3 Ring Binder

This is how I deliver the movie Twilight to my friends. It makes me feel dirty.

Dear Gentle Readers; I would consider it a great kindness if you would point out any spelling mistakes, grammatical errors, or other egregious violations of the English language one should not make beyond the age of twelve (the age at which I left Catholic school and with it the study of grammar, usage, and mechanics as well). For example: "reevaluate" is not a word, but "revaluate" most assuredly is. In fact, it is the very word I meant to include in my last post rather than its bastardized and rationalized evil step-sister. At least that's how I envisioned the incorrect word in my mind this morning. Of course, you are never required to do such things, and can judge my inability to write correctly, and indeed my very request to help me correct my writing as a weakness of character. If the shoe were on the other foot, you can be sure I would - and do . Most Sincerely,

1. Found a source for local grass-fed beef. 2. Looking forward to attending all the local farmer’s markets. 3. Thinking of joining a CSA for local produce. What? Have I gone GREEN ? Bite your tongue. While part of the draw to eat local is supposedly for environmental reasons, I can assure that does not figure into my reasoning. After having read Price’s Nutrition and Physical Degeneration , and Pollan’s In Defense of Food , and having Taubes’ Good Calories, Bad Calories on deck for months, I’m just beginning to revaluate some things that I had previously dismissed as hippy-induced collective wackiness. While these things may very well reek of such wackiness, there may also be some nutritional benefit for my family. I’m willing to live with the rest if I get real value out of the experiences. And besides – I look good in tie-dye. It’s when I get my hand-cranked wheat mill that you know I’ve gone over to the dark side (the motorized one is okay, though).

Although I've resigned myself to being the gentleman farmer's wife, I haven't abandoned my fashion sense. Here are my new chicken slogging boots. Yup. They're leopard print. The boot scraper is how you can tell we're real farmers, by the way. Even though they're designed to look like a Big Cat, the Ladies love them! And speaking of the Ladies, they have quite the fashionable outer wear as well. One of these things is not like the other... Two colors of Rhode Island Reds fronted by a Barred Plymouth Rock. A Golden Laced Wyandotte and a another Barred Rock. And some of them are quite photogenic. Where is the Farmer, you may ask? He's in the dell, of course. After so many days of rain, we're just excited to get outside and do what needs to be done!

by Sir Henry Newbolt (1862-1938) LADIES, where were your bright eyes glancing, Where were they glancing yesternight? Saw ye Imogen dancing, dancing, Imogen dancing all in white? Laughed she not with a pure delight, Laughed she not with a joy serene, Stepped she not with a grace entrancing, Slenderly girt in silken sheen? All through the night from dusk to daytime Under her feet the hours were swift, Under her feet the hours of playtime Rose and fell with a rhythmic lift: Music set her adrift, adrift, Music eddying towards the day Swept her along as brooks in Maytime Carry the freshly falling may. Ladies, life is a changing measure, Youth is a lilt that endeth soon; Pluck ye never so fast at pleasure Twilight follows the longest noon. Nay, but here is a lasting boon, Life for hearts that are old and chill, Youth undying for hearts that treasure Imogen dancing, dancing still.

Well you knew it was coming! I adore the Andrews-Sisters-like sound and the tune of the repeated question which is just so darn catchy! Now if you can remember the answer to the question or even part of the song you're all set (grammatically speaking). Sure there's a lot to sing for one voice, but I think it would be well worth it.

Today is my youngest daughter's 11th birthday. I'm certain that this simple letter will be her most favorite present - ever. Wouldn't it have been yours?

This is the description of a new picture book (26 pages) entitled Going Green from the editorial staff at Amazon. This imaginative book offers a unique approach to our world "going green," through the wide eyes of a little girl. Combined with beautiful illustrations, the story unfolds with each surprising change that is noticed by the girl. First, it happens to her good friend, Cynthia beginning with a leaf...then a branch. She observes many more people changing in very special ways. She watches as Congress "goes green" and even the President and First Family are in various states of metamorphoses. Although some people are slower to change, will the entire planet eventually "go green"? And, what will happen to the little girl? Can you think of anything better than extolling the virtues of congressmen going green? Screw lush imaginative fanciful morality tales people, feed your pre-schoolers some good old-fashioned political stumping. But not really on a s

I was so excited to have just received a notice of this new book by Mark Kurlansky being released by Amazon on July 1, 2009: The Food of a Younger Land: The WPA's Portrait of Food in Pre-World War II America that I needed to share it! As someone who truly appreciated the previous efforts of Mark Kurlansky's Salt: A World History , and Cod: A Biography of the Fish that Changed the World , and who just finished The Forgotten Man , and who is currently reading Weston A. Price's Nutrition and Physical Degeneration , I was ready to be in line for this one. But with a reported cover price of $69.99, the book was relegated to my library queue. Then after a moment of digging around, I discovered this which has the same title, exact same description, but a different subtitle and a whole lot smaller price tag. Hmmm. Well, I suppose I could be angry that I might have tried to pay $70 for a $19 book that Amazon basically repackaged and readvertised, or I can be happy that the $70 pri

Last night I had occasion to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. I have to admit that I was pleased with both the fact that I remembered all the words and the unexpected occurrence. I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. It was fascinating to me that I remembered the words of the pledge, written by a socialist minister in 1892, changed in 1923 to reflect the name of our country and in 1954 to illustrate that America is not a communist country. (You can find a brief history of the Pledge here .) And I was more than a little bit frightened that I could recall the words and body language from my days as a school child when I had no appreciation of what it meant - when it was mere indoctrination. I suppose I should be happy that I was never taught the Bellamy salute ! Having that muscle memory could prove quite horrifying. So why, when I was taught the Pledge as a bi

Michelle Slatalla's humorous quest for the proper balance in the struggle between providing support for and encouraging independence in her teenage children really struck a chord with me. The fact that it took the form of a prom dress was just icing on the cake. Most parents want to give their kids the best foundation possible and this requires a lot of thought about what is in their best long-term interest. Short-term desires must often be left unmet in order for the child to develop properly. In the conflict between buying the expensive one-use prom dress and making the teenager pay for it as she had once done for herself, Slatalla reaches the conclusion that it would be easier to give the child her kidney, which she was prepared to part with when signing up for motherhood. Taking action she senses would delay the child's self-reliance is a tougher issue. I think I speak for parents everywhere when I say this is exactly the sort of question that we’d like to see researchers

That's what's happenin'!

If you, like me, happen to remember that Farside cartoon from over 25 years ago, then you can envision what my chick-chickens looked liked today when they got into their run. They followed me from the coop and very enthusiastically installed themselves in the run in seconds. But within a minute of my closing the gate all of them were lying in odd positions throughout the run. I thought their over-enthusiasm about their release from the coop had killed them! Then I remembered. Last night, although it was rainy, it was kind of warm. I suggested that we turn off the red light for the evening. When Stephen went into the coop this morning, the ladies weren't settled comfortably on their perches as normal, but huddled in a corner. I'm guessing from their sudden bouts of narcolepsy this afternoon that they didn't sleep at all last night. They're addicted to the red light! We'll have to get one that isn't infrared for the summer - or wean them from their dependency

Today my youngest and I started archery lessons. Okay, so I am approximately three times older than the second oldest person in the program and all the other homeschool mothers I know are hanging out on the sidelines happily chatting to one another - but I'm learning something new. It's fun and requires strength, concentration, and some coordination. And I get to shoot arrows! It's FITA style Olympic archery and we shoot at targets that looks like this: And while I look much more like this, than this, today, I'm training "on line". Tomorrow, who knows?

By Samuel Walter Foss (1858-1911) He wrote in letters plain to see, That all could understand; ALL PERSONS CARRYING FIREARMS FORBIDDEN ON THIS LAND. And through his hundred-acre woods, To stay through calm and breeze, He nailed his minatory sign Upon two hundred trees. So all who wandered through those wilds Could read and understand: ALL PERSONS CARRYING FIREARMS FORBIDDEN ON THIS LAND. Ben Bean, the Nimrod of the town, Went shooting through the land; His vocal musket banged in tones That all could understand. And then the owner of the woods Who placed the warnings signs, Went after Ben and talked to him Of penalties and fines. "Do you now see these signs?" he said he, "A child can understand, "All persons carrying firearms Forbidden on this land?" "But how’ll you get me off?" asked Ben, And spoke without a wince, "A person carrying firearms Ain’t easy to convince." "Go off!" the farmer cried; "Begone!" "Come drive

Intrinsic Abilities “Justice O'Connor has often been cited as saying that a wise old man and wise old woman will reach the same conclusion in deciding cases…I would hope that a wise Latina woman with the richness of her experiences would more often than not reach a better conclusion than a white male who hasn't lived that life.” When I first read of Judge Sotomayor’s statements quoted above, I laughed at their apparent taken-out-of-context usage. Clearly there must be some explanation between the two statements or some unreported circumstances which explained the naked racism of this respected jurist. I found and read the original text of the speech to have a better understanding of the Supreme Court nominee. Here’s what she said: Whether born from experience or inherent physiological or cultural differences, a possibility I abhor less or discount less than my colleague Judge Cedarbaum, our gender and national origins may and will make a difference in our judging. Justice O

This is one of the original Schoolhouse Rock videos for me. I remember it well and every scene makes me smile. I was a little disappointed that the fabulous creators of Schoolhouse Rock seemed to suffer from what generally plagues the entire United States today - they had forgotten about the importance of ideas! A noun is a person, place, thing, or IDEA.

Today, I welcome a guest blogger, my youngest daughter who felt like writing a story . Once upon a time, Bob saw a chicken. :-) ~:> “AWWWWW!” he cried. “How cute!” Bob’s mom and dad were very stern. :-( :-( “Chickens are filthy!” cried his mom. She had a hollow, stuck-up voice, and she talked like she was in an opera. She hadn’t even looked at the chicken. “They take mud baths!” said his dad. He talked in only one note: a low C. “Uhh, so do I, dear. It‘s good for your skin. Soooo… these chickens take… healthy baths?” :-( :-o :-) ~:> “I guess…” said Bob in a sing-songy voice, hoping his mom was caving in. “Oh, how… smart , they are. Oh, they are kind of cute … in a way… you know… I wouldn’t mind one… in fact… I’d even, maybe like one…” The dad, though, was still unhappy. :-( :-) :-) ~:> “It would get in the way of my cooking! Getting feathers in my mushrooms and eggs, which I loooooooooooove.” “Dad! Chickens lay eggs!” “They do?” his dad asked suddenly in a high C. :-o :-) :-

Here are some more movies we’ve seen recently. Unfortunately, none are strikingly good or bad, so my reviews will be neither recommendations nor warnings. Again, the titles are links to trailers. In the theater: Star Trek Fun, action adventure, probably not for Trekkers (you know that’s what they prefer to be called). I went looking forward to seeing Chris Pine as Young Kirk: Ladies Man and found Zachary Quinto (new to me) much more interesting as young Spock. I like nerdy boys so this was really no surprise, but he was nerdy with a twist. Despite my affection for old Spock, my initial delight in seeing Leonard Nimoy quickly gave way to my distaste at his overuse to deliver much needed narrative. As it is a big action movie, it should be seen on a big screen – for me this means at a theater and therefore I must discount the entertainment value by the added expense [6]. Night at the Museum: Battle at the Smithsonian Another Amy Adams movie! She is just plain fun to watch as the sporty-t

While I don't remember this from my own youth, I found it watching these episodes with my older children years ago. I thought this lesson about subjects and predicates was told in a lovely little story. Don't be surprised if later on today you find yourself attempting to sound like Jack Sheldon singing the catchy little tune.

In moving the chick-chickens from their coop into their run this morning, I made a casual remark to my daughter about being the pied piper. Apparently, I have failed at my parental duty in that she had no idea what this meant. When I began to explain the story, I realized that I didn’t actually know it enough to explain it well. Should you ever find yourself in a similar situation (with or without chickens), I’m here to save you from a similar fate. The Pied Piper of Hamelin is thought to have originated in thirteenth or fourteenth century Germany about a town overrun with rats. One day a man shows up in minstrel clothing (‘pied’ meaning two different colors) and says he can take care of the problem for an agreed upon fee. The townspeople agree and the Piper attracts all the rats out of town with his pipe playing. He leads them all to a river where they drown. When he comes back to collect his fee, the townspeople try to renegotiate the deal. "Beside,'' quoth the Mayor wit

My friend Fiddler, who has smartly divided her interests into 3 or 4 blogs (instead of the one to catch-all and one to ignore as I do) had an interesting looking stack of books on her aptly named reading blog: A Habit of Reading a few weeks ago. Her stack of books to be read made me collect my own stack of books that I am currently either between the covers or about to crack open any day now. Some of these things are not like the others. I picked up Janet Evanovich at the library on Friday because I needed a book I could finish while getting my car inspected (the emergency Victorian novel idea is great, but since I borrowed it, I'm afraid to leave it in my dumpster on wheels car). I will definitely have to bring the last in the Twilight series to the beach this summer. You know, that is, if I actually go to the beach because I'm not much of a sun-worshipper. And that lack of sun exposure and subsequent low level of vitamin D brings me to my next set of books by Weston A. Pri