I love James Bond movies. Even the bad ones. Even the ones with Roger Moore, which Greg can't bear to watch because he says Roger Moore doesn't act, he just smirks his way through films.

American Movie Classics has been running another of their periodic Bond series this weekend, so I've seen at least parts of about six or seven different Bond movies. They range from ones in which Bond still wore a hat everywhere to the awful one where Bond fights the voodoo-Tarot influenced African American bad guys in Louisiana.

That one made me cringe because it featured a caricature of a Southern sheriff who called everyone, "boy." Such a product of their times, these films were.

That chase scene through the long-changed downtown streets of Las Vegas in "Diamonds are Forever." The time when Bond "died" after being shot in a Murphy bed, only to be buried "at sea" in the harbor in 15 feet of water, so divers could pick him up and take him to a submarine for his next mission. And who could forget the car in "The Spy Who Loved Me" that turned into a submarine and then back into a car as it drove out of the ocean.

What's not to love in these movies?

And yes, I also worked for three hours on Saturday and got plenty of fresh air and playtime with my daughters and watched my husband spend hours on the computers. When is spring coming???