When I was a kid I wanted to have a pet dinosaur. This was completely impractical, of course, simply because my parents would have never had enough money to feed a dinosaur. Children don't worry about such practicalities. They just imagine what they imagine and although the big bad world starts ripping apart their dreams at birth, the effects aren't noticeable until near the end of adolescence.

After years of adult pragmatism, I certainly have enjoyed being impractical. Now, however, I don't want to face the fact that all my socks have holes and my savings are almost drained, my writer's salary (the oxymoron, sign of a quality bloggie) allowing me to buy only one single sock once every six months. Good thing almost all of my nine future husbands are rich.

Speaking of which, I now have a tenth. His name is Harel Skaat ( הראל סקעת ) and he one of the finalists in the Israeli version of those horrid "we'll turn you into a one hit wonder" vocal pyrotechnics shows, imaginatively called "A Star Is Born" (כוכב נולד). He's a little younger than most of the men I regularly marry, but he's legal.

One day I'm going to have to enumerate all my future husbands before there are too many of them.