Soft, fresh ricotta cheese is a wonderful, light additive to many dishes – traditional Italian fare such as pastas and pizzas, delicious desserts like cheesecakes and cannoli, or simply smeared across a slice of toasted semolina. It also works surprisingly well with simple scrambled eggs.
The origins of ricotta are, like most food history, a tad sketchy, but are believed to lie in the Sicilian region ofItaly. There is a lovely illustration (claimed to be the first) of ricotta-making in the medieval health guide Tacuinum Sanitatis. Ricotta was considered to be very healthful and to aid the digestive system.
Surprisingly, ricotta is not actually a cheese. The word derives from the Latin "recocta" (recooked), because it is produced from the whey (byproduct) of cheese-making. Originally made from sheeps' milk only, today ricotta is also made using cows' milk. If you cannot find fresh ricotta in your local Italian specialty shop, I urge you to try making your own as we've done on this blog in the past (http://www.charlesprogers.com/blogs/archives/6283). The mild flavor and texture of freshly made ricotta will enhance and enrich the flavors of your home-cooked meals.
To put an Italian spin on this recipe, I started with a ripe, red Roma tomato, sautéed in a touch of olive oil. Then, I added some dried oregano and parsley to the eggs before cooking, added the fresh ricotta near the end, and topped it all off with a handsome sprig of fresh, green basil.
Enjoy these fluffy eggs on their own, or serve them with spicy Italian sausage and a big hunk of toasted semolina for the full experience of an amazing breakfast in bed, Italian style.
Heat olive oil in small, heavy pan over medium low heat. Chop tomato into small pieces and add to pan. Cook until tomato is warm and softened, about 3 to 5 minutes.
Break eggs into small bowl and whisk well with oregano and parsley. Add egg mixture to heated pan and allow to cook slowly and gently. Stir and lift frequently with wooden spoon to avoid sticking. Toward the end of cooking, add ricotta cheese and fold into the eggs, just to melt slightly and heat through. Season with salt and pepper, garnish with fresh basil leaves and serve immediately.
Extra Yarn by Mac Barnett and Jon Klassen.
Mac Barnett and Jon Klassen are two of my favorite children's book creators out there. I've reviewed books by each of them more than once. Mac Barnett's Guess Who? Billy Twitters and His Blue Whale Problem and Chloe and the Lion are all wonderful, hilarious books. Jon Klassen's I Want My Hat Back was, in my mind, an instant classic.
This collaborative book with Mac Barnett providing the story (Chloe and the Lion showed us definitively that this man cannot draw) and Jon Klassen doing the illustrations is a bit of a departure from their usual style. Nevertheless, it's still a wonderful book. My son is crazy about it. It reads like a story out of a book of fairy tales, maybe Russian fairy tales.
Annabelle lives in a cold, drab town. When she discovers a box of brightly-colored yarn, she decides to knit herself a sweater. With the extra yarn, she knits one for her dog. With the extra yarn, she knits one for her neighbor and so on. It soon becomes clear that she will never run out of yarn so after outfitting the whole village and their animals, she knits house cozies and all manner of other knitted delights. However, a greedy archduke has heard about this magical box of yarn and wants it for himself. What will he do to get it from this girl?
A simple, silly, and beautifully illustrated story from two of the greatest of the new generation of children's book creators.
Movies in Bed: Classic Workplace Comedy!
If you work in any kind of office environment, chances are good that references to the movie Office Space will crop up on more than one occasion. Whether someone is struggling with a printer or you are, like me, being oddly possessive of your stapler, there are endless opportunities to reference this movie. And for years, I have been at a disadvantage. Somehow this movie simply never crossed my path. And since for years I did not work in an office environment, I never felt I'd missed out on much. But now that I work in an office-like world (nothing like the business in Office Space, thank goodness!) I'm finding the references more than I can gloss over at this point.
I picked up a copy from my local public library.
Office Space was written and directed by Mike Judge, known also for the low-brow 90s cartoon Beavis and Butthead. That show never appealed to me in the slightest which may have added to my reticence to see this one. It's about a guy named Peter who loathes his office job. When he is convinced to go to a hypnotherapist to address his issues, he is placed in a trance and told to put all his worries and cares aside. Unfortunately the hypnotherapist keels over and never draws Peter back out. So he sleeps through work, shows up with an i-don't-care attitude, and—voilà!—everything starts turning out great for him!
It's a pretty funny movie, with lots of notable characters, especially the verging on psychopathy stapler guy. If you are in the minority of people who hasn't seen this and works in an office space, you should probably go see Office Space.
Posted in Movies in Bed	| Tagged Charles P. Rogers, Movie Reviews, movies in bed, Office Space	| Comments Off on Movies in Bed: Classic Workplace Comedy!
Paint is a simple and relatively inexpensive decorative element, yet it can drastically change the aesthetic of any space. From a simple ivory eggshell that adds life to a dull room, to a cleverly painted bold pattern on an accent wall, paint is the decorator's best friend, and in a remodel, should be yours too. Here are five cool ways to bring pattern by paint into a bedroom.
An accent pattern is introduced in this space and enhances an otherwise plain corner. Want to try this at home? Select contrasting colors, as shown, or for a more subtle effect, use similar tones.
If you think wall patterns might be too busy, have a look at this graceful chevron design, which adds pizzazz and transforms this clean, almost under-decorated bedroom.
Painted stripes are a terrific wall treatment for any bedroom, including a nursery or child's room. Make a statement and paint extra wide panels horizontally; or, go for a wallpaper look with narrow vertical stripes. Tone on tone or complimentary colors work nicely. Stripes typically work well above wainscoting, as well.
Have an old dresser that's ready for a yard sale? Transform the piece from shabby to chic by painting the frame a dark chocolate and the drawers a soft white or cream.
If you're lacking in the artwork department and your budget is dwindling, why not create your own? Purchase a stretched canvas, find a pattern at Cutting Edge Stencils or let your creative juices flow and come up with your own design.
Children are entitled to a stylish bedroom, too. This wavy backdrop is a perfect motif for the in-between age, or any age, really. Great looking and not too sophisticated, this design will add color and panache to rooms with even the simplest furnishings.
When I travel, I like to shop for souvenirs for friends and family back home. I search the culinary shops, seeking regional specialties, unusual items that cannot be found locally. InBermuda, that means spicy gale force pepper jam (amazing spread atop some whipped cream cheese and served with wheat crackers), tangy sherry pepper sauce (the not-to-do-without condiment for traditional fish chowder), and, of course, the inimitable rich, dark rum cake.
Serving ware and kitchen gifts are also at the top of my list. When I locate a linen towel or cutting board that includes a printed recipe, my joy is doubled. On a recent visit toBermuda, I picked up a tiny little cutting board for my daughter-in-law, Lesley. Upon receipt, she politely declined saying, "Oh, I love that little board…but you got me the same one last time!" Oops!
So, I kept it for myself. Morning Glories are prolific in Bermuda, and this sweet little board is adorned with frilly watercolor flowers created byBermudaartist Carole Holding. The muffin recipe is rich with carrots, fruits, and nuts. Be careful not to overfill the muffin pans – the dense batter will run over and cause the muffins to join together.
Enjoy the delightfully tantalizing aroma of warm tropical fruit as your muffins bake. When finished, plop one or two on your tiny serving platter, and be transported to the lush isle ofBermudafor an artistic breakfast in bed.
Preheat oven to 350°. Line a muffin tin with paper or foil liners and set aside.
Sift together flour, baking soda, ginger and salt into large bowl. Stir in brown sugar. In separate bowl, beat together eggs, oil and vanilla. Mix egg mixture with dry ingredients until smooth. Add grated carrot, apple, pineapple, coconut, raisins and walnuts.
Spoon batter into lined muffin tin and bake at 350° for 30 to 40 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in muffins comes out clean and tops are lightly golden. Let cool on a rack at least 10 minutes before serving.
Note: You can purchase spicy pepper jam from the Bermuda Jam Factory at bermudajamfactory.com; chopping boards and other original artwork from caroleholding.com.


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Obsidian's new RPG Tyranny will let you build your own magic spells
Magic is easier to make than you'd think
By Megan Farokhmanesh@Megan_Nicolett Aug 26, 2016, 1:00pm EDT
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Obsidian Entertainment's upcoming role-playing game, Tyranny, has a heavy classic vibe to it. Its isometric view, band of mages, rogues and warriors, and dungeon-diving fantasy gameplay will feel instantly familiar to anyone who's played games like Baldur's Gate or Icewind Dale — with some exception. The game will include a creation system for players to build their own magic spells.
At Gamescom 2016, Polygon got the chance to test out spell creation and its results in battle. There are a few key components: First, a player must pick the core of their spell. This is essentially its element — frost, fire lighting and so on. Once selected, you can set the expression of the spell, or how it will appear in battle. A bolt will offer a solid long-range choice, for example, while a cone adds more damage to enemies in a wider space.
Once created, players can buff their abilities with accents, which add attributes that can increase damage, add additional range, buff stun times or more. As you pile on accents, however, the lore cost for each item will increase; if your character lacks the lore to match, they'll be unable to use it.
Spell creation is a fairly simple process that adds a sense of personalization in battle. By choosing the shape of my spell — a bolt, for example, or an area-based cone —I was dictating how I wanted to play. Do I want to hang back and shoot off well-timed bolts? Probably not. I'm a little too sloppy for that; the more area I can hit, the better. Each enemy has different sets of resistance, which makes tailoring your spells to your party and play style important to success.
Tyranny launches for Linux, Mac and Windows PC later this year.
Gamescom 2016: The biggest news out of Europe's massive convention
Little Nightmares looks like Tim Burton's idea of childhood
Psycho-thriller Get Even needs more time to get better

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


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Pre-Christmas Dramas
We were so nearly there. At the beginning of the week, the end of term had loomed like a horrible deadline, before which I needed to fit in doing the rest of the Christmas shopping, attending various end of term events without forgetting anything, writing the Christmas cards and writing a final feature for work.
But now we were an hour away from the end of Littleboy 1's term. I was finishing off my last few bits of work before a break for the holidays, while Littleboy 2, having broken up a day earlier, was happily esconsed on the sofa with an iPad, having slept in till 9am. All was quiet in the deep dark wood.
And then I got the call from school. The nurse's office. "We seem to have a very unusual problem here, Mrs NVG. Littleboy 1 appears to have a 5p coin stuck to the roof of his mouth, and we can't get it out. We think he may need to go to a dentist, or even A&E."
Littleboy 2 and I rushed up there to find a distraught Littleboy 1 with, indeed, a coin somehow suctioned to the inside of his mouth. Whether or not the crying was to do with embarrassment, pain or the fact that he knew I'd told him a million times not to put money in his mouth, I'm not quite sure.
Having not registered the boys yet with a dentist in London (I was waiting until 6 months after their last American appointment), I was faced with a dire wait at the busiest A&E department in London, and had visions of a dreadful Christmas ahead with Littleboy unable to eat or drink anything, having had the coin surgically removed somehow.
Luckily the school nurse thought of a local dentist who helps the school out with fitting rugby mouthguards. A phone call later and we were down there; the dentist removed the offending coin in seconds.
"Have you ever seen this before?" I asked her. "Er, no", she replied. "I can't say I have."
This is the second time I've been told by a medical professional that something unique has happened to a child of mine. The first was when Littleboy 2, as a baby, managed to get a hair so tightly wrapped around his little toe that it had to be removed by a plastic surgeon.
However, it may run the family; my father-in-law tells me he swallowed a penny (old penny, so quite big) at much the same age. He had to have it removed under chloroform, a most unpleasant experience. So, I think we got off lightly.
Anyway - Littleboy 1 is fine again, and we are excitedly counting down to Christmas. But I don't think we'll be putting any coins in the Christmas pudding....
The Great Transatlantic Christmas-off
Not my neighbour's partridge; but it's a good old English tradition
"Look, it's a partridge! In a pear tree".
This was about the third time I've pointed out to Littleboy 1 this most inventive outdoor Christmas decoration from a house near us. A stuffed bird sits atop a tiny tree, which is hanging with golden pears, outside their house. (While America still wins on the classy decoration front, England is definitely improving - I've seen lots of fairy lights on trees and bushes this year, and not so many flashing garish reindeer).
When he finally managed to see the thing, he asked quite simply: "What's that got to do with Christmas?"
The boys have certainly missed out on some English Christmas traditions during our time in the US, but they're making up for lost time now. Although sadly too old to actually be a shepherd/wise man in the Nativity, they've sung in choirs at school as younger children perform it. We're one carol service down, two to go (Littleboy 1's was at a large London cathedral, a really special experience, while the other two will be a tiny country churches). Although I realise I'm a hypocrite for wanting them to experience carol services, given that I'm the most Dawkins-eque critic of religion, I do feel they missed something in the US, with its strict banishment of anything religious from school. After all, you can't be critical of something you've never been exposed to, can you? (And after all, I like singing carols).
Littleboy 2's been to one pantomime with school, and I've booked tickets for all of us to go to the Theatre Royal, Stratford, to see Dick Whittington. I'm not sure panto even exists in New York where the Christmas theatre experience is either The Nutcracker, or The Rockettes at Radio City Music Hall.
This week we're off to The Snowman in Covent Garden (at least they know what this is, having watched it repeatedly on video since they were babies and played the theme tune in their piano recitals in America). In a fit of Christmas enthusiasm I bought the DVD of the rehashed Snowman (The Snowman and Snowdog) in the supermarket, having not seen it on television last year. Disappointingly it was a far inferior version; Littleboy 1 immediately announced that music wasn't as good, and the adults among us were dismayed that the original house in the film was now depicted in the midst of urban sprawl. We don't want realism from our cartoons!
Work-wise, I've been incredibly busy, mainly because my American colleagues are fascinated by the glut of over-the-top Christmas ads coming out of the UK. Why, they asked me, are British Christmas ads such a big deal? I tried to explain that in the UK, Christmas IS the really one really big occasion of the year when we go totally overboard. Americans have so many; Halloween, Thanksgiving, Valentine's, even Mother's Day have special advertising created just for the occasion, and then of course there's the Super Bowl.
The UK has also has Special Christmas Telly for advertisers to get their teeth into, with guaranteed large audience numbers. We show special episodes of all our favourites on the 25th, whereas in the States it's all repeats of A Charlie Brown Christmas and Miracle on 34th Street. Hell, America has to wait until March to get the Downton Abbey Christmas Special. While I've gone off Downton rather, I'm looking forward to Call The Midwife and the return of Benedict Cumberbatch (sorry, Sherlock).
Yes, for all that I miss about America, in the great Transatlantic Christmas-Off, the UK definitely has the edge.
On Guilty Secrets
David Emanuel: Jungle camper and all round nice man
I'm not a big watcher of reality TV. I'm not into the X-Factor, or Strictly, or Celebrity Big Brother, or American Idol, Britain's Got Talent - anything like that. It's not that I haven't watched them - usually I watched one series in the past, then got bored. I couldn't see the attraction of the Great British Bakeoff, beyond being mildly amusing. I do watch The Apprentice, but not so religiously that I can't miss a single episode.
But then there's my November guilty secret. My name is Nappyvalleygirl and I'm addicted to I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here.
I love I'm a Celebrity, and this year has been no exception. It might help that it's on at a particularly grey and gloomy time of year, I suppose; I seem to remember that when I watched the very first series, I had a stinking cold and the idea of being glued to the TV for three weeks was extremely appealing.
But what I really love is the way that all the "celebrities" (and I deliberately put that in quotation marks, because usually I've never heard of half of them), once they've been in the jungle for about a week and deprived of decent food, hot water and their dignity, lose their "celebrity" veneer and almost forget they're being filmed. Never mind the "bushtucker trials", it's fascinating to watch their real characters emerge as they subsist on a diet of rice and beans, wash in a stream and have to empty out the "dunny".
Who would have thought that previously not-very-famous boyband member Kian Egan would win this year, closely followed by rather camp wedding dress designer David Emanuel? I certainly wouldn't have had my money on those two at the beginning of the series, against TOWIE reality show star Joey Essex (not that I'd heard of him either, but apparently he's hugely popular) or gorgeous model Amy Willerton. But three weeks in the jungle revealed that Emanuel and Egan were the most down-to-earth, lovely, helpful people in camp. And so the public voted for them.
I'm A Celeb has also got me through some difficult times. In 2006, when I was pregnant with Littleboy 2 and banged up in St Thomas's Hospital, not even allowed to leave the ward, it was a lifesaver. I watched it every night on my bedside screen - it was literally an escape from the fact that I was trapped in hospital away from my husband and 17 month old baby for a whole month, sharing a room with three other women and worrying about my baby being born prematurely. Maybe it wasn't even a coincidence that Littleboy 2 was finally delivered just a few days after the final episode. Last year, when the onset of my mystery illness was making me deeply anxious and I felt as if my world was falling apart, it was the one thing I looked forward to all day.
These experiences mean that however mindless the series might be, I will always have a fondness for Ant and Dec (although I do hope they get sent to the jungle themselves one day). One thing I've never done is voted (except once, in the infancy of reality TV, for Will Young on Pop Idol). I try to restrict myself just to watching. At least I can keep one aspect of my dignity intact.
But I reckon everyone has their reality TV guilty secret. The Doctor's uncle, an eminent left wing academic, loves watching Strictly, while other serious-seeming friends of mine seemed obsessed with the Bakeoff. In America, otherwise sensible working Moms got all giggly over The Bachelorette and the Real Housewives series.
So go on, then, what's yours? Or are you so admirable you eschew them all?
Missing Thanksgiving
No November turkey for us this year!
I didn't get Thanksgiving at all when we first moved to the US. It seemed a kind of inconvenient holiday, jammed in at the end of November when I hadn't started feeling at all festive and everyone was full swing in the middle of work and (at that time) preschool.
I remember all too well the first year we were in New York. It seemed as if everyone I knew was going off to celebrate with their families and was incredibly excited, and for us, nothing was happening. We were saved at the last minute by our lovely German expat friends, who invited us round for a turkey and all the trimmings (plus some Germanic additions such as dumplings). It was actually rather wonderful.
From then on, celebrating Thanksgiving with our friends became a tradition for us. We had them back the following year, and then went to their house again. We became more familiar with the rituals of the day; watching the Macy's Manhattan Thanksgiving parade on TV in the morning, going for a walk after lunch in the usually glorious autumn weather. In 2011, I ran the annual town "Turkey Trot" before lunch, and appreciated the slap-up meal afterwards all the more.
So this year it seems a bit strange not to be celebrating the last Thursday in November. Not only seeing my friends' photos of their own celebrations on Facebook, I also feel left out as my work colleagues (all in the US) are on holiday and our offices are closed. While they are all being thankful, we're here in drizzly London on an ordinary Thursday, with everyone at school and work.
You see, I came around to Thanksgiving after all. It's an excuse for a big meal, a party and a festive feeling at a cold time of year when there's not much going on. (Many Americans I know say they even prefer it to Christmas, as there's no pressure to buy presents.)
Never mind. One thing I will appreciate this year is Christmas in England - my first since 2008. Mince pies, proper English carol services, mulled wine, Christmas pudding - it's all to come, and I intend to make the most of it. It's not been the easiest of years, but for that, I'll be thankful.
In the meantime, happy Thanksgiving!
Clever clogs
Littleboy 2 is getting far too clever for his own good.
I don't just mean academically, although it's true he's currently on a roll at school. He keeps coming home from school with certificates for good work, stickers from the head teacher and so forth (though is mysteriously reticent on what these were actually awarded for).
And whereas his brother is definitely the mathematician in the family, I think he may have inherited my own preference for the written word. He's recently begun a diary, and is keen to write everything down. Meanwhile a future literary critic may be emerging: he rather startled us at the weekend by pointing out, while watching Lord of The Rings, that Sauron's eye is the symbol of evil whereas the tree of Gondor is the symbol of good. Deep thoughts for a six year old.
Yesterday's spelling homework was words with apostrophes: you'll, they're, we're, I'm etc. There was a little confusion at first, so I got him to write some sentences using the various words. When we got to You're, I helpfully jumped into explain the difference between Your and You're, and suggested he write a sentence containing both. He looked at me slyly and trotted out the following:
"You're silly, Mummy, for leaving your brand new umbrella on the bus."
I had hoped the children had forgotten the little episode, which occurred a few weeks ago in Brixton. It was raining heavily, and my umbrella had broken. About to board a bus home with the boys, I was concerned that we would be soaked on the short walk between bus stop and home at the other end, so I made the children come with me to a crowded, chaotic Poundland to buy a cheap umbrella. Of course I promptly left it on the bus - so my one pound brolly was used for all of 30 seconds. Naturally, I made the boys promise not to tell Daddy that Mummy had been so stupid.
Anyway - I couldn't argue with the sentence. It's both factually and grammatically correct. But I'm going to have to watch out with this one.
Homework, grammar and toys in pyjamas
My friend Circles in the Sand has written a lovely post about doing grammar with her boys, which inspired me to ruminate on our own homework and grammar experiences.
I've come to notice recently that I really enjoy helping the kids with their English homework. This isn't really a surprise; I loved doing English at school myself, and always felt that an English lesson wasn't really "work", it was enjoyable. The best English lessons were those when you just got to read your book - hell, that wasn't work at all! This was closely followed by reading plays out loud, or - even better - getting to watch the video version of your set text. (Actually, I think everyone loved that. Particularly Far From The Madding Crowd with Terence Stamp and Alan Bates).
Maths was another matter. Littleboy 1 told me this morning: "Today is a great day because I have double maths." I had to laugh; my worst days at school were double maths days - clearly he takes after his father, who took Maths A Level.
Yesterday I spent ages helping him come up with creative adverbs to put in a story about aliens. It's difficult though - how much help do you give them? I don't want to put words in his mouth but on the other hand, I had to give him some clues, including hinting that "nicely" was not the most creative adverb in the world (and adding that teachers don't tend to like the word "nice" in general).
Anyway, as regards grammar: Littleboy 2 had a note come home from school which said:
"Friday is Children In Need day. Children are asked to bring into school their favourite doll, teddy or cuddly toy dressed in pyjamas or fancy dress for the day."
I'm not sure whether the sentence is actually ungrammatical, or just poorly worded, but it definitely wasn't clear. We had a huge debate on whether it was the children or the toys that were supposed to come in fancy dress. I reasoned that it couldn't be the children, because they have sports on a Friday and it wouldn't be suitable to come in wearing PJs on a sports day. On the other hand, what cuddly toy has pyjamas?
Turns out it is the toy though. Seeing as Littleboy 2's is a tiger, he (the tiger) won't be going in pyjamas.
Weekend ad break
Lego's latest ad (above) is a sure winner for the Christmas season - it's all about father and son bonding, and features the cutest wide eyed little boy building Lego towers with his devoted Dad. It's a clever bit of marketing but I think Lego may have missed a trick. Why isn't it a Mother in the ad?
Yes, Dads sometimes get to do the fun parts of Lego building - helping put together the new Lego set they got for Christmas, for example.
But Mums, in my experience, are the ones who really know about Lego. We get to hear endless information all about the characters in Lego Chima. We have to figure out how to get two bits of Lego apart which appear to be have welded together by superglue. We have to search under the sofa for "my really important Lego guy" who's crucially gone missing five minutes before bath time. And we have to pore over instructions when it's all gone horribly wrong.
We also get to experience the joys of picking Lego up off the floor, the nagging in the supermarket when Lego minifigures are spotted at the checkout (thank you, Sainsbury's) and the sinking feeling when yet another Lego set is dimantled and goes into the big, endless pile of bricks.....
Yes, Lego, do an ad about Mothers. Because, as any Mum of little boys knows, understanding Lego is essential to raising sons.
Posted by nappy valley girl at 11:46 11 comments:
A London Halloween: surprisingly spooky
I don't know how many times I've warned the Littleboys over the past few years that Halloween in England wouldn't quite be the same as in America. I tried to let them down gently so that they wouldn't be hugely disappointed by the contrast between Long Island and London. "Halloween isn't such a big thing in England," I'd tell them. "You might not find that everyone's out trick or treating, and people don't really decorate their houses like they do in America."
But now they probably think I'm a complete nutter.
In fairness, at my previous London home, I would quite often buy a stash of Halloween sweets and end up keeping them for a whole year after nobody came round trick or treating on October 31. But it seems things have changed. Last Thursday, we headed out not only to find the streets full of trick or treating families, but many houses lit up with pumpkins. Not only that, but people were making a real effort to dress up in spooky costumes just to answer their door.
At one house, which was dark except for a lit jack o' lantern, the door appeared to open spookily by itself, before the mother (I presume) then appeared wearing a bloodstained white doctor's jacket. Her two sons then appeared at the window looking like vampires, holding candles and staring blankly out of the window without even a trace of a giggle. This was better than anything that ever happened to us in the States, where (dare I say it) the spooky element of Halloween is sometimes altogether forgotten as teams of fairies, superheroes and firefighters roam the streets.
True, the house decorations we had been missing appeared at the last minute, on 31st October, rather than being up all month, but some of them were excellent, and the pumpkin carvings in the neighbourhood were extremely impressive (compared to our amateurish efforts, above). The boys were most excited by a pumpkin carved as Mario from Mario Brothers, and there were bats, owls, and all manner of other designs.
The only contrast the boys themselves could see is that the quantity of their sweet booty was slightly less impressive than in the US. Many people had run out quite early on, including us, and some people were handing out fruit instead, as it was the only thing they had left in the house.
Next, year, I'll be dressing up to answer the door - and I'm certainly buying more sweets.
Halloween Ad Break
It's half term, so I'm going to entertain you this week with another commercial break. This one's from Canada, but it certainly embodies a certain kind of parent you meet in the US too. (I haven't met any in the UK so far). You know the one. She starts discussing Halloween costumes in August, even though her two year old isn't actually aware what Halloween is or knows what they want to wear. Throughout October, she posts endless pictures of her family's Jack o' Lantern carving creations on Facebook. She would ideally drink Starbucks' pumpkin spiced latte all year round if she could. She wins the contest for Most Over The Top Garden Decorations. She drags her small children trick or treating for hours, well after everyone else has gone in and they are wailing. Nevertheless, she's the one whose Halloween party you would LOVE your kids to be invited to....
Why expats love social networks
When my parents moved to Hong Kong in the 1970s, they were essentially cut off from the rest of the world. Phone calls to the UK were only made in emergencies, or on Christmas Day after the Queen's Speech. Air mail letters took several days to reach home, and were mainly exchanged between family - friends only tended to communicate at Christmas card time.
But moving to America in 2009 was a totally different story. Yes, I missed my friends, but I knew almost as much about what they were up to as when I lived in London. Thanks to email and particularly to Facebook, I didn't forget what their children looked like or how they were growing up, or what the significant events were in their lives. Not only that, we were able to comment on the same world events, even gossip about stuff via message threads. For keeping in touch with family, there was Skype - so my children didn't have to forget what Grandad looks like or who their lovely great Aunt is.
I was asked to contribute to a blog post on this subject by relocation company Robinsons. What struck me is that it seems most expats agree - whatever you think of Mark Zuckerberg, (and I'm looking forward to reading Dave Eggers' book The Circle which takes a satirical look at social networks), Facebook and Skype are invaluable inventions if you're living apart from friends and family.
Now that we're back from the US, at least I can keep in touch with my American friends in the same way. I have to say that I already feel I'm losing touch with the ones who aren't on Facebook (although I'm encouraging the Facebook refuseniks to at least download Skype. After all, that doesn't have any privacy implications, which I presume is why they are reluctant to join).
If you live abroad, what's your favourite way of communicating?
On pumpkins, joined-up writing and video cameras
It's almost Halloween and there's not a pumpkin to be seen in the bay windows of Southeast London. No skeletons on porches, spiderwebs on trellises or fake gravestones in front gardens. I've seen a few tired looking gourds being marketed as "Halloween pumpkins" in Tesco, but there's no pumpkin patch where we can go and select the choicest specimen to carve for the 31st.
The only people who have asked me about costumes are 1) Iota and 2) my German friend - and both of them were being ironic.
Despite this, I have (rashly) promised the Littleboys trick or treating at Halloween, and have even possibly persuaded a fellow Mum at school to join in. While clearly it won't be an American Halloween, with a costume parade in the school playground, I think going from full on Halloween to nothing would be a bit of a shock to the system for the boys (not to mention myself).
One thing that happened in America was that on every celebratory occasion (Halloween, Valentine's Day and so forth) there would be certain parents that would wrap up a little bag of treats, including pencils and rubbers, for every child in the class. Consequently we now have hundreds. I noticed Littleboy 1 filling up his school bag with rubbers (that's Brit-speak for erasers, for the shocked Americans among you) the other day. When I enquired why, he said: "Well, everyone is always asking me to borrow a rubber, because I have quite a few, and they don't have any. And it's really annoying, so I'm just bringing lots to school and handing them out."
Rubbers, the vestiges of an American education.
We are almost at half term and one thing that has become apparent is that he doesn't know how to do joined up writing - unlike the rest of his class, who have presumably spent years perfecting it. (Littleboy 2, in year 2, seems to have thrown himself into learning this skill very earnestly and practises it every night, writing sentences such as "Mummy is cool" in beautiful script).
When the teacher mentioned his messy handwriting at a meeting, I had to point out that he'd never done it before. And I started to wonder - do we really still need to be teaching children beautiful joined-up writing? After all, by GCSEs surely they're going to be writing everything on a computer. Is it actually a redundant skill in this digital world - or something to be done as a hobby, like painting or sewing? Thoughts, please.
One last cultural difference I've noticed. I went to an assembly at one of the schools yesterday, where the children performed a play. At a similar event in the US, I would have turned up on time to find hoards of parents already there, having bagged the best seats, and would have hardly been able to turn my head for enormous video cameras. In London, as I filmed the performance discreetly on a digital camera, I noticed virtually no-one else was doing so. It couldn't have been more different.
Short observations on the school run
1. There are some parents who will always park on the double yellow lines outside the school (despite repeated warnings in the school newsletter not to do so). I am thinking of conducting a statistical study on this. My gut instinct tells me the results: it is likely that if you drive a Volvo or Audi 4X4, you are 110% more likely to do this than if you drive any other make of car.
2. Why does every middle class parent in London now seem to drive around permanently with a huge roof box on top of their (huge) car? I can't explain it. I mean, they're not going on holiday every week are they? Or perhaps they are....anyway, if we end up getting one, you might have to shoot me.
3. Dads on bikes (with kids on bikes behind) are the politest parents. When I'm walking Littleboy 1 to school, they always thank me for letting them by (they tend to be cycling on the pavement, but I'll forgive them that) and their kids even say good morning to my kids.
4. So far, virtually the only parents to say hello to me on a regular basis (at one of the schools) are non-British. What does that say, I wonder? Is it just that I've gravitated towards those people, having just spent time living away? Or are they actually friendlier.....
5. I've said it before, and will say it again. Britain needs schoolbuses! Shall I start a campaign?
Little things about London
People keep asking if we're happy to be back and to be honest, it's a difficult question.
So far, the Doctor is frustrated with work, I'm still struggling with my health issues (awaiting a specialist appointment next month) and although the boys like their new schools, they are definitely missing the space we had in America. There, they could run around a huge garden, or play outside with the neighbours' kids. Here, we are renting a house with a small decked garden. They want to kick footballs around and I'm terrified they're going to break one of the fancy garden lights, or even worse, someone else's window.
We definitely miss the New York weather. The mornings have been dark and gloomy, although it hasn't been that cold yet - a contrast to the beautiful light we had most mornings on Long Island, in every season. The climate in New York is definitely drier and sunnier (although of course could also be very dramatic, and fiendishly cold).
But there are little things about London that I notice, and love, that makes it feel like home. I love independent shops like our local greengrocer, a family run place where the proprietor and his daughters sound like they're straight out of Eastenders. I definitely feel these were lacking in the States - or perhaps it was just that those sort of places tended to be Hispanic bodegas, where I didn't feel part of the culture at all.
I love the English love of gardens - however small they may be in London. On Long Island, almost everyone had gardeners, or landscapers as they were known, but they did very little, so lawns tended to be big and beds low maintenance. That certainly isn't the case here. Walking down the narrow South London residential streets to the boys' schools, you'll suddenly pass a wonderfully scented lavender bush, lovingly tended roses, or a blooming fuschia in someone's tiny front garden, while back gardens glimpsed over fences are laden with fruit at the moment - apples, crab apples, pears and the last of the blackberries.
And, much as I enjoyed my spell in the suburbs, I like being part of a city again. The fact that I can be at my desk in the morning, at an art gallery in New Bond Street forty minutes later (for work, not leisure) and back in my house for lunch. And the diversity: within ten minutes I can be in the crowded markets of Brixton, reggae music blasting, or among the genteel shops of Dulwich.
I like that I understand what's on the school calendar - Harvest Festival, Fireworks, Christmas Pantomime - and don't have to constantly ask people what things mean. (I just saw an email from our mums' group in America that was headed "hanging bag mums" - now can anyone work out what that means?)
Long Island, you were wonderful. But London, much as I hate to admit it sometimes with your grey skies and grime, you are home.
A new routine
We are gradually settling in.
Littleboy 1 is having to get to grips with not only wearing a school uniform at school, but having to get changed at school or either PE or games- something he never had to do in the US. This means that he a) loses items of clothing on a regular basis (at least he has the name tapes) and b) often appears at the end of the school day with something on back to front or inside-out. On Friday he told me "Today is my favourite school day." I expected that it was because it was almost the weekend but no - it was the only day he didn't have to change clothes.
Littleboy 2 is getting to grips with swimming lessons through the school, which involve wearing a swimming hat for the first time in his life. After the first one, the teachers asked me: "Can he swim?". "Yes," I replied, surprised, "He's a really good swimmer." The swimming coach had reported back that he wasn't obeying any instructions and he wondered if he spoke English. When I enquired, Littleboy 2 informed me that he "couldn't hear". I've worked out that it must be the swimming hat......
The Doctor has finally started work, having cleared all manner of CRB checks, identity checks and occupational health questionnaires. Of course, when he took in all his official certificates to say he's a qualified doctor, no-one really gave them a second glance.....
For me, it's just been incredibly busy. As well as working, childcare and catching up with my UK friends, I've been working out how the heating in the house works, and trying to contact a piano repair man who only answers the phone on a Monday and won't allow you to leave an answerphone message. Fun, fun, fun.
I still haven't met many fellow parents at the school, but there's a coffee morning later this week at which I hope to make some connections. At the moment I feel like the only Mum outside Littleboy 2's school gates who isn't chatting gaily to a friend, and because of the dash between the two schools, I usually arrive at Littleboy 1's school a hot mess, dragging little brother behind me.
I also hadn't realised how much difference it makes with the school day being slightly longer than in America. By the time we get home from pickup, it's ten past four, and almost time to start homework and piano practice. They also get homework on weekends (a bit much, I think) so in some ways it feels as if you never get a break.
I'm already looking forward to half term....
Saturday ad break
As some of you may know, my day job involves writing about advertising. I have to watch hundreds of ads every week, good and bad, and sum them up in a few succint paragraphs. I don't often share ads on this blog, but sometimes I come across one that I think would make my readers laugh.
Having just moved back to England and discovering the "joys" of the school run, this one definitely did.
Down memory lane on the seafront
Beach huts on the seafront near my old school
On Saturday, I checked in at a little hotel on the seafront in a Suffolk seaside town. Across the road, the grey sea lapped in unfriendly waves, while huge container ships made their way slowly across the horizon. It was a view I hadn't experienced for 22 years. But oh, so familiar.
This was my first return to the seaside town where I boarded for seven years, from the ages of eleven. I walked out of there at 18 and never looked back. The school closed three years later, so there were not return visits, no school reunions. But now someone had organized one via Facebook, and here we were.
Ah, the power of social media. With us all turning 40 this year, everyone had become incredibly nostalgic, posting old school photos and remembering teachers. To my surprise, people who I never would have considered friends at school had "friended" me on Facebook. Even people who had been bullies and, not to put too fine a point on it, bitches. Now they were all turning up, at this former grotty seafront pub now, amazingly, transformed into a boutique hotel.
I wasn't sure about going. None of the few friends I had stayed in touch with and seen over the years could make it, and there were only a few people going that I had been at all close to. But when I met one of them at Liverpool Street Station and travelled up with her on the train, I knew I had made the right decision.
When you live with people, day in day out, for seven years, you share quite a bond. Memories that have been tucked away into a far corner of your mind for years. A shared sense of place and experience that binds you together, despite the intervening years.
And that was the overriding feeling of the evening, which I enjoyed far more than I expected. In fact, it was fascinating. The main thing that surprised me was how many other people confessed that they had hated boarding. Even people who appeared, at the time, to be thoroughly enjoying it. It was interesting that to a woman, we all said we would not ever send our own children to boarding school.
Also interesting were the friendships that had endured, and those that hadn't. The people who confessed that when they looked back on their friendship with certain people, they saw that it wasn't healthy. The girl who had been haunted over the years by the fact that she said something awful to one girl, who then left the school as a result. The two girls who had stood by someone else who had a terrible car crash the year after we left school, and spent a year in hospital.
I was also amazed by how other people remembered me. Someone said they thought I was sporty - I never was, and spent the whole time imagining that everyone thought of me as useless at hockey. Someone else (hilariously) remembered me as a "mathematician" - turns out they had me confused with my best friend. At school I thought of myself as rather square and boring, but people didn't remember me like that. They remembered that I was good at drama and writing, and wrote funny plays for the end of term show. The people I assumed despised me at school probably didn't, after all.
In a way, our group were a microcosm of the ups and downs of life. There had been marriages, children, divorces, accidents and illnesses - even one death. At forty, I was able to see the amazing women behind the silliest of girls. Age might bring lines, but it also brings a deeper level of understanding to all of us.
So I'm glad I went. In some ways it exorcised some demons. In some ways it reminded me of a part of my life I've suppressed for years.
And looking at the unexpected blue of the sea the next morning, under a cloudless Suffolk sky, a tiny part of me admitted that perhaps it wasn't all that bad.
First week over....
Well, we survived the first week of new schools, new house and new everything.
Considering I was on my own for four days of it, with The Doctor away at a conference, I think it went pretty well. I managed to get to the parents' evening, thanks to my father who babysat. I managed to get them to school and back every day, without being late for anything or forgetting any games kit. We did all the homework. Littleboy 1 only lost one item of school uniform - and his teacher managed to find it again today.
On the downside, the weather has been completely foul and I'm hating the London traffic. Since we left the number of parents in "Chelsea tractors" seems to have proliferated and the driving become more aggressive. Of course these same cars were everywhere on Long Island, but at least there the roads are wide and the parking spaces large. On South London's narrow, speed-bumped roads, trying to dodge big shiny 4x4's filled with harried looking mothers is just not fun.
But at least the boys seem to have settled with remarkable ease. Littleboy 2 is quite the novelty in his new school as the only new pupil in Year 2. Everyone at the parents' evening had heard all about him, and he was even voted onto the "school council" by his classmates. (This involves going to see the headmistress once a week and solemnly reporting requests from his class. Apparently most of them are about whether the school can have a trampoline or a swimming pool).
Littleboy 1 pronounced his first day "awesome" and has been incredibly enthusiastic ever since. He's been put in the top group for football and is reassured to find that his classmates like Angry Birds and Star Wars just like the boys in America.
If only adults were as adaptable as children.....
Back to school: UK vs US
My New York friends go back to school this week (at least, their children do), so I've been reflecting a little bit on the differences I've noticed so far between the rituals that accompany back-to-school in the UK and in the US.
Spend the week before frantically buying uniform and attaching name tags (or sew-in name tapes, in my unlucky case, see previous post).
Spend the week before shopping for nice new kids' clothes at Target and, if you're super-organized, writing a name on the label with a Sharpie.
First day in the plaground: everyone's discussing their summer holidays and where they went.
First day in the playground: everyone's discussing which summer camp their kids did
You're not sure what day your child has PE and when to send in the PE bag
It doesn't matter what day they have gym, because they don't have to get changed for it.
Everyone's already looking forward to half term/wondering how they're going to arrange childcare for half term
Everyone's already thinking about Halloween costumes. There's no half term (although there are an awful lot of random days off in November).
The school run means the traffic everywhere is a nightmare
The traffic isn't any different from usual, although there are more school buses around
Everyone's posting pictures of the first day on Facebook
At least some things are the same the world over.....
My first school run
It's been a momentous week.
We've moved into our new house in London, and both the boys have started at their new schools, Littleboy 2 yesterday and Littleboy 1 today. I've spent all week unpacking boxes, labelling uniform and pencil cases and shoes, and making tedious phone calls. The Doctor, meanwhile, has been wading through reams of cable trying to make all our various media work properly, setting up direct debits and making tedious phone calls.
At least one of my biggest dreads - the sewing on of hundreds of name tapes with only five days between acquiring and wearing said uniform - went smoothly in the end. Thanks to the Doctor's aunt and a friend of hers, all name tapes were sewn on in one long session, sitting outside in a Greenwich garden one warm evening accompanied by bottles of prosecco.
I still have to sew on the "large initial" name tapes, which haven't arrived yet and which must apparently be attached in exactly the right place on sports kit or else who knows what will happen (see uniform booklet, the whereabouts of which are unknown).
All was organised for the first school run. The Doctor would take Littleboy 2 to school and I would pick him up at 12.30 (it was a half day start). I would take the local train one stop, and make a leisurely trip to a nice-looking bakery before picking him up and travelling back by bus.
All was fine until I reached the station - although I did notice there was a huge queue of traffic on the road and that the police had closed off one section, although you could still walk to the station. Turns out a lorry had hit a railway bridge, giving a knock on effect on both trains and traffic. I quickly worked out I was very unlikely to be there at 12.30 if I took the train. While this might be OK in a few weeks there was no WAY I was going to be there late to pick up Littleboy 2 on his first day at a new school in a new country.
I started sprinting up the road to the nearest bus stop. No mean feat considering that a) I haven't run in a year due to my chronic pain problems, b) I was wearing flip flops and c) and it's unusually hot in London this week - more like New York temperatures in fact. The buses were there, but stuck in a huge jam - the first driver told me "you'd be better off walking, luv". I rang The Doctor and told him to jump in the car and head for the school in case I didn't make it.
So I carried on running, at least half a mile, in my flip flops. Eventually the traffic eased (I saw the lorry which had hit the bridge) and I managed to jump on a bus for a few stops. I ran the last hot, sweaty 100 metres, and got there just as Littleboy 2 emerged into the school playground with his class. (The other mothers were all serenely chatting about their holidays in the Algarve and no doubt wondering who this wild-eyed, red faced newcomer was).
"Mummy, why are your hands so sweaty?" Littleboy 2 asked me as I took him firmly by the hand. By this point The Doctor and Littleboy 1 had also arrived and parked around the corner. We flopped into the car, hot and exhausted, then had to go off and look for lunch which I had failed to buy.
I'm really going to miss that yellow schoolbus. Still, if nothing else, my first school run taught me that I am still capable of running. I might be donning my trainers next time though.
I made an expedition to London the other day and revisited some of my old stomping grounds: as well as the Clapham North area where we still own a house, I walked around bits of Soho, particularly the Carnaby Street area where I once worked, just to see how times had changed, before lunching at Liberty's in an upstairs cafe that certainly did not used to exist.
Here are some observations.
1. Pubs that serve Thai food appear to be a fad that has died a death. At one point there were at least four in Clapham alone. But now, our neighbourhood pub advertises "Bloody Marys and Roasts" outside - presumably trad-British food is now the thing, and it also made me wonder whether the popularity of brunch (a real New York institution ) has followed us over the Atlantic.
2. Restaurants, cafes and gyms come and go, but the old pubs remain. In Kingly Street, round the corner from my old work, the plush, once brand-new Cannons gym I belonged to has been knocked down. Almost all the restaurants are different. But the dark, traditional pubs - the Red Lion, Blue Posts and Clachan - are still going strong. The Shakespeare's Head in Carnaby St, where I remember hanging out as a teenager drinking snakebite and black, looks unchanged. And the newsagent opposite Liberty's where I always used to look at the trade mag headlines still sells Campaign.
3. Austerity Britain does not appear to have made any impact whatsoever on the Carnaby Street area. If anything, it all looks a lot posher than ten years ago, with newly constructed courtyards, even more boutiquey shops than before (where had Boots gone?) and a plethora of fancy places to have coffee. In fact, nowhere I have visited so far looks remotely recession-struck. But what's it like outside of the south of England? Guess we'll find out on the trip to Anglesey...
4. First Great Western trains are now ridiculously expensive. I paid an eye-popping 55 quid for a day return from Didcot to Paddington - a 45 minute journey that I know very well. It's the same length of time as our journey from Long Island to Manhattan, but about five times the price. For this, you get a carriage with safety announcements and a TV screen in the back of your seat, a bit like going on a plane, so that you can browse the news headlines. I can't believe anyone actually wants all this - surely most people would rather pay less for rail fares and read their own book or look at the news headlines on their own smartphone? Seems to me that the privatised rail companies have gone seriously wrong somewhere along the (leaf-strewn) line.
But there's nothing like going away for a few years to make you see your home country in a new light. I came away with the impression that London is a lively, exciting city, with just as much going for it as New York. (There's nowhere in NYC quite like Liberty's, for example - an eccentric Tudor mansion stuffed with scarves and hats and stationery. Americans just don't do that kind of thing.) I'm looking forward to rediscovering the capital again.
Back to Blighty
The glorious West Berkshire downs
With a new name and new picture, but I listened to my audience and have kept the "Nappy Valley", despite the fact that we're not going to be living there any more. We're currently in rural West Berkshire, but due to move to the wilds of southeast London in September. There, we will have to negotiate the perils of school uniform fittings, moving American furniture into a narrow London town house and having no idea how the British school system works (Year 4? What's that? My son should be in third grade).
So far, being back has seemed a little unreal. None of us are at school or work yet, and days have been spent either catching up with friends and family or sorting through our mountains of stuff we kept here in storage. We've been enjoying the glorious British countryside, appreciating the lack of humidity and mosquitoes, admiring the golden fields and hedgerows, not minding the fact that most days have required socks and an 'extra layer'.
The Littleboys have been engaging with British wildlife by adopting a striped caterpillar and keeping him in a jar. And they've been engaging with all our friends' children by running madly with them around gardens and learning all about British snacks and drinks (they'd never seen a Hula Hoop or Fruit Shoot before, let alone drunk Ribena). They've tried new sports, such as cricket, which they treated as if was baseball, throwing the bat to the ground after hitting the ball. They seem excited so far, although clearly the start of term is in their minds; their stuffed animals and Lego are often lined up in classrooms as one toy joins the "new school".
Bee the caterpillar: the latest addition to the family
Certain things seem very strange; driving a manual car again, with the gearstick on the left, has taken a while to get used to; the smallness of parking spaces at the supermarket; having to pay four quid an hour to park in London on a meter. But it's been comforting to hear people who sound like me in the playground, to speak to people on the phone and have them immediately understand what I say, and to be offered a nice cup of tea (or a glass of wine) the minute you arrive in someone's home. Although I'm a bit worried by the fact that since being back I've particularly appreciated Radio 4, Waitrose and reading the Observer food section; I fear I have definitely joined the ranks of the middle aged somewhere over the past four years.
But I don't think the move will really sink in until September, particularly as we're heading off to Anglesey next week for an extended bank holiday with all the cousins. In the meantime, I'll be ekeing out the last of the British summer to the soundtrack of Woman's Hour and drinking endless cups of tea.
36 hours on the California Zephyr
In the Wild West
Moving on....
Goslings, graduation and growing up
Diorama drama
Where I live: Indoors chez Nappyvalleygirl
Bloomin' June...
Six weeks....


The Zip Me Up Tank is a super soft, stretchy, and flattering Tank. The tank features a zipper in the back and one on the front pocket. It's light weight and absolutely perfect for those warm summer days!
Model A is wearing a small and is 5', wears a size 0-2 in bottoms and small in tops.
Model B is wearing a medium and and is 5'7", 34D, and wears a 2-4 in bottoms and medium in tops.


2018 is upon us and it is a very exciting time to be alive.
2018 in numerology, adds up to 11. This is a power number and represents illumination. The number stands tall, side by side and strong. It is very powerful, as 1 itself represents, power, self and strength. As there are two of them, in essence the power is doubled.
As the 1's stand side by side they support each other. They see each other and they recognise each other. This is about illuminating what is around us by seeing it in the other. By recognising it in the world. By seeing it in self by looking in the mirror. The 11 also stand as one.
This is the year where MANY things will have the light cast upon them on a personal level, and very strongly on the global level. I wish to say, do not get caught up in what is happening globally, although we can notice it and reference it, to connect to the collective thought of what is happening is not beneficial. Just notice that the change is occurring and that light is infiltrating the planet in every corner of the globe, and this is a good thing.
At this point here, I wish to reference that there may be things from 2011 ( 7 year cycle) that may arise again. I feel that a 7 year itch is upon many of us, for the 7 is a powerful number spiritually as it represents many things, for example the number of our core chakras or the way our body regenerates its cellular structure every 7 years. Please note we are all in a different stage of a 7 year cycle, but I feel this is for all those reading this message, that the 7 year itch to shift what was 7 years ago will come to fruition and be completed or make full circle this coming year.
For each of us it will be something different, love, money, relationships, health but whatever it is this year will be the year it will complete. And we will approach it differently but completely. Which is exciting! All change is positive, yes I know you have heard this many times over, but it is. With change comes upheaval and it is our hearts that are being cleared for more space for light and love and glory!
So with that, know that 2018 will be a great year of illumination of self and others. This year is full of optimism and hope. It is a place for new ways to begin, new shifts to occur on a level like never before. The 11 year is a powerful year for relationships, standing together in business, love or collaboration with others. This year you will see many like minded people working together for the greater cause of humanity and unity.
It is truly an extraordinary time to be on the planet. We are witnesses to change that has never been seen here before. No matter what hardships you may feel you are going through, know you are surrounded by great love and YOU dear friend, who chose to be here (which is crazy to understand at times), are one of those people who is holding the light for this change. YOU dear friend, is changing the world for the better through your personal experiences.


text:
SYRIA: Syrian Women Push to Build Peace Among Warring Factions
LONDON (Thomson Reuters Foundation) – In the early days of Syria's uprising, many women called on men not to take up arms in response to the Syrian government's brutal clampdown on street protests. Now, they are trying to build peace between supporters of rebel groups and supporters of the government.
"We believe that activists can act as a force to push all the warring parties into negotiations to initiate the peace process," Sabah Hallak, board member of the Syrian Women's League, said in a meeting on the sidelines of the four-day global summit to end sexual violence in conflict in London that ends Friday.
Ahead of the U.N.-backed peace talks earlier this year, the Syrian Women's League asked the then international mediator Lakhdar Brahimi to include women in the negotiations "because when warlords take over, usually the first thing that goes out is women's rights and women's issues," Hallak said.
Government soldiers have used rape to force communities to surrender or to punish people in former rebel-held areas, according to activists at the meeting.
Some who have been imprisoned for their role in the uprising said sexual violence, and the threat of it, is often used in government prisons.
At the same time extremist Islamist groups bar women from leaving their homes, and have forced widows to marry Islamist fighters.
SURROUNDED BY HELL
More than 160,000 people have been killed in Syria's civil war. Nearly 3 million refugees have sought sanctuary abroad, while 9 million people inside the country need aid.
"Syrians are surrounded by hell. Hell in the sky from the regime's bombardment, and hell on the ground from jihadists," said Samar Yazbek, a Syrian writer who joined the protests in 2011 and was forced to flee the country and live in hiding after being imprisoned by the Syrian government.
"As the regime's offensive intensifies from the skies, the social constraints from Islamists intensify on the ground, and the main victims are women," she added.
Another woman who fled Syria after being imprisoned by the government for her role in the uprising, is trying to build peace across the boundaries.
Majed Chourbaji, manager of the Women Now Center, described one workshop in a refugee camp in Lebanon to teach widows about peacebuilding. By the end of it, the widows were writing letters to the wives of the men who had killed their husbands, she said.
"They were aware that women on the other side (of the conflict) were going through the same thing," Chourbaji added.
"Weapons and arms can take down a dictator, but they can't build a country and the only way for us to build a nation is through peaceful activism and peacebuilding initiatives."


text:
The Amgen Tour of California 2007 was the second edition of an eight-day, 650-mile (1,045 km) stage race that raced through the California redwoods, wine country and the Pacific Coast. The road bicycle racing event was held February 18, 2007.  The 2007 Tour of California was part of the 2006–2007 UCI America Tour and the inaugural 2007 USA Cycling Professional Tour.

On November 28, 2006, the UCI upgraded the multi-day event from 2.1 (category 1) to 2.HC (; English: beyond categorization).

Stages and results

Prologue: San Francisco
The Prologue was an individual time trial held Sunday, February 18, 2007, in San Francisco. Native Californian and last year's prologue champion Levi Leipheimer edged out Colorado's Jason Donald from  and former NCAA Road Champion Benjamin Jacques-Maynes.

Stage 1: Sausalito to Santa Rosa

Stage 1 was held Monday, February 19, 2007. A breakaway of four riders including Adam Hansen of  was reeled in shortly before the finish in Santa Rosa. During the second of the three finishing laps in Santa Rosa, a crash took down most of the peloton, including leader Levi Leipheimer. Those not involved in the crash fought for the stage victory, taken by Graeme Brown by mere millimeters.

Riders involved in the crash lost several minutes, but the race officials decided to credit most of them with the winner's time, meaning that Leipheimer retained the leader's jersey. This decision, which meant extending the "safety zone" to 6 miles (10 km) before the end, was criticized by some riders and team staff.

Stage 2: Santa Rosa to Sacramento
Held Tuesday, February 20, 2007.

Stage 3: Stockton to San Jose
Held Wednesday, February 21, 2007.

Stage 4: Seaside to San Luis Obispo
Stage 4 was held Thursday, February 22, 2007. Reigning Olympic and World Champion Paolo Bettini captured Stage 4, the event's longest stage, edging Gerald Ciolek, Juan José Haedo, and Thor Hushovd in a sprint finish after the peloton reeled in a seven-man breakaway consisting of Hilton Clarke (), Aaron Olson (), Kirk O'Bee (), Alejandro Acton (), Christophe Laurent (), Lucas Euser (), and Sean Sullivan ().

Stage 5: Solvang time trial
Held Friday, February 23, 2007, Stage 5 was an individual time trial. Yellow jersey holder Levi Leipheimer extended his lead over second place Jens Voigt and the rest of the field.

Stage 6: Santa Barbara to Santa Clarita

 Young Rider Classification
 , , 22.20.46

 Most Aggressive Rider
 ,

 Team classification

 , 66.56.17
 , +2.19
 , +3.20

Stage 7: Long Beach circuit race
Held Sunday, February 25, 2007.

Final results
General Classification after Stage 7 (Final results)

Jersey progress

Teams

UCI ProTour teams
 C.A -
 DSC -
 GST -
 LIQ -
 PRL -
 QSI -
 RAB -
 TMO -
 CSC -

UCI Professional Continental teams
 HNM -
 NIC -
 TSL -

UCI Continental teams
 BMC -
 TUT -

USA Cycling registered teams
 COL -
 JBC -
 ABB -
 USA - USA Cycling National Development Team

References

External links

  - 2007 Tour Archive
 Live Coverage and Photos Cyclingfans.com

2007
Tour of California 2007
Tour of California 2007
2007 in sports in California

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaWikipedia


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text:
http://www.cems.ox.ac.uk/citizenmilton/
The Swinburne Project
Robert Burns 1759-1796
Sonnets from the Portuguese - Phoebe Anna Traquair
Corpus of Middle English Prose and Verse
Renascence Editions
Art to Enchant- Illustrators and Shakespeare
Citizen Milton
Bodleian Library, Oxford Dec 2007 - Apr 2008 Introduction John Milton was born 400 years ago, and his ideas about citizenship are still relevant to us today. The author of the greatest epic poem in English, Paradise Lost , was also a reforming prose writer, a member of a revolutionary government, and the victim of censorship, whose daring positions we now consider vital to modern governance. Advocate of freedom of the press, transparency in government, public debate, education for liberty, the right to divorce, the disestablishment of the church and the abolition of monarchy, Milton espoused positions radical even by today's standards. The cornerstone of Milton's concept of liberty was the virtuous citizen, an individual endowed with reason to make choices and to act freely in the world. As a poet and as politically engaged writer, Milton saw his lifelong struggle as in defense of liberty. He despised all forms of tyranny, from political to religious to domestic. Milton drew censure for his daring views. After the abolition of monarchy in 1649, which Milton defended, the poet served the republican government, his writings justifying the execution of the king to the rest of Europe. After the return of monarchy in 1660, Milton's republican writings were condemned to be burnt, and the author was sent to prison. There the poet began composing Paradise Lost , a poetic retelling of the Biblical story of the Fall of humankind, embarking on a poetic mission to help humans understand themselves, their history, their place in the cosmos, and to empower citizens to a virtue "equal to their calling." This exhibition gives an account of this remarkable writer, with especial focus on Milton's concept of citizenship and the ways that later artists grappled with the complex legacy of his powerful words. Please also see the Milton Quatercentenary site at the University of Cambridge. For further information about early modern studies at the University of Oxford, please visit the Centre for Early Modern Studies .
Arts & Humanities » Literature & Poetry


" I thought that there would be more people here," said an elderly lady.
I agreed. True, in the end there may have been between 300 and 500 people gathered around the Melbourne city library front steps. As an event that keeps Assange front of mind and puts his plight on social media the day was a success but in terms of public awareness and activism, it was a pretty piss poor effort from a community that prides itself on fairness.
If Julian Assange was a sportsman there would be 5000 people in attendance. If he was a pop star virtue signalling some crazy idea there would be 20,000 mindless sheep cheering him on every inch of the way.
But he isn't. He's far braver and much more ethical than any sportsperson or celebrity. He's also been demonized by political orthodoxy and mainstream media.
So the attendance is what it is.
I am disappointed, but I am also encouraged by the range of people that have gathered. All ages many different races. A love of freedom and democracy has no skin colour.
Some look to have done it hard. Their eyes tell the stories of battles fought and lost. Others have a fanatical crusading gleam in their eyes. Some wear yellow vests. There is one Anonymous tee shirt lots of red free Assange shirts and an occasional WikiLeaks shirt.
Their is hope while these people maintain the rage and hold our treasonous government to account. But the enormity of the task is overwhelming.
The speakers are all good. They are preaching to the converted on this issue and the response is enthusiastic.
Of course, there is no mainstream press coverage.
Assange is literally the unperson of Orwell's 1984. He has ceased to exist as far as the press is concerned. The "journalists" who rushed to defend Peter Greste and that soccer guy who's name I forget are nowhere to be seen. In their world, despotic governments are always foreign. Contraventions of human rights by our minder countries the US and UK are mere technicalities. One day they will have to account for their sins of omission.
I buy a "Free Assange" tee shirt from a friendly guy at the Socialist Equity Party stand. He wants to engage me in conversation and pretty quickly makes an attempt to recruit me into the party fold. I smile and shake my head. Political parties aren't my bag. "I'm not a socialist," I say.
It's an interesting perspective,and one that gives me pause for thought.
Freedom s not the preserve of one political philosophy. In fact, one of Assange's greatest hurdles has been the successful portrayal of him as an enemy to particular party loyalists. The ALP, Liberal/National, Democrat, Republican, Tory, British Labour and even the Greens have all found Assange at best an inconvenience and at worst a traitor who must be silenced.
None of them deserve a freedom lover's vote.
If you're upsetting everybody then I reckon you've pretty much nailed it.
But the comment grates at and annoys me because ultimately it exposes the essential weakness that the movement to free Assange must deal with.
Julian Assange and Wikileaks belong to everybody who wants to know the truth. They open governments and hold them to account.
His freedom is a simple matter of right and wrong.
The Unity4J movement has made great strides in bringing commentators from all sides of politics together to support Assange, but the impact is negligible when compared to the monolithic two party system that 70% of voters are rusted on to.
Voting left or right is no longer a valid option. Voting for common decency is the only option.
Vote for candidates who believe in freedom. Freedom of speech, freedom of thought, freedom of movement and the freedom to publish.
The votes matter when enough people realise the truth. And the only way they're ever going to hear it is if we speak it. Consistently, loudly and unflinchingly.
The truth is on our side.
At the next rally I'll bring a friend. If everyone did that we would have a thousand people there.
That's a small step in the right direction.


Ron just pointed out that yesterday I said we looked at shelter websites on Sunday. That was Saturday, and we brought Pippin home Saturday evening. Which you probably deduced, but I went back and corrected the entry anyway.
I actually cooked last night for the first time in, um, a long time. Since before it got disgustingly hot. About mid-afternoon my brain suddenly said "Pork chops with long-grain and wild rice!" (a staple from my childhood).
I couldn't think of a reason not to, so I picked up Robin on my way home and we did the grocery shopping at Eurofresh (don't trust Jewel/Dominick's for fresh pork). I didn't get pork chops, technically; I got pork cutlets. And two boxes of Uncle Ben's Original Recipe Long-Grain & Wild Rice. It was yummy, even if the pork was a bit over-cooked. I think Ron was a little disappointed, he'd suggested rice pilaf when I asked for shopping suggestions. But we'll have that tonight.
Pippin was mystified by the process of doing dishes and cooking, but he was willing to help with the cooking part, especially the meat. He's very good at being under foot in the kitchen, but at least he's fast and maneuverable, besides being smaller than Eowyn was.
Last night was educational for Pippin. He figured out what the back yard is good for when not on a lead: running around like a loon. Did I mention that he's fast? He and Ron were playing chase (well, Pippin was playing chase, Ron was mostly staying in one spot pretending he was going to pounce when Pippin circled by). Chase is a good game. Elrond wanted to play too, but I think Pippin was intimidated by his size, and bark, even though Elrond was using what I think of as his silly high-pitched voice.
Pippin is getting better about tolerating his Gentle Leader. Last night he made it through a whole walk (as opposed to a quarter), partly due, I think, to snacky distractions.
Pippin also learned to hunt bed-mice last night. Another game he approves of, although we're working on no digging for bed-mice. He plays fetch with a rope toy, too. Robin is another good toy – he can be nibbled on, he plays fetch, and he tolerates pouncing.
This morning Elrond and Pippin were getting closer to playing. It seemed like Elrond was trying not to be too loud/scary; I think they'll get it figured out sooner rather than later.
Yes, that's hair all over the bed. Elrond is badly in need of grooming.
Ok, so on to fabric. Here's the pictures of the fabric I got Saturday, each with a quarter for reference on print size. You can embiggen if you want, but it'll be more obvious that I had focusing issues.
Paisley/Floral combination. Yeah, apparently I was on a paisley kick. And here I thought I didn't like amoebas on my fabric. This one just isn't quite my colors.
I still haven't gotten my Japanese garb pattern from Reconstructing History, so I dropped them e-mail. Which reminds me, I did get my grey print to make a new kosode, and the big oriental dragon print fabric. I should get pictures of those, since I want to open the dragons up and see just how big the design is.
Last week I cut out a pair of hakama and a jacket-thing for Licentia, which I started hand-sewing yesterday. The MuseCon program book is thiiiis close to being done, but I figure it's actually faster to hand-sew than to wait until I get to the sewing machine again.
Sunday evening we went to see Brave. It was really good, which I expect from Pixar. And very tear-jerking in spots.
Friday night we're going to see a park district production of Into the Woods at Cutting Hall. Trying the balcony this time. They're appending a "Jr." to the end of the title, so I'm assuming the cast is mostly kids. Bunch of other good stuff coming up over the fall/winter/spring, too. I like the first act of Into the Woods better than the second act, I think the messages get a little heavy-handed in the second act.
Started John Scalzi's Redshirts last week, zoomed through the first half the main novella, and have bogged down. I think it's more due to being emotional than issues with the writing. Re-visiting some mental comfort food, in the way of Louisa May Alcott, will see if I can pick Redshirts back up in a day or so.
Comments Off on Dogs, Fabric, Food, Etc.
It's a Monday. I can't say I'm enthused.
OTOH, we did get the taxes done yesterday, e-filed, and receipt has been acknowledged by both the state and feds. I do have to copy and mail Otter's tax forms, since as per years past I don't feel like paying $50-100-ish for the version of Turbo Tax that will handle putting lots of zeroes in the partnership forms for me while stepping me through all the requisite questions/steps to do so.
We'll be getting extra money back this year, as a result of choosing the high-efficiency furnace. Which I think means that the tax return should cover the repair of the exterior stair pit wall that we should have done last summer, but never arranged financing for. It may even extend to getting a patio installed to replace the back porch which we'll have to remove to do said stair pit work.
Meanwhile, Ron finally got a much-delayed annual review and raise. It isn't a big raise, but the retroactive money for it is going toward a miter-every-which-way chop saw. The saw is not entirely necessary for construction of a new side porch, but will make the job a lot easier. I asked Robin on Friday how plans for the new porch were going, and pointed out that the weather is finally warming up enough to start work. It would be nice to use the side door again.
Elrond seems to have caught construction fever, and has put himself in charge of excavation. He's dug the occasional small hole over the years, but this one is special, and big. He started it Saturday afternoon, has been caught thinking about it several more times, and this morning came in with very muddy paws, from more digging around the large rock Robin put over the original hole after backfilling.
Hopefully being put in his crate, being thrown bodily into the bathtub, then getting wet all over (I gave up, for various reasons, on trying to only get his paws wet), and being kept off of the bed and couch will be enough to turn Elrond off digging. But I'm not optimistic, so he'll be going out on the cable, which doesn't go out as far as the hole, for a while.
Impressive lightning last night. It was flashing so much around 9 pm that I thought there was an emergency vehicle or some other strobe light out front (west). Even after looking outside and hearing what I thought was thunder, I ended up checking Weather Bug to be sure. And Mr. Courage the Cowardly Dog ended up in bed with me, I think for about half the night. Fortunately, he does share fairly well.
Found a very neat app for the iPad – Zinio, a magazine (and book) reader. We now have subscriptions to "Saveur" and "Digital Photo Pro", and Interweave's "Knitting Traditions", and Ron grabbed single editions of "New Scientist" and a tea magazine. It turns out "Knitting Traditions" is a special edition of "Piecework", this is only the second one, and IIRC the first came out about this time last year (but I didn't dig out my print copy to check) but the cost for the single issue was the same as a 4-issue subscription. So, we'll see if they're going to start publishing it a little more often, or if I have 3 more years of it. 🙂 Several of the magazines we looked at were set up so that you might as well just subscribe as only get one.
There's also desktop and iPhone version of Zinio, but not all the magazines are available for the phone. The iPad version is fairly good in terms of navigation and zooming. I'd like a simpler way to go back to the cover/first page, but it's a minor thing. With some magazines you can choose to go to a view that's just the text, instead of the page view, which is nice. I haven't played much with the phone or desktop versions, so no opinions on those yet. The same account will work for the iPhone, iPad, and desktop versions. We've been on my phone and the iPad at the same time, it seems happy with access from multiple points at once.
I need to clean up my laptop, the hard drive is getting full (although nattering about Zinio reminded me, it's an unrelated topic). I have a bunch of Gutenberg documents I've downloaded to possibly read in the future, my plan is to delete them after making a list of titles/authors. I'll also probably get rid of a bunch of digital photos – they're already on the drobo, I don't need duplicate copies of all of them on my machine.
Here's pictures of what we started with, and what I have, so far, for MuseCon party flyers. They've been saved as low-res JPEG files to put on-line here, the real versions look better (for instance, the penguin one is a bright magenta background). I think in part because of conversion to CMYK color. Click to embiggen. Within the post, keep scrolling down, there's white space because of page-layout under the penguin and baked goods ads. More yammer follows.
Ignore the relative sizes of the befores and afters, I just exported quickly from Photoshop and InDesign.
I'm particularly pleased with this last one. It was a *lot* of work to get to this point after de-wording. It's a total of 10 layers, with various directions of texts on paths and shadows, and whatnot. InDesign didn't want to do a drop shadow on text an a path (at least that I could see), so I did it the Brute Force Enthusiasm Method. And then went back and gave the center text a Brute Force Enthusiasm drop shadow also, so it would have a consistent look. Looking at the original and my version together, I see some things I want to tweak on mine.
And now, off to bed. Still tired, although otherwise down to minor snuffles and itchy throat.
The texture repair trick in Photoshop was successful. My de-worded poster looks better now, although it took a lot of poking at testing to figure out what texture would work best. And it was something Ron hadn't used, so I got to show him how to do something. I sorta-kinda figured out content-aware scaling, although I only got it to work successfully on a tiny test image, I ran into memory issues when I tried it on the intended "Mr. Slushy" image I wanted to use it on.
When Ron got home he showed me better ways to use the scaling (I was working off an Adobe web page, not a great source), I was making it more complex than it needed to be. By that time I'd re-sized the Mr. Slushy image the "old-fashioned" way (scale the whole thing a little bit then cut and paste on background bits where I needed more and fix the seam), and created two versions of the party flyer from it.
My attempt to de-word another Art Nouveau poster was not successful. I remembered to put my work on a new layer, but I forgot to make another new layer for some very fiddly editing/image re-building, so when I decided I needed to roll back to the original in just that area, there was no good way to do so. Fortunately, I'd started with the fiddly bits, so I didn't lose much. I think for that one I'm going to have to not try to use cloning, and go in and start painting. Or some hybrid of cloning and painting more like painting.
Yes, I know, pictures would help. I should post some, shouldn't I?
I also picked out 4 more labels to poke at.
The first features a penguin, and some bits of ice, plus words on a nice smooth magenta background. That one was easy to strip the old words out of, so now it's another slushy-themed party flyer, which looks like a bumpersticker. I spent more time poking at a gradient and drop shadows than I did cleanup on that one, even with Ron running me through it a second (simpler) way.
It seems that I don't learn well watching Ron do things, even slowly. I need to drive.
The next ad was for some kind of biscuits. I thought it was going to be hard to de-word. Ron said no, it would be really easy.
Well, that was easy. I need to learn the power of layer masks. And I remembered Ron's re-touching book walked through making a custom pattern/texture to do the trick I'd learned and used earlier. This ad wasn't very big, but I got Ron a piece of software that does fractal magic to re-size images (student discount FTW!). Very very spiffy. Now I just have to figure out what I want that ad to say. And put a bunch of words on semi-circular paths. With drop shadows. (Why yes, I am going for the same look and feel as the original ads, even if people seeing mine won't know it).
The third image is a bear operating a wine press, which wants to be another slushy-themed party flyer, I think. It's going to be a trickier one to de-word, but Ron pointed out that instead of trying to fix parts missing due to the original words, it'll be easier to just erase it and start from scratch (a semi-circle and concentric lines around it forming a setting sun).
The last one just needs to be blown up and have something about the MuseCon party pasted in – it's a partially-blank generic label for "superior pastries" or something like that.
Hopefully I haven't wandered off the deep end in my party flyers. *I* like them, and Ron and Robin seem to, but I'm not convinced we're impartial. 🙂 I'll take my laptop to the ConCom meeting Saturday afternoon and see what others think.
We also have three more Dover books on the way – WPA posters, SF & Horror movie posters, and SF movie poster cards. Unfortunately, only the WPA posters comes with a CD, IIRC. But we have a scanner and the re-size software, woo-hoo! Ron gets first dibs on the SF & Horror stuff for Capricon Cafe flyers and decorations.
Yesterday I did get key lime pie made. Fortunately, we still had our lever-action citrus-squeezer, so juicing a dozen or two key limes wasn't difficult. I even succeeded in whipping cream into whipped cream, not making butter (although almost-butter isn't too bad on pumpkin pie, it would be just wrong on key lime pie). Ron thinks the pie could have used more lime flavor, but it's good as is.
Picked up Christmas dinner, Christmas Eve dinner, and other goodies yesterday at Heybeck's. I didn't have anything in particular in mind for Christmas dinner, so when Ron offered me a boneless leg of lamb, I didn't argue. Ron suggested potato sausage for Christmas Eve, and I almost went into a panic when there was none in the case. Fortunately, they had more stashed in back. Now I just need to get some rutabagas. Potato sausage and mashed rutabaga is an Ohman Christmas thing.
One of the other goodies was a piece of smoked salmon. Oh boy, was that good! Robin was an instant convert.
We also had a moment of madness and went to Deer Park Towne Center. WTF were we thinking, less than a week before Christmas?!? Our defense was that Ron was in search of a new corkscrew, we weren't thinking about Christmas shopping. Although we did find my Christmas present at Williams-Sonoma.
I'd been waffling between a dressmakers' dummy (Ron thought it was too practical, and I waffle if I'll use one enough), and an iPad (pricey). I've been trying to ignore the Shun rocking knife in the W-S catalogs, but they had one in the display case. I asked to try it. It followed us home.
So then this morning I had e-mail that one of my favorite sock designers, Cookie A, has a sock club for next year. Argh! Timing! I'd have pointed at the sock club if I'd known about it. Sock yarn and 2 patterns (easier and harder) every other month. I did order her latest sock book "Knit. Sock. Love." this morning, but PDF and print, since she had a sale: buy the print copy and get the PDF for just $6. So the PDF is on my phone, and I can print out the relevant pages without scanning them first, and still have the print book for browsing.
Which brings me to a book-related rantlet.
First, the background: I signed up for the Graphic Arts 102 class a week or so ago, but hadn't gotten to the bookstore yet. I looked on-line today, and the section I'm in doesn't have books listed specified. But the other section lists a book I got for GRA101, and another one that's only available used, Copyright 2005, for $15. Now, this is an Adobe InDesign book, so 2005 is oooold. Peachpit Press, the publisher, doesn't even list it any more. B&N doesn't have any new copies. But hey, their used sellers have it from $2-$5-ish. Oooh, "like new" for $1.99. Even with paying $3.99 shipping, it's a better deal than the Harper bookstore. 4-14 day shipping, but class doesn't start until January 18th, so I'm good there.


text:
Röthelbach  is a river of Bavaria, Germany. It is a right tributary of the Saalach near Bad Reichenhall.

See also

List of rivers of Bavaria

Rivers of Bavaria
Rivers of Germany