tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60268734035423358342024-03-12T18:39:25.866-07:00Landenberg MuseMargueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.comBlogger53125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-33394656426184108962010-12-15T18:13:00.000-08:002010-12-15T19:02:02.546-08:00Tis the Season<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLB-07kIGohHjn6daMXeg2B22uZJjQTQSn3w-YvykRmlhq-UTIqpBxFH1SqAnNKsu9mg62J0l24NZTNpNHbDevJNYRwvYkwDRXNLKBOVXB2JCFVfVzUqPBFnGXrCQtYoD7vFP0kT2mLSm2/s1600/angeldeer-800-600.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLB-07kIGohHjn6daMXeg2B22uZJjQTQSn3w-YvykRmlhq-UTIqpBxFH1SqAnNKsu9mg62J0l24NZTNpNHbDevJNYRwvYkwDRXNLKBOVXB2JCFVfVzUqPBFnGXrCQtYoD7vFP0kT2mLSm2/s320/angeldeer-800-600.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551104405075023346" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Tis the season for what, I might ask. The stark wind and cold complements the month of December well. Keeping the wood stove going is a welcomed break from the other tasks at hand, those of fulfilling the Christmas requests. There's the remote control monster truck (gas powered? really?), the board games and the DVDs, the gift cards to the mall. In our household, Santa brings each child three presents and a stocking. Simple, but complicated still. This all requires planning, insight, saving and spending.<br /><br />My husband's task of wrapping the presents helps, as well as him offering the eventual shoulder to cry on. He shares solace and humor, comfort and wisdom. He reminds me to relax. I remember that while I am out there shopping, he is outside working, in the wind and cold, often high up in a tree, with both a pole saw and a chainsaw snapped onto his harness. Now, which task presents a greater challenge? They are probably about the same. I seek to streamline the holiday experience, and add a finesse and grace as I execute my tasks. We are an American family celebrating an ever changing tradition.<br /><br />There are some traditional Christmas characters that are new to me this year: The spritely angel Christkindl, the dark goat creature Krampus, St. Nicholas' companion Knecht Ruprecht, and an old lady gift giver named Babushka. These days the flash mobs known as 'Santarchy' are rising in popularity. How's that for modern tradition?<br /></span></span>Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-3957934914556633702010-10-20T18:58:00.000-07:002010-10-20T20:24:06.108-07:00A New Season<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBG5Wceo734Y1CBoh7aA2Fb6jjLvP9Izrn2x91Azae_RIA8D5FxTZBHjBQtsa1mQqHeVNDdrTZzOYaIcmJqPAv6_XIDCcjtOMzu_yhxD2SZ_9vrZDDL6G9x9a0re7OFjoGANWknbcLtnIx/s1600/IMGP3691.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBG5Wceo734Y1CBoh7aA2Fb6jjLvP9Izrn2x91Azae_RIA8D5FxTZBHjBQtsa1mQqHeVNDdrTZzOYaIcmJqPAv6_XIDCcjtOMzu_yhxD2SZ_9vrZDDL6G9x9a0re7OFjoGANWknbcLtnIx/s320/IMGP3691.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5530315507170278642" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Goodness, this summer was dry and hot! We made best use of an August pool membership. The kids were swimming laps all the way into September. They all took swimming lessons, and made progress in their own ways. Our oldest discovered that freestyle swimming yields a cardiovascular workout similar to running. Our seven year old gained the freedom of the diving board. My goodness, those kids jumped into the pool for hours! Our youngest slowly learned how to float on his back. Even I was able to take time to enjoy swimming in the lap lane. Using my set of fins made for a very efficient workout. </div><div><br /></div><div>Just as much fun as swimming was the companionship of meeting friends at the pool for dinner. It was all so spur of the moment, and yet it became a routine very quickly and without much effort. We would confirm the meeting time and what food we would bring to share. We just used what we had at hand, and so meals like watermelon, sandwiches and pretzels became standard fare. That pool membership was the best hundred dollars I spent all summer.</div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div>The weather is turning cooler. Autumn is here, indeed. The leaves are changing colors, and there are grey and rainy days more often. Soccer season is upon us. It is a time of keeping to a schedule of practices, games and recovery. Our daughter has been playing since kindergarden, and it has become a very important part of her life. She expresses a focused intensity out there on the field, and really grows in her strategy and skill every season. </div><div><br /></div><div>Our seven year old joined a local team this year as well. On the morning of the first game, her advice to him was this: "OK, you gotta go out there and play your hardest, every time. Don't give up, keep on it. Play your best, all the time, every game!" Yes, that pretty much sums up how she plays. </div><div><br /></div><div>We've been plugging away at various tasks involving firewood and fence repair. There's talk of building a simple structure to house the family bicycles. Piles of weed debris are slowing 'melting', as our four year old describes it. The backyard is looking nice, and at times it feels even more comfortable to sit there than in the living room. Family living can be hectic and loud and boisterous. I'm getting better hiding at my desk, playing ninja, staying current with record keeping tasks and such. Still, the outdoors never ceases to humble and amaze me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-39679810374163562542010-07-24T05:16:00.000-07:002010-07-24T12:55:03.303-07:00Summertime<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHiVBpzZcZIC-CH5-WLElNXZ2JH3g_JKaRBgdiKvtzGIudCmzEEkHUOY1CZWnlUkUx3iMY-zIwWHAKRw5MMsKEuJlQtY3ujUBK7MR-cH2am0QqDA4X4Ba-4etP1sGy2-0DXG4GBkQGp-ML/s1600/3186fresh-picked-sweet-corn-posters.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 319px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHiVBpzZcZIC-CH5-WLElNXZ2JH3g_JKaRBgdiKvtzGIudCmzEEkHUOY1CZWnlUkUx3iMY-zIwWHAKRw5MMsKEuJlQtY3ujUBK7MR-cH2am0QqDA4X4Ba-4etP1sGy2-0DXG4GBkQGp-ML/s320/3186fresh-picked-sweet-corn-posters.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497457503936116834" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>The heat has just not stopped. We don't have A/C, and this year I am really considering a window unit. Our house is surrounded by trees, for the most part, and we live in a valley, which does help cool things off at night. Still, icy cold indoor environments are a nice break from the heat. <div><br /></div><div>The kids and I have been making lots of trips down to the creek to splash around in the water. One of our favorite things to do is build up stone walls in the shallow currents. My youngest child is particularly fond of this, and becomes fully absorbed in the activity. He'll sometimes pick up a stone that is too heavy for him, and I'll gently suggest, "Roll it. Roll it in the water." I'll model this for him, and then watch as he adds on to his wall with ease. After working for a while, he'll step back and look at the whole thing, and implores all of us to do the same. With his arms folded, he smiles gently, in awe of what he has built with his own two hands. </div><div><br /></div><div>The other two kids enjoy swimming in the deeper parts; the best place we've found is a spot where two branches of the creek meet, where the water is about four and a half feet deep. My daughter has been giving the dog swimming lessons. They have grown quite accustomed to the whole routine.</div><div><br /></div><div>One afternoon last week I took the boys up to Amish country. I had an assignment for work and decided to tow part of the gang along. After a long car ride and an hour outdoors in the sun, the kids had had enough. The seven year old started whining for a Slurpee. He was almost to tears. I knew there was no place in sight to buy such a thing, and was glad that it didn't become a, "Mom, you never buy us anything good," conversation. Rather, we were poised to seek out a solution together, and focused on the task of finding a cold drink.</div><div><br /></div><div>A few miles down the road we found a gas station, clean as a whistle, with a huge market garden to its side. This place had fresh corn, tomatoes, peaches and other fare for sale right there inside the store. Apparently they've been doing things this way since 1985. I let the kids each have a root beer, and ordered up some french fries to enjoy outside. We enjoyed our treat in the shade of a large, clean pavilion. There was a wonderful breeze blowing up the hillside, and the kids played on a swing set after their snack was done. </div><div><br /></div><div>"I will never forget this day, Mom," my seven year old said. By this time we were snacking on ripe, juicy peaches.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Oh really, why is that?" </div><div><br /></div><div>"This is the day you bought us soda and french fries!" </div><div><br /></div><div>We both grinned. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-45152435799524155432010-07-18T18:59:00.000-07:002010-07-18T19:07:08.856-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz2vCqzU-Qw_1y3BCdpJFl9RKiMSUk0DwIGFzdSDmqlCnD2fjSl6duxh6XELVKPWPiNoRZHt-RIMLWML4YfWLsBcM9NKTs4hrXbFMPn7WXFmLaryUstEbmKMJFjjf1dt9yNwv0csQdovQ2/s1600/worldrpscoatofarms.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz2vCqzU-Qw_1y3BCdpJFl9RKiMSUk0DwIGFzdSDmqlCnD2fjSl6duxh6XELVKPWPiNoRZHt-RIMLWML4YfWLsBcM9NKTs4hrXbFMPn7WXFmLaryUstEbmKMJFjjf1dt9yNwv0csQdovQ2/s320/worldrpscoatofarms.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495431174874471026" border="0" /></a>Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-16241566742682430932010-05-09T18:43:00.000-07:002010-05-10T19:26:45.235-07:00Happy Mother's Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgroryRsmxGqdaDpzKwfzlq1Zglou0Ae2yfEGB-LGfwptmnBKdMpyuYkI5ABbDlvYLdaKZBLT0Y-bhxvNvOmSTs5dboijiKv_sMPWYLyowBLiaLCwWcBOWHwjBWivWREQmDHae6qfBOytHm/s1600/factory,+pink+snow+2010+398.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgroryRsmxGqdaDpzKwfzlq1Zglou0Ae2yfEGB-LGfwptmnBKdMpyuYkI5ABbDlvYLdaKZBLT0Y-bhxvNvOmSTs5dboijiKv_sMPWYLyowBLiaLCwWcBOWHwjBWivWREQmDHae6qfBOytHm/s320/factory,+pink+snow+2010+398.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469825963427712546" border="0" /></a><span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />This Mother's Day was especially pleasant. I got to sleep in, and was greeted in the kitchen by a full plate of scrambled eggs, English muffin with jam and fresh strawberries. Our daughter has been cooking eggs this way for a couple of months now. Her best friend taught her how. The food was delicious! Indeed, it was a better breakfast than I make for myself on most days! Almost every day my husband makes strong, dark coffee in the French press. That is one specialty I get to enjoy all year. <br /><br />Throughout the day I put a lot of effort into not doing too much. I wanted to see if I could slow things down, and really appreciate the day and all that it had to offer. I had plans on taking a long bike ride or going on a run, but I put those ambitions aside when I started feeling a little sick. Out of nowhere came sneezes so loud you would have sworn it was a distant dog barking. There's nothing like a little head cold to make life slow down.<br /><br />Lately though, this spring has been extra special. I am not sure what it is, but it could have something to do with the kids getting older. I can work outside in the garden for a good two hours with only a few mild interruptions. I have regular time to enjoy weekly bike rides and trail runs. It's like I am a kid again, pretending that my bike is a hover craft, only now my neighborhood is next to miles and miles of wooded trails. When it is all said and done, I am still home before the street lights come on. <br /><br /></span>Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-68832874371902240162010-04-05T20:29:00.000-07:002010-04-05T21:15:19.914-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn5aSDtf7qobUuBlXznvvaY-2j4GQ7SGWzMRSXuV7xWlk8c4gSdwqgUmN8QNnsURtgsvzPtipqWK1MIiUX_yYIl_pv4FI4NfSVgZoAIWQUiTa8JJ3PszBTVeg1rIfEPFd1P5bwGFyaixNO/s1600/IMGP3039.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn5aSDtf7qobUuBlXznvvaY-2j4GQ7SGWzMRSXuV7xWlk8c4gSdwqgUmN8QNnsURtgsvzPtipqWK1MIiUX_yYIl_pv4FI4NfSVgZoAIWQUiTa8JJ3PszBTVeg1rIfEPFd1P5bwGFyaixNO/s320/IMGP3039.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456866748162044098" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Last week I found some incredible documents at the recycling center. I was gathering newspaper for a mulching project in the garden. The metal bin was quite filled, and as luck would have it, this pile of old papers was laying right on top. My eyes were first drawn to the old maps. Some were simple road maps from the 1950's, while others were more elaborate, detailing state highway department districts. One map detailed a driving route along the Civil War battlefields, while another documented the various Native American tribes. I brought them home, and I plan on hanging some of them up around the house.</div>Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-42631214913823078962010-03-19T19:36:00.000-07:002010-03-25T19:36:32.840-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFRcx9PNUl-QoyJ1UxiC0QttAnrYD-uH3P3R2QT2kiSmifGmM95bdg045Wqa60le_9lt6dgZhlDwsYy60GBxFEhV9x_lac5_clCuh_5ZHCcPlBRyIf3PYTJq1Bbe9vXuwupkayqbtcLzEB/s1600-h/IMGP2654.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFRcx9PNUl-QoyJ1UxiC0QttAnrYD-uH3P3R2QT2kiSmifGmM95bdg045Wqa60le_9lt6dgZhlDwsYy60GBxFEhV9x_lac5_clCuh_5ZHCcPlBRyIf3PYTJq1Bbe9vXuwupkayqbtcLzEB/s320/IMGP2654.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450552553768353554" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>I never really wanted a dog. I am not a 'dog person'. I perceive dogs as outdoor creatures who are best suited to very specific, important tasks. I have very little room in my domestic life for a dog whose main purposes are entertainment and companionship. Much to my eventual dismay, I acceded to welcome a dog into our family. My present opinion is this: This is the one and only dog our family will ever take care of, so I may as well accept it and try to enjoy it.<div><br /></div><div>You see, when other people tell me stories about the funny things their dogs do, I don't really care. Usually I am polite and listen well. I try to understand what is so interesting about the dog's antics. But really, so what if the dog does something funny? I don't understand what all the fuss is about. If someone proclaims how cute a dog is, I have a difficult time agreeing. Dogs just look different, and they smell weird, and they're just so, doggish. </div><div><br /></div><div>Friends assured me that once I saw how happy my kids would be with the dog, it would make it all worthwhile. Hmm, nope. The kids were happy before the dog. In fact, our youngest is now in competition with the dog, but over what I don't know. You see, I don't understand dogs, I don't speak their language and I certainly don't know what the heck they want, besides constant attention. I don't need another creature to take care of. Like I said, I never really wanted a dog.</div><div><br /></div><div>People have told me that our dog is a <i>really</i> good dog. He has a command for coming back to us, and he doesn't bark at all. He 'bays' when he has important needs to express. He sleeps a lot, which is nice, and he doesn't have fleas, which is essential. He enjoys spending a lot of time outside. But there are still a couple of things I don't understand: Why is he always following us around? Why does he always want to sit right next to us when we're on the couch? </div><div><br /></div><div>After complaining about it a lot this week, I began to get tired of the sound of my own voice. I suppose a change of attitude is in order. I can choose to be humbled by our newest family member, and I can choose to adjust to this new lifestyle. Sigh. I can choose to be a 'dog person'. Chuckle. I can choose to be amused by the dog. Grin. For the sake of new possibilities, I can choose to enjoy the challenge of loving and accepting our newest family member.</div>Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-42753017327313471602010-03-17T21:05:00.000-07:002010-03-17T21:42:19.177-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFQuuF66DIf6mNXJnaELSNuTue0RT0h2neYzY8f-AnZadNnqrIhch43e5Wb3cRrX2FIIvxxeiqnLc5SCZ7yH4N27wfOpnxeTEiDUMwlp8dMvLQAzpkzwbmJl8tpZRsQ1vjq75WNamV-iEJ/s1600-h/IMGP2687.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFQuuF66DIf6mNXJnaELSNuTue0RT0h2neYzY8f-AnZadNnqrIhch43e5Wb3cRrX2FIIvxxeiqnLc5SCZ7yH4N27wfOpnxeTEiDUMwlp8dMvLQAzpkzwbmJl8tpZRsQ1vjq75WNamV-iEJ/s320/IMGP2687.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449825641625148802" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>The weather has been warm this week, and the ground has finally dried out. I'm in outdoor mode, working in the garden, playing in the yard, neglecting the indoor world of housework, laundry and food prep. I want to make a small fire pit in the garden, for cooking and for twilight warmth. I think once a week we'll eat outside around the fire. This is the time of the year when I need to make adjustments in the usual routine. When the weather is nice out, playing in the sunshine becomes the top priority.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-43811046503228374962010-03-01T20:20:00.000-08:002010-03-02T14:27:30.288-08:00The Factory<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Umk6CCwa_wh8NwKB8AeFEwn9LEoG30CioNwQM2de84O4paHFKWTsaG9UYtuJdVt98ykObcHH23oBcUis5HAt2qYl-qrIq8dFhiaAGBUZEdmuycOrKpKeTaui42SbfzMS-7rQ0OtCBUoN/s1600-h/IMGP2709.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Umk6CCwa_wh8NwKB8AeFEwn9LEoG30CioNwQM2de84O4paHFKWTsaG9UYtuJdVt98ykObcHH23oBcUis5HAt2qYl-qrIq8dFhiaAGBUZEdmuycOrKpKeTaui42SbfzMS-7rQ0OtCBUoN/s320/IMGP2709.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443887589820721314" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Last week the boys and I went to the old Chrysler factory. The contents were on display for public viewing in preparation for an auction. I was inspired to treat the opportunity as one would a field trip to a special museum. I packed a backpack with drinks and some light snacks, put fresh batteries in my camera and arrived early enough so that we didn't feel rushed. Along the way I said a few things in advance about our visit:</div><div><br /></div><div>"Now, this is an old factory where they used to make cars. It may smell a bit like chemicals, and it will probably be dark and cold. We're going to see a lot of neat machines and tools. When I stop to take a picture, you need to stay near me. No wandering off. Just let me know if there are any neat things you see that you would like for me to photograph."</div><div><br /></div><div>The entrance was welcoming, and as we stepped inside, I tried to imagine what it must have felt like to work there. The air was cold and the lighting was dim. There were acres of concrete floor, vents and electrical wiring overhead, rows upon rows of small metal pieces, and rooms upon rooms of all types of machinery. </div><div><br /></div><div>The boys were enamored by the vastness of it all:</div><div><br /></div><div>"Mom, what's that? An indoor street sweeper truck?"</div><div>"Oh, take a picture of that thing, over there, the one with all the buttons!"</div><div>"Hey, that looks like gold. Maybe they forgot this. It looks important."</div><div><br /></div><div>We had a lot of fun exploring, and we're looking forward to watching the cranes disassemble it in the coming months.</div><div><br /></div>Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-49640227638953718632010-01-24T14:44:00.001-08:002010-01-24T14:58:26.799-08:00Mitsumasa Anno's Math Games II<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDbxDnRrwYe8ansdVZlR_OE-NyQLSjCdrtmh3c_NZPgDCc8MCFcBTyGop2DDvA5YrujNtZNzLBdbrrDARWqfRbgdyU72Rmrj970aZUq6o8uml6nF2qVUq_qTJprGrHEp7gUCY5GL1OKmNM/s1600-h/a792225b9da07c41c6cc0110.L.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 271px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDbxDnRrwYe8ansdVZlR_OE-NyQLSjCdrtmh3c_NZPgDCc8MCFcBTyGop2DDvA5YrujNtZNzLBdbrrDARWqfRbgdyU72Rmrj970aZUq6o8uml6nF2qVUq_qTJprGrHEp7gUCY5GL1OKmNM/s320/a792225b9da07c41c6cc0110.L.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430441366483074994" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I discovered this great series of books about math in the 'Games' section of my favorite bookstore.Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-31732271463845098702009-12-25T19:43:00.000-08:002010-02-14T20:21:02.941-08:00Merry Christmas<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9o6rp4TiHuqQ6u-P9L07LNMZ8cqr0Z0On716sCM86gItics0u5a52IH_biqW4hJKVLwL9I9Z2MMjJ_TcO3iCA2H9ARI56xMJfZjRIfKi_fFptfcBoNMuc8CQwIjvTbVAHr38pWyOMlGoL/s1600-h/2464-red.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 144px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9o6rp4TiHuqQ6u-P9L07LNMZ8cqr0Z0On716sCM86gItics0u5a52IH_biqW4hJKVLwL9I9Z2MMjJ_TcO3iCA2H9ARI56xMJfZjRIfKi_fFptfcBoNMuc8CQwIjvTbVAHr38pWyOMlGoL/s320/2464-red.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419389672034719138" border="0" /></a><br />The morning of Christmas Eve presented a unique challenge. Our seven year old woke up earlier than usual, and his first words to me were this: "Mom, what about breakfast with Santa?"<br /><br />I gently reminded him that the snow kept us home from a local event in which families enjoy breakfast and a visit with Santa. My answer was no consolation. "But how will he know what I want?"<br /><br />His concern was valid. In his world, this was a very important matter. I felt a renewed focus to help him on his quest. I bravely replied: "I think Santa will be at the mall today. Let's get ready now to go and see him."<br /><br />We arrived early enough to wait in line for a short twenty-five minutes. The entire production was professional, with a clear focus on the photographed memory. Santa himself seemed a bit tired, a little grumpy and ready to be done with the whole thing. I wish I had quietly told the team--the usher, photographer and Santa himself: "We don't care about the picture. My son just wants to talk to you."<br /><br />Hindsight being twenty/twenty, the kids and I got swept up in the production. Twenty dollars later, we left for home, just as families were being given pagers to be notified for their space in line.<br /><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>*<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>*<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>*<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div><div><br /></div><div>This Christmas has been quite enjoyable. The kids all got toys that take batteries: a simple digital camera, a voice recorder which also plays MP3s (all the bells and whistles without the screen), a pretend chainsaw with four different sounds. I did most of the shopping last minute, choosing wisely not to get stressed out. I know, Mom's are often in charge of such things. Jugs of maple syrup, good olive oil, freshly roasted coffee...who doesn't enjoy such delights?</div><div><br />The gifts I received were really nice: a case of seltzer water, a lightweight jacket, a small set of ceramic houses my sister and I used to play with , and a copy of The J Peterman Company Owner's Manual No. 72. It's the most clever print advertising I've read in years.</div>Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-60401667060485603702009-11-26T18:16:00.001-08:002009-11-26T19:29:09.368-08:00Happy Thanksgiving<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN2yz7NCEt2j4C2YXZfCG7IFm3PG7vHwANagE7Ykz0Mwf03LkiFit8-K5Jk9-ho8Ny9Nh2k7vQSNn7e2PP5S3vDk32W32vj0npI5SBQJtY9WWoXdQHrd6PMrqTzzXrkk28SPY_NlOxyOof/s1600/t-day+010.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN2yz7NCEt2j4C2YXZfCG7IFm3PG7vHwANagE7Ykz0Mwf03LkiFit8-K5Jk9-ho8Ny9Nh2k7vQSNn7e2PP5S3vDk32W32vj0npI5SBQJtY9WWoXdQHrd6PMrqTzzXrkk28SPY_NlOxyOof/s320/t-day+010.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408615571217675794" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXTpAoYnD9L_RAESNByFohhLsjwrrkrjYMwDo5syuClTaZ8k4o-v9mDco5mk1OYziwXUllbq6bUSok8I5yjV1qzHGVhMFNEjL7_u_O_D-XhJ8Tmm6ltjEmpVPzqk1abMBZA_8wzFV1YTM0/s1600/t-day+012.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXTpAoYnD9L_RAESNByFohhLsjwrrkrjYMwDo5syuClTaZ8k4o-v9mDco5mk1OYziwXUllbq6bUSok8I5yjV1qzHGVhMFNEjL7_u_O_D-XhJ8Tmm6ltjEmpVPzqk1abMBZA_8wzFV1YTM0/s320/t-day+012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408602443003243890" border="0" /></a>Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-22296684880211743142009-11-04T18:55:00.000-08:002009-11-04T19:08:19.757-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN4nWAYIugODo3GX3DtiodV0c9isikM1vPygUGEwNN3V9sHq8NFASmR3Jsu6fQHmFhb79g49oM01lkdS9SaiG_lb1Fud37P91g4R83PT-0P6E8zfk8LBZfVk9nwGU_FJS307pDDFG_USob/s1600-h/Danielson7.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN4nWAYIugODo3GX3DtiodV0c9isikM1vPygUGEwNN3V9sHq8NFASmR3Jsu6fQHmFhb79g49oM01lkdS9SaiG_lb1Fud37P91g4R83PT-0P6E8zfk8LBZfVk9nwGU_FJS307pDDFG_USob/s320/Danielson7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400447895514122914" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I would love to live in a neighborhood like this: clean, surrounded by mature trees, with real sidewalks for pedestrians and cyclists. Every house has a large porch, intended for use as an outdoor room. How soon will we see these kinds of neighborhoods sprout up along the eastern United States?<br /><br />www.rosschapin.comMargueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-35617749675525410482009-10-09T19:41:00.000-07:002009-10-09T20:28:28.014-07:00Dinotopia<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu4XxMyCSoVP58p9laW1qJDQ_ts5w11JFvgmeDXvp0VBs-d_5O-VLLdVAjaRzNLMC8yDbWmPOloi3A6M-bqsNqEF5NrojnWL5Lcr9ot59vEhTClN51-cQrzn1W_jAvg5sMJflu2VUobZk8/s1600-h/shadow_chasing.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu4XxMyCSoVP58p9laW1qJDQ_ts5w11JFvgmeDXvp0VBs-d_5O-VLLdVAjaRzNLMC8yDbWmPOloi3A6M-bqsNqEF5NrojnWL5Lcr9ot59vEhTClN51-cQrzn1W_jAvg5sMJflu2VUobZk8/s320/shadow_chasing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390795984779525058" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />This week I ran across the book<span style="font-style: italic;"> Dinotopia: A Land Apart from Time, </span>written and<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>illustrated<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>by James Gurney. I was floating around one of my favorite places, the Kennett Area Senior Center Book Store. It's a used book store whose donor base is often both affluent and educated, so the selection is good. I had a spare hour, child free, and wanted to enjoy every minute of it. <br /><br />I am enamored by this book and plan to enjoy the other two in the series which follow. There's discovery and adventure, inventions and engineering, contemplation and philosophy. Read aloud season is upon us, when the kids and I bundle up in bed and enjoy a chapter book together. I might suprise them with this book soon.<br /><br />For three weeks now, the paw paw trees have been yielding their sumptuous fruit. Some describe the taste of North America's largest native fruit as that of banana-pineapple, others say it is like a sweet mango, while others say it has an aspect of vanilla-root beer. Some hand sized raspberry plants padded into a small nursery bed in the spring quickly grew to productive canes within months. We've been enjoying the month long backyard harvest. Yesterday my husband brought in three chestnuts, the first ever to fall, from two trees which were planted when our seven year old was just a baby. We promptly set to roasting them, and enjoyed the warm, starchy sweetness.Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-64193978689292060402009-09-01T18:50:00.001-07:002009-09-28T21:41:14.206-07:00New Discoveries<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Em_Oyd-ecMz2HOc1NMCHu1B0GTNh2fCRZuoRFoEKUJ84gwGDUaZZmjbBGNNKxXCrGgUeK3F5Af8ftabRoBBVppURhStRCEnJ1WdQkhIWMZBPNgf37baSKwEsXDw09RIMQFB2TXl9c5vY/s1600-h/folding_development_fig.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 284px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Em_Oyd-ecMz2HOc1NMCHu1B0GTNh2fCRZuoRFoEKUJ84gwGDUaZZmjbBGNNKxXCrGgUeK3F5Af8ftabRoBBVppURhStRCEnJ1WdQkhIWMZBPNgf37baSKwEsXDw09RIMQFB2TXl9c5vY/s320/folding_development_fig.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385974009234331122" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Abstract: </span><div> <p class="my_justify move_rt"><span style="font-style: italic;"> Fascinating and elegant shapes may be folded from a single planar sheet of material without stretching, tearing or cutting, if one incorporates curved folds into the design. We present an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">optimization based</span> computational framework for design and digital reconstruction of surfaces which can be produced by curved folding. Our work not only contributes to applications in architecture and industrial design, but it also provides a new way to study the complex and largely unexplored phenomena arising in curved folding. </span></p><p class="my_justify move_rt"><br /></p><p class="my_justify move_rt">I've spent the last month transitioning into the new family schedule. I thrive off of newness and variation, though this new set of responsibilities has sent me back to the drawing board. My husband has been a great anchor, providing a calm focus in contrast to the background chatter of life with three young children.<br /></p><p class="my_justify move_rt">My birthday passed by without much fanfare. In my haste, I forgot to ask for the day off (from mothering that is!). I was delighted by the special recognition at work. With every year that passes, I still feel ageless. Thirty-four seems a lot like twenty-eight, which seemed a bit like twenty-three. Although now when I listen to my favorite Miles Davis album, Live-Evil, the music has never sounded so good. It still sounds like the first time I heard it, which was decades ago. I bet I'm not the only person who feels this way about their favorite Miles Davis album.<br /></p><p class="my_justify move_rt">So, new discoveries for this month include: hydrofoil surfboards, kite-surfing, paper folding, barefoot jump rope games, freestyle dance, roller derby, the writer Malcolm <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Gladwell</span> and digital video cameras that film 1,400,000 frames per second.</p><p class="my_justify move_rt"></p></div>Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-58785918590689555432009-08-29T19:44:00.001-07:002009-08-31T07:11:49.510-07:00Unison Hand Made Pastels<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaFogZN1jcFmJVYpJQUJwF66SpZOz3s3W_y4CuVTWYpbjfBL7-FfgbDcV0igxqO0ZvDjgB8LMeetuX5NXU38U5S6oTkoO1A33GYUIwNp8aiUfjkqT8C2On6B475BUEqbXQAa8vHAX3emL_/s1600-h/product_range_pastels.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 165px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaFogZN1jcFmJVYpJQUJwF66SpZOz3s3W_y4CuVTWYpbjfBL7-FfgbDcV0igxqO0ZvDjgB8LMeetuX5NXU38U5S6oTkoO1A33GYUIwNp8aiUfjkqT8C2On6B475BUEqbXQAa8vHAX3emL_/s320/product_range_pastels.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375584859234764146" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />These beautiful pastels are hand rolled and air-dried by a small company in Northumberland, England. This may be a place where work and play are used as synonyms. Those colorful sticks remind me of the ones my older brother and I used to make when we were little. I recall one of our main games of playing pretend centered around the idea of 'work'---where we worked, what we did at work, that we were either going to or coming back from work. At one time, my 'office' was up in a pine tree. These games of make believe lasted hours, days, months, years.<br /><br />Yesterday the rain poured on and off and kept my husband away from his usual tasks. He is a landscaper and an arborist, and for the most part he loves his work. He is also a musician, a composer. After tending to the kids and their needs all morning, he set aside some time in the afternoon to sit down at the piano.<br /><br />He started off with a familiar tune, some classic jazz standard, and then kept going until he got through it without a flaw. As he warmed up, he went into some of his own compositions, playing them in rounds, changing a few notes here and a few notes there. The house filled not only with the chords, but also with the memories and feelings, the times and situations when he first sat down and played the bits and pieces of what would become full songs. Whenever I hear him play something new that sounds bright, distinct and special, I put in a gentle request:<br /><br />"Oh, I like that one. Can you write it down?"Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-19572210854858946232009-07-22T08:31:00.000-07:002009-07-22T08:59:23.088-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiikB8E4W5PgsJX114uOcNTPlEuv9Ocx0Pm9DRGZrMQppN4V7OQXWC4CyaJoHp47-y4j7ZLLg95-kWyujbBNiae-gvggptLbwRFYpI3JKpHGhTIw1chD9eraRwJjBDvwReGUYz1pB8AlLst/s1600-h/tiny-free-pallet-house-300x400.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiikB8E4W5PgsJX114uOcNTPlEuv9Ocx0Pm9DRGZrMQppN4V7OQXWC4CyaJoHp47-y4j7ZLLg95-kWyujbBNiae-gvggptLbwRFYpI3JKpHGhTIw1chD9eraRwJjBDvwReGUYz1pB8AlLst/s320/tiny-free-pallet-house-300x400.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361308464321412930" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />There's something about the warm weather that makes me feel like building. When I was a kid, about nine years old, I recognized that I wanted to be an architect when I grew up. A couple of years later, my family embarked upon a summertime labor which brought me close to that aspiration. In our back yard, starting in the summer when I was eleven, we built an addition that doubled the size of our house. My dad was a teacher, and had the summers off. He supervised us with incredible patience and care. The older siblings were all given a new pair of sneakers, a hammer and a nail apron. We started off the project with digging, shovel by shovel, the crawl space and foundation. The younger kids had a great time playing in the piles of dirt.<br /><br />If I remember well, that phase took a month or two. I enjoyed the physical labor, and didn't hold much of a grudge on 'having to' work on the addition. We worked the morning until lunch, took a two hour break, and then worked some more through the afternoon. Any socializing or hanging out was done after dinner.<br /><br />The addition was like a part of the family. Our cousin played a main role on the work crew, as well as various aunts and uncles. I remember when the trusses were delivered early one morning. We all stood there in our youth, commenting on how in the world we would get the largest ones up to the second floor, let alone nail them in. We were a motley crew, and we knew it. Somehow we knew that this great responsibility was really an honor.<br /><br />So, as the summer rolls along, I aim to focus my skills and build something with wood, hammer and nails. Of course the kids will be asking, "Mom, can I help?"Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-5731695538291537882009-07-01T07:22:00.000-07:002009-07-05T18:50:32.553-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiYciTx58RyCS40202CsBonoFrJY9pmkoGVa1TkvchF3b2dJgG0N_o2fceiL_rnLsOQAfGCOIX826zHWvUHKzOwclrjsWtxWBYkLY8hazhQtlAYvcCJb_Jeakby1bPmHla3Y_zx54aDrk1/s1600-h/diving_1378095f.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 293px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiYciTx58RyCS40202CsBonoFrJY9pmkoGVa1TkvchF3b2dJgG0N_o2fceiL_rnLsOQAfGCOIX826zHWvUHKzOwclrjsWtxWBYkLY8hazhQtlAYvcCJb_Jeakby1bPmHla3Y_zx54aDrk1/s320/diving_1378095f.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355157797985014242" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Summer vacation is in full swing. The kids were finished school on the 17th of June; it was a very long school year. We've been passing the time with board games, hanging out with friends and visiting with family. The kids caught up with two different sets of cousins, first nearby in Newark, and then at the beach.<br /><br />I got to try out a new set of fins while swimming in the ocean. The week prior, I'd spent a little time reading up about free diving. While the ocean is not the safest place for me to try this out, our neighbors up the hill have a one acre spring fed pond. With friends nearby, I look forward to exploring the underwater world there.<br /></div><div> </div>Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-14566536029462165752009-06-05T20:31:00.000-07:002009-06-05T21:39:49.192-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhstOppmoXjjYm2lUsBzYFeBQAf1-Is5k4ALUTuGf-iKfxfT3nOeDa8VMOccF45D7t7DZ5DDsj7mQkoEdvjR_frb8rEOLx-pLGRLdolqFiBrCOHmHiaw5kxZOVBPzVrtDRl605Nzp7zduHo/s1600-h/may+2009+206.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhstOppmoXjjYm2lUsBzYFeBQAf1-Is5k4ALUTuGf-iKfxfT3nOeDa8VMOccF45D7t7DZ5DDsj7mQkoEdvjR_frb8rEOLx-pLGRLdolqFiBrCOHmHiaw5kxZOVBPzVrtDRl605Nzp7zduHo/s320/may+2009+206.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344053115328008226" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />On most days when I'm not at work, you'll find me at home in the backyard, working in the garden. Pictured above are the snap peas and broccoli. Our youngest child has a wheelbarrow and set of tools which keep him happy. He's got a pile of sand and soil of which he is fully in charge. He helps me water and mulch, and will gladly transport piles of weeds onto the compost. Even in the heat of the day, he stays focused on the task. When he's tired, he stops working and lets me know he's ready to go inside. I try and follow his lead. These are very special times that we share together.<br /><br />This week there was an incredible thunder and wind storm. The power was out, and dinner had been served hours before. I was ready to be relieved of any domestic chores, so I decided to go out for a run. Our second child was adamant about joining me.<br /><br />"Not today. I want to go by myself."<br />"Mom, I want to go with you. Please, please Mom!"<br />"Sometimes I say yes and sometimes I say no. Right now the answer's no."<br /><br />He runs away as I lace up my shoes. By the time I am finished putting my hair up in a ponytail, he returns, holding his thickest pair of winter socks. He proceeds to put them on, pulling them up as high as they can go.<br /><br />"OK, come on, we'll go together."<br />"Yeah!! Thanks Mom."<br /><br />Children are so easily pleased. We drive to a nearby trail, and the second we close the car door he's off and running. I follow his lead, and let him set the pace. When he's tired, he walks, and I run ahead and then back, so that we're always in sight of each other. Half-way through he asks if he can take off his shirt.<br /><br />"Sure."<br />"Yeah, I saw two other people running with their shirts off."<br />"Well, it's pretty hot."<br />"Hey Mom, if you're sweaty, you can use my shirt to wipe your forehead."<br />"Thanks. Can I use it right now?"<br />"Yeah."<br /><br />He's a very considerate person. We had a wonderful time, and we've got plans to run together once a week. Next week he says he wants to have a race.<br /><br />Our daughter has been busy, with end of the school year projects and tests. Last week we finally caught up for some laughter and conversation.<br /><br />"So, what are you reading now?"<br />"The Percy Jackson series. Oh Mom, the 5th one came out last week. Can we go to Borders soon?"<br />"Let's go tomorrow after breakfast."<br />"Oh, cool, thanks."<br /><br />She's old enough now to buy these things with her own money. The next day she spends all afternoon reading on the couch. I admire the way she works hard at school, and then sets out to relax on the weekend. She's meeting her own needs. She was one of twelve students (out of 56 who applied) chosen to be an ambassador for her school. Reading that letter of acceptance was a moment for me to step back and realize that her school community recognizes her for the wonderful individual whom she is. I am happy for her, and humbled by her wisdom and grace.<br /><br />It is really helpful for me to recognize how easy it can be to be a positive, loving presence in my family's life. They are continual reminders of the never ending present moment, otherwise known as 'life'.Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-73605345337161584322009-05-16T21:51:00.000-07:002009-05-16T21:53:43.319-07:00Such an interesting article...<h1 class="story">Cyber Millenials: High-tech And Highly Educated Young Adults Who Drink Way Too Much</h1> <p id="first"><span class="date">ScienceDaily (May 17, 2009)</span> — "Audience segmentation" refers to categorizing people by their behaviors, attitudes, opinions, or lifestyles. It is widely used in social-marketing efforts. A new study uses this method to find high-risk drinkers in the US, leading researchers to a group dubbed the Cyber Millenials: "the nation's tech-savvy singles and couples living in fashionable neighborhoods on the urban fringe."</p> <div id="seealso"> <hr /> <em></em> </div> <p>"Marketing research provides a unique window on individuals as consumers that has rarely been used in alcohol-prevention efforts," explained Howard B. Moss, associate director for Clinical and Translational Research at the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism (NIAAA) and corresponding author for the study.</p> <p>"We already know that a substantial proportion of the morbidity and mortality associated with alcohol use is due to heedless high-risk drinking," said Moss. "In this study, we utilized an established and widely used marketing research database and merged it with data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) in order to identify high-risk drinkers, their demographics, and consumer behaviors and media habits."</p> <p>"This is a new approach, which is exactly why this paper is so interesting," added Vivian B. Faden, acting director of the Office of Science Policy and Communications at NIAAA. "Analyses such as this one may provide an important additional way to identify high-risk drinkers by understanding the 'social' groups in which they are most likely to be found. Understanding these groups better and more broadly in terms of their habits, likes and dislikes, and shopping, entertainment and other preferences can help inform prevention efforts."</p> <p>Moss and his colleagues used multiple marketing-research data sources merged with the CDC's Behavioral Risk Factor Surveillance System database. They performed a segmentation analysis of those individuals who self-reported consuming five or more drinks per drinking episode at least twice in the preceding 30 days.</p> <p>"We identified the top 10 audience segments in the U.S. that engaged in twice-a-month, high-risk drinking," said Moss. "Five of these audience segments were made up of young adults, and five were middle-aged individuals. The young adult segment we called the 'Cyber Millenials,' with the highest rate of risky levels of alcohol drinking, represented well-educated, ethnically mixed, technologically sophisticated individuals who live in urban fringe areas on the West Coast and Middle Atlantic regions."</p> <p>One of the surprising things about this group, added Moss, was that it is one of the most health-conscious segments of American society. "They have a lower-than-average smoking rate, they go to the gym, they consume organic produce, yet they binge drink at a level that is clearly detrimental to their well-being."</p> <p>What was not surprising, observed Faden, was that this group was relatively young. "Drinking and high-risk drinking are most prevalent among young people," she said, "and many Cyber Millennials may be continuing drinking patterns established in their late teens and early twenties. In addition, this is an affluent group whose members have the resources to pay for multiple drinks, in a bar or club for example."</p> <p>"Clinicians tend to be more blasé with younger, healthier patients, and might not even ask them about their level of alcohol consumption or screen them for alcohol problems," said Moss. Since half of our top 10 high-risk drinking segments are young adults, clinicians might want to 'ratchet up' their index of suspicion when these individuals present clinically. Asking about drinking behavior, giving advice, or conducting a formal brief intervention might save lives in the short-term, and reduce the risk of later development of alcohol-related organ damage or alcohol dependence."</p> <p>"The average reader may be interested in figuring out which group they belong to," said Faden. "Knowing what the drinking habits of that group are may encourage them to reflect on their own drinking practices and recognize that they may be engaging in high-risk drinking." These findings could also be very useful in designing health campaigns for different audiences, she said.</p> <p>"Readers need to recognize that a healthy lifestyle should include moderation in the consumption of alcoholic beverages," said Moss. "Being young, sophisticated, smart, successful, affluent and physically active does not protect against the adverse effects of heedless and excessive alcohol consumption."</p>Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-42653506275965706432009-05-05T19:46:00.000-07:002009-05-05T20:43:36.976-07:00Rain, and lots of it...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQyAfmBnkbzcBdlWzSayILPGN1tJe1IxQKayBnnCUh8IUWUeeN4aIyRVHg4ArSU_RK5m5qFLCpsli2G8fABTyIJh_dDsVW3OJuraF3VKGBRI4oYjy9Ffhv8cCBg2JKfgHFv9x6kRwe1Y_o/s1600-h/AdamsGum-1920A.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 226px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQyAfmBnkbzcBdlWzSayILPGN1tJe1IxQKayBnnCUh8IUWUeeN4aIyRVHg4ArSU_RK5m5qFLCpsli2G8fABTyIJh_dDsVW3OJuraF3VKGBRI4oYjy9Ffhv8cCBg2JKfgHFv9x6kRwe1Y_o/s320/AdamsGum-1920A.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332551330875917986" border="0" /></a>The cold rain hasn't stopped the boys from playing outside. A break in the clouds or even a steady drizzle has them putting on any available dry footwear. I coax them into hats and jackets, and remind them to be careful.<br /><br />"It's slippery outside. Be careful on your bike."<br />"OK Mom, we'll be careful."<br /><br />I stay inside, warm and dry, looking out the window every five minutes or so. For me, it is cookbook weather. I make a hot cup of tea and sit down at the kitchen table with a nice stack of favorites beside me. There's Nigella, Jerry Traunfeld, Heidi Swanson and the Barefoot Contessa, all set out to join me for the rainy afternoon. After sorting through half the pile, rereading old favorites and studying the pictures and techniques, I set out to make something delicious.<br /><br />I set some water onto boil, get out the measuring cups and salt, roll up my sleeves and get to work. Really though, it is more like play. I get to mess around in the kitchen and create edible expressions of love and care. First, cornmeal mush with butter and smoked cheese, as the kids will be hungry from playing outside like puppies. Next, I sautee some onions for a while, to allow time to chop and steam vegetables for a spicy peanut stir-fry. There's a pot of rice cooked yesterday to go with that.<br /><br />Then onto something sweet. There's a favorite recipe for bars, with oats, dried cranberries and ginger. I double the recipe, and soon find out that this is best made one batch at a time. Oh well, it makes for a pleasant granola. I make another cup of tea while I wrestle with the dishes. The boys burst in from outside, smelling like wet dogs. Their pants are soaked up to their knees, but their eyes are shining. They soon get changed into warm, dry clothes and join me at the table to enjoy bowls of cornmeal mush. It is an honor, to care for my family in this way.Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-84394049399539909372009-04-24T21:18:00.000-07:002009-04-24T21:44:25.316-07:00Storage Units Make Great NeighborhoodsPhotos by Christina Storozkova<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi19-euIdnDYZ8fQljEBY2XgoIYjMJuVNVyliQBeDZTbB9SqDVW3DCnv4VhKgH6FTz_2K1C1FygNv6AEAiS9Tmn6lCQVHbf11ql8Uo0su8OjMDdEJqzXCHQaV8V7bPhGYx2sUh8XhRVy7KP/s1600-h/collagew.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 196px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi19-euIdnDYZ8fQljEBY2XgoIYjMJuVNVyliQBeDZTbB9SqDVW3DCnv4VhKgH6FTz_2K1C1FygNv6AEAiS9Tmn6lCQVHbf11ql8Uo0su8OjMDdEJqzXCHQaV8V7bPhGYx2sUh8XhRVy7KP/s320/collagew.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328483137513753378" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;" class="post-title entry-title"><br /></h3><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I found this interesting article on www.handsonbuildergrower.blogspot.com :<br /><br /><h3 class="post-title entry-title"><a href="http://handsonbuildergrower.blogspot.com/2008/09/color-blind-trumps-camoflage.html">Color Matching by the Color Blind</a> </h3> Color matching is an important aspect of the printing industry and something I got pretty good at after 8 years in the industry. Generally, when a color is not right it needs one of five colors to make it right - red, blue, yellow, black, or white/clear. 15 years later, I still describe colors as having more of one primary color and less of another (I have never been good at naming all the crayon colors).<br /><br />Sometimes when we were stumped, we would ask our color-blind associate to help us. He could only see color as gray, but he could tell if one gray was darker (denser) than another and that would help us make the adjustments that to color that the rest of us couldn't see.<br /><br />This was a surprise to me, that a color blind person could help match colors. When I asked around about it, I was told that color blind people were used to look at aerial photos during World War II. They did not see the camoflage. They could pick out hidden artillery or tanks that others wouldn't see.<br /><br />Think about that the next time you are picking out numbers from the colored dots at the eye doctors office.Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-40015947797087677782009-04-21T20:33:00.000-07:002009-04-24T21:45:48.495-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi20XfB2jjTgpSFyP1qtWOYseN7VUebMdbP6JzwuEs5teK1e0vm95m5feRa3f59ooIp_6lMGSwZL5qP2wcP18MNo7oziuG4VNSSMkHLWmFUwmV5_g8aG4jF05rrAHnBXZWnywvG6EgFneiv/s1600-h/april2009+163.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi20XfB2jjTgpSFyP1qtWOYseN7VUebMdbP6JzwuEs5teK1e0vm95m5feRa3f59ooIp_6lMGSwZL5qP2wcP18MNo7oziuG4VNSSMkHLWmFUwmV5_g8aG4jF05rrAHnBXZWnywvG6EgFneiv/s320/april2009+163.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327354877322244850" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />With the warmer weather comes the inevitable days spent at the creek. There is a place nearby where two branches meet. The water is clear, and there's ample shade and a sandy beach on which to have a picnic. There is an old rail road trestle whose stone walls are still standing strong. The kids enjoy a safe place to climb and descend. The other day we found some charcoal from a small fire pit, and promptly set out to decorate the larger stones nearby. These afternoons are well spent with friends and their young ones.Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-81689154765367881772009-04-11T19:41:00.000-07:002009-04-11T20:37:36.093-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAElKAisa1U6HPdAZ6Rm1Z1SbDkhyphenhyphenpPaHON1OjxjqLtXqhpXaEW6Ze8r61QFl8okVuDlbk95t9xwQtyZuIRsMF_6UDeRrpMI_QgYmzGs5HbIWSeJxtpWdX5qNPp9PPVP1pHKdlexEhhxX8/s1600-h/roxaboxen.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 257px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAElKAisa1U6HPdAZ6Rm1Z1SbDkhyphenhyphenpPaHON1OjxjqLtXqhpXaEW6Ze8r61QFl8okVuDlbk95t9xwQtyZuIRsMF_6UDeRrpMI_QgYmzGs5HbIWSeJxtpWdX5qNPp9PPVP1pHKdlexEhhxX8/s320/roxaboxen.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323630668517122626" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I've been sick this week, hiding underneath my sleeping bag, laying on the couch for days. The kids have gotten used to fending for themselves. Sure, I've gotten up to make a few meals, wash the dishes and cook up a strong pot of soup. Because of sheer exhaustion, coupled by a paradoxical case of insomnia, I feel as if I have reached some new threshold of mothering. Yesterday afternoon I had to get out of the house. My husband and the kids lit a small fire outside. I laid down on the grass to watch the clouds roll by and listen to the twilight bird songs. I wish I had a week off from mothering, in full health!<br /><br />With this incredible amount of 'free time' to get better, I've been rereading piles of favorite books: anything written or illustrated by Barbara Cooney, David Wiesner's visual journey's and<br />Charlotte and David Yue's series on various Native American tribes. I set up a short playlist of favorite Ray Charles songs: "Busted", "It's Not Easy Being Green", and "Ring of Fire". This too shall pass, and soon I will be back in good health.Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026873403542335834.post-20672241833537615952009-03-26T09:04:00.000-07:002009-03-28T21:32:09.899-07:00To Renew or Not to Renew<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv3EiT5Wu_DWMdFSeBtBUs7ILXNE4O9Pr2yIpH8qrk5zzMDrKKLe8jHvfWnezaFx7C4IeV1lwofMMCHC3EgiRv3v24upZTpkR40h0WxkoEOs9EA8S35cvJxzplR0MYw3Gn5oJddzAAF5bi/s1600-h/43634trk.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 293px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv3EiT5Wu_DWMdFSeBtBUs7ILXNE4O9Pr2yIpH8qrk5zzMDrKKLe8jHvfWnezaFx7C4IeV1lwofMMCHC3EgiRv3v24upZTpkR40h0WxkoEOs9EA8S35cvJxzplR0MYw3Gn5oJddzAAF5bi/s320/43634trk.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317532322884431538" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />We have an abundance of magazine subscriptions. One of my favorites is <span style="font-style: italic;">The Smithsonian</span>. My grandmother always had a copy on her coffee table. The photographs are fantastic, and the articles offer a variety of interesting topics.<br /><br />We've held onto <span style="font-style: italic;">Permaculture Magazine</span> for years. It is published out of England. The articles are didactic and project oriented, like this month's "Wild Brewing", "Transition Allotments", and "How to Build Reciprocal Framed Roofs". <span style="font-style: italic;">Runner's World</span> was the best choice offered from a fundraiser for the kids' school.<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">ReadyMade</span> was a gift from a friend.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I.D. </span>is a design magazine, with reviews on projects and designers from around the world. I obtained enough free copies of <span style="font-style: italic;">Inventors Digest</span> from a local library to commit to a one year trial. It's a thin publication, though the information is focused and precise.<br /><br />I chose to let go of <span style="font-style: italic;">Dwell</span>--two years was enough, and the focus on eco-modern is too narrow for my appetite for learning about new things.<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">CMYK</span>, a quarterly, proved enjoyable, though costly. It may be up to fifteen dollars an issue now. From the library I enjoy <span style="font-style: italic;">Entrepreneur</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">Writer's Digest<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;">, Bicycling</span></span></span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Saveur. </span>I am on the lookout for something dance oriented, as well as something focused on positive parenting.<br /><br />My newest subscription is to <span style="font-style: italic;">Metropolis</span>. The focus is on innovation and trends in the world of architecture and design. From within its pages I recently learned about the A2B tricycle (pictured above), as well as this engaging article about instructing and learning:<br /><br /><br />In recent years, IDEO has spent a lot of time and effort thinking about education. The firm’s work with Ormondale Elementary School, in Portola Valley, California, helped pioneer a special “investigative-learning” curriculum that inspires students to be seekers of knowledge. We spoke to Sandy Speicher, who heads the Design for Learning efforts at IDEO. Her insights provide powerful lessons for architects and designers creating the schools of tomorrow:<br /><!-- End of Paragraph 0 --><!-- Beginning of Paragraph 1 --><p> <b>1. Pull, don’t push. </b><br />Create an environment that raises a lot of questions from each of your students, and help them translate that into insight and understanding. Education is too often seen as the transmission of knowledge. Real learning happens when the student feels the need to reconcile a question he or she is facing—and can’t help but seek out an answer.<br /></p><!-- End of Paragraph 1 --><!-- Beginning of Paragraph 2 --><p> <b>2. Create from relevance. </b><br />Engage kids in ways that have relevance to them, and you’ll capture their attention and imagination. Allow them to experience the concepts you’re teaching firsthand, and then discuss them (or, better yet, work to address them!) instead of relying on explanation alone.<br /></p><!-- End of Paragraph 2 --><!-- Beginning of Paragraph 3 --><p> <b>3. Stop calling them “soft” skills. </b><br />Talents such as creativity, collaboration, communication, empathy, and adaptability are not just nice to have; they’re the core capabilities of a 21st-century global economy facing complex challenges.<br /></p><!-- End of Paragraph 3 --><!-- Beginning of Paragraph 4 --><p> <b>4. Allow for variation. </b><br />Evolve past a one- size-fits-all mentality and permit mass customization, both in the system and the classroom. Too often, equality in education is treated as sameness. The truth is that everyone is starting from a different place and going to a different place.<br /></p><!-- End of Paragraph 4 --><!-- Beginning of Paragraph 5 --><p> <b>5. No more sage onstage. </b><br />Engaged learning can’t always happen in neat rows. People need to get their hands dirty. They need to feel, experience, and build. In this interactive environment, the role of the teacher is transformed from the expert telling people the answer to an enabler of learning. Step away from the front of the room and find a place to engage with your learners as the “guide on the side.”<br /></p><!-- End of Paragraph 5 --><!-- Beginning of Paragraph 6 --><p> <b>6. Teachers are designers. </b><br />Let them create. Build an environment where your teachers are actively engaged in learning by doing. Shift the conversation from prescriptive rules to permissive guidance. Even though the resulting environment may be more complicated to manage, the teachers will produce amazing results.<br /></p><!-- End of Paragraph 6 --><!-- Beginning of Paragraph 7 --><p> <b>7. Build a learning community. </b><br />Learning doesn’t happen in the child’s mind alone. It happens through the social interactions with other kids and teachers, parents, the community, and the world at large. It really does take a village. Schools should find new ways to engage parents and build local and national partnerships. This doesn’t just benefit the child—it brings new resources and knowledge to your institution.<br /></p><!-- End of Paragraph 7 --><!-- Beginning of Paragraph 8 --><p> <b>8. Be an anthropologist, not an archaeologist. </b><br />An archaeologist seeks to understand the past by investigating its relics and digging for the truth of what was. An anthropologist studies people to understand their values, needs, and desires. If you want to design new solutions for the future, you have to understand what people care about and design for that. Don’t dig for the answer—connect.<br /></p><!-- End of Paragraph 8 --><!-- Beginning of Paragraph 9 --><p> <b>9. Incubate the future. </b><br />What if our K–12 schools took on the big challenges that we’re facing today? Allow children to see their role in creating this world by studying and creating for topics like global warming, transportation, waste management, health care, poverty, and even education. It’s not about finding the right answer. It’s about being in a place where we learn ambition, involvement, responsibility, not to mention science, math, and literature.<br /></p><!-- End of Paragraph 9 --><!-- Beginning of Paragraph 10 --><p> <b>10. Change the discourse. </b><br />If you want to drive new behavior, you have to measure new things. Skills such as creativity and collaboration can’t be measured on a bubble chart. We need to create new assessments that help us understand and talk about the developmental progress of 21st-century skills. This is not just about measuring outcomes, but also measuring process. We need formative assessments that are just as important as numeric ones. And here’s the trick: we can’t just have the measures. We actually have to value them.</p>Margueritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16825549978234035575noreply@blogger.com0