3 Ring Binder

I'd like to tell you exactly how warm it is outside right now on this last day of March, but my Classroom Thermometer is in the chick brooder. Sadly, this is the first year in a while that I have not started the month with the big head of a lion drawn on our blackboard which I morph slightly every day until it finally looks like a lamb on the last day. In fact, I can't even find the photographic evidence of that fun little activity. (Now that's frustrating.) Never one to be defeated by my own bad filing, I recreated the slow, painstaking process in 10 minutes (with the help of my youngest) and present to you March: In Like a Lion, Out Like a Lamb quick chalkboard morph. Okay. So what it lacks between steps 4 and 5, it more than makes up for in low contrast and blurry picture taking. And I forgot to put a colorful bow on the last picture. Darn it. Oh well. I'll leave you with some lamb cooking tips . And a simple request: To anyone who reads this and might have some

Contrary to The Police’s sage advice for Roxanne… I do have to put on the red light in order to prepare for the imminent arrival of our baby chicks! And, as if watching the video of the boys from so very long ago isn’t enough fun for today, I present you with this little ‘fore and aft’ peak at a tiny bit of my house cleaning efforts and our set-up for the baby chicks. Here are two shots of our 3'x4' catch-all area. On the left, giving the term "mudroom" a very literal meaning, is a mish-mash of dog treats, gardening stuff (including but not limited to actual mud), an Ollivander’s Wand Shop pot for a wand-making activity at my youngest’s birthday party – two years ago! – and other sundry what-the-hell-do-I-do-with-this-stuff-now items. On the right is the same area cleaned out and improved with a home-made chick brooder , the subject red light , and some colorful, original art canvases (also known as acrylic paintings done by the kids years ago). I think the art wor

The Civil Heretic , by Nicholas Dawidoff, in today’s New York Times Magazine is a really good article about an unlikely opponent of the theory of climate change. At age 85, Freeman Dyson is an eminent scientist among the many who live within one of grandest ivory towers, The Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, NJ. Mr. Dyson isn’t merely a preposterously decorated, endlessly vetted, and widely esteemed physicist, he is a man who has integrated the role of science as a tool for happiness in life. Part of the article is absolutely inspiring: Dyson’s early autodidactic education, his thrill at the thought of coming to America where “all sorts of weird things could happen,” his interactions with Feynman, Oppenheimer, and Fermi, to drop just a few names, and his interesting brand of pithy wisdom. “Being bored is the only time you are creative,” “life is always changing,” and “humans have a duty to restructure nature for their survival,” are just a few of the great lines attributed t

Here are a few of the videos I've enjoyed watching recently: 1. Sheep are fun. And now, they're art! (via Noodlefood ) 2. At least someone in the government is talking sense - too bad he's British (and only an MEP )! (via Titanic Deck Chairs ) 3. And this bittersweet beauty, You're My Best Friend . (Reminded of how much I love Freddie Mercury via Myrhaf - and a recent serenade.) Update on #3 - And Gus Van Horn (whose recent link to my poem makes me want to call him "Spike") who posted a Queen video helped me remember that too!

Teenage Twilight fans? Have I got a school for you!

I couldn’t make this stuff up. One hospital administration is actually taking its revolutionary healthcare ideas to the streets. CaritasChristi has developed not only this lovely “ clenched fist ” propaganda poster, but also a little video manifesto which starts off with the old-fashioned TV static of an analog set zeroing in on the station. As if we are in a state of emergency and someone, some one of The People , has had to commandeer the station to bring you news of the revolution which brings healthcare to the people. How will Caritas provide this revolutionary healthcare? Simple: “Quality By the People, For the People, and To the People.” This is so disingenuous I don’t know where to begin. Clearly, the literally entitled People are not the doctors or other producers of medical devices or services, because I think they may have always thought of themselves as Quality. How about the consumers who are demanding, with a clenched fist no less, that the efforts of those producers be

by Robert Frost (1874-1963) Read it here . I think it's worth the time invested.

Although my husband has done this seamlessly for as far back as I can remember, I have only recently been able, or saw fit, to read more than one book at a time. Of course, I don’t mean actually simultaneously, but more in the I-could-grab-any-one-of-these-and-continue-reading-and-it-would-still-make-sense sense. Rather than confusing me, as I thought it most definitely would, the multiple book strategy gives me two distinct advantages to my previously one-book-to-finish paradigm: 1) I can prioritize my reading time, and 2) I always have something I want to read on hand. Apparently, my late adoption notwithstanding, this multiple-book strategy is wildly popular. Recently, a friend of mine lent me Barchester Towers by Anthony Trollope in order that I might comply with her “emergency Victorian novel” recommendation which holds that everyone must have one in the car for those times when you get stuck somewhere (Stephen has always practiced his own “emergency Russian pocket novel” habit).

I thought this little video (by the daughter of the founder of America's Test Kitchen , Chris Kimball) was cute and answers the age old question: What do you do with old socks? Answer: Be creative. That, and Billie Holiday (or could be Ella Fitzgerald) music always adds style.

about the days of the whole face-eating kisses.

LB's homemaking tip of the day: Do NOT pour egg whites down the drain followed immediately by a hot water chaser. Just call me Hell, Louise?!

Four reasons prompt her choices of the day; There are four reasons in the woman’s mind: She has her Home , clutter to keep at bay Safe for living, even for the dirt-blind: She has her Children , oh sweet young being Whose righteous growth she must attend And remind herself that daily overseeing Is about the means and not the end: Her Husband is part of her ageless plan That halves the sorrow and doubles the joy Remembering that while she married the man, She remains the girlfriend to the boy: She has her Self and about this she is wise; Knowing Self is that on which all the rest lies. Inspired by and with apologies to John Keats’ The Human Seasons

by William Butler Yeats (1865-1939) One that is ever kind said yesterday: "Your well-beloved's hair has threads of grey, And little shadows come about her eyes; Time can but make it easier to be wise Though now it seems impossible, and so All that you need is patience." Heart cries, "No, I have not a crumb of comfort, not a grain. Time can but make her beauty over again: Because of that great nobleness of hers The fire that stirs about her, when she stirs, Burns but more clearly. O she had not these ways When all the wild Summer was in her gaze." Heart! O heart! if she'd but turn her head, You'd know the folly of being comforted. To learn more about this beautifully romantic poem, here is a good essay on Yeats and his unrequited love.

I am reading this little book entitled The Supremes’ Greatest Hits . My sudden interest in it may be due to my recent viewing of “Dream Girls”, or because like many books I own, its smooth spine mocked me from its place of prominence at my bedside for more than a year, and I had had enough of it. Whatever the case, the spine is now irreparably stretched out and I’m hooked! Michael Trachtman, author of the book subtitled The 34 Supreme Court Cases that Most Directly Affect Your Life , is a practicing attorney who claims that he has “spent thousands of hours learning how not to write like a lawyer.” I believe it because I can understand him! I recommend the book to anyone who lacks his J.D. but is interested in the history of liberty and the impact of Supreme Court decisions in this country. The decision of the title case I’d like to present here was issued in 1937. Trachtman subtitled it, What Gives Congress the Right to Regulate Private Businesses? I thought it might be of particular

First, I’d like to define the word subsidy : Monetary assistance granted by a government to a person or group in support of an enterprise regarded as being in the public interest. (from the American Heritage Dictionary) Henry Hazlitt’s Economics in One Lesson © 1946, is a must read for anyone who wants to understand what the hell is going wrong in today’s economy. I quote the referenced chapter liberally because I could not possibly present as concisely as Mr. Hazlitt. From Chapter XIV, Saving the X Industry, “We are concerned only with a single argument for saving the X industry – that if it is allowed to shrink in size or perish through the forces of free competition (…) it will pull down the general economy with it, and that if it is artificially kept alive it will help everybody else.” Does this sound like a familiar argument? Hazlitt goes on to explain that direct subsidies to certain industries are better than tariffs, price fixing or monopolistic exclusions because, he says, “t

by William Butler Yeats (1865-1939) Now all the truth is out, Be secret and take defeat From any brazen throat, For how can you compete, Being honour bred, with one Who, were it proved he lies, Were neither shamed in his own Nor in his neighbours' eyes? Bred to a harder thing Than Triumph, turn away And like a laughing string Whereon mad fingers play Amid a place of stone, Be secret and exult, Because of all things known, That is most difficult. It seems this poem provides the type of encouragement one needs to blog on the state of the world these days.

1. Scary movies scare me (homage in title). 2. I prefer Murphy’s to Guinness. 3. In my 30s, I got a 4.0 in electrical engineering for a semester. 4. I designed and sewed my own jacket when I was 12. 5. My ears begin to corrode in the cold - really - it's weird. 6. I am conflicted by wanting to both sit on my ass and kick someone else’s. 7. I'm all a twitter about Twilight coming out on DVD this week. As a blogger in the Boston area, I have risen to the call to provide these random notes about myself to my poor, embattled readers. Why embattled? Aren’t we all? What are your seven things?

Details to follow. I watched Nancy Pelosi on Charlie Rose yesterday for about 15 minutes. In addition to yelling invectives at the TV like an armchair quarterback, I haven't felt good since. What was most appalling was her ability to remain plastically enthusiastic while repeating some form of "details to follow" about further government intervention in healthcare, education, and the economy. Is anyone listening to this nonsense? Where are the American people? What failing of ours has given these people their mandates to violate our rights with impunity? Doesn't everyone see that "government plans" happen only at the expense of our individual plans? That for every dollar spent on a government program there is one less dollar spent by a private enterprise? Have we become so soft in our easy lives that we've forgotten that freedom from government intervention is what allowed us to develop our own lifestyles? Have we really begun to rely on the efficiency

1. It’s not a real audit, just an examination of an old filing. 2. It won’t affect this year’s filing. 3. The phone number for the IRS is toll free. All right. This isn’t really in the spirit of 3 Good Things, but I’m trying to remain calm which we all agree is a good thing.

by William Butler Yeats (1865-1939) When I play on my fiddle in Dooney, Folk dance like a wave of the sea; My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet, My brother in Moharabuiee. I passed my brother and cousin: They read in their books of prayer; I read in my book of songs I bought at the Sligo fair. When we come at the end of time, To Peter sitting in state, He will smile on the three old spirits, But call me first through the gate; For the good are always the merry, Save by an evil chance, And the merry love the fiddle And the merry love to dance: And when the folk there spy me, They will all come up to me, With "Here is the fiddler of Dooney!" And dance like a wave of the sea. I'm preparing for the wearing o' the green this week.

My decluttering efforts sent shockwaves not only through the house, parts of which I hadn’t seen in quite a while – namely, the floors, which suddenly screamed out “HELP ME” – but also in my appreciation for the art of homemaking with style . It was only natural that I expand the scope of my housekeeping to include floor maintenance. The central vacuuming system that came with our house, in addition to sounding like a 747 which would soon land in our yard, never worked quite well on the carpeted floors. Our upright vacuum was too big and clunky to clean the carpeted stairs, and a mass of hair (let’s be fair to the dog – it was mostly the long human hair that screwed things up) constantly caused the driving belt to slip which created tremendous friction and eventually caused a nice burnt rubber smell to permeate the house each and every time we vacuumed. Yes, these are some of the better excuses reasons my floors are never quite as clean as they should be. Now, those reasons no longer

I have a problem. Okay, I may have more than one, but right now I want to address only one: Crap Creep. Those of you who are also afflicted with the problem know what I mean without further explanation. Those of you who are excellent housekeepers, who have a place for everything and manage to keep everything in its place, those of you who would never, ever , even temporarily, store stuff on the sides of the stairs because you didn’t feel like going up them to put that stuff away, I’m here to explain the issue. Crap Creep occurs when the stuff of your life begins to take on “hazardous” proportions; when no horizontal surface is safe from your stockpiling stop-gap measures at keeping your house livable; when you can put your finger on Christmas decorations without leaving the kitchen – in July! These are some of the signs that Crap Creep has reached capital letter status. Until very recently (maybe a few weeks ago) I could live with my random piles of “Stuff I’ll Get to Later” because I

But without the singing, dancing, or helpful vermin.

Speaking of Civil Disobedience (and of missing the point), here is an interesting little poem by Mr. Thoreau. What's the Railroad to Me? What's the railroad to me? I never go to see Where it ends. It fills a few hollows, And makes banks for the swallows, It sets the sand a-blowing, And the blackberries a-growing. Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862)

I have an unlicensed pug and I'm not afraid to use it.

This was kind of fun. If you had a band, what would your album cover look like? This would be mine (as randomly generated through Wikipedia, BrainyQuotes, and Flikr). If you're curious about what your own randomly generated album cover would look like, here are the instructions found over at Gus Van Horn . 1 - Go to Wikipedia. Hit "random," or click here . The first random Wikipedia article you get is the name of your band. [I got Gordano Valley .] 2 - Go to "Random quotations" or click here . The last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album. OR, if quotationspage.com is down, try going to Brainy Quotes and use the Quote of the Moment as your quote. [I got this Groucho Marx quote.] 3 - Go to flickr and click on "explore the last seven days" or click here . Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover. [I can't remember the third, but this one was my second, so how could I resist?]

It is wrong to design my life around a shoe? It’s not so much that I want these shoes, because really, I have no use for them. They are ridiculously impractical. What I want is a use for them, or more specifically, a lifestyle in which purchasing and wearing these shoes would somehow be right. But I have to face facts: even I were enormously wealthy, inordinately thin (not to mention graceful), and worked in the fashion industry I’ll just never again be young enough to pull off this look – I'm not even positive I was ever that young. Even knowing this, I still find the red patent leather heels, pony hair animal (Dalmation?) print, and the peep toes beckoning to my very soul! C’mon – these shoes were designed for my alter ego who becomes apparent only through her wardrobe of unworn clothes which bedeck my closet. I may appear to be a harried middle-aged mother of three on the outside, but inside, my attitude is rocking these shoes, and I do think that’s a good thing.

That’s right – another random calendar date is cause for a celebration of mathematics. According to today’s Boston Globe, Square Root Day was invented by a California teacher who wanted to promote some enthusiasm of … well I’m not quite sure, but you can read the little blurb yourself. Dates like 3/3/09 come around only nine times in a century, so there’s that. I support teachers who are tireless in their efforts to actively engage the minds of their students, and I certainly appreciate how difficult it is to sometimes generate enthusiasm in children who may actually fear mathematics. I can even see the fun in an exercise trying to find all the “Square Root Days” in a century. I’m just not sure how promoting celebrations on specific dates through a forced association with a mathematical process accomplishes that goal. (Not to mention that the kids in the second half of the century get totally ripped off.) Could it be possible that I’m just no fun? Nah. Take Pi Day – that’s a differe

I added this terrific blog to my sidebar a while ago, but I really needed to introduce and highlight it. Check it out . It's an important reminder of not only the great successes of the capitalists featured, but also what is in danger of being lost if we continue to ignore or evade how actual wealth is produced: not by forced government redistribution, but through the efforts of men left to pursue their own values.

1. Our main floor bathroom is very small. 2. Hardly anyone uses our ½ bath. (Could be due to the huge painting of the scary lady.) 3. The boy is away at college. Fearing that I will someday lose my mind and mix Clorox with Bleach with Windex with Ammonia (or mix first then lose my mind along with my ability to breathe), I’m glad bathroom cleaning is over with for this – well – let’s just leave it at “for now”.

If you substitute the words "scrambled eggs" for the king's various attempts at instructing the guard, and every other known egg preparation for the guard's questions to the king's request, you will have a fair approximation of our Sunday morning discussions in which I am the king and Stephen is the guard. Unlike the guard who is just plain dumb, however, Stephen finds it inconceivable * that I detest all egg preparations but scrambled (*it does mean what I think it means).