guys, and have a chance to visit. The children adore them both, so they were very comfortable around them.

Darryl observed that Michael’s voice is getting deeper. Of course as soon as he said that, Michael said in a beautiful high soprano, “It is?”

He is growing up so fast.

An Appeal for Parents

This was sent to me by my dear friend Kate, who is from Khabarovsk, where Alesia is from. Please pass this along to anyone who might be interested. Commonwealth Adoptions works in this area.

This is a letter that I received from my friend and a former neighbor from

Russia

. I have known her for over 20 years from when she was a little girl. She lived next door to me.

====================================

 

Here is what I have to tell you.

At the orphan house where we adopted our son last year there was a baby boy Slava (Note: in Russian it means “Glory”). He is 3 years old. He is a charming boy! His sister and he were removed from the biological family. Their mother didn’t feed them and she was stripped off her parental rights. Many people consider adopting this boy but nobody takes him because of his sister who is 8 and they won’t separate the two kids. Anyway, the boy is living at an orphan house because of his sister. It is unlikely that anybody will adopt them both here. I want to find foreign adoptive parents. Perhaps you know of an organization in

America

where I can write.

 

==================================

Note from me: The orphan house is in

Khabarovsk

,

Russia

. The lady who wrote it to me is Julia Borovikova. Her e-mail address:   [email protected]

She speaks Russian. If you write in English, don’t worry. I will help her with interpretation.

My name is Ekaterina Alekhina-Humphrey. I live in

Atlanta

,

GA.

I am an interpreter. My e-mail address is [email protected]

My web site is www.virtualtranslation.com

Feel free to contact me if you have any questions.

 

Please send it to people you know who might be interested.

 

 

A Dozen Confusing Things

Here are 12 things which puzzle me. Read these over and talk amongst yourselves.

Napkin dispensers - I just watched a guy in our cafeteria pull out about 10 paper napkins from the dispenser. Yes, the napkins are getting smaller and smaller. However, one does not need 10-20 of them. If you are in your 30's and you require so many napkins, you need some occupational therapy.

Paris Hilton - Why is this woman a celebrity? She's not beautiful, or intelligent, or talented. If she weren't rich, she'd be a checkout clerk at a grocery store. Why on earth do people watch her? Same reason they slow down to watch a wreck on the highway, hoping to see decapitated heads rolling around?

Why do people ride motorcycles without helmets? It's simple physics - you hit some rock in the road and lose control, you're body is hitting pavement. Your head isn't iron. My parents watched a terrible motorcycle accident once and described it so graphically I've never ridden on one since. If I were to ever do it, though, you can bet I'd wear a helmet. Probably I'd look like the Michelin Man, actually...

What do people who cannot cook feed their children? - I used to know a female lawyer here who boasted that she couldn't cook anything. She said, "I know my kids get a good lunch at school so at night they just get a sandwich." She thinks school lunches are healthy! If they are healthy in comparison to her kitchen, God help those kids. It astounds me that someone can't feed their child a big salad and open a can of soup, or buy frozen veggies and pre-cooked meat and make a stir fry. Cooking nowadays is so very simple. You can make pretty healthy meals with so little fuss, without even watching the Food Channel. [although I do recommend it]

Why do vegetarians eat fish and chicken? If you don't eat meat for health reasons, that's not confusing. I'm talking now about people who are morally opposed to eating animals. I have seen such folks happily chow down on fish and chicken, and still call themselves vegetarian. Why? Is it because fish and chicken are not cuddly?!

Why do bad guys in World War II movies always have British accents? They play Nazis, Italian fascists, whoever, and there's no attempt to sound German or Italian; they just sound British. I've seen every decent WWII movie made before 1996 [when my dad died] and this has always puzzled me.

Why do we have a crisis in the housing industry? People who took out loans they couldn't afford have suffered already, right, through foreclosure? Terribly sad and disturbing. Aren't we through the crisis yet, though? Can't you think of someone who wants to buy a lovely condo here in Atlanta?!! Hmm?

Why do people love dirt and poop colors in their homes? Long before it was fashionable, I knew a woman who had a completely brown house. She had 3 kids, yes, but they weren't that dirty. They were pretty well behaved, in fact. Yet, she said by making everything brown, dirt would be disguised. Why not just WASH stuff, I wondered, and have nice colors?

Why do politicians always say they won't use negative ads? Both presidential candidates are now using very negative ads. Why bother to say up front they won't do it, when it's such a whopping lie? They always fight dirty. They always go for the jugular. That's why they are called "politicians" and not "philanthropists."

Why do non-christians always assume all people who identify themselves as christians endorse every item on the conservative agenda? I am so puzzled by this. I've lost potential friends who insisted I was horribly conservative, just because I am a christian, despite my protests. I am not conservative. I am not liberal, either. I hate those labels. My political philosophy is pretty much "duck and cover."

Why do celebrities find the freakiest names to give their children? Don't they think being the child of a celebrity is hard enough? I'd have to be really drunk to name my kid "Zuma Nesta Rock" which is what Gwen Stefani named her son, or "Pilot Inspektor" which Jason Lee named his son. How cruel. I hope both boys learn to fight early. I just read an interview with Bruce Willis' daughter Rumer where she said kids in school used to tease her unmercifully. She wanted a "normal" name like her sisters, Tallulah and Scout. Good lord!

Why do people still eat margarine? It's only one molecule away from plastic, folks. Don't eat it!