A long time ago when I was just a child I remember one particular evening watching television and waiting for the Muppet Show to come on. Do you remember that show? It was the high point of my week. I even had a plush Kermit toy that I would watch the show with. (and yes, I flapped his arms and hollered 'Yay!' at the appropriate moment.) Anyway, I was waiting for the news to end when the reporter announced something about a war in Georgia. I was shocked and surprised. My step-grandmother, Johnnie, lived in Georgia. Was she okay? I ran into the kitchen and told my mother about the war in Georgia and she explained to me that this was a different Georgia, one all the way over in Russia. Nothing to worry about. Go back to your t.v. Even today, as a great, big, grown-up, adult news announcements about civil unrest or tanks or something else nasty about Georgia will catch me by surprise and I have to check which Georgia. Now my parents live in Georgia and I've visited a few times. They live in a rural area and rednecks abound. (I swear this is not a comment on southeners so put away your poison pens. But even you have to admit that there are some very colorful characters down that way, eh?) I have always envisioned the other Georgia as something mysterious and wonderful and Russian. Golden onion dome cathedrals in the cities, sweet little houses with fancy gingerbread wood carvings...you know, foreign and mysterious. Today, I have once again been slapped in the face by the cold, wet, fish of reality. Go here and scroll down a little bit until you get to the red car picture....oh, and don't forget to look at the license plate. Sigh....dreams fall hard.