Why re-watching Gilmore Girls is the greatest thing in the world right now

I'm already on Season 4 out of 7 of Gilmore Girls and it's been released on Netflix for about two weeks. Can't. Stop. Watching. Why is Gilmore Girls so addicting? For me, it feels like returning to simpler times. Sure, Lorelai might break up with someone or Rory might miss a test, but everything usually works out for the best in the end. And who wouldn't want to live in Stars Hollow where everyone knows your name and festivals happen on almost a daily basis? The food in Sookie's kitchen always makes me desperately hungry and I am continually in awe of Emily and Richard's zingers. I also kind of feel smarter watching the show. It must be all the literary references and fast talking. Sure, Netflix keeps judging me by displaying the message "Are you still watching Gilmore Girls", but I refuse to feel ashamed. Judge away, Netflix. Judge away, world. Gilmore Girls is just as effective as my Grandma's potato bacon soup in this miserable weather. I'm not stopping until Luke and Lorelai finally get together (spoiler alert!).

Back to School

Labor Day marks the true annual landmark of school starting. I've been going back to school for a long time. Even as an adult, I managed to go back to school for quite a while as a teacher. In June I always felt huge relief and accomplishment at finishing the school year, and in September I always felt absolute terror and dread at the idea of the first day of school. By the way, I've been told by several teachers who have been teaching for twenty years and more that this first day of school feeling never completely goes away.

So my past two Labor Days have been a bit odd. My organization still works in schools, so I definitely pay attention to the school calendar. Yet I work year round. So I am left with a mixture of feelings come Labor Day. I wonder where the summer has gone, since part of me still feels it's not a summer when I haven't spent it in Maine and Louisiana. I'm happy I don't feel the impending pressure of a school year, yet it's also an adrenaline rush that I sort of miss. In this game of life, my year simply keeps going. Summer and spring break don't mean much anymore, and part of me does wish I was going back to school in some fashion.

For those of you this applies to, good luck in school, ladies and gentleman!

Why I'm so upset that my hairdresser moved to Texas

In my early 20's, this was how I usually looked after getting my hair cut. This was back when I went to places with names like California Cuts where I paid $8 a pop.

Occasionally, I would even try to cut my hair myself.

I've never considered myself to be a high-maintenance kind of hair girl. My basic routine was to wash my hair, let it air dry, comb through it, and hope for the best.

Then, I actually found my own hairdresser. For once, my hair didn't look like Ramona Quimby, age 8. 

My hairdresser convinced me to buy a hairdryer, use some product in my hair, and get my eyebrows waxed. And come back regularly. Before long, I was hooked. Getting my hair cut was actually fun. I didn't cry after I left. This lady and I started to become, well, close. We talked through our relationships. I was getting my hair cut when the news came out that Michael Jackson died, and we mourned together. We exchanged movie and TV recommendations. I followed her when she moved hair salons, and then when she moved hair salons again. When she became a real estate agent and only worked one day a week, I booked my appointments months in advance so I could get in. I was pretty committed. So you can imagine my dismay when I found out she was moving to Texas. 

How will I tell someone new how to cut my hair? How do I start all over? What will I do now?? Do I go back to the Hair Cuttery?

"I think that the most important thing a woman can have - next to talent, of course - is her hairdresser." - Joan Crawford 

The Piano Man Himself

I was ten years old when I first heard "Piano Man" by Billy Joel. My camp friend and I spent half of our summer coordinating a synchronized swimming routine to that very tune. Who knows why or if we actually chose that song or if it was appropriate for ten year olds to sing about businessmen slowly getting stoned at the top of their lungs, but something clicked in my head and heart and I became a Billy Joel fan that summer.

After performing our routine, we never went back to synchronized swimming again. Perhaps it was due to the fact that we did not look anything like the image below.

Nevertheless, Billy Joel has always inspired me and has always popped up again and again in my life. I had a solo in "And So It Goes" in high school. I tried to memorize (in vain) the lyrics of "We Didn't Start The Fire" in college. "River of Dreams" kept my energy up on many a road trip. So last night when I had a last minute opportunity to attend one of his concerts, the decision was a no-brainer. I was well aware that I would not be seeing this Billy Joel:

Instead, I would be seeing this one:

When an artist has been performing for over 50 years, usually it's understood that the music won't be quite the same as it was in a musician's prime. I saw Bob Dylan a few years ago and was sorely disappointed. Yet Billy Joel showed astounding talent - at sixty-eight years old nonetheless. In fact, if I closed my eyes and didn't look too closely at the big screen, his voice sounded exactly the same as I remembered it from my ten year old days. Moreover, his hands dominated that keyboard, as he played not only his songs but the "Rocky" theme to appease the Philadelphia crowd. He was witty, humble, and genuinely seemed like he was having fun. He saved "Piano Man" for almost the very end and once when he heard someone cry out for that song, he joked that he didn't have to do anything - expect pay taxes.

The crowd, as you might expect, was completely random. It's amazing how ten year olds and sixty year olds could both relate to the music that was rocking out Citizens Bank Park. He played a wide variety of songs, and even though I feel like I know many of them, again and again I found myself exclaiming, "That one's Billy Joel, too?" His range is so wide. He had us swaying, dancing and singing until our voices were completely hoarse. At one point, he brought the Philadelphia born Boyz II Men group onstage and they did an a capella version of "For The Longest Time". Amazing. The best moment of the night, though, was when he completely stopped singing and the musicians stopped playing during "Piano Man". The crowd carried it away, wailing, "Sing us the song, you're the piano man. Sing us the song tonight. Well we're all in the mood for a melody. And you've got us feeling alright."

I wondered how he had such confidence that the crowd would continue to sing, and that there wouldn't just be silence. How could he trust that so many people would know just what to do? Obviously, he's a seasoned performer and this wasn't his first rodeo. Yet it says a lot when a performer trusts that he can lift a crowd up and in return the crowd will do the same. I'm honored to have seen the Piano Man himself perform.

Everything's going to the cats!

The proper saying actually, is "Everything's going to the dogs", a saying meant to convey that everything's going downhill. That's not what I mean to connote with the title of this blog post.

I'm taking care of my friend's fabulous, cranky, amazing, judgmental, cute cat for the summer, and she's managed to take over my pillow each night, push books/computers/meals/anything out of the way for a chance to get in a lap, and have her humans on a tight schedule to feed her several small meals per day.

Today I tried to meditate and do yoga in the morning. The cat of course took over. Observe below.

In short, everything literally has gone to the cats - and I love it!

Headspace

Lately I'm on the online challenge kick - 100 happy days, Money Love Course, Simple Green Smoothie Challenge, etc. It seems like every wellness guru has crafted a special limited edition trial, which is perfect for someone like me who tends to get immersed in one area and then move onto another. My latest? Headspace. Yeah, I've tried meditating before, with limited success. Okay, if we're being honest, no success. I swear each meditation course made my heart beat even faster rather than creating this sense of calm. So I'm giving it a go. Who feels like they have a great method for getting some headspace?

Time

When I was younger, time seemed to stretch on, endlessly. Well, that's not entirely true. Camp summers would simultaneously contain unlimited time and would end in the blink of an eye. Nowadays, my time is scheduled.

 

My calendar is continuously filled, and I still don't have enough time to see everyone I want to see and to do everything I want to do and to just have unstructured time. My head looks like this:

How do I create more time? My dear readers, if you are still with me (and I wouldn't blame you if you are not), please write in the comments below and let me know how you deal with time.

Getting older

Age is so relative, isn't it? Earlier this week, at the movies, I sat next to a pair of older ladies who seemed to be having a wonderful night out on the town. Granted afterwards one said loudly to the other, "I couldn't understand half of that movie" and they had some difficulty getting out of their seats, however on the whole, they made getting older not look half bad.

Life is like a bramble of raspberries

My mom taught me how to pick blueberries, raspberries and blackberries in the woods of Maine at a very early age. She taught me how to tell how a berry was ripe to pick, how to pick cleanly, and how to navigate the brambles to avoid getting too scratched. Today, I picked berries to sell at a market, and I used those same techniques. As I was picking, I started thinking about the phrase, "Life is like a box of chocolates". Although I have always loved that phrase (because I love chocolate), I started thinking that life may be more like a bramble of raspberries. At times, you have to be patient. When a raspberry isn't ready to be picked, you might end up with a bunch of thorns instead. Other times, you unexpectedly stumble upon a whole bunch of beautiful berries just waiting to be picked. It's peaceful picking berries, until a bird yells at you for taking what she might feel is rightfully hers. All in all, it's always an adventure. Today I discovered black raspberries, which may just be my new favorite, got utterly scratched by the thorns, and let countless children try raspberries right off the bush. 

"Make the world a better place, because you are in it."

I should be writing about Maya Angelou today. Most people are writing about, talking about and remembering this incredible woman. I feel her loss to the world deeply as well. But I'm not going to write about Maya Angelou. I'm going to write about Louise Henderson instead, a woman who passed away on Saturday, who has had a profound impact on my life and so many others throughout her 80 years.

I've been struggling for the past couple of days, wondering how I could write about or even if I could write about Louise.  Louise wasn't famous. She was the co-director of Camp Arcadia, a summer camp I attended for years and cannot even fully articulate how important this place remains in my life to this day.

I learned of her death and immediately felt like whatever I would write might seem inadequate. The thing is that she was a larger than life type of person. Yet for some reason, the death of someone as inspiring to me as Maya Angelou unlocked something in me today, and I feel compelled to write.

Maya Angelou and Louise Henderson were born only 6 years apart. Yes, they were born into completely different circumstances and lead completely different lives, yet they did share some similarities. They were both incredibly brave and courageous women who stood up for what they believed in, they both wanted to make a difference in the world, and they both inspired so many people.

I've known Louise since I was ten years old. I was incredibly shy and pretty scared to be at a sleepover camp in Maine for seven weeks without my parents. Within the first few days, Louise singled me out and called me over, demanding to know how I was doing. I was a bit intimidated at first. Yet Louise soon pulled me down on her lap with her cackling laugh, and I felt reassured and at home.

Over the years, camp became my home away from home and Louise in turn became a sort of summer aunt. I always felt as if she was watching over me with pride (as well as making sure, in her omniscient way, that none of us got out of line). Whenever I would receive levels at campfires, I always felt a special twinkle in her eye. I'm sure most of the girls at that camp felt the same way, which is such a testament to the way Louise showed she cared for everyone.

During the winter months, Louise was a college counselor. When my age group reached the summer before we would start applying to colleges, she called us in and talked us through what to expect. I will always remember her telling us that camp had given us so many vital skills that would help us in the world. She told us that she knew we would excel in whatever direction we were headed.

At the end of every summer, Louise would give a packing speech to the entire camp. She would give us very specific instructions, cautioning us about putting wet clothes in our trunk without putting them in a plastic bag first. She always told this story of this one girl (we were never sure whether this girl was real or made up) who put their wet bathing suit in with their clothes. That girl's trunk was lost, and when she got it back months later, all of the clothes were mildewed. Whether that story was real or made up, I always make sure to bag any wet clothes before packing!

Perhaps the greatest gift Louise gave was the call to action. Every Sunday at the Sunday meeting, she would read a story to the camp about someone who had made a difference in the world. The story I always loved the most was Miss Rumphius by Barbara Cooney. When I was younger, I thought the story was called The Lupine Lady and that Louise had made it up. I remember being so excited when I actually found the book in a bookstore. I will never forget the way Louise read that story and paused at the end, adding her own advice, "Make the world a better place, because you are in it." I hear her voice saying those words constantly.

She has guided me throughout every phase of my life, from childhood to adolescence to adulthood. Just last summer, I was in Maine with my family and I stopped over at Arcadia for a day to say hello. I told Louise I was changing career paths, and she said to me, "Julie, that sounds like such an exciting opportunity." She told me to say hello to my parents, that I always had a home at Camp Arcadia, and that she was so happy I stopped by.

I know that camp will never be the same without Louise there. Yet her spirit will forever be a part of this magical place that I and countless other girls call home, a place that encourages us to be our very best and do whatever we can to make our mark on the world.

No Other Angle The Same: Halloweaster

Philadelphia, PA
Saturday, May 17th
1:00 pm

You gotta love South Philly, a magical land where decorations reign supreme at all times of year. In May, this house apparently celebrates Halloweaster....

Dymond in the Rough

I had the rare opportunity to work with a high schooler this week on a speech for our internship spring awards ceremony. I've worked with hundreds of 8th graders to help them write graduation speeches, so I figured I knew what to expect.

She strolled in, sat down and proudly said, "I'm not a speech writer."

I replied, "Oh, that's okay. We're going to write this speech together." (Everyone had told me that this student would be the perfect choice for the speech. I figured there had to be a good reason for recommending her.)

"The thing is," she continued. "I don't just plan what I'm going to say. I'm spontaneous, you know? I'm a poet. I don't write with structure."

"Well, speech writing is a bit like poetry." (Now I was really going out on a limb.) "You know, there's a lot of pauses, there's a lot of figurative language..."

"I don't plan ahead and I don't work with people." I was a bit stumped. She wasn't being defiant. She just didn't like the idea of writing a speech.

"Okay," I finally said. "Let's write a poem together." She looked at me for a long moment.

"I thought of a title," she said. "Dymond in the rough." (Her name is Dymond).

"Great start!" I said. We then proceeded to write an amazing speech together. Only she thought it was a poem.

Monks!

I basically stalked monks all across Southeast Asia a few summers ago. To me, they were fascinating. Maybe it's because they seemed to hold the answers to inner peace. Perhaps it's because they were stoic and mysterious. Probably more likely because orange just sticks out in a crowd.

No Other ____ The Same: Welcome!

There's a little shop near the University of Pennsylvania that's different from the rest. For one thing, you don't see many students in there. Actually, there's usually only two people in there - the customer and the owner. The store sells fancy chocolates, old magazines, coffee, and some breakfast treats depending on the day. There's no soy or almond milk option. Cash is the only tender accepted, naturally. The owner is a loveable curmudgeon who usually stands in the doorway, staring at the passersby. A couple months ago, I went in frequently to buy chocolate. Now, most days I feel a bit guilty as he gives me a genial nod and lets me know, silently, that he is noticing that I haven't stopped in to make a purchase.

Today was a bit different. I for once had the cash to buy my overpriced chai tea latte (and let's be honest - a chocolate croissant), and the owner was nowhere to be seen. I gingerly stepped into the shop, and tentatively called out, "Hello? Good morning?"

A few minutes later, he leisurely came out of the back, acting as if I had interrupted his morning siesta. As he prepared my drink, another customer entered the store.

"Welcome!" the customer said, making a little bow with a flourish. The owner looked a bit displeased.

"Hello," he said drily.

"Don't you get it?" the customer said. "That 'welcome' is from Star Trek!" The owner gave him a blank stare.

"You don't watch Stark Trek?" the customer said. "I thought that would be your thing!"

"I guess I'm not a Star Trek kind of person," the owner said, a bit exasperated. I thanked him, paid for my coffee hastily, and left.

 

No Other Angle The Same: Dirt and Happiness

Washington, DC
Sunday, May 11th
1:00 pm

When I was younger, I had no shortage of playing in the dirt. In fact, my best friend and I even started sculpting what we called Muclay (a substance somewhere in between mud and clay). Nowadays, I don't get the chance too often.

Some articles say that dirt and happiness can be related. Yesterday, planting my parents' vegetable garden, I had to agree.

Getting back on the horse

The thing about taking a break from anything is that the longer you do it, the easier it becomes. Those times when I've been a gym-goer (you notice I say "those times"), I haven't wanted to miss one day until....well....I miss that one day. Then the next day becomes easier, and the next day I barely think about it and then I start wonder when the last time was that I actually went to the gym. Hmm, when's the last time I went to the gym?

So, while a bit over a month ago the idea of not blogging every day seemed inconceivable...

...the longer I went without blogging, the more reasons I came up with not to do it. 

Sure, I was busy. Since I last saw all of you, I was pretty sick (this cartoon epitomizes exactly what I looked like, hair and all)....

Things have been a bit crazy at work...

I moved out of my home for the past 7 years (that's not even all of the boxes)....

...and moved in with this guy :)...

Yet the real reason I kept putting off blogging was because the longer I went without doing it, the more I psyched myself out. I kept saying to myself that I wouldn't blog until I had a week of posts lined up, or that I clearly shouldn't blog if I hadn't had time to cook that week, or that I definitely couldn't blog until I clearly understand the current front page of the NY Times. 

And you know what? At that rate, I was probably never going be fully prepared to blog again - at least not from my impossible standards. But the simple truth is that I love it. I love writing something every day - or at least 5 times a week - even if it's not always Shakespeare. I love connecting with my friends and family near and far and (hopefully) some readers who only know me from this blog. 

I may however have pigeonholed myself in a bit with my stringent weekly topics which of course involved me reading one book a week, being prepared to blog about a recipe weekly and writing an entire op ed each week. As my amazing mother (Happy Mother' Day, Mom!) said in her ever tactful way when I presented my idea, "That's very ambitious!"

So, I can't tell you exactly what to expect from me moving on, but you can catch me here, Monday through Friday, every week folks, saying something. Hopefully it'll be something you can relate to, or laugh at, ponder or debate. 

And, in keeping with my photo of the week post, I have a few pretty amazing ones to catch you up on. A cat being walked on a leash...

A dog sitting in a bike basket (it's hard to see, but the dog is really dressed up)...

....and of course a man with the longest beard I have ever seen. I wish I had gotten up the nerve to take this picture from the front. See how his beard goes over his shoulders??!

With that, I'm back on the proverbial blogging horse. Yeah, it's not a perfect metaphor...yet if I analyzed every metaphor to find the perfect one I might not see you all for another two months, so I'm going for it! 

Stay Tuned!

Lovely, lovely readers,

I have not been quite up to writing lately, and I'm sure (said sarcastically :) that you have all noticed and are in Julie blog withdrawal. Please stay with me! I'll be back!!! Promise :).

No Other Tale The Same: Quiet

Society will always be consumed by defining and analyzing personalities. Quiet by Susan Cain provides amazing insights about and sheds some new light on introverts. While some might see being defined as an introvert as a negative, Cain quickly debunks those myths. Introverts are not shy, she explains. They are simply more thoughtful, conscientious and analytical.

Cain's explanation of society's "extroverted ideal" was extremely interesting, and she said it starts in childhood. She gave examples of several case studies where an extroverted parent had an introverted child and worried constantly that the child had a few close friends, didn't want to participate in big class parties and was quieter in class. She said instead of worrying about that, it would be better to appreciate the child's strengths and let them explore their own interests. Cain also talked about how teachers are putting the pressure of the "extrovert ideal" onto their students by placing such great importance on group work all the time. I felt guilty as I realized exactly how true this is.

As adults, this continues as workplaces are designed more and more to be completely open, group work is consistently valued over individual work and it's necessary to "sell yourself" to move up in the workplace. Cain wrote about the importance of valuing all personality types, and about how it's necessary to have a balance. If everyone in a group makes decisions quickly without the analysis (stereotypical extrovert traits), then the group could be headed into a negative direction.

I was given this book to read by a friend of mine who, after decades of friendship, told me she considers herself an introvert. My first reaction was to laugh it off because I too have been living within the extrovert ideal. I told her since she has many friends, is social, and can meet people easily there is no way she could be an introvert (unwittingly implying that introverts are shy and socially awkward). Upon reading this book, however, I realized that one, I'm wrong, and two, introversion is much more than that narrow set of stereotypes I came up with. Introversion and extroversion are largely hinged on where you recharge - with others, or alone. Neither is negative or positive. Society needs all types of people to be balanced.

Upon reflection, I realized that I have several more introvert qualities than I had realized in years. In elementary and middle school, I was alone more often than not. I was content simply reading a book. However, I recognized that I didn't fit in socially. Therefore, when I reached high school, I decided to adapt more extrovert qualities; going up to people and talking to them, speaking more in class, and participating in the school musicals. These actions took me far, and still, today, one of my qualities that I pride myself on is the ability to be able to go up and talk to anyone. Did I always have these qualities in me, or did I force myself to be like this because society prizes the extrovert?

In my opinion, the most important point that Cain made is that no one person is purely introvert or extrovert. Everyone is a mixture in some way. However, this book is incredibly important to be able to look deeper into a personality that has been deemed "second-class" by American society. As Cain stated, Moses was an introvert, Dr. Seuss was an introvert, Rosa Parks was an introvert, J.K. Rowling is an introvert, and so many other amazing thinkers have been introverts. I'm pretty sure we wouldn't have wanted them to change their personality in any kind of way, though even Cain, as an introvert herself, admits that in order to sell her book she had to become a "pseudo extrovert". Can we as a society learn to accept all personalities, or will we only listen to those who present themselves in one type of way?

No Other Angle The Same: Spring?

Washington, DC

Saturday, March 15th

3:10 pm

I know it might snow tomorrow, but there have been signs of spring, people! Signs of spring!!

Brief Hiatus

To all my dear readers,

I'm taking a brief hiatus this week. See you next week!!!

Julie

No Other News The Same: What Obligations does The Bachelor Have?

A tiny disclaimer before I start my blog tonight: yes, I watch The Bachelor. And yes, I totally understand if you are judging right now. It's not the most cerebral show. Yet it's kind of like a train wreck - impossible to take your eyes away from. And since it was reported by NPR, the LA Times and the Washington Post this week, I'm deciding to classify it as news. So there :).

You see, this season The Bachelor thought they had it made. They cast Juan Pablo Galvais, a Latino bachelor, guaranteed to raise their ratings. The problem? Juan Pablo doesn't really have a filter. In fact, LA Weekly called Juan Pablo the "Sarah Palin of the bachelor", stating that the producers had no idea he was going to "go rogue". He made some homophobic comments, was rude and arrogant, and in general didn't "play nice" for his interviews. Two women willingly left the show early because they weren't feeling it. That's saying a lot for a show where the contestants are typically throwing themselves at the bachelor or bachelorette, declaring they are in love the first week, and saying or doing anything to convince the bachelor/ette that it's a perfect match.

Yet his decision in the end was the most shocking (to the viewers). Let's back up for a minute for those of you that don't watch the show (or pretend to not know anything about it). Twenty-five men or women compete for one man or woman's heart. Along the way, they get roses to signify the lead's interest. The "journey" takes them on crazy, extravagant dates that never happen in real life and ends in about six weeks. The point of the show is to end in a proposal with declarations of undying love. (Hmm...the more I write about this, the less clearly I see my reasoning for watching this show).

Juan Pablo chose one girl at the end, but didn't propose and didn't say I love you. At the "After the Final Rose" show, he wouldn't really give the public what they wanted - a proposal and at the least, an admission of his love for his final choice, Nikki Ferrell. The only thing the public was left with was the knowledge that the couple would continue dating. Now he's being called the "worst bachelor ever". The producers have cancelled all of his interviews, and he's basically being blacklisted.

Hmm - let's take a minute and think about that. He didn't fall in love and want to marry someone after six weeks. Shame on him! So how far does a reality TV star's obligations go? Do they need to produce the type of emotion they are getting paid for? They aren't being paid to act....but are they? This season of The Bachelor really brought some key issues to light around this fantasy of a show. It's important to note that even though nearly every season has ended with a proposal, the 10 plus year show has resulted in only four marriages. So what does the viewing public really want? Me personally? It's pretty fascinating to watch. The majority of the women who watch? Probably the hope that the "fairy tale" of an ending will happen for them too. Yet if we're all really honest with ourselves, we'll never really know if the lead "character" is really feeling these emotions - or is contractually obligated to feel them. Is it better to be honest? Or to give the people what they paid for?

No Other Dish The Same: Blue Apron's Manhattan Fish Chowder

Imagine a world where your dinner ingredients are delivered in a box.

That box contains three easy to follow recipes:

Recipes that have pictures on them are always the best!!!! It helps for the recipe-challenged like me at least. Oh, and all of the ingredients are pre-proportioned out:

Even right down to the tiny bottle of Tabasco sauce:

It's a magical, magical thing. It was so easy! I just chopped everything up...

....and cooked it right up!

Woohoo!!!

It was sooooo much fun!

Blue Apron is a pretty cool website, and it really helps when your amazing friend gives you a free trial. With that one albeit huge box, I had three meals just waiting to be prepared. I will say that there was way too much packaging included. Yet it seems to solve some main cooking frustrations - grocery shopping, choosing what to buy, having too much of one ingredient, etc. It definitely has kept me from going out as much as I might have this week. I also wouldn't have thought of making the three dishes for this week: Manhattan Fish Chowder, Chicken Shawarma with tzatziki, hummus and beet salad and Braised Carrots, Mushrooms and Brussels Sprouts with Creamy Polenta. Yum!

No Other Tale The Same: Eats, Shoots and Leaves

"A panda walks into the library. He eats a sandwich, then draws his bow and shoots two arrows.

'Why did you do that?' asks the librarian as the panda walks towards the exit.

The panda shows her a badly punctuated book.

'I'm a panda,' he says. 'That's what it says we do.' The librarian looks at the page:

PANDA
Large black-and-white bear-like mammal, native to China.
Eats, shoots and leaves."

Yes, this book is another one meant for children, yet several adults still need guidance on the proper usage of commas. When I taught English I would use this book at least once per year. It illustrates, in hilarious detail, what happens when you misplace a comma.

Here's one example:

One scenario involves the mother and child leaving Grandma and skipping about in the park. The other involves everyone skipping about in the park. Quite the difference!

Here's one more:

This one has to be my favorite. It's so rich visually for children to see how misplacing the comma makes the scenario completely unrealistic.

In my opinion, this book is a must-have for everyone, whether or not you are a teacher. As you can see, my post-it notes are well-worn from years of use. Eats, Shoots and Leaves also has an adult version which entails a good old-fashioned rant about how no one knows how to use commas. This kids' version gives a slightly more gentle approach. Start slow!

No Other Angle The Same: Pie

Philadelphia, PA
Saturday, March 8th
2:31 pm

Pie and friends - what more in life do you really need, after all? 

No Other ____ The Same: Priorities

At the park on Saturday, a little boy discovered some leaves. "LOOK!!!" he shouted to his older sister. "I FOUND LEAVES!!!" He dragged his little scooter over to the leaves. "Let's bury it!!" And just like that, his older sister and him set out to bury that scooter. Being that the scooter was rather tall and the leaves kept falling to the sides, it was a difficult endeavor. Yet with determination, he kept his priorities in mind and succeeded in burying it halfway. Then, he got a bit distracted - when his older sister started a leaf fight.

No Other News The Same: How Much Power Does a Superpower Really Have?

When one country (Russia) invades another country (Ukraine) in attempts to take back Crimea and "help ethnic Russians", the whole world sits up and pays attention. Especially when the citizens of Crimea are given ten days to decide whether they want to become a part of Russia or not. Most citizens around the world are simply just following the news. The United States is a bit of a different story. America is viewed as the lone World Superpower. So what does that mean, exactly? What power does the US have to do something about this? On a more philosophical level, how much power should the U.S. have?

U.S. President Barack Obama and US Secretary of State John Kerry have come out strong, saying that there will be consequences for Russia's actions and that Russia will come out on the wrong side of history. Russia President Vladimir Putin has ignored these warnings. In fact, it seems as though each day he takes a stronger opposing action. So, is the U.S. actually being effective at all?

In addition to strongly worded speeches, Obama has taken some action. First, he's imposed visa bans on Russian government officials in the US. Second, he's imposed economic sanctions against individuals involved in the crisis, including freezing assets and preventing trade. He also approved a $1 billion financial aid packet to help the Ukranian government.

Still, the fact remains that a part of Ukraine could absolutely become a part of Russia in less than two weeks, and the U.S. may not be able to really do anything to stop that. So the question still remains: should this be within America's power? Should America really be the world's watchdog?

No Other Dish The Same: Mini Frittatas

Every once in a while, you start cooking for a book club about 40 minutes prior to their guests arriving. Luckily, tonight's menu was breakfast for dinner, so the food didn't take a huge amount of time to prepare. Plus, my friends always pitch in.

So, these mini frittatas - I've been waiting to do this ever since my mother bought me these cute little muffin tins for Christmas. It turns out that mini frittatas are pretty easy. I found this recipe on this blog called Italian Food Forever. It seems like there are tons of amazing recipes there!

So I started out by mixing eggs and milk. I substituted almond milk.

Then, I filled in my cute little mini muffin tins with the egg and almond milk mix.

Next, I put a bit of sauteed spinach and mushrooms into each muffin tin. The next two steps were the sundried tomatoes and goat cheese. My friends helped out with those steps.

And after a short while in the oven...deliciousness!

I will absolutely make this again - it seems almost foolproof even for someone who has trouble following a recipe!