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When the Mothership deposited me on this rock called Earth, the High Commander didn't tell me living here would be akin to Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. Decades later, imprisoned in this ridiculous body (which often feels too small and oddly lumpy), I'm still trying to make sense of these strange humanoids who allow themselves to be enslaved by five inadequate senses and three claustrophobic dimensions. I have a hard time ignoring the sixth sense (which is really quite fabulous) and the other nine infinitely more interesting dimensions that make life worth living. I'd like to see more purple on Earth. There can never be enough pudding or olives. Cinnamon is highly underrated, and I'd like to bring a truckload back to the Pleiades when it's time to head home. I think grain silos, Citroens and okra are very strange indeed. More puzzling is the fact that there is very little blue food. The concept of currency baffles me. Even more confusing is the favorite pasttime Earthlings call "war." Day after day I wait for the Mothership to return for me. The High Commander reminds me often that my mission on Earth is not yet complete, so I must be patient. This does not please me. Given that I did NOT volunteer for this tour of duty, my time on Earth often frustrates me. Fortunately, there's a great deal of chocolate and very fine music on Earth, which makes waiting a little easier. Life on the third rock from the Sun may not be the party I'd hoped for, but while I'm here, I might as well dance.