<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/rss2full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><rss xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" 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" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" version="2.0"><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Tue, 21 May 2013 22:26:33 +0000</lastBuildDate><category>Nature</category><category>parenthood</category><category>Michigan</category><category>editorial</category><category>NaBloPoMo</category><category>Photo</category><category>parenting</category><category>boys</category><category>music</category><category>environment</category><category>Feminism</category><category>Poem</category><category>Art</category><category>faith</category><category>free-roaming swdl/bim</category><category>porn</category><category>boxes</category><category>ADHD</category><category>girls</category><category>homelessness</category><category>family</category><category>B'lard</category><category>class</category><category>poetry</category><category>StickerBombing</category><category>quotes</category><category>instapoem</category><category>#Instapoetics</category><category>race</category><category>teens</category><category>NaBloPoMom</category><category>writing</category><category>HeLa</category><title>FRM</title><description>On the way to becoming who I want to be. (formerly @freerangemom)</description><link>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>94</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/blogspot/TpPU" /><feedburner:info uri="blogspot/tppu" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-8959777302024039403</guid><pubDate>Tue, 21 May 2013 21:24:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-05-21T14:24:57.293-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">instapoem</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Poem</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">free-roaming swdl/bim</category><title>Notice me!</title><atom:summary>Inspired by Jodie Foster's Golden Globe remarks





I'm not ashamed, I love to filter my photos. // the cropping, the framing, the saturation. // each with its own emotion and visual lux. // an embellishment created for each of you, my followers. // whether friend or family or stranger. // sending each one out hoping to connect with you. // your likes thrill me shamelessly. // I go trolling for </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/Jh6JWrnhEcQ/notice-me.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Bdgj3MXW_sk/UZvmFTHWitI/AAAAAAAAHYM/lin9IZ8d8Ds/s72-c/1-P1090259.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/Jh6JWrnhEcQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2013/05/notice-me.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-5491683506907556941</guid><pubDate>Mon, 11 Mar 2013 01:03:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-03-10T18:03:31.251-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">teens</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">boys</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">parenthood</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">race</category><title>Courageous Conversations</title><atom:summary>

Somewhere along the way through motherhood, I missed out on
an important meme, Courageous Conversations. Sure, I’d heard the term, but I
didn’t realize it was capitalized.



I bet I’m not much different from the rest of America. I
have a vague idea it was a phrase Obama said, and one that many of my “culturally
competent” friends will drop into our conversation, signaling they are in the
tribe</atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/0219HWHbXwU/courageous-conversations.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/0219HWHbXwU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2013/03/courageous-conversations.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-3301881998024411146</guid><pubDate>Fri, 08 Mar 2013 00:21:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-03-07T16:21:54.309-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">environment</category><title>Message from the late winter garden</title><atom:summary>

The chill of the damp soil seeps through my gardening pants
soaking in the earth’s dark dampness.



Though the air is chill and the soil still cold, life is
erupting everywhere -- hundreds of weeds pushing up into the growing light. 



Now is the time for the hoe: the bulbs have all shown their
heads and the sprouting weed’s feet have not had time to hunker down. Slicing
through the top of </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/I5f83L_nqoA/message-from-late-winter-garden.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oFWLCQPugmU/UTkuXe2j4aI/AAAAAAAAGjk/tLL1uQxDEtQ/s72-c/P1080770.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/I5f83L_nqoA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2013/03/message-from-late-winter-garden.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-7494875712664336465</guid><pubDate>Thu, 07 Feb 2013 00:09:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-02-06T16:09:26.201-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">editorial</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">faith</category><title>Showerhead Christianity</title><atom:summary>

(alternatively titled, Why I'm not a Christian.)





Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, “You
lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you
will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” (Mark 10: 21) 



How do you rationalize possessions when you are a follower
of Jesus? (No. I do not want to debate you nor exchange Midrash.)



The turning point</atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/dqSM9nwyV-s/showerhead-christianity.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FK4DCp-ZKfI/URLv7HPYNnI/AAAAAAAAGLk/qwiaMB8JxGI/s72-c/1-2013-02-06+15.57.57.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/dqSM9nwyV-s" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2013/02/showerhead-christianity.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-5074093068978423613</guid><pubDate>Fri, 25 Jan 2013 00:54:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-02-06T16:12:33.867-08:00</atom:updated><title>Philanthropy: Groupthink of the privileged?</title><atom:summary>
Today I attended @SeattleCityClub’s #PhilanthropyForward event. It was a discussion full of hashtag jargon like #engagement #collective #collaboration #connect #advocacy #influence #progressive #community #capital #accountability.

I was astonished that an entire conversation surrounding the topic of collective giving did not mention the United Way. In fact, people seemed to think it was a new </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/7Ni4fSuAFN0/philanthropy-group-think-of-privileged.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><thr:total>4</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/7Ni4fSuAFN0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2013/01/philanthropy-group-think-of-privileged.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-7120012068310355934</guid><pubDate>Sat, 05 Jan 2013 04:25:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-01-04T20:29:22.979-08:00</atom:updated><title>Life on the Split: confessions of a rebellious woman</title><atom:summary>I have been revolting against being a full-time mother -- and all of its accompanying responsibilities -- by laying my disorganization at the feet of my ex and my children instead of taking ownership of it myself.

Yet I see myself capable of going more deeply into motherhood than I am now. But I fear if I give my all to the most important thing in my life, my children, I will lose myself; I, the</atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/Z_ler1iDnrc/life-on-split.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/Z_ler1iDnrc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2013/01/life-on-split.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-8884697216388487150</guid><pubDate>Mon, 17 Dec 2012 00:21:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-12-16T16:21:26.215-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Photo</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">editorial</category><title>A bunch of tips on being creative</title><atom:summary>

First, don’t turn on the internet.



Second, don’t have a piece of hardware go south (like my
memory card isn’t readable right now, but I will get it working before I finish this blog.)



Third, don’t have a year-old computer that already can’t
keep up the data storage issues.



Fourth, don’t spend time considering whether you can afford
to buy yourself a new computer nor time to crack open </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/VJsRa7fG4C4/a-bunch-of-tips-on-being-creative.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9-9U6mwd1jo/UM5i4NMnxvI/AAAAAAAAFms/elV46DaLgio/s72-c/1-P1070966.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/VJsRa7fG4C4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2012/12/a-bunch-of-tips-on-being-creative.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-1823857140813863496</guid><pubDate>Tue, 20 Nov 2012 06:36:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-11-19T22:36:39.173-08:00</atom:updated><title>NaBliPoMo Fail</title><atom:summary>I just can't do it.
</atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/DkIbAKck59o/nablipomo-fail.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/DkIbAKck59o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2012/11/nablipomo-fail.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-7101116956366501188</guid><pubDate>Wed, 14 Nov 2012 04:42:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-11-13T20:42:37.986-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">NaBloPoMo</category><title>Worked all day and nothing to show for it</title><atom:summary>Ever noodle around on an idea all day and never manage to complete it? 
The challenge of posting everyday .... posting quality every day is a worthwhile goal, but in reality I don't always find something to communicate. Or I can't figure out how to say it. Or it turns out to be too private for the interwebs. 
Today its one of those days. Take that! #nablopomo
</atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/Gc2cZEXG58A/worked-all-day-and-nothing-to-show-for.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/Gc2cZEXG58A" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2012/11/worked-all-day-and-nothing-to-show-for.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-2338590512885687262</guid><pubDate>Tue, 13 Nov 2012 04:33:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-11-12T20:34:45.639-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">NaBloPoMo</category><title>I'm making videos and I need your help!</title><atom:summary>My ardent fans (aka Mother) already know that I've been making videos this week. I want to do more of them because they communicate more quickly... and that's the direction internet communications is headed.


They are all super short and, I hope, fun. I'd love you to take 10 minutes to watch them all then vote for your favorite below:

Which type of video should I make more of?


















</atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/QMaIHVXBZ0k/im-making-videos-and-i-want-your-help.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/QMaIHVXBZ0k" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2012/11/im-making-videos-and-i-want-your-help.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-4458267829596819808</guid><pubDate>Mon, 12 Nov 2012 05:14:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-11-11T21:14:51.535-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">NaBloPoMo</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">parenting</category><title>The Learning Curve for Parents of Special Needs Children</title><atom:summary>



Being the parent of a special needs kid is a continual
learning curve. Unless you were raised alongside someone who has significant
emotional, behavioral or intellectual challenges, trying to cross the chasm
between you and your child requires you to continually make blind leaps out of
your own comfort zone. 



I, for one, never know whether my children are behaving
normally for their age. </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/UU4isIANbIM/the-learning-curve-for-parents-of.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-72LwUHPaDRg/UKCFUwxgV1I/AAAAAAAAFR4/mm9j28kyOyY/s72-c/2012-11-11+21.05.02.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/UU4isIANbIM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-learning-curve-for-parents-of.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-3420116018709994288</guid><pubDate>Sun, 11 Nov 2012 07:46:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-11-10T23:48:04.446-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">NaBloPoMo</category><title>You can skip reading this one</title><atom:summary>Just because
I said so.
Just because 
I made a commitment to myself.
Just because 
I have nothing to speak about.
Just because
There is only 10 minutes left in the day.
#nablopomo
</atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/g4wZPVZFQE8/just-because.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/g4wZPVZFQE8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2012/11/just-because.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-1263696080220486056</guid><pubDate>Sat, 10 Nov 2012 06:25:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-11-09T22:25:54.459-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">girls</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">parenting</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">NaBloPoMom</category><title>Barbie says, "It's Time to do the Laundry!"</title><atom:summary>Everyone needs to play a little, even moms. The other day I had a huge pile of laundry to do, endless rooms to vacuum, and dishes stacked in the sink to overflowing.

I could simply not motivate myself to get started. I found a Barbie in the laundry pile, began posting some photos of Barbie helping do the laundry on Instagram.

I tagged my photos #IdothissoIwillnotgoInsaneWhiledoingHousework.

</atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/vZUwiowGOiU/barbie-says-its-time-to-do-laundry.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://img.youtube.com/vi/1Tl4IvpNaA8/default.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/vZUwiowGOiU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2012/11/barbie-says-its-time-to-do-laundry.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-7200632067535638328</guid><pubDate>Thu, 08 Nov 2012 22:58:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-11-08T15:01:06.542-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">NaBloPoMo</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">race</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Feminism</category><title>Our cells have no color, except perhaps of money</title><atom:summary>Yesterday I wrote about Chapter 32 of The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks [seeing her cells for the first time.] Yesterday was the spiritual realm of the chapter, today I'm illustrating the business aspects of HeLa.

The profound extremes of experience illustrated here confound me.




</atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/ASS4SzRq5lM/our-cells-have-no-color-except-perhaps.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lyRclw8NbVk/UJw4V8qQh2I/AAAAAAAAFPU/j_XNrtm3WNg/s72-c/P1070326a.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/ASS4SzRq5lM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2012/11/our-cells-have-no-color-except-perhaps.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-6418576340361957289</guid><pubDate>Wed, 07 Nov 2012 22:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-11-07T14:30:48.702-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">NaBloPoMo</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">HeLa</category><title>The closest I've ever come to praying: HeLa</title><atom:summary>I've been reading the Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks for so long I'm not sure if I've told you about it yet. It's the story of the real woman behind HeLa cells -- a cell culture that has been key to most cell research.

Chapter 32 tells the story of how her daughter and the author saw the cells for the first time. I felt moved to draw out some of the chapter for while it takes us on a </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/lVI6MckqLKE/the-closest-ive-ever-come-to-praying.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wuG3wU1ju68/UJrgJ3QyABI/AAAAAAAAFOE/cuJSizozf6U/s72-c/Image+(4)-002.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/lVI6MckqLKE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-closest-ive-ever-come-to-praying.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-7561249020273447556</guid><pubDate>Tue, 06 Nov 2012 18:45:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-11-06T10:45:33.206-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">teens</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">NaBloPoMo</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">parenting</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Art</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Feminism</category><title>#barbie says, "Read my Pix."</title><atom:summary>



Raise your hand if you hate housework.
Raise your hand if you are one of those people who always has (at least) one room of her own in the state of complete disaster.
Raise your hand if you'd sell your soul to own a magic wand that would make all of your housework magically disappear.
Raise your hand if you've tried Mrs. PiggleWiggle's Cure for a Messy Room. In real life.


Is there any </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/5o0MvXGHi2Y/nakedbarbie.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VaaR4cg3RAw/UJlXyXSiSoI/AAAAAAAAFNg/5C9RPz7CvSg/s72-c/CIMG0025.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/5o0MvXGHi2Y" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2012/11/nakedbarbie.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-4596757656741372328</guid><pubDate>Tue, 06 Nov 2012 00:29:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-11-05T16:29:49.364-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">teens</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">parenting</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">NaBloPoMom</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">environment</category><title>Paper or plastic? On a garbage management system</title><atom:summary>Seattle has been a bag-it-yourself city for several months now. I see myself, and others, finally getting used to bringing a bag when we go shopping, or willingly paying for one.

The reverberations from this change are subtle, but noticeable.

I used to have a handy supply of paper bags to take out the recyling and garbage in. Even though I use them over and over again  and only use the bag for </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/gRyVVaw5OUU/paper-or-plastic-on-garbage-management.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/gRyVVaw5OUU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2012/11/paper-or-plastic-on-garbage-management.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-1459255357437093161</guid><pubDate>Mon, 05 Nov 2012 03:08:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-11-04T19:08:17.439-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">NaBloPoMo</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">environment</category><title>Would you spend $25 for a lightbulb?</title><atom:summary>



I did.  And here's why:


Non-toxic (no mercury like fluorescents)
Inexpensive over time
Excellent light qualilty
Dimmable
Instant "on"
They work in most fixtures


By 2014 the US plans to no longer sell incandescent bulbs. That give consumers just over a year to figure out what to replace them with.

Fluorescents take time to turn on, the light is harsh, they don't fit in some of my fixtures</atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/uBbPWhGq9Vs/would-you-spend-25-for-lightbulb.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MQqm5GbTjK8/UJcrR0tYa8I/AAAAAAAAFM4/J3B_GIbLya4/s72-c/led2a.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/uBbPWhGq9Vs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2012/11/would-you-spend-25-for-lightbulb.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-8129453544643240116</guid><pubDate>Sat, 03 Nov 2012 21:46:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-11-03T14:46:08.763-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">boxes</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">NaBloPoMo</category><title>Common Objects: the box</title><atom:summary>



I have a box fetish



Not like I get all hot and bothered about boxes, (I know, I
know) but I have a hard time throwing them out. One of my boxes is 35 years
old. I used to have a box that had been around from a time before I was born.



I came by this craving honestly. My mother collected packing
boxes. (Am I imagining it, or did she line a sweater box with wrapping paper
from her wedding?</atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/bl826BkmoBo/common-objects-box.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fq94pzSunBk/UJStyhNf3PI/AAAAAAAAFEU/DxKN84kfJyI/s72-c/P1070085.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/bl826BkmoBo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2012/11/common-objects-box.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-5920989625005743165</guid><pubDate>Fri, 02 Nov 2012 22:59:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-11-03T14:47:27.729-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">NaBloPoMo</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Michigan</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Feminism</category><title>My mother tells 3 stories of abortion</title><atom:summary>
In these final days of the election season, my mother has
been speaking to groups around Michigan, 
sharing three stories of women she personally knows who have had an
abortion – both in the time when abortion was done in back alleys, and a time
when abortion was more legal than it is now.



(Foreshadowing: Yesterday I joked about Dick Tracey with my 86 year-old father when he joined me in a </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/nwOMVjZpDKU/my-mother-tells-3-stories-of-abortion.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/nwOMVjZpDKU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2012/11/my-mother-tells-3-stories-of-abortion.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-2589076439049803862</guid><pubDate>Thu, 01 Nov 2012 14:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-11-01T11:47:27.784-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">parenthood</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">NaBloPoMom</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">faith</category><title>Rabbit Rabbit</title><atom:summary>
When my mother was a girl, on the first day of the month, she would say "rabbit rabbit" as she hopped out of bed to ensure good luck for the month ahead. (The charm only works when you enact the ritual before you say a single word to anyone that morning.)

Rabbit. Rabbit.

Oh to have a simple charm to weave into the lives of my children to keep them safe in the world.

Yesterday at the same time</atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/nV_XGx9sq7A/rabbit-rabbit.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_gU7aqda4mw/UJLDDEP21II/AAAAAAAAE88/YdDwq00tjSg/s72-c/PicsArt_1351795286940.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/nV_XGx9sq7A" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2012/11/rabbit-rabbit.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-9096150137278207861</guid><pubDate>Wed, 24 Oct 2012 22:07:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-10-24T17:26:42.783-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">writing</category><title>On evolving a digital writing style</title><atom:summary>

A while ago I tweeted to @copacino that
writing on a tablet produces different results than keyboarding.



Yes I risked rejection tweeting something obscure out of the
blue to demonstrate a point: digital writing is new and different from “sm
conversations” and long-form writing.



We need writing teachers for the digital. But, for the most
part, writing is being taught by people who learned </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/EGbJWTQ9DYU/on-evolving-digital-writing-style.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/EGbJWTQ9DYU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2012/10/on-evolving-digital-writing-style.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-2707720364929156586</guid><pubDate>Sun, 14 Oct 2012 20:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-10-24T14:56:41.521-07:00</atom:updated><title>Rethinking the timeout chair</title><atom:summary>

I never thought I’d be saying this, but one of the best parenting tools I use is the timeout chair.

I had read a lot about timeouts in the quest to reign in my emotionally volatile daughter. But I had never been able to effectively use it with Miss. In fact, trying to get her to sit there escalated the emotion instead of getting it under control.

Besides the idea of the timeout chair evokes </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/PGHHrnDV_zQ/rethinking-timeout-chair.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rwyYjG72jTM/UIhkC30aGeI/AAAAAAAAEq8/eKZ78gElP58/s72-c/cd3b6ccc167811e280ff22000a1e8acc_6.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/PGHHrnDV_zQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2012/10/rethinking-timeout-chair.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-3949156840632400316</guid><pubDate>Sat, 06 Oct 2012 22:56:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-10-06T16:44:22.574-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">#Instapoetics</category><title>Blue October Dreams</title><atom:summary>Calling all visual writers. I'm finding my voice and would like to find you. I'm exploring ephemeral digital visual stories and narratives using Instagram. If you like what you see here, talk to me @peggydolane.


From Where I Sit

[#Seattle, today, in the moment]:

I am exploring a new frame of mind. Playing guilt free.  

To do this I must first offer up my neglected responsibilities.


From </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/kiWg7RJQe10/blue-october-dreams.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fq7QDTjOUpk/UHCu6UJukfI/AAAAAAAADjA/pFO028t38_g/s72-c/1.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/kiWg7RJQe10" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2012/10/blue-october-dreams.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899448735213571523.post-7764373438803589589</guid><pubDate>Mon, 27 Aug 2012 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-08-26T17:00:09.018-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">B'lard</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Art</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">StickerBombing</category><title>Sticker Bombing</title><atom:summary>

As a writer I am completely fascinated with the symbolic word. Symbols communicate at the non-verbal level. Along those lines I'm interested in visual symbols and what they communicate.


I got curious about Sticker Bombing because I wondered who are the slappers and what are they communicating. Playing anthropologist, I took to the streets with my camera to explore the language of Stickers.


</atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~3/Y0OktWJLYK4/sticker-bombing.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Peggy Dolane)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0EaThdgpQQo/UDq1SWCZ1EI/AAAAAAAACYw/MZ4B42B1kHc/s72-c/P1060081.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TpPU/~4/Y0OktWJLYK4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://freerangemom.blogspot.com/2012/08/sticker-bombing.html</feedburner:origLink></item></channel></rss>
