John has often called me Merle, pronounced as the country singer. Strangely if my mother read this she would pronounce it Merl-lee, like her dear Vietnamese nurse friend. Merle used to reheat fish in the lounge kitchen and consequently stink up the place. Joey has sniffed that on more than one occasion, being the Victory Memorial transporter that he used to be. Could be why he chose a career in fragrances.

When I was a little bitty thing I used to long for a cooler name. It's very funny how distorted my ideas of coolness were. Here are some of the names I tried to convince my mother that I was better off with: Robin, Samantha, Arielle (with that spelling), and Rebecca. My mother was never fazed by this, and told me that one day I'd grow to like my name better than the ones I had chosen. I just now found out what was in common with these names... they are all Hebrew. I look a little Rivkaish too, so I've been told. Maybe it's my destiny.

Spaghetti with Matza Balls and Kefir cheese, maybe I could make it happen. Not that I'd eat it, but Jenia would, no doubt. I'm becoming a bigger ball of culture with every passing minute.