Gun, Apology and the Lash

While we can be grateful that the British sailors and marines were released safe and sound for the most part, one has to admit that Iranian President Amhadinejad is a master of propaganda and taking the lead in a potential crisis. Mickey Kaus is arguing -- counter to conventional wisdom, of course -- that the Iranians blinked when they released the 15 servicemen thanks to the USS Nimitz making its way to the Gulf. That would have meant three US aircraft carriers in the waters, including the supporting heavy cruisers and submarines carrying cruise missiles.

But what happens next? Surely this incident will repeat itself in the coming weeks and months. In fact, as the National Review recommends, the British Navy should continue patrolling Iraqi waters right away but with extra fire power. Next time, perhaps the Iranian Coast Guard won't be so eager to swoop in and kidnap sailors.

What is Dick Cheney thinking now? Imaging what he would have recommended if the detainees had been Americans brings a chill to the spine.

And the fact that we are guilty of torturing detainees ourselves gives us no opportunity to take the moral high ground when others torture our allies' servicemen. We had clearly and sadly forfeited the moral high ground.

Read this passage from the Times and ask if we have any right to be outraged:

"We had a blindfold and plastic cuffs, hands behind our backs, heads against the wall," Royal Marine Tindell said in an interview with the BBC. "Someone, I'm not sure who, someone said, I quote, 'Lads, lads, I think we're going to get executed.'

"After that comment someone was sick, and as far as I was concerned he had just had his throat cut..."

Re-entering the tube

I've become a Web zombie to the point that I stopped watching televsiion. But I've been won back. This time last year, I only watched The Sopranos, Entourage and Curb Your Enthusiasm. Still terrific shows even if The Sopranos is a shadow of itself. Maybe, they should have stopped after Nancy Marchand died.

But I've been pulled back into network television. I am loving NBC again. Thanks to NetFlix, I have been sucked into the US version of The Office. I am also catching back episodes of 30 Rock online. Sometimes the connection is slow and I have to wait for the Interweb to catch up, but it's ben fun. I cannot seem to make the time to watch the episodes as they air, but viewing them when I want is what TV is all about.

Has Alec Baldwin won an Emmy for 30 Rock? He def should.

In passing ...

We lost a neat woman the other day, just a special person. My wife's second cousin Marie O'Neill passed away at the age of 85. Her health had been failing lately and she passed on earlier this month. We couldn't attend the funeral service in Connecticut because of the bad weather. We will make time for a memorial service later on, however.

She was a great lady and I loved her laugh and her smile. She never married and I knew that she taught English in New Canaan, a leafy, well to do suburb in Connecticut. One of her students was Rick Moody, the short tory writer and novelist who wrote The Ice Storm. At the premiere of the movie, he was asked about his influences. Instead of saying the usual suspects like John Cheever or Updike, he mentioned his eighth grade English teacher and how she made an impact on him.

Here is Mari'e obituary. I knew she was a WAV in WWII but not that she was a Lieutenant Commander or that she had taught in Europe. I did know tht she loved to ride around the country to visit family and friends. She hated Republicans with a passion and once wanted to know what the hell a refrigerator magnet of Richard Nixon was doing on my fridge. (It was a gift from a friend -- a close-up of Dick at his sweatiest).

I loved how she once brought her Carolla into a Toyota dealership for an oil change and walked into the showroom. After talking to the salesman, she decided it was time to buy a new car. She had more miles to travel.


Here is her obit. We miss you, Marie.

Marie Helen O'Neill, age 85, passed away Friday, March 9, 2007, at the Villas of St. Therese, in Columbus , Oh. She was born in New Haven , Conn. on July 14, 1921. Marie received her B.A. Degree in English from Albertus Magnus College in 1942, and earned her M.A. Degree in Education from Columbia University in 1955.

She served in the U.S. Navy as a Lt. Commander in the Communications Office of the Eastern Sea Frontier during WWII, which included the mapping of ship movements in the Atlantic during the war. After retiring from active service, she began and enjoyed a long fulfilling career as an elementary school teacher in Europe, and New Canaan, Conn., where she helped to shape the lives of countless children.

Marie's many travels throughout the world helped to enrich her love of nature, and the protection of the environment, which led to long associations with the National Audubon Society, and other Preservation groups. Her other favorite hobbies included attending museums, musical concerts, and other cultural and social events of all kinds. As an avid reader, she was versed in a variety of subjects, and loved to discuss and debate the current issues across the Political landscape. She was also an active volunteer to causes that helped the less fortunate. Marie will always be remembered for her unique sense of humor, and her adventuresome spirit will be greatly missed by her immediate family, and all who knew her and loved her.

Marie was preceded in death by her parents John and Mary O'Neill of New Haven , Conn. , her brother John J. O'Neill, Jr. and her brother-in-law John S. Bird. Marie is survived by her sister, Eileen Bird of Ohio (John); sister-in-law, Jessie O'Neill of Washington , D.C. (John). Marie is also survived by nieces and nephews, Mary Diamond (Bruce), John O'Neill Jr. (Martha), John Bird Jr., David Bird (Jeanette), Barbara Douglas (Brad), Kathy Cox (Michael) and Stephen O'Neill (Karen). She is also survived by great-nieces and nephews, Martha, Jessie and John Diamond, Carleigh, Madeline and John Douglas, Jack and Sam O'Neill, Benjamin O'Neill, Morgan Vickers, David Bird, Michael, Katie, Rachel, Matthew and Sean Cox and Anna Bird. Funeral from SISK BROTHERS FUNERAL HOME, 3105 Whitney Ave., Hamden, Conn., Saturday at 9 a.m. Mass of Christian Burial at 9:30 a.m. in St. Aedan Church, Fountain St., New Haven. Burial will follow in St. Lawrence Cemetery. Visitation will be Saturday from 8:15-9 a.m.
In lieu of flowers, contributions to the National Audubon Society or the Villas at St. Therese, 25 Noe-Bixby Dr., Columbus, Oh. 43213.

The Shame of London vs New York

Talk about your coincidences. Next month's cover story of Waters is about the chance that New York might be losing its financial crown to London. I pitched the story to my reporter Emily and I liked the neat irony that she is a Brit and will be looking at the local/global story as a US reporter.

Then last week New York magazine has a cover story theme issue that just reeks of a huge staff tackling a juicy subject. The same subject you can all read in my magazine next week. It was an entire issue dedicated to NYC and London. Who is the leader in the arts, entertainment, dining, living and global finance? It was very well done and you should def check it out. The magazine was a tad defensive -- hell, it is New York magazine afterall, but they did capture the notion that London is very much on the rise. It is the global city to watch.

I have some mixed thoughts on London. I love the history of the city and it's very neat to see the old architecture and the street names that bring back some novels I haven't read since college. It certainly has a pulse and there is a ton of money floating around there. The people are generally nice and seemed not interested in blaming me for the American-made woes in the world. But then again, they have no problem describing how much they detest President Bush. Not disagree with his policies but truly loathe the man. Oh, and Israel isn't popular either.

But what is it about London that I don't like? It's simple: it has a thuggish air about it. I feel like I could get jumped by a group of drunken teenage girls. I feel like a soccer hooligan can throw a drink in my face and steal my cell phone. The drinking is outrageous over there and I attended a SUNY school not far from the Canadian border.

A friend has relocated to London with her banker husband and two sons. She is adjusting well but she is having trouble matching the prim accents and smart clothes with the loutish behavior. She has seen drunks screaming at one another in broad daylight, mothers behaving badly with their children and her mind reels at the conversations around security systems and the rash of break-ins. I can relate - on my last trip to London someone was apparently stabbed outside the hotel where I was staying. When I checked out, a maid was furiously scrubbing the sidewalk.

So, what is causing this bad behavior? The excessive drinking is a cue and key ingrediant, to be sure. But maybe it's because the UK doesn't have a shaming culture the way the US does. If you misbehave here, scolds on the right and the left will gladly tell you where you screwed up and how you are a bad person. Having sex outside of marriage? The Christian Conservatives will tell you all about hell and loose morals. Have uncharitable thoughts about gays or minorities? The PC patrol on the left will tell you you are intolerant and need to change your thinking.

I don't think this exists in the UK. Do they have evangelicals, pentecostals and fundamentalists keeping one and all in God's line? Do they have liberal academics and columnists telling us that some thoughts are racist, sexist and homophobic and will not be tolerated? I don't think that exists in England.

Add in a lack of church attendence, and it's a wonder any laws are followed.

In through the window

What a week. Last Saturday, there was 10 inches of ice-covered snow outside with two foot drifts at the front and back doors. I couldn't let the dog out to do his business. I also couldn't get out to start the shovelling. Wunnerful. So, being the Man of Action that everyone secretly knows me to be, I donned my shovelling gear and opened the window of the TV room. I handed my wife the shovel, parted the curtains and slipped out into the white frontier. And then sank up to my knees in snow.

Yup, I had to exit through the window.

Fast forward: The neighbors joined us to help clear the driveway we all share. Once we realized that the driveway was more icy snow than powder, I suggested that one of the teens hail any truck with a plow. After one stopped and agreed to clear our driveway, I ran to the house for cash. We hadn't gone to an ATM in ages but we scrounged togther 38 bucks. The guy in the truck asked for only $10 or $15 so I gave him the top amount and asked for his phone number. His wife/girlfriend was happy to oblige. You could tell that the mild winter had taken a hit on their personal economy and they were grateful for this late snowfall. I was happy not to break my back chipping the hard stuff and hauling it over the fence.

I saw The Departed, the film that won Martin Scorsese his Oscar for Goodfellas and Taxi Driver. Not a great film but a terrific cat and mouse flick. I had a ball and I actually liked watching two actors I have never thought much about -- Leonardo DiCaprio and Matt Damon. I'd like to rent this again from NetFlix just to count how many people get shot in the head. I think it's at least six or eight but it might be more.

I am reading A Coffin For Dimitrios, a thriller by Eric Ambler, the master of this genre. (Man, how I hate that word). You can see why Alan Furst adores his writing and uses him as a guide every single time he writes a WWII thriller of his own. Definitely check it out.

Some picture blogging -- on a mild Daylight Sunday

A boy and his orange paint.


The hands tell the tale.


Some flowers outsidde in the backyard.


Two angels and a green pillow.


An angel outdoors.

Thomas The Bitch Engine

The boys are watching Toy Story 2 and basking in the Buzz Lightyear introductory scene. It's a welcome relief from the Thomas the Tank Engine DVDs they have been devouring for more than a year. An actual story -- where things happen. Characters are revealed and developed. The surfaces have actual textures. In the endless Thomas videos, the different trains and engines moan and bitch at one another in their simpering British accents.

It's the video equivalent of working in an office of women.

Oh, dear. Was that my outside voice?

Chief comments

A few days ago I posted that when I saw the F-105 Thunderchief at the New England Air Museum, I was amazed that the thing was so huge. I still am -- it's ginormous for a fighter. I saw an F-14 Tomcat inside the same wing of the museum and I would have been certain that the Tomcat would be larger than the Thunderchief. I also remarked that the USAF probably couldn't wait to get rid of this pig. I remember one documentary that said the Thunderchief needed plenty of maintenance after each flight. I got the impression that the F-4 Phantom was therefore more reliable as a fighter bomber. Besides, the Navy and Marine Corp clearly didn't see it as a viable option or they would have asked for versions of their own, much like the Phantom and one of my fave jets, the A-7 Corsair.

I received an email from USAF pilot who flew several missions in the 'chief. He was insulted that I quoted my son by saying 'oink oink' about the jet he flew and clearly loved. No offense meant, sir. It is a damned impressive jet and I remain baffled that it was really that huge.

It does look like it would be fun to fly one, though. That's for sure.

Books n flicks

My first week as just Special Projects Editor is over and so far, so good. It is an almost out of body experience to watch someone else do my job of the past three and a half years. Wow, it really is a full-time job, I said as I did the second job I have been doing at the time, namely the special projects.

We had a wicked downpour on Thursday night/Friday morning and regina and I woke to find a small flood in the basement. Let's just say we had some puddles and a small hole with water streaming out. Not a trickle -- actual force and volume, like you turned on the faucet half-way. We bailed and laid out towels and fired up the wet-dry vac. The filter was so old it couldn't handle the force of the water being sucked in so we went to a pair of Home Depots for a new filter. Once afixed, the sucking commenced.

Watched more of the second Season of The Office (US). It's very well done and is getting more wonderful with each episode. They soften Pam's bofriend from a thuggish lout to sweet if thoughtless loser. Dwight Shrute is a wonder and the actor Rainn Wilson was born tomplay this overbearing psycho who will ruin everyone's life once he is promoted to any position of power.

I am reading Low Life, a survey of old New York from the 1840s until the 1930s. NYC was, in short, a magnicently dirty and dangerous place to live. This isn't your father's Henry James novel. In fact, I bought this book of of Amazon with Edith Wharton's House of Mirth. Not a gilded age in the pages of Low Life.

The other morning, I cashed in some pounds at Grand Central and I laid the book on the counter. The guy behind the counter looked at the cover and said, "Low Life, eh? Is it about George Bush?"

Everyone's a critic.

Welcome to Stringfield

After owning the minivan for less than a week, Regina and I packed the kids up and headed north to Springfield, Mass., the home of Regina's youngest nephew. He attends the New England College of Beer where he studies enginering and it was time to visit the lad and his girlfriend, the eternally-patient Theresa. We had a ball. We stayed at a Residence Inn which came with two bedrooms, a full kitchen and a pool down at the lobby. Matthew was in his glory.

We didn't do much, but play tourists. Springfield is a friendly if faded town with four nice, small museums, some shopping centers and it's the home of the Smith & Wesson shooting range. After a day at the museums -- where we saw some mangy stuffed animals and some sketches of Dr Seuss -- John, Ryan and I went to the S&W shooting range. There you can fire any weapon that the gun company manufactures. I was looking forward to shoting a 9mm, a .38 snub-nose hammerless pistol and a 1911 .45 remake. But it wasn't meant to be -- the range was hosting the final days of a shoot off and we couldn't shoot until 6PM that night.

But here is the best part: The shoot off was at the final moments so the target was pretty special. It was a piece of string suspended from the ceiling at about 20 yards. A piece of string.

Later, we went to the New England Air Museum. I was expecting a few old WWII planes and a jeep but we were surprised by a bevy of Vietnam era fighter jets, a WWII B-29 bomber, a retired F-14 Tomcat, a few huge helicopters and one old civilian airliner that looks like a Rolls Royce with wings. I was floored by the F-105 Thunderchief, which flew over the fields of Vietnam and I had always assumed that it was the size of, say, an F-16 Falcon or an F-4 Phantom. Nuh-uh. The Thunderchief is HUGE, about the size of a commuter jet that flies from New York to Boston. It was incredible to think that this was seen as a viable and nimble fighter-bomber. No wonder the Air Force couldn't wait to get rid of this pig. In the words of Tim -- oink oink.

Meet The Scarlet Avenger

This is the last day of our seven year-old beloved blue bomber. We rode our Toyota Sienna to Virginia Beach, Washington DC, North Carolina, South Carolina, Connecticut, Masachusetts, Cornell University and the Palisades Mall more times than we can count. It was clearly time for a new AlbinusMobile.



Behold ... The Scarlet Avenger. It's a new Toyota Sienna with plenty of neat features and it doesn't break the bank. It has such a strong new car smell that we thought something was burning when we turned on the heat. It handles great and is even quieter than the old minivan. Nora loves the car and Matthew, who isn't exactly Mr. New Experiences, settled right in. Tim was pleased, too.

This is a cruddy picture but we took it after sundown while the kids were snow-tubing in the back yard. The ice coveed snow is perfect for the snowtubes Santa gave the kids at Christmas. Even if Dad punctured one while driving over some sticks and twigs. Cowabunga!

Bandbox -- Reports from the 1920s magazine wars

I loved Thomas Mallon's Bandbox, his comic novel about rival magazines trying t define culture and high living during the Roaring Twenties. Mallon does the impossible: he makes a distant age immediate and recognizable while using ancent pop culture that I learned from old Bugs Bunny cartoons. He also spins his yarn with a cast of dozens or rather dozen. Most novels ahev five speaking characters or so -- Bandbox has at least 12 fleshed characters and supporting players. It was a tad tough following them but after a while it was easier going.

Bandbox is the name of the leading if strugling men's high style magazine that is underseige by rival Cutaway. The editor of Bandbox, Joe Harris has a typical magazine editor's plight: tight deadlines, a crazy, disgruntled staff, and owners fighting for more ads. He has to keep the magazine pure and yet pliant enough to make money in an age when money seems to be raining from heaven. Throw in gangsters, spies from rival mags, a botched fiction contest, and a reader kidnapping -- and you have a great tale.

With the great suits, the romance that shows our grandparents weren't the Puritans we thought they were, and the wonderful settings -- it's a shame Robert Altman couldn't have taken a stab at theis book. He can handle large casts and snappy dialogue. Just check out his respected if still under-rated Gosford Park.

With Altman dead, the movie version of Bandbox can only fall to one man. Altman's protege and filmmaker in his own right: Alan Rudolf. He did great work on The Secret Lives of Dentists and Trouble in Mind, he can definitely do this. What is he up to these days? Must check imdb.

Definitely check out Bandbox.

Surging ahead, via the NYTimes?

The NY Times reports that Iraqi President Maliki told President Bush that the initial push in Baghdad has been a success. Granted, Maliki may not be the most truthful player in the area, but it's hard to see if under-playing the truth would help him in his country. In fact, he was against the surge and a failure would help him hasten the exit of American troops. How, I am not so sure. Does he want chaos?

The Times reports:

The two spoke via video link and, according the statement, Mr. Maliki said, “The security plan has been a dazzling success during its first days.”

Across Baghdad, there were signs of the heightened troop presence, as cars were searched at new checkpoints and raids resulted in the arrest of at least 35 people, according to Iraqi officials.

I had my doubts about the surge because 21,500 additional troops didn't sound like very much in a region that may need an extra 100,000 troops. Where they would come from, I have no clue.

The Democrats in the House of Representatives have voted against the surge with 17 Republicans voting with them against the surge. Yet, many of the anti-surgers inside and outside of Congress want the US to restore order in wartorn Darfur. Perhaps the poor people there are more deserving of US intervention because they don't suffer while sitting atop a ton of oil. More purity there.

Of course, stopping the strife is important in Darfur, but restoring some semblance of order in Iraq is a greater priority for the region, The US and the rest of the World. Perhaps France and germany can send troops to wartorn Darfur. Oh, right...

Conservatives of different stripes

It's the calendar, people. I haven't read Dinesh D'Souza's The Enemy at Home, the conservative's argument that the American Left was partly responsible for the attacks on 9/11 and the general animosity from radical Muslims across the globe. I have the reviews, though -- mostly negative and many of them from the Right. Even a few National Review columnists have come out and said that this book is a bit much. Good for them.

One thought does come up when you read the first fiery chapter on the author's web site. He claims that although he would rather go to a baseball game with Michael Moore than a radical Muslim cleric, he probably has more in common with the radical imam. What bunk. The radical Muslim wing that attacked us five years ago and that we drove out of Afghanistan and loathes us on the web today are not cultural conservatives like D'Souza. They may both hate bikinis, Britney Spears and MTV, but there is a big diffeences. Cultural conservatives like D'Souza want to turn the calendar back to 1950. Bin Laden and his crew want the calendar back to 950.

One must admit that a thousand years will make a difference in the way the two groups interact.

This almost echoes a thought I had in the days after 9/11 when American Talib John Walker Lindh was captured at al Al Queda training camp. Most conservative pundits claimed that Lindh was a product of his Marin County upbringing. Actually, he was resonding to his parents' divorce and the fact that his father reportedly left his wife for another man. The poor sap -- a confused teenager who drifted from hip hop to radical Islam -- clearly wanted a 1950s America where mother and father build a home to raise a family. Unfortunately, with that dream shattered, Lindh turned to a radicalism that offered destructive absolutes.

And those came from an even more fare away time than the time of Father Knows Best.

The Week In Review - Sex and Death Edition

Let's see: a case of food poisoning, one day home with the kids because of school district meetings, a farewell drink for a co-worker, my daughter's first concert, my autistic son locks himself in the bathroom, I push up the window while on a ladder and help my daughter throught the window, freezing cold temps, gliding my way through a wonderfully funny novel that I don't want to end, added a string to my acoustic guitar after a few months of putting it off, watched a few episodes of The Office (US) and it'snot even Saturday night.

This week's news: Anna Nicle Smith collapsed and died in a Hard Rock Hotel in Florida. I guess we'd be lying if we said this came as a surprise, and I almost admire that the choice of hotel showed her glittery leanings. It was fascinating to watch the news try to cover the story and to make this a serious story. You could almost hear the relief in the producer's heads as they cut to footage of her body being brought to the hospital and interviewed her close friends. Finally-- some ratings, the newsies were telling themselves. Iraq is over as a compelling story even as the war and the deathtoll grinds on. The coverage of the presidential race is premature and sadly uninspiring except for Barak Obama. Do Rudy and Hillary think America wants them as president?

But The death of ANS has sex, drugs, fame, death, some mystery and just sheer car-wreck horror. The NY Post slammed Rosie O'Donell for making comments about ANS and her drugged curent state on the morning that she died. The Post slammed her for her bad timing. I would say ROD is pitch perfect. She is now the crazy truth telling aunt America needs. I am no fan but between her and Donald Trump, I'll take the no-hit lesbian anyday. Her mission is to speak her mind and for all of her dust-ups, I thought she made some sense.

Quite a week.

More chins than a -- do I have to finish this sentence

Behold the ravages of time!

Taken by Amy Fletcher...

A whole new you

Look, a new Blogger design. Still can't decide if I like it. The font is a bit blotchy for my taste. Maybe it will grow on me.

Gotta find a pic I like that doesn't give me three chins. (Like that's going to happen!)

The day before that day

Last night while eating chicken quesedillas and enjoying a margarita, I took control of the remote and freed the TV from another round of cartoons. I landed on the Sundance Channel (I think) and found a documentary on They Might Be Giants, the eccentric pop duo who came to the scene in the mid-80s.

It was pretty charming, and for a bunch of guys who were on the cutting edge of college radio, they seemed smart without being pretenisous. Even their wordy, opaque lyrics and stacatto rhythms seemed friendly and warm and even inviting although their songs usually came at you at a breakneck speed. I haven't heard Anna Ng or Birdcage In Your Heart in two decades and they still sound fresh.

In the doc, they came across as really normal guys, granted that they record phone greetings for extra dough. One John, the accordian player, is a quiet and thoughtful father of an adorable little boy while the other John, the guitar player, seems to be the kind of boss everyone would want to work for.

One thing stuck out during the documentary. The band was about to launch a new album and some scenes showed their appearances they taped for The Daily Show with Jon Stewart and Late Night with Conan O'Brien. The date was September 10, 2001. Jesus, it was so odd to see that time on a five year-old tape. It was September but people were still in a summer frame of mind: the weather was mild and th people in all of the clips just seemed lighter. They appeared to be floating with not a care in the world. Silly pop songs seemed like the perfect thing to record, listen to and promote. You get no sense that a horrific act was about to happen 15 hours later that would change the world. (Yes, I am one of those people who have a 9/10 and 9/12 mindset).

It reminds me of that day, the days before the attacks. I remember the MTV Music Video awards, which seemed over the top and pointless. I remember Jack Black promoting the new Tenacious D record -- it might have been their first and it felt like they were going to just explode. Bob Dylan had just released Time Out of Mind, or was it his follow-up, Love and Theft? I am too tired to check.

We were obsessed with Britney (was she growing up too fast), Jennifer Lopez (will Hollywood destroy her music career), Gary Condit (did he kill that poor intern?), and Bush's stem cell speech from his beloved -- and isolating -- ranch in Crawford, Texas. It seems so long ago, when the day finally arrived and the skies were clear but they would soon be overcast for a very long time.

Old Man, look at my life

I turned 42 last week. It's not a momentous age but one of those subtle signposts on the way to 50. Sweet Jesus, fifty! For some reason I think 45 might be one of those birthdays you notice and do a mild double-take. Halfway to 90. I don't think anyone in my family has made it to that age and I guess I'll have to wait to find out.

Waters hired a new editor. I came up wih the idea for the new role I am taking, special prpjects editor, but I was a bit sad at the news. I am no longer the editor of a magazine I love and I am glad that the company has finally realized that they need to add to the staff in order to grow the damned magazine. It's been a true burnout year and I have some decisions to make. The economy is good and there are jobs out there. Also, have I written every financial IT story I ever want to write? Do I even care about this topic?

It's time to get cracking. Must write a novel and get it published. Must start exercising. Get creative with MacBok and parts of my brain that are killed by my job. More fresh air. More time with kids. Less scotch.

Do I have the guts for this change? That, my friend, is the question of the day.

A Big Tim Week

The two year-old is now speaking more than the six year-old. Timmy is chatting away these days and is actually conversing. And it all happened this week, it seems. Tim walks around the house, picks up boks and toys and asks, "What is this?" Yesterday he said "Give me cracker." Nice.

Matthew is making nice progress and we see more and more from him each week. Matthew will still do anything not to speak one word so that he may get what he wants. Getting him to say "cookie, please" and "I want snack/milk/movie" is an uphill battle with a stubborn boy who has figured out his world and where he fits inside it. He is still a wonder to watch. The autistic mind is something to behold. Matthew gets things and yet in other ways it's almost as if he is refusing to engage with the world. It's not a mean-spirited refusal -- his brain simply works a touch differently than yours and mine.

Nora is having a good year and is coming into her own. She is doing nicely with her math and her script is better than her plain block letters. Unlike last year, she has a good teacher and we are seing results for the chattiest and sweetest thing in our lives. Go, Nora!