Tamara and Joanna thought they'd already be in Albuquerque, fixing up the home they own, nesting with a newborn. Instead, their attempts to have a baby drained away tens of thousands of dollars. "Here we are, $40,000 or so down the line, and nothing to show for it," Tamara says. "That's hard."
Beware the paper patriots. Beware those wearing flag pins on their lapels and calling for war while risking nothing. Their voices are shrill and strident. They drape themselves in the flag, pound the podium and sneer at the cowards in the crowd. But take away the flag, strip them to the flesh, and beneath their creased suits you will find no battle scars, no indication that their mortal form has ever known the hazards of war. Beneath the flag you will find only the jelly flesh of the bean counter, the war profiteer. It is the soft flesh of the grub. Some of these grubs ascend to high levels of government, even that of the presidency.