So we sit, during the evenings, gathered around the small coffee table which has seen conversations on blockade, war strategies, bombings, and politics, with a tray of tea and something simple to eat- like biscuits or bread and cheese. One of us pours the tea, adding the sugar- 2 spoons for dad and I, 3 for E., and one for mom. Before the conversation begins, you can hear the gentle music of small, steel teaspoons clinking against the istikan, as the tea is stirred. Unlike the typical family conversation around the world, "How was your day, dear?" doesn't get a typical answer in Iraq. Depending on who is being asked, the answer varies from stories of abductions and hijackings, to demonstrations, to empty gas cylinders and burned out water pumps.