<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757</id><updated>2024-08-28T15:49:46.094-07:00</updated><title type='text'>En-her-gy</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>Cathy Malmrose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12525961927156674772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0z10GQhd1u-X2ilcynRh_raHARwH-0qcVBv3uluozMSvD4NmRLqxwc2H8DKiWFxY9tt_Shep0K4IsvElxKykbJUwUKmzqsDFHOkApSJqK-is8yU3D13ri9a0GcK59foc/s1600/*'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>238</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-3962204577513055427</id><published>2012-10-08T20:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-10-08T20:59:41.895-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Planning Nut</title><content type='html'>Some days I stand in the middle of the intersection.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Metaphorically, of course.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I like being at the intersection between highly creative people and more efficiency-driven people; the intersection of volunteerism and business; the intersection of  work and family. Sometimes I have the knee-jerk reaction of wishing things were more consistent and stress-free, but then I remember...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When I was a kid, I used to ride my horse down the middle of the road when there were no cars around, right down that dotted yellow line.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I also used to ride my bike down the middle of the road when there were no cars around. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There is something so magical about the existing in the middle of the road, the intersections of various segments of our world.</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/3962204577513055427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/3962204577513055427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2012/10/planning-nut.html' title='Planning Nut'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-9139623251467105438</id><published>2009-11-14T09:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T09:32:02.741-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Geeky friction</title><content type='html'>My young son was doing sack races on our hardwood floors this morning, using our soft, fuzzy flannel pillow cases as the sack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can probably guess what happened next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My young son crashed into the hardwood floor, yelling that &quot;Ow!&quot; that parents for blocks can hear. My older son ran to him and scooped him up in his arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Oh no, you fell? Your coefficient of friction was too low... (I didn&#39;t hear the next part because I was processing the sentence)... You know your friction would be larger if your mass was larger... (young son is quite skinny).&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Young son snuggles in deeply into old son&#39;s arm, feeling comforted. Between sniffles he mutters, &quot;I didn&#39;t (sniff) have enough friction (sniff).&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I leave the two sons to talk for a minute and as I walk away I hear, &quot;You know, normal force equals mg. You were standing up; you weren&#39;t sticking to the side of the wall.&quot; They laugh, sharing their secret geeky jokes as they ease the pain.</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/9139623251467105438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/9139623251467105438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-young-son-was-doing-sack-races-on.html' title='Geeky friction'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-1347223678820805734</id><published>2009-10-31T10:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T10:28:05.736-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Speed Tolerance</title><content type='html'>Everybody lives at their own speed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some need a month to prep for a doctor&#39;s visit and if they need it in the next week, they are panicked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some do rapid scheduling and don&#39;t need notice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am thinking that a lot of conflicts arise when people working at different speeds can&#39;t adjust to the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I know where I am on the spectrum. I found out on Friday that I need to leave for Taipei on Monday. This is typical. This is actually considered &quot;advance notice&quot;. The various obligations for next week can be canceled without me stressing over scheduling issues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&#39;m loving it. I like this speed. It matches my insides. I am so glad I am surrounded (mostly) by people who can support me and my fam!</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/1347223678820805734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/1347223678820805734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/10/speed-tolerance.html' title='Speed Tolerance'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-4108241961848222816</id><published>2009-10-14T22:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T22:21:34.261-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Failure</title><content type='html'>http://www.thinkgeek.com/homeoffice/posters/af7a/zoom/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=&quot;file:///tmp/moz-screenshot.jpg&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; /&gt;&lt;img src=&quot;file:///tmp/moz-screenshot-1.jpg&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; /&gt;&lt;img src=&quot;file:///tmp/moz-screenshot-2.jpg&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chatter after school:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Child: &quot;I made so many mistakes today!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parent: &quot;Did you learn from them?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Child: &quot;Lots!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parent: &quot;Cool!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, this is backpatting. Someone has got to pat it from time to time!</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/4108241961848222816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/4108241961848222816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/10/failure.html' title='Failure'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-6730755911460627381</id><published>2009-10-08T23:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T23:40:38.212-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We Will, We Will Rock You</title><content type='html'>My high school was:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* boring&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* cliquish&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;* under-achieving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bar was set so very low.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, at 15 yo, I took off overseas in search of a better high school education. I got it. But I didn&#39;t want my own kids to *leave the country* in order to access an experience that would challenge them in their teen years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vee &amp;amp; Keee are getting such a bizarrely rich education. Their math teacher is an MIT grad, ran the Dept of Health in two states, eep, and five years into retirement, Berkeley High called him and asked, &quot;School starts in five days. Can you teach our Calculus class?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cool thing about this type of hiring -- the teacher has got nothing to lose. He his only concern is the kids. He doesn&#39;t really care if he keeps his job, but he does care if he gets through to the kids and leaves a legacy of knowledge and striving for excellence (and a lot of math-jokes goofing-off).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other teachers are straight out of their masters program. Many from overseas. All, or at least all I have seen, have a deep motivation to teach -- forget the system and its requirements (or be so young you don&#39;t know it yet). Clear sitght -- do these kids know how to write? Can they speak extemporanesouly? Do they still have that spark of curiousity? If not, how do I respark it? Can they study hard? Can they push past that point of resistance? If so (who cares why)  how can I help them build that muscle? What crazy thing can I do in class to get the ones who have been deadened to wake up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stand on the desks?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Attack the first student with a cell phone that rings?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Break into classrooms randomly and sing the periodic table?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give the kids X-box remotes to take a group test with?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, there are some weird teachers who do crazy things to wake up the kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you ever want to see that the teenage years can be full of searching-for-knowledge (instead of what people normally say the teenage years are full of) then come with me to Berkeley High&#39;s Open House next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It&#39;s rough around the edges. Most definitely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that&#39;s how things get sharp.</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/6730755911460627381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/6730755911460627381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/10/we-will-we-will-rock-you.html' title='We Will, We Will Rock You'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-4500786617105421872</id><published>2009-10-08T23:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T23:27:07.220-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What I want for Christmas</title><content type='html'>What I want *every day* for my kids is a good school, a real education, an engaging and invigorating environment that enriches  their natural talents and encourages them to build new talent. Right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are a few random points from what Aee&#39;s teacher talked about at Back-to-School Night:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* It took her no longer than three minutes to get to the part about &quot;differentiating instruction for each child&quot;. Usually it takes teachers longer than that. If they get there at all. Differentiating instruction is difficult in any situation other than one-on-one tutoring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I have never heard &quot;differentiating talk before, but it is usually in a flufy way. I hadn&#39;t heard someone speakd so specifically. She said she differentiates for *every* child. I&#39;ll have to see this to believe it. For now, I know that she&#39;s giving Aee appropriate reading (big delicious-looking chapter books!), spelling (big tough-looking words), math (exercises that are right up her alley) and other work that seems to fit her wonderfully. Her work is different from her peers. There&#39;s a chance that each child&#39;s work is different from the other. We&#39;ll see more as the year goes on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always suspected it was possible to fully differentiate a classroom, but the closest I have ever seen is teachers putting children on &#39;tracks&quot; or in &quot;groups&quot; or otherwise segrating groups of kids who fit into a close-enough-to-this-peer category.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday when I came to pick the kids up from their afterschool program, I saw Aee and her teacher sitting on one of the picnic benches outside, under the trees which were blowing a bit in the wind. Aee was doing a reading test, smiling (at the book, not at me). When the teacher and Anna saw me, they both said, &quot;Aw, we&#39;re not ready yet!&quot; The teacher asked if I could come back in a little bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was 4:40 pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My comment was, &quot;Are you doing testing outside of school hours so that you can generally improve the quality of instrution during regular classtime?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She smiled and turned back to the test.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sweet!</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/4500786617105421872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/4500786617105421872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/10/what-i-want-for-christmas.html' title='What I want for Christmas'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-89222174602672070</id><published>2009-09-17T22:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T22:05:54.081-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleep</title><content type='html'>Tonight, at 10:01 pm, my son said, &quot;I&#39;m going to go comatose now and hallucinate vividly, then maybe in the morning I will have amnesia about those hallucinations. See ya.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Translated: &quot;I&#39;m going to bed now. See ya.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ha.</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/89222174602672070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/89222174602672070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/09/sleep.html' title='Sleep'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-6756450269310108407</id><published>2009-09-10T22:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T22:05:16.036-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sigh of relief</title><content type='html'>Every parent of a teenager dreads the day when they find something in their teenager&#39;s room or in their pants pocket while doing the wash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was doing laundry today, I noticed a bump in my son&#39;s cargo pants side pocket. I cringed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can imagine my relief when I pulled out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a mouse pad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whew.</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/6756450269310108407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/6756450269310108407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/09/sigh-of-relief.html' title='Sigh of relief'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-671794339576133711</id><published>2009-09-10T21:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T22:01:42.965-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Better Be Ready</title><content type='html'>This summer has been absolutely amazing, bouncing from one trip to the next, whirling through so many potentially joyous situations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got back from NZ and a week later we were headed off to Paris. Sweet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We&#39;re home now and the next trip on the calendar is Ohio. Every time I see that on the calendar I tilt my head and think, &quot;Ohio? I don&#39;t know how to react to that.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We&#39;ll see!</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/671794339576133711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/671794339576133711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/09/better-be-ready.html' title='Better Be Ready'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-9149378127688146547</id><published>2009-07-18T23:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T23:32:07.593-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Extremes</title><content type='html'>I love this -- in the last few days I have packed a full set of suitcases for:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* hot California summer&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;* snowy NZ winter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and there wasn&#39;t a single item of overlap so I could pack the suitcases and let them sit at the front door waiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like big wrapped presents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without bows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, I don&#39;t like vacations for the act of vacationing, as dictionary.com says, &quot;a period of suspension of work, study, or other activity, usually used for rest.&quot; Vacations seem to indicate a dislike of the regular day-to-day lives and a desire to get away, escape the grind. While I admit this last year has been the most difficult of my life (by a long shot) I don&#39;t view vacations as the stereotypical get-away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember when we lived in suburbia and everyone was taking off on their summer / winter vacations and I thought, &quot;Wow, only a few weeks a year is &#39;the good life&#39;. Eeep.&quot; It seemed more valuable to invest in making every day fulfilling so that the craving to disappear on vacation, to suspend that work, is not what drives you the other 350-ish days of the year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I try (although not all that successfully) to build an everyday life that is fulfilling enough so that &quot;vacations&quot; can be used for another purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Care to guess what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else could a vacation be? Other than relaxation?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think back to when you were five... Exploration! Discovery! Feeling the texture of the earth in a new place, new playground. Wondering at the new sky, letting that sense of awe wash over you as you relished your power to navigate the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, a trip feels more like the first time I walked on two legs. It&#39;s an amazing feeling. It&#39;s more of a study, a turning on of a switch, not the turning off that the word &quot;vacation&quot; implies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, that does sound hokey, I&#39;m sure, but it is wonderfully true. I love &quot;vacations&quot;. I just wish they didn&#39;t have such a Lazy Joe name to them.. &quot;Vacations&quot; sound boring. What about &quot;explorations&quot; or &quot;bouncing arounds&quot;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe I should just get back to prepping the house for my absence. 1/2 the family is staying home, so it&#39;s not a big deal, but still. I love leaving things clean. I don&#39;t care what it looks like when I get back, just as long as I can walk out the front door with the sight of a clean home as that last visual impression stored in memory.</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/9149378127688146547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/9149378127688146547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/07/extremes.html' title='Extremes'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-6503189220346767122</id><published>2009-07-18T22:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T22:26:30.378-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rollercoasters</title><content type='html'>At 10am this morning: &quot;I did it! I got the plane tix to AU and NZ!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10am to 10pm: So psyched, finally going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10pm: Travelocity calls, the tix didn&#39;t go through. Airline canceled one segment of an eight leg trip and the whole trip collapses. Doh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10:30pm: Rebooked, leaving in about 48 hrs. Psyched again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feels a bit like a rollercoaster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ironically, my beloved and three of the kids are in Santa Cruz this weekend riding actual rollercoasters.</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/6503189220346767122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/6503189220346767122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/07/rollercoasters.html' title='Rollercoasters'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-4179011779407219840</id><published>2009-07-16T22:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T22:52:42.285-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Unplugging</title><content type='html'>I love the other side of the tech curve. It used to be, &quot;How can tech improve my life?&quot; and now it&#39;s &quot;Do I really need all this tech?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every new device I pass through this test:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Do I need it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Do I want it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Do I love it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it fails any one of those three tests, the device sees the inside of the donation box.</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/4179011779407219840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/4179011779407219840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/07/unplugging.html' title='Unplugging'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-7878622700153483840</id><published>2009-07-16T19:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T00:28:28.048-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The evolution of what-we-want</title><content type='html'>See if you can follow this train of logic:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hurt my foot --&gt; foot in soft cast for a week&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soft cast --&gt; go to Disneyland (wheelchair = front of line)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Announce Disneyland --&gt; kids happy bouncy --&gt; bags packed by Sunday afternoon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday night I view &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.consumingkidsthemovie.com/&quot;&gt;Consuming Kids&lt;/a&gt; with friends --&gt; I no longer want to take my kids to Disneyland&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember my own experience with Disneyland, &quot;Why do people put on big costumes in this heat?&quot; --&gt; I look for an alternative&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I haven&#39;t won any bid on Priceline in ages, I take a Hail Mary bid on a very expensive,&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.portolahotel.com/photogallery/index.cfm&quot;&gt; very nice hotel in Monterey Bay&lt;/a&gt; --&gt; the bid goes through --&gt; I say, &quot;Eep!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pack up the kids and head off to Monterey for the week, thoroughly enjoying the trip and all the side-trips. I had no idea Monterey had so much to offer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We came back tanned, relaxed, and most of all, with a stronger sibling bond.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also came back only three minutes before Vee and Eee needed the car. (We are a one car family.) Cutting it close, for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite comment from Aee as she swam in the big circular pool at the hotel, face up to the sky, &quot;I&#39;m so glad I&#39;m feeling the sun instead of in a shop collecting things. I love you Mom.&quot;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/7878622700153483840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/7878622700153483840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/07/underbelly-of-disneyland.html' title='The evolution of what-we-want'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-4186905496637143482</id><published>2009-07-16T19:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T20:02:54.111-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Light-footed</title><content type='html'>It may look like I am constantly changing plans... and some people consider that a bad thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone recently said, &quot;Oh, you&#39;re just light-footed.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like that view so very much. Thank you.</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/4186905496637143482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/4186905496637143482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/07/light-footed.html' title='Light-footed'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-453987614763806429</id><published>2009-07-09T20:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T20:54:08.124-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Foiled again!</title><content type='html'>Confirmed -- the NZ rental agency won&#39;t take my temporary USA license. It isn&#39;t valid enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what to do while waiting around for 10 days for the little piece of plastic to arrive?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hum...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Top items off the top of my head:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Explore half-moon bay for a week -- too expensive, hotels are 250-500/night there. Even if we drive every day there &amp;amp; back, the gas is considerable, more than an RV in NZ would cost in our little jaunts...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Do a tour of bay area museums again, could be fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Grab some $60 tix to LA, stay with friends and go to Disneyland for a week. Possible, but Jee &amp;amp; Aee hate crowds and heat even more than I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Enroll them in camps. Too expensive!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Hire The Most Awesome Babysitters (who are not related to us) to watch the wee ones for 1/2 days, just enough so that the day balances out. Jee and Aee get four hours of non-stop board game time while I work, then they play at the shop while I work. Then we all breath a deep sigh and play together a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounds good, but this is what we have been doing for the last two weeks. Plus, The Most Awesome Babysitter team is out of town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Harumpf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those $300-something tickets to Spain are looking better every day.</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/453987614763806429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/453987614763806429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/07/foiled-again.html' title='Foiled again!'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-4385573289877103303</id><published>2009-07-09T20:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T20:34:05.409-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Excuses, Excuses</title><content type='html'>I&#39;m feeling a bit like Sisyphus, pushing a rock, pushing a rock, but never getting anywhere. I am trying to leave. The kids are beyond psyched. Everyone is ready, but...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every day some new monster rears its head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Monday it was a slipped something in my back. Fixed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Tuesday it was a work thing that needed an immediate solution or I couldn&#39;t leave town. Mostly fixed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Wednesday it was my foot. It feels like it&#39;s broken. I can barely walk. Horrid shooting pains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today it was the expired driver&#39;s license. New one will get here in 10 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is someone trying to tell me something? Because the next step would be a brain tumor or a car accident. Eep.</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/4385573289877103303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/4385573289877103303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/07/excuses-excuses.html' title='Excuses, Excuses'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-2747835305032502198</id><published>2009-07-09T10:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T10:45:23.837-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HUGE amount of luck</title><content type='html'>Imagine this: You book tickets for yourself and your children to fly half way around the world. You are beyond-ready to rent that sweet little RV so you and your little ones can travel up and down the coast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You get to the checkout counter to fill out all the RV forms and the clerk says in that fantastic New Zealand accent: &quot;Matie, you can&#39;t rent. Your driver&#39;s license is expired.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what happens when you are in a foreign country and need US approval for visa, dls, this sort of thing? You have to *go home* to get it done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I just narrowly escape a huge mistake?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my way to the DMV now...</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/2747835305032502198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/2747835305032502198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/07/huge-amount-of-luck.html' title='HUGE amount of luck'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-779724093244300394</id><published>2009-07-08T22:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T22:15:40.699-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My favorite moment of the day</title><content type='html'>Seeing my teenage son take control of his life, ground his career, and work with a new colleague.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is nothing so fulfilling as knowing that your kids are going to be OK.</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/779724093244300394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/779724093244300394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/07/my-favorite-moment-of-day.html' title='My favorite moment of the day'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-3805688008039653183</id><published>2009-07-08T22:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T22:08:09.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Time and a Half?</title><content type='html'>When you work overtime on holidays, weekends, during the birth of your son, days when everyone else is on vacation... aren&#39;t you supposed to get time and a half?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My beloved just worked two weeks straight of 18 to 20 hour days, non-stop, around the clock, quick naps and short nights. He worked through one weekend, then worked again through the next -- the 4th of July.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does he get for around-the-clock devotion?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time and a half?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nah. How about the new company rule that went into effect while he was gone: &quot;One comp day  for every two weekend days / holiday days worked.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What&#39;s that? Half time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Invest 2, get 1 in return... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yikes, how motivating!</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/3805688008039653183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/3805688008039653183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/07/time-and-half.html' title='Time and a Half?'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-6612867564921641015</id><published>2009-07-05T23:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T00:26:33.104-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Looking for a school</title><content type='html'>NZ is in school while we are on summer break (and they are on summer break while we are in school).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I am looking for a school for Jee &amp;amp; Aee to go to for a few weeks so I can work a bit while we are in NZ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finding a good school when you have a whole country to choose from helps you outline what educational atmosphere you want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The top three things I treasure in my kid&#39;s school experience:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Diversity on all levels (financial, physical, intellectual, etc)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Acceptance verbiage rather than rejection verbiage. The school&#39;s website, usually approved by the principal is a fairly good indication of how the school is run. Ex: &quot;We accept and appreciate...&quot; rather than &quot;We have a no tolerance policy towards...&quot; While I believe strict rules are vital, schools who focus on the positive usually engender the positive, so...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Strong academics since my geeky little kids like studying. They get it from both sides of the family. I have such fond memories of sitting at the dinner table doing workbook pages because &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;I liked to do schoolwork.&lt;/span&gt; There&#39;s something wonderful about a fresh sheet of problems and a pencil that you need to sharpen again and again. Thrill!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why are diversity and acceptance are first on my list? As a trained teacher, you would think I would have something more concrete on my list. Instead I have the warm-fuzzies of peace, love and happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here&#39;s why... When you have kids you want them to be friends, right? You want sibling rivalry to be at a minimum, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because, after all, what parent actually enjoys hearing: &quot;She looked at me funny!&quot; and &quot;He touched the leaf that I was thinking of picking up!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the teacher at school is spending six to eight hours a day working on kindness, enlarging their hearts and minds, training them to naturally assume good intent, it makes my job easier. Haven&#39;t I heard too many times from my kids and others, &quot;But he did it on purpose!&quot; countered by, &quot;It was an accident!&quot; Let&#39;s rewrite that script.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems that the neural pathways need to be trained to assume good intent, at least during the playground years. I haven&#39;t heard too many kids on the playground, when bonked by an errant basketball say, &quot;It&#39;s ok, I know you didn&#39;t mean to toss it over here.&quot; Instead you hear, &quot;Hey!...&quot; followed by words I would rather not record.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, my criteria is based on recognizing that I don&#39;t have enough energy or power to teach my kids this particular lesson sufficiently. I need the bolstering of a wide support network to get this message across. When supported by a wide net, my kids know that it is a societal norm, not just something their mom wants them to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, I have found nearly every NZ school has a message like the &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.kawakawaprimary.co.nz/&quot;&gt;Kawakawa school&lt;/a&gt; has (note that the language is Maori, a lot like Hawaiin):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Motto: &quot;Kai U Ki Te Pai:&quot; Uphold that which is good                    &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Aroha&lt;/strong&gt;: Love&lt;/p&gt;                   &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Awhina&lt;/strong&gt;: Help&lt;/p&gt;                   &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Atawhai&lt;/strong&gt;: Care&lt;/p&gt;                   &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Manaaki&lt;/strong&gt;: To help, love and care for one another.&lt;/p&gt;Now, doesn&#39;t that sound like something you want in your house at 6:15 every night while you&#39;re making dinner?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bliss.</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/6612867564921641015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/6612867564921641015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/07/looking-for-school.html' title='Looking for a school'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-902561380298112456</id><published>2009-07-05T23:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T00:28:41.457-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How to enrol in NZ schools</title><content type='html'>Tonight I sent out 20+ queries to state schools (one type of public school) up and down NZ. I got the first reply back. Woot! The schools must be sanctioned through the gov&#39;t. There&#39;s a tuition we pay per week but it&#39;s quite reasonable. I would prefer a school w/o uniforms. There are several types of public schools in NZ / AU, but the state schools are 85% of the enrolments. &quot;Enrol&quot; has only one &quot;l&quot; in their spelling and it drives me nuts. I want to scratch a second &quot;l&quot; onto the computer screen... my finger is itching... scratch just one more &quot;l&quot;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I will resist and wait for replies from the other 20-something schools.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I picked schools I liked in random locations that seem like fun villages to stay in for a few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no idea what I&#39;m getting myself (and the kids) into.</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/902561380298112456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/902561380298112456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/07/how-to-enrol-in-nz-schools.html' title='How to enrol in NZ schools'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-4166081942939226529</id><published>2009-07-05T19:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T19:23:52.574-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Are we there yet?</title><content type='html'>To answer many questions at once:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q - Why haven&#39;t you left yet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A - Because my husband has been out of town the last two weeks. It was unexpected and unwelcome, but it all worked out for the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q - Are you still going?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A - Yes! I loaded &quot;The Hobbit&quot; onto my son&#39;s iPod and we&#39;ll be listening to it as we travel up and down the wintery NZ coast. Could anything be more delicious? We love audiobooks and this one has particularly good voice talent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q - What day are you leaving?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A - Tomorrow, next week, I don&#39;t know. I like doing the last minute tickets on various sites. I have Scottish blood in me veins and I enjoy getting a really good price on the tix. The bags are mostly packed and the next day tix are often the best deals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q - Who are you taking?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A - Just the wee ones. The big ones will stay home to work and enjoy their summer. I consider myself quite lucky to have this flexibility.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q - So, this is just a vacation?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A - (Visible bristling) Actually, it is a working vacation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q - Define &quot;work&quot;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A - It depends. I&#39;m working on parenting healthy kids who know that the world is theirs to navigate. I&#39;m working on writing a few kids books with strong female leads - the Maori culture in NZ infused some ticklishly fun names of streets and locations. I think just being there will be enough inspiration to finally get me to explore this genre (children&#39;s fiction) better. I am also working on official company business, but that will only be a minor part of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not a patient type and the last few weeks have been excruiatingly long. Sigh. It will make it all the more enjoyable.</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/4166081942939226529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/4166081942939226529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/07/are-we-there-yet.html' title='Are we there yet?'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-5154391036998703214</id><published>2009-06-29T00:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T00:52:17.067-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweetness</title><content type='html'>Over the last three days I have worked so hard... Friday was a 16 hr non-stop workday. I got a few hours at the beginning and at the end to do other work, but wow, 16 hrs is brutal. My husband can do it (and more), but I am not accustomed to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, when today, Sunday, rolled around I did something completely uncharacteristic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I relaxed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I&#39;m supposed to on Sundays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It felt *great*! I got sweet relaxing time with my kids and kitties and it was guilt-free! I was not supposed to be doing anything else! (like cleaning, working, or managing)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids really noticed it. Big Vee kept saying, &quot;Mom, what&#39;s wrong? Are you OK?&quot; I reassured him that I was perfectly fine, better than fine. I was tired and ready to take full advantage of the awesomeness that is Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you had a great one too. =)</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/5154391036998703214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/5154391036998703214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/06/sweetness.html' title='Sweetness'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-7690597955364192295</id><published>2009-06-22T22:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T22:31:49.673-07:00</updated><title type='text'>5 beauties in the day</title><content type='html'>1. Flowers that smell so sweet you can smell them for a full 10 paces as you walk past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Children who play together cooperatively, making up funny little games.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Orange lentils.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Fresh pears that drip, but you have enough time to eat them slowly so you catch every single little drop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Friends who put their arms around you easily and often.</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/7690597955364192295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/7690597955364192295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/06/5-beauties-in-day.html' title='5 beauties in the day'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3904943314325516757.post-3962029511310300356</id><published>2009-06-16T21:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T21:54:56.317-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Timing</title><content type='html'>I&#39;m starting to feel unloved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few too many, &quot;Haven&#39;t you left yet?&quot; and &quot;When are you leaving?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, but you are going to have to put up with me for a few more weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a few work obligations to wrap up first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to get good hiking boots for &lt;span class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot; id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_0&quot;&gt;Jee&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot; id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_1&quot;&gt;Aee&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to get &lt;span class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot; id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_2&quot;&gt;Jee&lt;/span&gt; a few more warm sweaters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than those three things, we&#39;re ready to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&#39;ve been known to pack for long trips in under an hour, so let&#39;s hope this one will go as smoothly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are so enraptured by the thought of flying off into the blue yonder. When &lt;span class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot; id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_3&quot;&gt;Jee&lt;/span&gt; talks about the penguins and the landscape I can see his heart thrilling to the adventure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We read the Tolkien Bestiary tonight. Well, we didn&#39;t read it; we looked at all the pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot; id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_4&quot;&gt;Jee&lt;/span&gt; is starting to see that there is a fine line between imagination and reality. He asked questions like, &quot;Did Tolkien just imagine those things or did he dream them?&quot; To which I answered, &quot;Is there a difference? Don&#39;t those ideas come from the same source?&quot; He seemed to have some lingering notion that dreams are shared experiences, influenced by others more than our imaginings. Hum. He said he wants to pay attention to his dreams because they will &quot;help me weave stories better.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let&#39;s hope New Zealand sparks some wonderful things in this budding eight-year old writer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To ground this in reality: Today, when Jee was having his writing time, he &quot;ran out of ideas to write on the paper&quot;, so he started writing on his cheek. For the entire day, as we went around town on errands, he had a chunk of text on his cheek. People were trying to read it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To one guy I almost said (but didn&#39;t), &quot;Please stop reading my son.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had Jee take a good, long shower tonight. The words are now a marbleized brown and blue swirl on his cheek. It appears that his cheek is bruised horribly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I haven&#39;t left yet.</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/3962029511310300356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3904943314325516757/posts/default/3962029511310300356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://en-her-gy.blogspot.com/2009/06/timing.html' title='Timing'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>