Don't be embarrassed! People meet in all kinds of weird ways. Anyhow, online dating services are becoming more and more mainstream and what stigma there might have been a few years back is fading fast.

Sometimes online dating is the only way to go. A friend of mine lives in a small town where the dating pool is pretty shallow and she's pretty much been driven online to find compatible guys.

Come up with a narrative that you're comfortable with and stick with it.

... As long as Dick Cheney isn't vetting his VPs.

I've worked full-time or part-time since my kids were born, with a few extended periods of unemployment where I did the stay-at-home-mom thing with job searching and a bit of freelancing on the side. There was also a period where my husband stayed at home to take care of our young son while I worked full-time. Now that the kids are in school and old enough that I don't need to be monitoring them every single second of the day, I feel like I've gotten my second wind. I don't feel unfulfilled now that my children are no longer totally dependent on me -- I feel released! I finally have time again to do things I enjoy. It is like waking up from a 10-year nap, and it's a good wake-up.

Because I stayed in the workforce on at least some level throughout most of this period, I earned much-needed money, got health insurance for myself and the kids, kept my professional skills and network current, didn't feel as if I was cut off from the adult world, and won't have to slog through the low end of the job market if I lose my current position. More importantly, my family did not risk putting all of its economic eggs in one basket. We would not have been totally screwed if my husband lost his job because we had a second income. (This worked both ways; I ended up getting laid off more times than he did.)

Yes, work can be boring and unfulfilling compared to hanging out with the kids. I have gone through periods of job burnout where I felt like all I was doing was re-arranging electrons. But work can also be challenging, rewarding, and mentally stimulating. So can staying at home with your children. It all depends on how you approach it.

A session of summer bible camp isn't going to turn them into miniature Jerry Falwells. (My kids have endured numerous vacation bible schools and are still perfect little heathens.)

At least the latest "Horton" adaptation didn't make the daughters into 96 dancing princesses with accessories available for purchase at your neighborhood Wal-Mart.

I suppose the "mayor's son" subplot was put in to add a character that little boys could identify with, pad the movie's running time, and perhaps sell some action figures. But I for one would prefer a leaner, more faithful adaptation ... like the original animated cartoon! Maybe I'll watch that one again and skip the CGI version. Or even ... wait, wait, don't tell me ... read the book! There are no mayor's sons who need to be urged into action by their passive sisters, just a kid who's reluctant to speak up and has to be practically bullied into doing so by the Mayor.

Through the town rushed the Mayor, From the east to the west.
But everyone seemed to be doing his best.
Everyone seemed to be yapping or yipping!
Everyone seemed to be beeping or bipping!
But it wasn’t enough, all this ruckus and roar!
He HAD to find someone to help him make more.
He raced through each building! He searched floor-to-floor!

And, just as he felt he was getting nowhere,
And almost about to give up in despair,
He suddenly burst through a door and that Mayor
Discovered one shirker! Quite hidden away
In the Fairfax Apartments (Apartment 12-J)
A very small, very small shirker named Jo-Jo
was standing, just standing, and bouncing a Yo-Yo!
Not making a sound! Not a yipp! Not a chirp!
And the Mayor rushed inside and he grabbed the young twerp!

And he climbed with the lad up the Eiffelberg Tower.
“This,” cried the Mayor, “is your towns darkest hour!
The time for all Whos who have blood that is red
To come to the aid of their country!” he said.
“We’ve GOT to make noises in greater amounts!
So, open your mouth, lad! For every voice counts!”

Thus he spoke as he climbed. When they got to the top,
The lad cleared his throat and he shouted out, “YOPP!”

And that Yopp…
That one small, extra Yopp put it over!
Finally, at last! From that speck on that clover
Their voices were heard! They rang out clear and clean.
And the elephant smiled. “Do you see what I mean?…
They’ve proved they ARE persons, no matter how small.
And their whole world was saved by the smallest of All!”

This kind of thing has been going on forever. Where I live, they're called midnight plumbers. They rip copper pipe out of abandoned houses and new construction (presumably they are going to branch out into lead pipe now), steal copper cable, and generally make off with any kind of scrap metal that isn't nailed down. They've even carried off public sculptures and bronze plaques from cemetaries to sell for scrap. (In both incidents, the scrap dealer who bought them claimed he didn't know they were stolen ... yeah, right.) When the steel industry cratered, quite a few laid-off workers surreptitiously looted the abandoned mills of piping, cable, etc. A few of them got killed -- I remember reading about one poor sod who was trying to steal copper electrical cable and didn't realize it was still live.

If the historic preservation law gave churches an exception from the "original materials" clause (for instance, by allowing them to replace their lead roofs with something else that looks similar), these churches could make a tidy profit by selling their lead roofs on the scrap metal market.