Because English is one frelled up language.

Part of the problem with pit bulls isn't just that they can be unstable (although I tend to agree that much of that is training and/or abuse), but that, physically, they're capable of much more damage than most dogs. I was once playing frisbee in the park, and saw a guy training his pit bull by making the dog leap into the air, bite a tree branch, and hang from it, swinging back and forth. Not a lot of dogs are capable of that, and you don't want that dog biting you.

An LJ friend just made a post that her landlord sometimes "forgets to feed his dogs." He has four dogs, of which at least one is an unspayed bitch, and another is an unaltered male. I want to hit someone.

I like to think that people who have a lot of British comedy (that nation which, on the whole, is so very dry) in their background would be able to tell. Mostly because I have yet to test this hypothesis. I do need to work on it, though, because I don't want to unduely confuse the kidlets.

You and my mom can just keep telling yourselves that.

As far as confusion, until we knew of our mother's disability my siblings and I thought she WAS a perfect child and that she and her siblings never fought/

It looked wonderful.

If anyone gets to watch it, I'll be really curious to read their opinion.

Plus, there are other programs that don't require as much Hebrew knowledge.

With most Israelis (definitely not all, but most), a combination of English and Hebrew, even only those 50-words you mentioned, should be enough, so that makes sense. Good luck with finding a program! Also, if you do manage to take a Hebrew class, and there's anything I can do to help, please let me know?

What age does the fascination with dinosaurs generally begin/peak/whatever?

There are a lot of dinosaur books out there even for toddlers, so Sara (who will be two in a few months) already recognizes them. But the fascination with different kinds of dinosaurs usually hits around four, I think.

I love pit bulls, because my mom has one (he's a mix, actually -- pit and corgi, and yes, he's a short thug), BUT you can't presume good will from them. They don't have the temperment of, say, a labrador retriever, all sweet and dopey. Even if they're just playing with you and bite at you (or at the toy you're playing with, like one of those big braided tug ropes), they have jaws like a fucking alligator. Their jaws will lock, and you aren't getting that limb back unless they get tired of it.

That said, I think they can make great pets if they're trained well. But they aren't a breed where, say, a kid could run up to a pit bull he had never seen before and want to pet it and play with it and get in its face. That's a bad idea with any unfamiliar dog, regardless of breed (though I wouldn't really fear a beagle), but the risk is greater with a dog that can put that much hurt on you.

So, I wake up this morning, and turn on the radio.

There was a tornado in my home town last night. 8 people died.

Abi, I'm glad your family is okay!

And relatedly creepy, I was in that very area of southern Indiana/western-northern Kentucky just last night. Like, 2 hours before the tornado hit. I heard it when I woke up, too, and it freaked me out.

Now that I'm not spazzing about interloper kitty, I'm sorry about your Beastie, Jilli. I know it sucks.

I did manage to evict the tortie, though it took some doing. I'd gone out to the car to get stuff I hadn't unloaded earlier, saw her, rubbed her ears, and then headed up. Except the outside door wasn't shutting and maybe she'd been exploring or something, because she apparently came up right behind me and darted in with me and my bags. First warning was the dark blur racing between my ankles. The reason I couldn't catch her at first wasn't so much that she was running in terror from me, the little twerp was playing. And then she'd run into one of my bewildered cats (you'd think they'd never seen another feline!) hiss, growl and prance off somewhere else. I finally caught mine and put them in the bedroom and broke out the big guns: a can of tuna catfood. Which she devoured. And then my cats broke out of the bedroom (door doesn't always latch) and came and sat in the entrances to the kitchen, still looking really confused. Eventually, I decided enough was enough and took her back outside, fixing the door shutting mechanism.

And then she sat on the stoop for at least 45 minutes, at which point I finally went to bed.

Sigh.

Dang cat acts like she'd so suck up the life of a pampered housecat without blinking. However, she really was unimpressed by the existance of other felines.

I'll keep watching her.

And I really need to go shower and run errands.

I have to do laundry like I don't even know. And yet? NSM.

Jesse, my sistah!

I am trying to convince myself that I should do one of the three tasks I have assigned myself today now, instead of later, but think I am going to end up going back to bed instead.

I have also continued my six-year streak of never seeing the NY marathon live, even though they run relatively close to my house.