<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928</id><updated>2012-01-23T17:07:17.488-08:00</updated><category term='Beans. Photos.'/><category term='Beans. Photos. Lambie.'/><category term='after school'/><title type='text'>The Cost of Beans</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>389</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-6784007832298943876</id><published>2012-01-11T19:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-11T19:56:29.127-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Update</title><content type='html'>My new job is not so hard anymore. I quite like it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-6784007832298943876?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/6784007832298943876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=6784007832298943876' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6784007832298943876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6784007832298943876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2012/01/update.html' title='Update'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-3705900215153365216</id><published>2012-01-05T20:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-05T20:50:37.909-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dusting off the left side of my brain.</title><content type='html'>My new job is hard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-3705900215153365216?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/3705900215153365216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=3705900215153365216' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/3705900215153365216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/3705900215153365216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2012/01/dusting-off-left-side-of-my-brain.html' title='Dusting off the left side of my brain.'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-7598927367621332347</id><published>2012-01-02T20:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-02T20:52:10.104-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The first change</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow's a big day.&lt;br /&gt;I start a new, part-time job.&lt;br /&gt;I'll be doing social media and office work for a locally beloved bakery. It's a place I've always loved and the job happened to fall on the days I was already off from the newspaper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm excited to start my first "first day of work" since 1997, and in an entirely new field (especially after my restaurant writer friend told me that "food is the new Rock 'N' Roll.") I'll have my own desk in a room with three other super nice women and I get a free loaf of bread after each shift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it also means my schedule is changing. My kids are going to have to go to after-care for the first time in their lives. I also hired a nanny for those early dismissal days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it will be fine. I'm just feeling guilty. And scared. And excited. All wrapped into a nervous pit in my stomach, a feeling that's been so very familiar in the last few months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also? I'm kind of worried for my waistline: my first day will be spent at the cafe tasting bread.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-7598927367621332347?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/7598927367621332347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=7598927367621332347' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7598927367621332347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7598927367621332347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2012/01/first-change.html' title='The first change'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-5247865629779895435</id><published>2012-01-01T20:17:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-01T21:13:28.164-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Setting the tone</title><content type='html'>Today I finished reading Patti Smith's book, "Just Kids," in which she mentions her mother's saying about New Year's Day, one that's the same as my own mother's belief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way you spend Jan. 1 sets a tone for the rest of the year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things did not get off to a good start because I had a dream that I yelled at my dad and then woke up with a headache. I also felt hungover even though the night before I drank one bottle of Framboise and went to bed before midnight (for the first time since I was a teen). Also, Ella spent much of the morning crying about one thing or another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the book fresh in my mind, I knew I had to change things, so I told everyone we were going for a walk. We agreed to go to the cave hidden under the shell shop at La Jolla Cove. We walked and walked and when we got there, Matt said he wanted to check out what was behind the shell store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've lived here forever (literally, my forever) and never knew there was a trail that's on the edge of the cliffs and has magnificent views of the ocean and birds and all the cool-looking plants that surround it. It was surprising and lovely. We went back to the shell shop and descended the 109 steps to "Sunny Jim's Cave," which was adventurous. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D1VU-KkW-B0/TwEzO_irh7I/AAAAAAAABE0/MXze-HTYEHA/s1600/81wcf6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D1VU-KkW-B0/TwEzO_irh7I/AAAAAAAABE0/MXze-HTYEHA/s400/81wcf6.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692887736641095602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, my mom called and reiterated her point, saying it would be nice for the family to be together on New Year's Day. So we went to my grandmothers and laughed and discussed happiness and had chocolate, all of which was comforting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, at the end of the day, I'm hoping that this new year is surprising, lovely, adventurous and comforting. And if it is all those things, I'll take a headache here and there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-5247865629779895435?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/5247865629779895435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=5247865629779895435' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5247865629779895435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5247865629779895435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2012/01/setting-tone.html' title='Setting the tone'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D1VU-KkW-B0/TwEzO_irh7I/AAAAAAAABE0/MXze-HTYEHA/s72-c/81wcf6.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-7603596096774571567</id><published>2011-12-30T20:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-30T21:44:06.103-08:00</updated><title type='text'>2011 Year in Review</title><content type='html'>I don't normally do year in review things, but 2011 was so weird and so much happened - and at the same time, so many things are about to change in 2012, too - so why not take some time to reflect on the last 12 months?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TOP EVENTS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Moving to La Jolla&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zZoZ4HpAWFs/Tv6W0hE8LwI/AAAAAAAABCY/OvwrMHZ3pNU/s1600/P1010884.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zZoZ4HpAWFs/Tv6W0hE8LwI/AAAAAAAABCY/OvwrMHZ3pNU/s400/P1010884.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692152808019341058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Going part-time: this is where I was when that decision was being made for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HKXVjVOe1L4/Tv6XFUklsPI/AAAAAAAABCk/oYZjzmmZwEc/s1600/P1010704.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HKXVjVOe1L4/Tv6XFUklsPI/AAAAAAAABCk/oYZjzmmZwEc/s400/P1010704.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692153096720199922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Starting kindergarten&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0x8UcMYm1jU/Tv6X9kooLEI/AAAAAAAABCw/dhRvTUHoo2o/s1600/P1010943.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0x8UcMYm1jU/Tv6X9kooLEI/AAAAAAAABCw/dhRvTUHoo2o/s400/P1010943.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692154063104781378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Matt turning 40 / trip to San Francisco&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8zoERXPu8Es/Tv6YnAhzpdI/AAAAAAAABDI/BtSYmdAv8lA/s1600/391063_10150438017685974_558770973_8856672_1682548455_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8zoERXPu8Es/Tv6YnAhzpdI/AAAAAAAABDI/BtSYmdAv8lA/s400/391063_10150438017685974_558770973_8856672_1682548455_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692154774967002578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Awkward 20th high school reunion cocktail party. Check out my fancy hair and makeup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rRHlLREJZgg/Tv6X96rxmcI/AAAAAAAABC8/B3kRvDYh5C0/s1600/Photo%2Bon%2B2011-08-13%2Bat%2B17.51.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rRHlLREJZgg/Tv6X96rxmcI/AAAAAAAABC8/B3kRvDYh5C0/s400/Photo%2Bon%2B2011-08-13%2Bat%2B17.51.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692154069023562178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Visits from Mops (and Pops!) and Barnaby (Please send photos!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Getting a new sister-in-law and Aunt Nicole / Alex and Nicole moving away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LDpv4_djgs8/Tv6ZnJA6gLI/AAAAAAAABDU/jhhxbvhM68k/s1600/P1010563_1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LDpv4_djgs8/Tv6ZnJA6gLI/AAAAAAAABDU/jhhxbvhM68k/s400/P1010563_1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692155876756586674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Getting stuck in the elevator. And rescued.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pWyHvyVIJQ4/Tv6aulmIk5I/AAAAAAAABDg/gsU5VB9kvsw/s1600/photo.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pWyHvyVIJQ4/Tv6aulmIk5I/AAAAAAAABDg/gsU5VB9kvsw/s400/photo.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692157104199603090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. The sad, slow death of our fish, Sparkly Rainbow Flowers. RIP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Getting a new, part-time job&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TOP SONGS:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ella's favorite: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Vysgv7qVYTo" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marina's favorite:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/VuNIsY6JdUw" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/s2YiUTh9dj4" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Matt's favorite: "Regina Spektor Pandora station."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TOP MOVIES&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nina: "Blue Valentine" (technically released in 2010, but I saw it in 2011), "Bridesmaids" Amodovar's "The Skin I Live In"&lt;br /&gt;Matt: "Hugo," "Melancholia"&lt;br /&gt;Marina and Ella: "Rio," "Winnie the Pooh," "Muppets"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MORE 2011 SNAPSHOTS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J22znk4eBw4/Tv6fVIex7sI/AAAAAAAABD4/cs7UKRBa8us/s1600/P1010557_1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J22znk4eBw4/Tv6fVIex7sI/AAAAAAAABD4/cs7UKRBa8us/s400/P1010557_1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692162164445540034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fpBbwZYdO-g/Tv6gEIemJTI/AAAAAAAABEY/44UsDLDBZ5c/s1600/Photo%2Bon%2B2011-08-12%2Bat%2B17.20.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fpBbwZYdO-g/Tv6gEIemJTI/AAAAAAAABEY/44UsDLDBZ5c/s400/Photo%2Bon%2B2011-08-12%2Bat%2B17.20.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692162971898619186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W4fB5LPOC7U/Tv6gECXr-rI/AAAAAAAABEQ/8xn0oQ15t9I/s1600/P1010766.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W4fB5LPOC7U/Tv6gECXr-rI/AAAAAAAABEQ/8xn0oQ15t9I/s400/P1010766.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692162970259028658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GgjPNczvyV0/Tv6gEOUngAI/AAAAAAAABEo/yM4zbqRDS5A/s1600/downsized_1124010851.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GgjPNczvyV0/Tv6gEOUngAI/AAAAAAAABEo/yM4zbqRDS5A/s400/downsized_1124010851.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692162973467377666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-7603596096774571567?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/7603596096774571567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=7603596096774571567' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7603596096774571567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7603596096774571567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/12/2011-year-in-review.html' title='2011 Year in Review'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zZoZ4HpAWFs/Tv6W0hE8LwI/AAAAAAAABCY/OvwrMHZ3pNU/s72-c/P1010884.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-7518206362229870472</id><published>2011-12-12T21:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-12T22:23:42.580-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I like: "It Chooses You"</title><content type='html'>On our recent trip to San Francisco - which is what we finally decided to do for Matt's birthday - we made our requisite stop at the City Lights Bookstore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever gone book shopping with Matt? It's sort of ridiculous. Growing up, spending large amounts in a book store was my thing. But he takes it to new levels. He will stand in front of every display, check out every "staff pick," and by the time I wander back to him, he's got a stack of four or five books ready to take home. It's to the point where I rarely ask what's in the pile. And at City Lights, where it was stuffy and I was holding a jacket, a sweatshirt, a scarf, a hat, a purse, and two books of my own, I didn't ask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were in the back, by the stairs leading up to the Beat section (a section in which I spent an embarrassing amounts of time when I was in my 20s). Suddenly, I saw a book by Miranda July, one of my favorite directors/writers/modern artists. It was about the trouble she had writing her second movie, "The Future" and how she procrastinated by interviewing people who put ads in the Pennysaver. I added it to my pile. Matt took it out of my hands and returned it to the shelf and then showed me that the book - "It Chooses You" - was already in his pile, a present to me for taking him to San Francisco.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HKhWaXd1FVY/TubsSUJYrjI/AAAAAAAABCM/uxF4d2LDtLU/s1600/d93cbaac19e511e180c9123138016265_7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HKhWaXd1FVY/TubsSUJYrjI/AAAAAAAABCM/uxF4d2LDtLU/s400/d93cbaac19e511e180c9123138016265_7.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685491378991705650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read it in the plane on the way home. It's about everything. About writing, about wondering if you're good at what you do, about trying to connect with people who have nothing in common with you, even a bit about movie stars (very indie movie stars). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It reminded me a lot of when I wrote these articles called Passages about people going through a major life change - mostly weddings. I did it for one, maybe two years and interviewed hundreds of people about how they fell in love. They were very intimate, personal stories and it often felt strange, like a privilege and also like I was imposing, to hear them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This book reminded me of those times.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-7518206362229870472?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/7518206362229870472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=7518206362229870472' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7518206362229870472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7518206362229870472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/12/things-i-like-it-chooses-you.html' title='Things I like: &quot;It Chooses You&quot;'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HKhWaXd1FVY/TubsSUJYrjI/AAAAAAAABCM/uxF4d2LDtLU/s72-c/d93cbaac19e511e180c9123138016265_7.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-3456919757346426236</id><published>2011-11-24T08:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-24T19:57:37.103-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving bread baking 2011 . . . the tradition continues</title><content type='html'>If it's Thanksgiving, it means bread's being baked in our house. (And this year, it also means it's Ella's birthday, yay!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here we go, Thanksgiving bread liveblogging starts now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the recipe, full of splatters, which is proof that the bread does not, as my family suspects, come out of a tube with a little white dough boy on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ftpeot-LXRE/Ts52xcWMZ_I/AAAAAAAABAI/WYgNrFuk-4s/s1600/downsized_1124010825.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ftpeot-LXRE/Ts52xcWMZ_I/AAAAAAAABAI/WYgNrFuk-4s/s400/downsized_1124010825.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678606771955722226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The soundtrack is the same every year, "The Nutcracker." The girls take a ballet break to turn flour into dough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZOQL2eDjUi4/Ts53M2QB2yI/AAAAAAAABAU/8oV3weN_jjQ/s1600/downsized_1124010829a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZOQL2eDjUi4/Ts53M2QB2yI/AAAAAAAABAU/8oV3weN_jjQ/s400/downsized_1124010829a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678607242765654818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year, Marina's teacher had also studied pastry-making. So that automatically makes her the most qualified baker in the family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GEtpnfF19KY/Ts53jYPqwzI/AAAAAAAABAg/u5DRRU_ZLL0/s1600/downsized_1124010828.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GEtpnfF19KY/Ts53jYPqwzI/AAAAAAAABAg/u5DRRU_ZLL0/s400/downsized_1124010828.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678607629848068914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The birthday girl helps pat the dough into a nice, smooth ball.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RnfEHW_gj9g/Ts54uXBRF0I/AAAAAAAABAs/cbQZwBF3Lc4/s1600/downsized_1124010845.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RnfEHW_gj9g/Ts54uXBRF0I/AAAAAAAABAs/cbQZwBF3Lc4/s400/downsized_1124010845.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678608918009419586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DOUGH HANDS AND APRONS!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oRNWFfw6D-E/Ts549ulk7MI/AAAAAAAABA4/53e9t2kfQ2g/s1600/downsized_1124010851.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oRNWFfw6D-E/Ts549ulk7MI/AAAAAAAABA4/53e9t2kfQ2g/s400/downsized_1124010851.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678609182033767618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what we do in the hour it takes for the bread to rise:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Make an art gallery!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4kZIZQYTrio/Ts6BhviDEkI/AAAAAAAABBE/r7wF4l739ZE/s1600/downsized_1124010931.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4kZIZQYTrio/Ts6BhviDEkI/AAAAAAAABBE/r7wF4l739ZE/s400/downsized_1124010931.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678618596855714370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And have a bit of protein before the carb-loading begins. Thanks, Trader Joe's Chicken Mango sausage!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-74vsERKgRwY/Ts6B3dg5gSI/AAAAAAAABBQ/4UAtD3RvTQA/s1600/downsized_1124010833.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-74vsERKgRwY/Ts6B3dg5gSI/AAAAAAAABBQ/4UAtD3RvTQA/s400/downsized_1124010833.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678618969976176930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the bread rises, you have to cut it into triangles. But the girls have their own ideas about how to keep busy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today they decided to switch personalities. Marina, the child who hates dirt, is the "messiest girl in the world."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I3h5QbXCLtQ/Ts6fCwY8yiI/AAAAAAAABBc/MquWWTi7MBI/s1600/downsized_1124010945.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I3h5QbXCLtQ/Ts6fCwY8yiI/AAAAAAAABBc/MquWWTi7MBI/s400/downsized_1124010945.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678651049858877986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Ella sits nicely at the table with a neat pile of flour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B7TFQEQ3pgU/Ts6fcrZfuSI/AAAAAAAABBo/Exc115XDfS0/s1600/downsized_1124010946.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B7TFQEQ3pgU/Ts6fcrZfuSI/AAAAAAAABBo/Exc115XDfS0/s400/downsized_1124010946.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678651495195588898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Annnnd . . . .fresh, warm, yummy bread. They came out amazing this year, which I think has something to do with the salty, sea air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iFIuIUEk2B8/Ts8RLnBJj5I/AAAAAAAABB0/bSMo5jQGK8U/s1600/downsized_1124011206.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iFIuIUEk2B8/Ts8RLnBJj5I/AAAAAAAABB0/bSMo5jQGK8U/s400/downsized_1124011206.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678776546287521682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girls had so many of these while watching "Olivia," that they didn't eat an ounce of their Thanksgiving dinner. I wish that was a joke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZQ2VxKyJfJg/Ts8RopSujVI/AAAAAAAABCA/CHsEt9os4hQ/s1600/downsized_1124011208.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZQ2VxKyJfJg/Ts8RopSujVI/AAAAAAAABCA/CHsEt9os4hQ/s400/downsized_1124011208.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678777045114326354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Thanksgiving 2011!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-3456919757346426236?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/3456919757346426236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=3456919757346426236' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/3456919757346426236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/3456919757346426236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/11/thanksgiving-bread-baking-2011.html' title='Thanksgiving bread baking 2011 . . . the tradition continues'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ftpeot-LXRE/Ts52xcWMZ_I/AAAAAAAABAI/WYgNrFuk-4s/s72-c/downsized_1124010825.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-7227057973105169053</id><published>2011-11-08T12:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-08T12:14:08.971-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New things</title><content type='html'>I haven't updated in a while so here is a quick post about random things:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Marina told me her favorite places are the Hotel Marina Coral in Ensenada and school. Those words make me feel better when two bedroom living starts to feel cramped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Ella has enough hair for a ponytail. And she thinks her hair is black.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Matt bought a running sweatshirt at Lululemon, thus completing his transformation as a true La Jollan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I've been exercising with a trainer and can now do plank for longer than 10 seconds.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-7227057973105169053?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/7227057973105169053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=7227057973105169053' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7227057973105169053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7227057973105169053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/11/new-things.html' title='New things'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-1976259419508788551</id><published>2011-10-21T17:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-21T17:26:04.181-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Safe House</title><content type='html'>&lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Times New Roman"; }@font-face {   font-family: "Courier New"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }table.MsoNormalTable { font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;The Safe House is the creative writing piece I submitted in a contest last month. I actually thought it was going to come in low because it's so out of my comfort zone, it's not a character loosely based on myself like so many other things I write.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt; I didn't even bother letting Matt read it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;But it placed second in my group and now some family and friends have asked me to post it online. I do feel very weird posting a piece of my writing here, even though I write about pretty personal stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;So I guess that made me decide to go ahead and put it online. So, eeeek! Here it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;The genre was open, the setting had to be in a playground, and the words we had to use were "police tape." We had 48-hours to turn it in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The Safe House&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;The playground closes at 9 p.m., but I don’t care.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;It’s super easy to hide in the tube slide while the campus guard sniffs around and shuts off the lights. I like it when it gets dark and everything around me has that golden, nighttime glow you only find in Southern California.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;Once, I brought my roommate out here, but she hates breaking rules and thought mosquitoes and cockroaches were attacking her, so she never came back. Not even in the daytime. I mean, the bugs are pretty big here, so she’s not officially one of the crazy ones. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;The other girls in my dorm think I come out here to kiss the locals, but that only happened once. Anyway, Los Angeles boys are too pretty for me, I’m from Turlock, you know?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;Sometimes – most of the time – I just can’t handle all this group stuff. Blah, blah, blah, your dad’s a drunk. Boo hoo hoo your mom was too wasted to make you breakfast. We get it. It’s unoriginal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;Here at the playground, I can just sit and be Leigh. My brain quiets and the memories our counselors try so hard to get out of us return to their rightful spot way in the back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;The counselors aren’t actually so bad. Even the one who brought me here didn’t make me answer a bunch of questions on the long ride over here. I’m sure it wasn’t the first time she’s had to escort a teen out from behind police tape.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;It was their last chance to keep me around, but my parents blew it. Scratching your child’s face with a knife in a drunken rage is not the best way to keep Child Protective Services from coming over.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;All the counselors want me to talk about it, but I don’t see the point. I get good grades, I don’t drink or smoke, and I have friends with the kinds of families you see in magazines. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;So what if I get panic attacks? You wouldn’t believe how many fancy houses have medicine cabinets filled Xanax and Effexor and Paxil. Anxiety disorder is a pretty good side effect compared to those anorexic girls, or the cutters.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;Suddenly, a voice coming from the bottom of the slide startles me out of my thoughts. A flashlight shines in my direction.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;“Is someone up there?” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;“Who wants to know?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;“Sorry, it’s just, my mom said she heard thumping back here and sent me out to check,” he says. “I’ll tell her it’s just a girl.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;Instead of walking away, he sits on a swing with the flashlight between his knees. I peek at him through the monkey bars. He’s probably 16, like me, and he’s wearing a skullcap. Natalie says they’re called yarmulkes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;Our safe house is hidden in an orthodox section of L.A., an area where our parents would never dream of looking. A neighborhood without a bar for miles. The orthodox families keep to themselves and mostly look away when we walk by, which is just fine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;I move over to the curvy slide, closer to the swings and watch him for a long while.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;“Are you even allowed to talk to me?” I finally ask.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;“No.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;“So why are you still here?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;“It’s quiet,” he says. “My house is so loud. Do you mind if I stay a while? Will I get you in trouble?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;I slide down and sit across from his swing to get a better look. He’s pretty. The flashlight shows he has dark hair and a spattering of freckles across his nose. He’s dressed in cords and red Chucks and looks nothing like the other teen boys we see on the street.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;I tell him my name is Leigh and he says his is Dovi. I laugh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;“What?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;“I’ve just never heard a name like that,” I tell him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;“And there’s not many girls named Leigh where I come from.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;He tells me this was once his playground but the school kept getting tagged with terrible messages and they had to move to a more secure building. He would come swing after dinner for some time away from his six brothers and sisters. But since they turned the school into an all-girls home, he hasn’t had the nerve to come back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;“Are you, um, troubled?” he asks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;“Nah,” I say. “Most of us here are pretty normal. We just have troubled parents.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;He says he’s sorry and that his parents aren’t the sanest set on the block, not with seven kids.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;He laughs when he says this and stares off toward his house.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;I shouldn’t do this. I know from Natalie that he has rules that are way stricter than the ones we have here, but I reach out and grab his hand nonetheless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;Dovi jumps a bit, but doesn’t move it away. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;“I’m not going to try to kiss you,” I say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;“Good,” he laughs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;He squeezes my hand tighter and I move to sit on the swing next to his. He turns off the flashlight and we sit, in the dark and the quiet, hand in hand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;I haven’t cried since I was 12-years-old, since the first time I was taken away. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;I try to make it stop by thinking about funny things – the stinky Turlock cows, my mom’s too-tight yellow dress that I stole and brought with me - but that only makes me cry harder. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;I don’t know how long we’ve been sitting here, crying and listening to the music of the squeaky swing chains, but eventually we hear his mother calling out for him, startling us into reality.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;“You better get back,” I say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;“Yeah.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;Neither of us moves until we hear his name being called again. I get up from my swing, move my face close to his, but I don’t kiss him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;“Thank you,” I whisper. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;And I finally let go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-1976259419508788551?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/1976259419508788551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=1976259419508788551' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/1976259419508788551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/1976259419508788551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/10/safe-house.html' title='The Safe House'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-6638871481435514807</id><published>2011-10-12T18:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-12T18:17:59.440-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Accidents</title><content type='html'>Something crazy always happens to Ella.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today she swallowed a mint. Yesterday she fell and came home with six band-aids. The day before that she hit her head on the table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's also the child who ran with her eyes closed straight into a metal pole. And the one who fell backwards off a wall. She got pink eye when no one else did. Her face swells up when a dog licks her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if it's because Ella's extra adventurous or daring. Maybe, like my mom and brother (yes! you!), she's in her own world and doesn't pay attention to things like poles and steps.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-6638871481435514807?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/6638871481435514807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=6638871481435514807' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6638871481435514807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6638871481435514807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/10/accidents.html' title='Accidents'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-8568492895284483776</id><published>2011-09-23T20:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-23T20:50:10.174-07:00</updated><title type='text'>400</title><content type='html'>The new normal is taking a while to settle in and maybe later I'll write about being a constant, anxious mess or I'll get over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I thought I'd use this 400th post (!) to let you know that we have braved our fears and took a ride on the newly-repaired elevator. Just to show Matt that we're not afraid. And now that we proved that point, we never have to get in that thing again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-8568492895284483776?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/8568492895284483776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=8568492895284483776' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/8568492895284483776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/8568492895284483776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/09/400.html' title='400'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-2108644645059367685</id><published>2011-09-09T23:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-12T22:50:19.379-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The elevator story</title><content type='html'>By now, almost everyone knows that the girls and I got stuck in an elevator for two hours during the biggest power outage ever to hit San Diego.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told the story on the &lt;a href="http://www.kpbs.org/news/2011/sep/09/blackout-leaves-us-still-vulnerable/"&gt;radio&lt;/a&gt;. It was on &lt;a href="http://www.10news.com/video/29163124/index.html"&gt;TV&lt;/a&gt;. On &lt;a href="http://twitter.com/#%21/ninagarin"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt;. Everywhere. But it's all been bits and pieces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here it is, what really happened. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ella and I walked over to pick up Marina from kindergarten, happy to be there right on time. Marina was telling us all about her day, how the class got 100 stars and they'd be getting lemon popsicles the next day. That they were supposed to wear yellow on Friday and maybe, maybe her teacher would be able to find yellow popsicles to match.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually, when we get home, Ella and I take the elevator while Marina opts for the stairs. It's only two flights, but I'm always loaded up with backpacks, lunchboxes, work folders, mail, sweaters, etc. so I throw everything in the elevator and ride up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Thursday, we stopped to chat with someone from Marina's class (who is also named Marina!) and for some reason, my Marina decided to get in the elevator with us. She had actually climbed three steps, stopped, told us to wait and ran inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way up, the elevator started going slow. We live in an old building and the elevator has been broken two or three times since we've moved in. So when, all of a sudden, the elevator stopped and the lights flickered out, I assumed it was another glitch. It was dark in there. Really dark. The elevator has double doors, one on the inside and one on the outside. It was also hot, one of the hottest days of the year. Thank God I had my iPad in my purse because I immediately pulled it out and used it as a flashlight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marina was so, so scared. She was yelling things like "This is the worst." "Help!" "I want to be with my Doggie and Lambie." And Ella was stone quiet.After a few minutes of reassuring them, I pressed the emergency call button on the elevator but it was busy. Damned old building, I thought. Then I called Matt and, through terrible reception, told him I was stuck in an elevator and could he please call our neighbor who has the number for the elevator company. All that time, Marina kept screaming "get us out!!!" so loud that I could barely hold a conversation. Ella put her hand over Marina's mouth and told her to be quiet and calm down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called 911, only to find that it was also busy. Even at this point, I still didn't realize there was a power outage all over Southern California. I just thought the recent city cutbacks were really putting a strain on the system. I remembered hearing about a local person who died while waiting for the fire department to respond because the nearest station to him was furloughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those are the thoughts I was entertaining while trying to make it FUN! for the girls.Look! Let's play games on the iPad! Let's talk about what we did at school! I even told them about the time I got stuck in an elevator at SDSU and, see? Nothing happened. As I was telling stories, Marina was on my lap and Ella was laying down next to me, barely moving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was getting hotter. The air was thicker. I wanted to push Marina off me because the heat and jitters were creeping in, but I couldn't let them see me freak out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I turned to Twitter, still clueless. I asked for someone to please send me the number to the fire department because 911 wasn't answering. That's when someone told me there was a citywide power outage and it was likely we wouldn't get rescued for hours. This news actually made me feel better. A power outage in the city never lasts more than an hour or two, I figured. Even if no one could get to us, certainly the power would be back up shortly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally got through to the fire department. They basically told me that there would be no help, not for many hours. I begged them. I have two small kids, I said. One of them keeps falling asleep. "If anything happens, call us back," they said. "But it took me 45 minutes just to get through the first time!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon after, I heard Matt's voice. Ella heard her dad's voice and finally let the tears come out of her eyes. Then we heard more voices. I thought it was the elevator company. Three men had crowbars and managed to jam open the inside door, which immediately let in some light and air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We calmed down. A fellow mother from our building pushed popsicles through the hole for the girls to eat. We looked at pictures of better days on the iPad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After about an hour, they got the outside door to open just wide enough so that I could lift Marina and Ella out. I was then able to step up and slide out (and have a nasty bruise to show for it).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-ddb69c5908eae97c" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v4.nonxt6.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dddb69c5908eae97c%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330161805%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D18F2E4F1046581215817C358123237FFF2708C41.6D1DFF39850BD44431A3FB858442DE50F62A7204%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dddb69c5908eae97c%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DRlen1YPYmdUTXFTrvtausqc-wm0&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v4.nonxt6.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dddb69c5908eae97c%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330161805%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D18F2E4F1046581215817C358123237FFF2708C41.6D1DFF39850BD44431A3FB858442DE50F62A7204%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dddb69c5908eae97c%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DRlen1YPYmdUTXFTrvtausqc-wm0&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turns out, it wasn't the elevator company. It was three neighbors from the apartment building next door who got us out. It's one thing to see neighborly behavior on TV, but it's so humbling to actually have strangers do something nice for you. Tomorrow, I am baking them cookies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(And the fire department? They didn't show up until 8:30 p.m., five hours later.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After it was over, I sat on the couch stunned. I'm still stunned. So many things ran through my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like how I almost didn't take my iPad with me that day. Marina's been using it before school to play kindergarten word games. I thought about leaving it for her that morning, but then selfishly decided that I wanted to listen to my Marc Maron WTF podcast and stuffed it in my purse at the last minute. Without it, we would have been stuck in a pitch black box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also? Sometimes Ella rides that elevator by herself because she likes to be independent. Just the idea of my little one in the elevator by herself in that situation makes me sick, literally. My stomach gets all knotted up and I break out into a panic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we were lucky to all be together. We were lucky we were able to get through to Matt right away. We were lucky it was over after only two hours, especially when so many more people were probably stuck for longer. And, most of all, we were lucky to have such an amazing support system.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-2108644645059367685?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/2108644645059367685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=2108644645059367685' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/2108644645059367685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/2108644645059367685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/09/elevator-story.html' title='The elevator story'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-6333531853944152479</id><published>2011-09-06T20:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-06T20:06:06.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It happened</title><content type='html'>Kindergarten finally happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, when I was searching and moving and participating in awkward playdates, I knew it was on the horizon, but I didn't think it would actually, really, truly happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first child went to kindergarten today. She ate some cereal, got dressed, said goodbye to her sister (who starts school an hour before), played some iPad word games while her mom got dressed, put on her backpack and walked to school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She wasn't scared or nervous or any of the things I was. And when I left her in her lovely classroom, she didn't cry. And, surprisingly, neither did I. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the story in pictures:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0LUg530YSjQ/TmbazRT-RMI/AAAAAAAAA_g/9aejQEbOHgs/s1600/P1010941.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0LUg530YSjQ/TmbazRT-RMI/AAAAAAAAA_g/9aejQEbOHgs/s320/P1010941.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Her backpack is gigantic, yes. But notice who is hanging off it: our pal, Rockandrolla, the mascot of self-confidence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9gqlLCxgBTk/Tmbbq9gNQQI/AAAAAAAAA_o/cnDDvoEU2Ic/s1600/P1010946.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9gqlLCxgBTk/Tmbbq9gNQQI/AAAAAAAAA_o/cnDDvoEU2Ic/s320/P1010946.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a table with Berenstein Bears books and that's where we started the morning. I did not tell her to wear an emo hoodie, by the way, that's all her doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ox0oAp9OGQI/TmbbvYWm2mI/AAAAAAAAA_s/yER835-74Vc/s1600/P1010948.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ox0oAp9OGQI/TmbbvYWm2mI/AAAAAAAAA_s/yER835-74Vc/s320/P1010948.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If Marina's friend from preschool wouldn't have been there, I really don't think the drop-off would have gone as smoothly as it did. But as soon as the friends saw each other, they immediately went off to play and forgot I was even there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l0vaZPWztCQ/Tmbb0l04dFI/AAAAAAAAA_w/88DnxeA6xj0/s1600/P1010953.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l0vaZPWztCQ/Tmbb0l04dFI/AAAAAAAAA_w/88DnxeA6xj0/s320/P1010953.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the Play-doh station. See? Kindergarten is still fun and games. I heard horror stories that modern kindergarten is all regimented and serious. Happily, that doesn't seem to be the case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eNVKR4Wvrrc/TmbdSXl78aI/AAAAAAAAA_0/rWeYkqKyBOE/s1600/P1010947.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eNVKR4Wvrrc/TmbdSXl78aI/AAAAAAAAA_0/rWeYkqKyBOE/s640/P1010947.JPG" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;At the end of the day, when we were walking up the stairs to our apartment, she said she would tell me her favorite part of the day when we got inside. (Drawing her self portrait, followed by a tour of the school in which she got to walk through the "hospital," or as adults call it, the nurse's office.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Will you also tell me what you didn't like?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There was nothing that I didn't like."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's when I finally breathed. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-6333531853944152479?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/6333531853944152479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=6333531853944152479' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6333531853944152479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6333531853944152479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/09/it-happened.html' title='It happened'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0LUg530YSjQ/TmbazRT-RMI/AAAAAAAAA_g/9aejQEbOHgs/s72-c/P1010941.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-6888278163426961385</id><published>2011-08-30T21:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-24T21:13:33.887-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The new normal</title><content type='html'>Remember how crazy I got when I was looking for the perfect school? The hours and hours I spent touring campuses, meeting principals, taking notes on bathroom cleanliness? How I packed up our house and moved us to a completely new neighborhood?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well here we are, a week away from the big day, the first day of kindergarten. And once again I am freaking out. Only this time, I'm totally caught off guard by it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did everything I could to prepare, but I didn't really let my mind realize there'd be way more stuff to worry about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is my child going to make friends? Is she going to be sad when she goes to pick up her sister and sees her old friends all happy in their kindergarten uniforms? Am I going to fit in with the other parents even though we don't have a big house or extra money to buy tickets to the gala and the cocktail night and everything else?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It probably hit me hard today because Ella went to school for the first time without her sister. And it's just the first in a series of new things that will be happening before they become normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aceHAfLXAI8/Tl26OFabgYI/AAAAAAAAA_c/F-IacFCMal4/s1600/Photo%2Bon%2B2011-08-13%2Bat%2B17.43.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aceHAfLXAI8/Tl26OFabgYI/AAAAAAAAA_c/F-IacFCMal4/s400/Photo%2Bon%2B2011-08-13%2Bat%2B17.43.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646874258926436738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-6888278163426961385?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/6888278163426961385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=6888278163426961385' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6888278163426961385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6888278163426961385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/08/new-normal.html' title='The new normal'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aceHAfLXAI8/Tl26OFabgYI/AAAAAAAAA_c/F-IacFCMal4/s72-c/Photo%2Bon%2B2011-08-13%2Bat%2B17.43.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-7767338293915155199</id><published>2011-08-18T22:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-19T17:45:23.573-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye</title><content type='html'>Friday is Marina's last day of preschool, ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Officially, she was done in June, but she's been going to summer camp in her exact same classroom, so it hasn't actually felt like a major transition was on the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But tomorrow is the last day I'll be picking her up at the place I've been picking her up since she was seven months old. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember being so scared to leave her there, in the baby room, when it was time for me to go back to work. And now I'm scared for her leave all that's familiar and begin a new life as a big kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Preschool is where she took her first steps and babbled her first words. It's where she learned about sharing and taking turns. It's where she made best friends and learned that boys will play guns even though she doesn't want them to. It's where she learned to write her name, draw pictures and memorize the Shabbat songs I sang when I was her age. It's the place that loved her as a baby and transformed her into the lovely child she is today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so, preschool, all I can say is thank you, thank you, thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hKRZNiUqETI/Tk33NDTTeWI/AAAAAAAAA-8/gCvcTi3AcAI/s1600/DSCN0783.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hKRZNiUqETI/Tk33NDTTeWI/AAAAAAAAA-8/gCvcTi3AcAI/s400/DSCN0783.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642437711761733986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Here is Marina visiting her class at 6 weeks old. Though she was registered on this day, she didn't officially begin until five months later.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8eZbHtHJBNE/Tk38IEAveAI/AAAAAAAAA_E/DaGmC7aJNIo/s1600/P1000167.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8eZbHtHJBNE/Tk38IEAveAI/AAAAAAAAA_E/DaGmC7aJNIo/s400/P1000167.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642443123611105282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;This is the day she graduated from the baby room, where she was for a year and a half.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QBdaT2PhziY/Tk3-rjdnOUI/AAAAAAAAA_M/MGQG4a0eWfw/s1600/P1010320.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QBdaT2PhziY/Tk3-rjdnOUI/AAAAAAAAA_M/MGQG4a0eWfw/s400/P1010320.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642445932372375874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Marina celebrates Ella's birthday in the 2-year-old classroom, where they both spent time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AZE4a7yhJtQ/Tk4ACuW1i5I/AAAAAAAAA_U/6OVKFcKeZfA/s1600/P1010685.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AZE4a7yhJtQ/Tk4ACuW1i5I/AAAAAAAAA_U/6OVKFcKeZfA/s400/P1010685.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642447429945363346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The official last day of school with one of her best friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-7767338293915155199?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/7767338293915155199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=7767338293915155199' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7767338293915155199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7767338293915155199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/08/goodbye.html' title='Goodbye'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hKRZNiUqETI/Tk33NDTTeWI/AAAAAAAAA-8/gCvcTi3AcAI/s72-c/DSCN0783.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-3987867394295810058</id><published>2011-08-11T20:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-11T20:57:05.391-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reason #8 I love our neighborhood</title><content type='html'>Happy color wall = fun times!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--6hyi-eP2OA/TkSkQIYgCkI/AAAAAAAAA-0/UoTZAjm7PaQ/s1600/downsized_0807111618.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--6hyi-eP2OA/TkSkQIYgCkI/AAAAAAAAA-0/UoTZAjm7PaQ/s400/downsized_0807111618.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639813230409812546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-3987867394295810058?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/3987867394295810058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=3987867394295810058' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/3987867394295810058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/3987867394295810058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/08/reason-8-i-love-our-neighborhood.html' title='Reason #8 I love our neighborhood'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--6hyi-eP2OA/TkSkQIYgCkI/AAAAAAAAA-0/UoTZAjm7PaQ/s72-c/downsized_0807111618.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-7213476802295461721</id><published>2011-08-10T13:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-10T13:52:58.108-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Adventure day: Drybar</title><content type='html'>Sometimes being a part-timer is stressful and depressing. But other days it frees me up to go on solo adventures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I had quite an adventure yesterday too, when I took the girls to Sea World all day - for nine hours - by myself.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this adventure was what some people would call "me-time," but I won't say that because I hate when people say "me-time." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been pretty vocal about how excited I am about Drybar opening in San Diego. Drybar is a salon that only does blow-dries. Because they don't cut or color or anything else, I don't feel guilty going there. I don't feel like I'm betraying my mom, who is a hairdresser herself (and a &lt;a href="http://memycurlsandi.com/"&gt;very good one&lt;/a&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The salon is literally like a bar, a very fancy, pretty bar. It's a bunch of chairs all in a row and you can pick the kind of straight hair you want from a little book. I got the generic one: straight with some "body" or whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My hair got washed and then dried straight while they gave me Diet Coke, had "The Devil Wears Prada" with captions on a TV in front of me and they had so many gossip magazines that I felt like I &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;had&lt;/span&gt; to read one. (Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez in Hawaii? What? Really?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was all presented so nicely, everything had a lovely yellow accent to it that I don't think I'll wash my hair until after my high school reunion weekend, whether I go to it or not. (And that's really the heart of this story, but I'm not getting into it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's the result&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YpIX2rueLD8/TkLr4NMvdKI/AAAAAAAAA-s/vRGw7y_TdaE/s1600/Photo%2Bon%2B2011-08-10%2Bat%2B13.28%2B%25232.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YpIX2rueLD8/TkLr4NMvdKI/AAAAAAAAA-s/vRGw7y_TdaE/s400/Photo%2Bon%2B2011-08-10%2Bat%2B13.28%2B%25232.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639329034269586594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-7213476802295461721?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/7213476802295461721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=7213476802295461721' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7213476802295461721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7213476802295461721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/08/adventure-day-drybar.html' title='Adventure day: Drybar'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YpIX2rueLD8/TkLr4NMvdKI/AAAAAAAAA-s/vRGw7y_TdaE/s72-c/Photo%2Bon%2B2011-08-10%2Bat%2B13.28%2B%25232.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-5224428704580210634</id><published>2011-08-08T20:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-08T20:50:48.066-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What Miranda July said . . .</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i-sQG7LRiSE/TkCtSULG7GI/AAAAAAAAA-c/5U-sTpMzBn0/s1600/Photo%2Bon%2B2011-07-28%2Bat%2B18.55%2B%25233.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i-sQG7LRiSE/TkCtSULG7GI/AAAAAAAAA-c/5U-sTpMzBn0/s400/Photo%2Bon%2B2011-07-28%2Bat%2B18.55%2B%25233.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638697263632411746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This is my little girl. She is brave and clever and funny. She will have none of the problems that I have. Her heart will never be broken. She will never be humiliated. Self-doubt will not devour her dreams," from &lt;a href="http://www.moca.org/audio/blog/?p=2084"&gt;an art installation by Miranda July&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zfSojEWgglo/TkCtSh589AI/AAAAAAAAA-k/8fIRbpdZMr0/s1600/21.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zfSojEWgglo/TkCtSh589AI/AAAAAAAAA-k/8fIRbpdZMr0/s400/21.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638697267318551554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-5224428704580210634?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/5224428704580210634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=5224428704580210634' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5224428704580210634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5224428704580210634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/08/what-miranda-july-said.html' title='What Miranda July said . . .'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i-sQG7LRiSE/TkCtSULG7GI/AAAAAAAAA-c/5U-sTpMzBn0/s72-c/Photo%2Bon%2B2011-07-28%2Bat%2B18.55%2B%25233.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-5578368176929811236</id><published>2011-08-01T14:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-01T14:34:02.245-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Checking in</title><content type='html'>You'd think as a part-time employee I'd have all this time to eat cookies and watch hours of Real Housewives of New York.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you'd be right. I have done those things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I also haven't had an entire day off thanks to small jobs I've picked up - whether it's writing a paragraph about art or interviewing Anderson Cooper in person. (Yes!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I'm earning the same amount of money I did before "the change," but I've been busy in a way I haven't been since I was starting out. And I really like having the juxtaposition of my regular job and being able to meet and work with new people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays I often take a walk around the neighborhood while listening to Marc Maron's WTF podcast, throw in a load of laundry or cook something, sit at the little table and write. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, anyway, that's how it's been the last month. But I know you really want to know about Anderson Cooper so here it is: he was perhaps the loveliest interview I ever had, very smart and well-spoken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually, when you have 20 minutes with a celebrity, it goes by so slow because it's nervy and awkward and forced. They're not going to tell you anything too personal and how much can you really talk about a movie or album that hasn't been released yet. &lt;br /&gt;But I felt like with Anderson (I call him Anderson) the interview could have gone on because he's had such a fascinating upbringing and has experienced more than most of us ever will. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a &lt;a href="http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/2011/jul/29/anderson-cooper/"&gt;link&lt;/a&gt; to that story.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-5578368176929811236?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/5578368176929811236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=5578368176929811236' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5578368176929811236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5578368176929811236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/08/checking-in.html' title='Checking in'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-4316043192807940805</id><published>2011-07-18T19:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-18T20:04:42.034-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A very brave tale</title><content type='html'>Look at this picture. What do you see?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1cnwd91miHU/TiTwT5MwcMI/AAAAAAAAA-M/Vyd5P0-Ad04/s1600/P1010910.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1cnwd91miHU/TiTwT5MwcMI/AAAAAAAAA-M/Vyd5P0-Ad04/s400/P1010910.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630889658682470594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, a chocolate mouth. But that's not what I'm talking about. Look closer. AT HER EARS. Yes, those are earrings! Ella got her ears pierced today! Now she will be accepted by our Ensenada relatives.&lt;br /&gt;(Joking! Sort of. I mean? We do get looks when we go to Mexico because 1. I'm not wearing makeup and 2. my kids don't have their ears pierced. But we're getting there!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing is, it was actually Marina who was supposed to get her ears pierced because she's five-years-old. But as I'm slowly discovering, we've got a needle phobia on our hands.&lt;br /&gt;When my normally sweet, almost shy daughter sees a needle coming toward her she will scream. Like those people who holler and thrash about in doctors' offices, freaking out the patients in the waiting room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So to avoid such drama, Marina went on a well-timed trip to the bathroom while Ella sat on the chair and got holes punched in her ears. Marina was not there to see Ella's smile turn into a frown or hear the heaving sobs of pain afterward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't do it," Ella sniffed. "It hurts."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Marina went ahead and took her seat. As soon as the very jaded lady at Claire's Boutique touched Marina's ears, however, that was it. She wanted nothing to do with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll just wait for another day," she said, and hopped off the chair. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a feeling that day will never actually show up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-25OvCqphFeA/TiTwUW9hZoI/AAAAAAAAA-U/q0nWBbBiVoo/s1600/P1010911.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-25OvCqphFeA/TiTwUW9hZoI/AAAAAAAAA-U/q0nWBbBiVoo/s400/P1010911.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630889666671634050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-4316043192807940805?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/4316043192807940805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=4316043192807940805' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4316043192807940805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4316043192807940805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/07/very-brave-tale.html' title='A very brave tale'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1cnwd91miHU/TiTwT5MwcMI/AAAAAAAAA-M/Vyd5P0-Ad04/s72-c/P1010910.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-4219402534569034605</id><published>2011-07-12T21:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-16T10:42:40.692-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Feelings</title><content type='html'>I have this thing I can do where I can distance myself from things. It's not a good or bad thing, it's just sort of how I operate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a result, it's very rare for me to get emotional in public (unless I'm watching a TV series made my Jason Katims). Up until Saturday, I could only remember one situation where I got overwhelmed with "feelings." And that was at the Anne Frank house in Amsterdam, so I mean, really, does that count? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But on Saturday I was sent to write about local Sudanese celebrating their new country, The Republic of South Sudan. Just a few months earlier, I had interviewed a few of the Lost Boys who lost their homes and families in the 1990s. Their stories were similar to the ones my grandfathers tell about surviving the Holocaust. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now these same men were celebrating their freedom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked in and there was canned 1980s African music playing and women were greeting each other in high-pitched native calls that I'd previously only heard on TV. And they were wearing such beautiful, bright dresses and they were so filled with joy that they danced in the courtyard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At that moment, I became overwhelmed with emotion for the second time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I imagined this is what it was like when people like my grandfathers heard about Israel. At that minute, I understood. And not in a political way but in  a pure celebration of being able to be who you are.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-4219402534569034605?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/4219402534569034605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=4219402534569034605' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4219402534569034605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4219402534569034605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/07/feelings.html' title='Feelings'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-6673745097601964295</id><published>2011-07-08T23:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-08T23:18:49.863-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Girl power</title><content type='html'>Meet my new mascot and friend, Rockanrolla:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BZmvCmiOxEU/ThfxhwMzmzI/AAAAAAAAA-E/p5MeosgGmxs/s1600/P1010763.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BZmvCmiOxEU/ThfxhwMzmzI/AAAAAAAAA-E/p5MeosgGmxs/s400/P1010763.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627231821599316786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her packaging said she's supposed to help people feel less shy and more like rock stars. I mostly like her because she's got orange hair and tiny headphones. But if feeling like a rock star is an added benefit, I'll take it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And just in case, my future kindergartner has already reserved Rockanrolla to accompany her on the first day of school.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-6673745097601964295?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/6673745097601964295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=6673745097601964295' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6673745097601964295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6673745097601964295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/07/girl-power.html' title='Girl power'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BZmvCmiOxEU/ThfxhwMzmzI/AAAAAAAAA-E/p5MeosgGmxs/s72-c/P1010763.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-5590723869800486312</id><published>2011-07-05T13:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-05T13:38:21.002-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Five</title><content type='html'>On the day Marina turned five, she took these photos of herself. It was at the end of a long, birthday weekend extravaganza and she was running low on sleep (still is, actually)  but she looks like some sort of bohemian California magazine ad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RBjgerfdY3g/ThNwN2ScP6I/AAAAAAAAA9U/COozVkJykxs/s1600/P1010801.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RBjgerfdY3g/ThNwN2ScP6I/AAAAAAAAA9U/COozVkJykxs/s400/P1010801.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625963742729355170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H-CTlt2VwFI/ThNwNsGBbsI/AAAAAAAAA9M/RailhcvOfN8/s1600/P1010798.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H-CTlt2VwFI/ThNwNsGBbsI/AAAAAAAAA9M/RailhcvOfN8/s400/P1010798.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625963739992911554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jyPuW5-Cu-0/ThNwNIOjW4I/AAAAAAAAA9E/v575I_fDUVE/s1600/P1010794.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jyPuW5-Cu-0/ThNwNIOjW4I/AAAAAAAAA9E/v575I_fDUVE/s400/P1010794.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625963730365012866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We waited many, many hours for the 4th of July fireworks extravaganza to begin. And there was a lot of time for pictures. Here are others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom and first-born are soooo tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tJCy-fbvpMU/ThN1rfPfpBI/AAAAAAAAA98/YX1zYz_Eh5w/s1600/P1010855.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tJCy-fbvpMU/ThN1rfPfpBI/AAAAAAAAA98/YX1zYz_Eh5w/s400/P1010855.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625969749497193490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually I think Matt's running shirt is a bit on the unstylish side. But Marina made it look like a piece of street art:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pph64XrZ-6w/ThNw62RvUjI/AAAAAAAAA9c/Np-svABJFZY/s1600/P1010806.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pph64XrZ-6w/ThNw62RvUjI/AAAAAAAAA9c/Np-svABJFZY/s400/P1010806.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625964515820524082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She took close to 30 pictures before she finally managed to capture a seagull.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6Q7FPxyrAC8/ThNw72rs31I/AAAAAAAAA9s/GVfTK_TKOb8/s1600/P1010853.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6Q7FPxyrAC8/ThNw72rs31I/AAAAAAAAA9s/GVfTK_TKOb8/s400/P1010853.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625964533109284690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And she lucked into getting a photo of her dad NOT wearing a Red Sox hat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cVSQtjJDu34/ThNw7uyGHjI/AAAAAAAAA9k/NwWZUvAIozw/s1600/P1010828.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cVSQtjJDu34/ThNw7uyGHjI/AAAAAAAAA9k/NwWZUvAIozw/s400/P1010828.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625964530988621362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-5590723869800486312?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/5590723869800486312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=5590723869800486312' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5590723869800486312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5590723869800486312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/07/five.html' title='Five'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RBjgerfdY3g/ThNwN2ScP6I/AAAAAAAAA9U/COozVkJykxs/s72-c/P1010801.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-7641303733137293196</id><published>2011-07-01T10:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-01T13:43:38.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The cost of mangoes</title><content type='html'>We recently took a trip to Ensenada, where a cup of mango sprinkled with chili and lime costs, I don't know, a dollar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's one of my favorite treats from Mexico, second only to the sweet lemonade they make with sparkling water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And luckily for me, they sell Mexican style fruit cups at the farmers market next to my house. Look how pretty it is, they even have the bright tablecloths I love so much:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m1NH5VYPwbw/Tg4Fhest5OI/AAAAAAAAA88/CkY86Sq-Xbo/s1600/mango.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 160px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m1NH5VYPwbw/Tg4Fhest5OI/AAAAAAAAA88/CkY86Sq-Xbo/s400/mango.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624439057366770914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, holy mother, you would not believe how much I paid for this. Seriously, take a guess. The first person to get it right wins either a brand new box of fancy "cucumber soothing eye gel" or a copy of Rick Springfield's memoir, "Late, Late at Night." Your choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll take your guesses in the comments.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-7641303733137293196?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/7641303733137293196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=7641303733137293196' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7641303733137293196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7641303733137293196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/07/cost-of-mangoes.html' title='The cost of mangoes'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m1NH5VYPwbw/Tg4Fhest5OI/AAAAAAAAA88/CkY86Sq-Xbo/s72-c/mango.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-3944865024473539996</id><published>2011-06-18T20:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-18T21:32:00.832-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WAKE UP!</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I wonder if families living in big houses get to sleep in. Because at our place, when one person wakes up, we ALL wake up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At some point between 5:55 and 6:45 a.m., a door will pop open, a bathroom light/fan will turn on and little footsteps make their way to the crayons, paper and scissors in the living room. On especially terrible mornings, we'll wake up to phrases like "No!" "That's mine!" and "I'm telling!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon after, Matt and I will play an unspoken game of chicken to see who can stay in bed the longest, though I almost always win because he doesn't realize that I have my Dad's genes and his nickname is Huevos de Oro. Which, loosely and nicely translated, means lazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's always been like this at our house. I know there are families who do this thing where one parent sleeps in on Saturday and the other on Sunday, but we never found a way to make that work. I don't like it, but I'm used to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except this morning, when I wanted more than anything to stay in bed and feel sorry for myself. I began to fantasize about the brown house down the street. I drive by it everyday. It looks like Ralph Lauren or Tommy Hillfiger lives in it: all-American wood with white trim, balconies, three floors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure that when someone in that house wakes up, nobody hears anything. And it must be luxurious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually at this point I'd wrap up the post by saying something heartwarming about people in big houses missing out on the pitter patter of little feet. But screw it, I really love sleeping.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-3944865024473539996?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/3944865024473539996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=3944865024473539996' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/3944865024473539996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/3944865024473539996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/06/wake-up.html' title='WAKE UP!'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-3701162449263894275</id><published>2011-06-16T21:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-17T19:39:46.305-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This is how I make lemonade</title><content type='html'>Today I became a casualty of the newspaper industry.&lt;br /&gt;Sort of.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't lose my job, but I did become a part-time employee. Though because I'm still part of the company, I will not get into details or feelings or any of that. (Sure, I've got feelings and (not many) details but that's not what this post is about.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aside from announcing my availability for freelance work, this unexpected news has inspired me to change the focus of my blog. It's been without direction for a while now - aside from my insane school search, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now, it's full of focus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, I live in La Jolla, blocks away from (former UT publisher) David Copley's estate. We live here, in a small condo downtown, for the excellent public schools. As a family of print journalists, we aren't the stereotypical residents, but we knew that coming in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It hasn't bothered me that I can't shop at the furniture store down the street or even get an appointment to buy clothes at certain places. (Though I have been quite vocal about the high cost of cocktails around these parts.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The conversations at local coffeshops are about (in no particular order): Europe, business, literature, pilates, YSL, classic cars, real estate, cells and kettle bells. Once, when I was driving my VW Golf to the Y, I looked in the rear-view mirror and realized a Rolls Royce was following me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's just the way it is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even so, I've been able to buy a latte without thinking about it, just like many of my neighbors can. I've purchased Italian pasta at Jonathan's, a market with carpet. I have a flower guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that's about to change. In July, I become a part-time writer/full-time mom in one of San Diego's fanciest neighborhoods. This is where I'll talk about it. Or whatever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-3701162449263894275?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/3701162449263894275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=3701162449263894275' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/3701162449263894275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/3701162449263894275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/06/this-is-how-i-make-lemonade.html' title='This is how I make lemonade'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-6392643530917146174</id><published>2011-06-08T17:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-08T17:23:22.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A day without me</title><content type='html'>The girls are on break for three days. (Shavuot. Don't ask.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And they've been hanging out with their dad. So, naturally this is how they spent their Wednesday afternoon:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aFCMcrRGEvg/TfARxllQncI/AAAAAAAAA8c/QIy3wjqcjAY/s1600/downsized950608011557.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aFCMcrRGEvg/TfARxllQncI/AAAAAAAAA8c/QIy3wjqcjAY/s400/downsized950608011557.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616008278930660802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, I mean, come on, how is this not a Padres ad yet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DhO5kq47G8A/TfARxz_y0YI/AAAAAAAAA8k/tpzC9-Zh9V8/s1600/downsized950608011605.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DhO5kq47G8A/TfARxz_y0YI/AAAAAAAAA8k/tpzC9-Zh9V8/s400/downsized950608011605.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616008282800050562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-6392643530917146174?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/6392643530917146174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=6392643530917146174' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6392643530917146174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6392643530917146174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/06/day-without-me.html' title='A day without me'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aFCMcrRGEvg/TfARxllQncI/AAAAAAAAA8c/QIy3wjqcjAY/s72-c/downsized950608011557.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-441576672879248319</id><published>2011-06-07T19:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-08T12:15:26.440-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dedicated to North Park. And my cousin, who is having a baby tomorrow</title><content type='html'>I was in North Park the other day, a neighborhood that's become extremely trendy over the last several years. It's so cool, in fact, that someone once said people who work at my newspaper shouldn't even be hanging out there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not usually sensitive to comments like that, but this one stuck with me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, my mom's first, official job as a hairdresser was in the gray building between 30th and Ray Streets around the corner from Urban Solace, right in the heart of it all. I was probably 14 when she started working there and it was my first time experiencing a part of San Diego that wasn't a suburb or Balboa Park.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I'd go to the salon with my mom and she'd ask me to deposit a check at the Union Bank and pick her up a Cafe au Lait at a place on University, which I'm sure is gone by now. The first time I did this, I was terrified. There were loud buses and stray dogs and very old ladies with metal shopping baskets all around. I didn't even know what a Cafe au Lait was. When I ordered it, I swear I thought I was ordering a Cafe Ole! and was disappointed when there was nothing Mexican about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't even think my mom knows this, but I also learned to drive in North Park. &lt;br /&gt;(She probably thinks that creepy driving teacher, the one who took me out for so long she had to call the school to make sure I wasn't abducted, taught me what I know.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But my real driving teacher was my cousin's driver, Magda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's get it out of the way. Yes, my cousin had a driver because she lived in Tijuana and it was a perfectly normal thing, especially in the 80s. Thanks to the drivers, I was able to spend a big portion of my teenage years in Mexico. Most Friday afternoons, someone would swing by my house in Chula Vista on their way home to Tijuana for the weekend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANYWAY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Magdaa wasn't like the regular drivers usually employed by my aunt and uncle. For one, she was a woman. And second, she was young. Plus, she didn't really follow the rules, which for a teenager is *the best.* &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More than once, Magda and my cousin would pick me up at the salon and the conversation would go something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you want to drive?"&lt;br /&gt;"What?"&lt;br /&gt;"Do you want to drive?"&lt;br /&gt;"Are you kidding? But? I don't even? Really?"&lt;br /&gt;"It's easy. Come on, let's do it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got behind the wheel of the car and learned very early on about the North Park dips, which are pretty intense. And the weird one way streets that come at you when you least expect it. I learned to watch for pedestrians. And buses. And bikes. (Yes, people rode bikes in North Park in the 80s.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, I love the new North Park. I love the ladies at Bar Pink (who I met during another, very different time in my life). I love that one of the last meals I had before being a mom was at The Linkery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just really love the old North Park, too. And as I was (very confidently) driving through its streets on Saturday, I felt lucky to have been able to experience both.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-441576672879248319?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/441576672879248319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=441576672879248319' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/441576672879248319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/441576672879248319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/06/dedicated-to-north-park-and-my-cousin.html' title='Dedicated to North Park. And my cousin, who is having a baby tomorrow'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-7773231912816038780</id><published>2011-06-04T13:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-04T14:50:01.037-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The end of kinderchat</title><content type='html'>A few weeks ago, I got a phone call from Benchley-Weinberger, the school I put at the top of my Choice list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if we wouldn't have moved our choices would have been BW or SDCCS (Co-op), two pretty wonderful options. It felt odd to turn down the Co-op. But it hurt my heart in an unexpected way to decline the offer from Benchley.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either way, the decision is done. We're signed up at our neighborhood school (pictured).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rbHlUoxtTPw/TeqYkK35OlI/AAAAAAAAA8U/h2AGDPNbeOc/s1600/spring2011%2B036.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rbHlUoxtTPw/TeqYkK35OlI/AAAAAAAAA8U/h2AGDPNbeOc/s400/spring2011%2B036.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614467632632248914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I can go back to obsessing about other things, like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Will my kids ever eat an actual vegetable? (Carrots don't count.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. How long will I last in La Jolla without a &lt;a href="http://www.lululemon.com/"&gt;lululemon athletica &lt;/a&gt;outfit? (My aunt already gave me one, so I guess the answer is two months.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Should I go to my high school reunion? (Should I?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. If I take two little kids to the Del Mar Fair will I lose one of them? (And will I get them addicted to fried food?) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Why can't I get into Adele? (Also: as already mentioned on the San Diego airwaves, Fleet Foxes.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. When will I write a book? (Not as long as "Parks &amp; Rec," "Parenthood," "Friday Night Lights" and "Community" are on TV.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Why am I so loyal to NBC? (And Bravo, an NBC affiliate.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Why can I only get 45 words max on iPad Boggle? (It's more of a puzzle than a word game, if you ask me.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Why do I look longingly at mini vans? (Answer: the automatic sliding doors.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. What should we do for Matt's 40th birthday? (Please send suggestions!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-7773231912816038780?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/7773231912816038780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=7773231912816038780' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7773231912816038780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7773231912816038780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/06/end-of-kinderchat.html' title='The end of kinderchat'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rbHlUoxtTPw/TeqYkK35OlI/AAAAAAAAA8U/h2AGDPNbeOc/s72-c/spring2011%2B036.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-8246324737989017496</id><published>2011-06-01T15:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-01T21:17:44.032-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A trial separation</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;I wrote this a month ago but wasn't quite ready to post it. I'm not sure if I'm ready now. But what the hell.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm breaking up with PJ Harvey. Well, maybe not a breakup, but we're definitely taking some time apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not easy to admit this to anyone. I mean, I've loved PJ Harvey for almost 20 years, making it the longest relationship I've ever had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She saw me through times in college when I'd get so overwhelmed in a 100-person classroom that I'd get panic attacks. She was there all those times I felt alienated, either from the bar people I was hanging out with or mean boys and even my family. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When PJ Harvey made music, it was raw and strong and charged. It was almost too painful and uncomfortable to enjoy, and that's why I fell in love with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it wasn't just the music. Over the years PJ Harvey and I have been connected. No really. She either releases records or goes on tour in October, my birthday month. Twice she's performed in L.A. (the closest she usually gets to me) on my actual date of birth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You think it's all in my head, I know. But how do you explain the time I came back from New York feeling all in love with everything about the city and wanting to move there and then very soon after she released an album ABOUT NEW YORK. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also? Once she stayed at my favorite hotel in L.A. How do I know? Because when we were checking out, who should be sitting on the bench waiting for her valet right next to me but PJ Harvey. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I KNOW!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll spare you the painfully awkward details about how I said hello and then cried about it as soon as I got in the car. It lasted all of 30 seconds and she was very gracious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More recently, however, the feelings haven't been as strong. She's released a few albums that, while still much better than anything out there, were not her most fabulous. They were either too gimmicky with falsetto-only singing or too sparse. But I forgave her and learned to appreciate her artistic process. I certainly don't expect or want her to give me 20 years worth of Rid of Me's and was extremely happy when she tinkered with electronica.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even when other music friends and journalists said bad things about PJ, I'd stick up for her. For feminism. For creativity. I did it when she released her latest album a few months ago. It's a record that's all about war in England, a subject I do not identify with whatsoever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first, I liked the album and the way she sang about atrocities in such a beautiful way. The girls even like it, even though they don't realize they're singing about dead soldiers. But after many listens, I just didn't feel anything personal in it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, she performed Coachella, a festival where artists go out of their way to do special performances. When I went, I saw Peter Murphy of Bauhaus sing "Bela Lugosi's Dead" hanging upside down like a bat the entire time.&lt;br /&gt;Wait, I'm not sure if you read that correctly. He sang UPSIDE DOWN like a bat. Do you know how long that song is??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q5v2bP1okBs&amp;feature=related"&gt;Here&lt;/a&gt; you can watch it for yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw Arcade Fire climb the posts and &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6V41qkhU-98"&gt;scream through megaphones as the sun was setting over the dessert&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Magical musical moments happen at Coachella.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't there this year, but her concert was being streamed live on YouTube. She came out in a very corseted white dress, a dress that limited her movements greatly. And she just stood there and sang in a very quiet and very controlled way. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her show, she is one of the best live singers I've ever seen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was just . . . boring. I'm not expecting her to hang upside down or climb things. But I've seen her let go before, really just scream and play guitar and show passion. But &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W1KWg3mPuO8"&gt;it wasn't happening this time&lt;/a&gt;. She seemed much older, like an eccentric cat lady, and I was unimpressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a terrible, low feeling. I tried to ignore it. I didn't say anything about it. But since then, many people have sent me emails and links about her concert being broadcast on NPR and new videos being released and I've had absolutely no desire to watch or listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's where I am now. Though, as I write this, I feel guilty. I just need to take a break. &lt;br /&gt;Even so, I'm not sure if I'll ever be at the point where I'll start seeing anyone else.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-8246324737989017496?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/8246324737989017496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=8246324737989017496' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/8246324737989017496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/8246324737989017496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/05/trial-separation.html' title='A trial separation'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-8947723841766865008</id><published>2011-05-03T20:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-03T21:56:19.636-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fitting in</title><content type='html'>I've been going to La Jolla on a somewhat regular basis since high school.&lt;br /&gt;It was a glamorous destination reserved for homecoming dinners, family outings, first dates and shopping excursions. I have fond memories of finding my prom dress in a tiny boutique in the Village, meeting Allen Ginsberg at the art museum, staying up until midnight to see the Spike &amp; Mike animation festivals, riding bikes by the water even though I didn't really know how to ride adult bikes, watching the seals with my first roommate and imagining our futures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even more recently, I had a close group of friends who were raised and lived in La Jolla and I'd spend days on end lazing around, getting vanilla coffees, watching them surf and seeing indie movies at the now defunct Cove.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I was always a guest. There was always a different home for me to get back to that had nothing to do with the beach.&lt;br /&gt;Since La Jolla has recently become my home, it's been difficult to shake that feeling that I'm on the outside looking in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes when I walk to the grocery store and pass people on the sidewalk in their yoga pants and Chanel bags, I  feel like an imposter. Even though I know where all the cafes and restaurants are, I didn't discover them or have any meaningful memories there. I don't have a Blind Lady pizza and beer place thats friendly to kids, an Ould Sod Irish bar where I made many 20-year-old type of mistakes, a Lestat's cafe that provided me with a daily destination and some sanity when I had newborns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La Jolla is my new neighborhood, but it hasn't completely been home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then on Monday I found it. A secret beach hidden behind a row of mansions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's an actual beach, not a cliff, with white sand for sandcastle building and waves to jump around in. There were mid-afternoon surfers and toddlers running in the waves without fear. La Jolla High kids ditching school on a hot day. I'd never seen it before, I never knew it existed. And after a day of exploring, there it was, something I found that was mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And just like that, I was home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-8947723841766865008?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/8947723841766865008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=8947723841766865008' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/8947723841766865008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/8947723841766865008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/05/fitting-in.html' title='Fitting in'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-7217677484491405350</id><published>2011-04-24T08:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-24T09:00:10.544-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Legoland: preschool perspective</title><content type='html'>I found the camera (again) and it turns out Marina loves using it and is better at taking photos than I am. Yesterday we spent ALL DAY at Legoland and right at the point where a magnificent meltdown would happen, I gave her the camera and she instantly cheered up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some of her pictures:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PcTjEr2mjSc/TbRH_ccuTDI/AAAAAAAAA8A/p93KJ4pWJ-I/s1600/P1010619.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PcTjEr2mjSc/TbRH_ccuTDI/AAAAAAAAA8A/p93KJ4pWJ-I/s320/P1010619.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599179392022367282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bUn8GNctmUs/TbRH-yb3pKI/AAAAAAAAA74/ahidQKqsyCo/s1600/P1010626_1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bUn8GNctmUs/TbRH-yb3pKI/AAAAAAAAA74/ahidQKqsyCo/s320/P1010626_1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599179380744496290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jIsecY0_cQE/TbRHn5VxrCI/AAAAAAAAA7w/cowto3jnWkE/s1600/P1010631.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jIsecY0_cQE/TbRHn5VxrCI/AAAAAAAAA7w/cowto3jnWkE/s320/P1010631.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599178987460996130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8xXKoPZNFqY/TbRHnVvkBiI/AAAAAAAAA7o/KVSAlXMnF1o/s1600/P1010616.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8xXKoPZNFqY/TbRHnVvkBiI/AAAAAAAAA7o/KVSAlXMnF1o/s320/P1010616.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599178977905477154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zQzJUi5PQKo/TbRHMHCtdiI/AAAAAAAAA7g/nF0kPrZaOZo/s1600/P1010611.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zQzJUi5PQKo/TbRHMHCtdiI/AAAAAAAAA7g/nF0kPrZaOZo/s320/P1010611.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599178510102787618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-7217677484491405350?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/7217677484491405350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=7217677484491405350' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7217677484491405350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7217677484491405350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/04/legoland-preschool-perspective.html' title='Legoland: preschool perspective'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PcTjEr2mjSc/TbRH_ccuTDI/AAAAAAAAA8A/p93KJ4pWJ-I/s72-c/P1010619.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-447685321148491614</id><published>2011-04-08T13:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-09T14:20:50.117-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An ode to Gwyneth</title><content type='html'>I belong to a small group of people that doesn't find Gwyneth Paltrow annoying. I love Gwyneth. Love her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the mid-1990s, I was living a few blocks away from the Landmark Theaters in Hillcrest. The movie theater had an arrangement with the restaurant where I worked, I don't know what we were trading, but whatever it was, we were able to get in to the movies for free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Emma" came out when I was going through a particularly rough time with my alcoholic boyfriend and I saw it in the theater AT LEAST five times. So that's how it all began.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few years later, I went to see "Sliding Doors" with some people from the newspaper. As we were leaving, a girl who I didn't particularly like very much, wouldn't stop talking about how annoyed she was by Gwyneth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How was this even possible? Did she not appreciate Gwyneth's short hair cut?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C71oCqJcawk/TaDNlrCridI/AAAAAAAAA7Y/z-Eq-IgMQ9c/s1600/gwyneth2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 206px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C71oCqJcawk/TaDNlrCridI/AAAAAAAAA7Y/z-Eq-IgMQ9c/s320/gwyneth2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593696784286976466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; And what about that scene where she throws a party and puts flowers in her hair? The scene that inspired me to have a Springtime Extravaganza party so that I could put flowers in my own hair?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the years, I've been able to overlook the things people hate about the actress -the expensive hotels and restaurants she recommends on her online newsletter, the names of her kids, the macrobiotic diet. I've completely ignored the whole country music thing. To me that doesn't even exist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So obviously when someone at work gave me a copy of Gwyneth's new cookbook, I was inappropriately excited. Excited even though I was sure it'd be out-of-touch, filled with complicated recipes and anecdotes about the Speilbergs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7EsrGQYtvr4/TaDNCHaO0yI/AAAAAAAAA7Q/7RI_DLnaA_M/s1600/Gwyneth%2BCookbook%2BCover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 329px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7EsrGQYtvr4/TaDNCHaO0yI/AAAAAAAAA7Q/7RI_DLnaA_M/s400/Gwyneth%2BCookbook%2BCover.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593696173426660130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, OK, so it does have random anecdotes, like how she doesn't eat red meat because of the talks she had with Leo DiCaprio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for the most part, it's a sweet book about how much she loves her dad. She loved going out to eat with him and cooking with him and just spending time with him. The book is basically a love letter to him in the form of recipes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And because she has two kids (like me!), the recipes are actually on the simple side. There are few dishes with ingredients that require a stop at the fancy supermarket. But mostly they are uncomplicated and easy to understand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't tried any recipes yet. But I will. And I already know this is going to inspire Springtime Extravaganza II. And if you hate Gwyneth, you're not invited.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-447685321148491614?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/447685321148491614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=447685321148491614' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/447685321148491614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/447685321148491614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/04/ode-to-gwyneth.html' title='An ode to Gwyneth'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C71oCqJcawk/TaDNlrCridI/AAAAAAAAA7Y/z-Eq-IgMQ9c/s72-c/gwyneth2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-7424563224523390875</id><published>2011-03-29T21:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-29T22:49:08.315-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Plans for a Hebrew language charter</title><content type='html'>There are some people in town working on a Hebrew language charter school. The plan is for it to be public (free), not religious and open to all families, not just Jewish people. It's scheduled to open in the fall of 2012.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first this sounded like a good idea, so I went to the town hall type meeting they had tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The room was filled with Israelis and some non-religious Jewish families. The panel featured a woman who actually writes charters, a representative from the successful Hebrew charter in New York and New Jersey and some local volunteers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After explaining what a charter school is and watching a video of very diverse kids speaking Hebrew, they went into some details.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. The school is looking to locate in the Golden Triangle area.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure how smart this is, actually. If the organizers want to show that they truly are public and NOT religious, it seems counter-productive to put the school in an area with so many synagogues and Hebrew schools. Also, if they want to attract people from all socio-economic backgrounds, why be located in a place with some of the worst traffic? Will a working mom from City Heights really sit in hours of traffic to have her kid learn Hebrew? But if a good school was put in her neighborhood, she'd probably consider it. Honestly, it seems like the location was selected because so many Israelis live in the area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. The charter isn't official.&lt;br /&gt;They are applying to be in San Diego school district, which already has several language charters: Chinese, German, Spanish, Arabic, etc. &lt;br /&gt;So that's a good thing. It seems like the Hebrew one will have the added issue of having to convince the board that the language and the religion are different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. They will have 25 to 30 kids in a class with two teachers in a room. Kids will get one hour of Hebrew and the language will be used in other areas, like during math, P.E. and lunch. School day is tentatively 8:30 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. Priority enrollment may be given to Hebrew speakers. Jewish holidays will not be given preference over secular holidays but there is talk of planning the school year around the Jewish calendar. If kids are not at school, they don't get money from the district, so it makes sense to design a calendar with maximum attendance in mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall, I like the idea of the school. For me, though, I think that if I'm interested in Hebrew, it's because it's a part of being Jewish, not Israeli. I'm not really sure that I would want to leave religion out of that process. If I was truly interested in a language immersion, I'd pick Spanish. To me Hebrew songs, Hebrew stories, Hebrew names are part of being Jewish, so if thats the route I pick, I'd feel better just going with a traditional Jewish school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still curious to see how this plays out. By the time Ella is ready for kindergarten, the school will have been running for a year, so I can revisit the issue again later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-7424563224523390875?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/7424563224523390875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=7424563224523390875' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7424563224523390875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7424563224523390875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/03/plans-for-hebrew-language-charter.html' title='Plans for a Hebrew language charter'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-7696756704751544313</id><published>2011-03-19T17:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-19T17:08:39.096-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Explorer lottery date revealed!</title><content type='html'>Listen up, fellow parents. I found this on the Explorer web site today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The admissions lottery for the 2011/12 year will take place Thursday, March 24th in the evening. There will be a live stream video of the lottery on &lt;a href="http://www.explorerelementary.org/enrollment.php"&gt;this website&lt;/a&gt;. For privacy reasons, lottery results will not be posted. Results of the lottery will be mailed or emailed on Friday, March 25th."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um? In the evening? What does that even mean? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the final school I'm waiting on. Except that on assignment today, I interviewed a science teacher from High Tech High (the school Explorer feeds into). He has two young kids and even though he has priority for the lottery, it took him over a year to get his kids enrolled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He also said this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The odds of getting into Harvard are better than the odds of getting into Explorer."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good luck everyone!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-7696756704751544313?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/7696756704751544313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=7696756704751544313' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7696756704751544313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7696756704751544313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/03/explorer-lottery-date-revealed.html' title='Explorer lottery date revealed!'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-4063114836375350320</id><published>2011-03-14T20:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-14T20:25:28.693-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally, door number three is revealed</title><content type='html'>Between being sick, packing, moving, unpacking and organizing, I forgot to take my name out of the Urban Discovery Academy lottery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And because I saw that the names were being picked today, and because I have Mondays off, I decided to go to the lottery and not only see how I fared, but how several of my friends did as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were about eight of us in the school's main meeting room sitting on folding chairs. We were all there for kindergarten. So of course, they began with the highest grade (7th) and worked down to K. There were only about one or two spots for fifth, sixth and seventh, and no spots for fourth, third, second or first. The names they called were for waiting list only.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally it was our turn. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way it worked was two parent volunteers put the applications in one of those giant, white mail holders and then pulled them out one by one. The principal was at the table with her hot pink laptop and she entered the names as they were called out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were 24 spots open and I'd say about less than 100 applications, which is actually pretty good. What made it awkward, however, was that because they knew we were all there for kindergarten, the volunteers would read the names and then look out at us for a reaction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, unlike the Museum School lottery, no one was being called. Not for a long time. Only one out of the eight of us actually got in the school. But they kept picking names for the waiting list and every time - every time! - they looked at us with a sad sort of face. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got called #49. Others in the room where in the 50s. And many moms were pretty devastated, which would have been me just a few weeks ago.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-4063114836375350320?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/4063114836375350320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=4063114836375350320' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4063114836375350320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4063114836375350320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/03/finally-door-number-three-is-revealed.html' title='Finally, door number three is revealed'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-5170569865449447864</id><published>2011-03-12T08:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T19:42:03.834-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Home</title><content type='html'>So, we're here. In La Jolla. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And even though we had to get rid of an entire garage full of clothes, books, CDs, furniture and backyard toys, even though we're living in a place that's under 1,000 square feet, even though we have to drive through the notorious traffic, we are pretty much loving it so far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our second morning here, Ella woke up and walked into the living room, which faces east and gets really pretty morning light. She sat on the couch and said, "let's never leave."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another night, we got in our new Radio Flyer wagon (with seats!) (thanks Grandma) and walked to dinner, the girls singing songs and watching the sun set along the way. We've been counting the days for tomorrow's farmer's market so we can fill the place with fresh flowers and fruit and vegetables.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because Matt and I have had the week off, it sort of feels like we're on vacation. We've been walking around discovering new restaurants and shops. Switching over to a new cable company and having no clue where the channels are adds to the novelty of it all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know we did this for the school, but it seems like the move is saving our sanity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We moved into our old house because of the furloughs. It was a perfectly good place but we went into it feeling a bit defeated and it never really felt like it was ours. "The apartment," as Marina calls it, is much, much smaller but perhaps because we did it on our terms, it automatically feels like home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-5170569865449447864?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/5170569865449447864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=5170569865449447864' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5170569865449447864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5170569865449447864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/03/home.html' title='Home'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-4108016751244336162</id><published>2011-03-10T19:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-10T20:05:52.632-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Charter school fail</title><content type='html'>The reason I have not written about the Explorer Elementary open house is because I DID NOT KNOW ABOUT IT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How did this happen? I thought I knew everything there was to know about all schools. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier this week, Explorer - also known as the most magical institution of learning in San Diego - held an open house to explain its philosophy and show the campus to families that have applied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew this was happening. The school said they'd be sending me an email with the time and date of the event.  But the email never showed up. And because we've been moving, I sort of lost track of time and ended up missing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You dont even know how fast I picked up the phone. Apparently, they do have me on the list and if I get in, they'll have a tour just for accepted students.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From what I heard through other parents, however, Explorer is as amazing as its reputation. They don't have competition there. Or traditional text books. Or tons of homework. They encourage positive language and project learning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the one school that could completely derail this La Jolla plan and I so desperately wish I hadn't missed it. If anyone out there attended, I'd love to hear your opinion.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-4108016751244336162?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/4108016751244336162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=4108016751244336162' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4108016751244336162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4108016751244336162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/03/charter-school-fail.html' title='Charter school fail'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-4272236893312421787</id><published>2011-02-26T12:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-26T15:47:56.123-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The playlist</title><content type='html'>I'm not a big fan of musicals, actually.&lt;br /&gt;When I watch Glee I often fast forward through the songs. I never liked "Rent" or "Moulin Rouge." I think "Cats" is the absolute worst play I've ever seen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was pretty shocked that not only did I know plenty of musicals to share with the girls, but watching videos like "Matchmaker" and "Hard Knock Life" actually made me emotional.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere, in the darkest parts of my brain, is a space that loves, loves, loves (certain) musicals. And re-watching some of these songs has strangely brightened up our bedtime routine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe title="YouTube video player" width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/dUtSrN_W5I8" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe title="YouTube video player" width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/59Hj7bp38f8" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-4272236893312421787?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/4272236893312421787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=4272236893312421787' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4272236893312421787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4272236893312421787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/02/playlist.html' title='The playlist'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/dUtSrN_W5I8/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-9144795274824006786</id><published>2011-02-20T09:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-20T09:59:01.948-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Deep analysis: Glee</title><content type='html'>One night during bath time, I randomly sang "I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair" as I was shampooing the girls' hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They looked at me, then looked at each other with an expression that said, "so this is what crazy must be." It got much worse when I tried to explain that there wasn't an actual man in their hair, and even if you did wash a man out of your hair, he'd be totally unharmed in the process. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The questions wouldn't stop, so to clear things up, I decided to show them a YouTube clip from "South Pacific." It basically blew their minds. Movies with singing! And choreographed dancing! And adults are doing it, not just kids! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, so, they like musicals, I thought, I guess I should show them a clip from Glee. I found the Riahnna "Umbrella"/"Singin' in the Rain" mash-up  because the girls are familiar with the "Umbrella" song. (Perhaps because it mentions Ella's name a million times.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So they're watching the Glee kids do their thing all quietly and then this happened - &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marina: Is this a movie?&lt;br /&gt;Me: No, it's a new TV show. South Pacific is more like a classic movie.&lt;br /&gt;Marina: Which girl is Riahnna? I don't see her.&lt;br /&gt;Me: No, she's not in this. This is just a show where they take people's songs and sing them themselves.&lt;br /&gt;Ella: Hey! That's not fair, that's called stealing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-9144795274824006786?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/9144795274824006786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=9144795274824006786' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/9144795274824006786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/9144795274824006786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/02/deep-analysis-glee.html' title='Deep analysis: Glee'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-5309821094177896180</id><published>2011-02-18T12:36:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-18T12:57:13.485-08:00</updated><title type='text'>And finally, door number three</title><content type='html'>Actually Urban Discovery didn't hold its lottery on Thursday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe because they had an overwhelming number of applicants or because they like to torture parents, whatever the reason, Urban Discovery postponed the lottery until March.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm fairly certain my name won't be in the mix. That's right. I'm thinking of taking our name out of the running.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's the point, really? I don't like it better than La Jolla and I don't want this SD Co-Op type stress about what I'd do if Marina got in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That leaves one more charter school lottery left - Explorer Elementary. A mythical school that all of San Diego loves even though hardly anyone gets in and no one's even toured yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully that one doesn't happen until April.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-5309821094177896180?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/5309821094177896180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=5309821094177896180' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5309821094177896180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5309821094177896180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/02/and-finally-door-number-three.html' title='And finally, door number three'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-8072503452852634063</id><published>2011-02-16T19:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-16T20:09:54.603-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Now door number two . . .</title><content type='html'>For today's Museum School lottery, I decided to show up in person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was being held soon after the girls got out of school, so I bribed them with warm vanilla milks from Starbucks and a mini scone each. Then we talked about how great the Museum School is with their sewing classes and art studio and all that to get them jazzed for the "adventure."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lottery was held in the kindergarten classroom and about 15 parents showed up. There were 12 spots open for incoming kindergartners and the glass bowl was stuffed with names. I was riding high on my Co-Op luck, so I was feeling pretty confident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The principal and the head of San Diego charter schools, along with two official recorders, handled the process. The principal held the bowl and the head of charter put her hand in and read the names.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They called the first name and it belonged to one of the parents in the room, so that was exciting. Kind of like a movie where she screamed in surprise and we all clapped for her.&lt;br /&gt;Then two more names. After that they called a twin, so that immediately ate up an extra spot. Then, another parent who was in the room was called, which apparently is pretty rare. The claps weren't as loud this time. And before long, the 12 spots were taken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, they continued to reach in the bowl and call every single name for the waiting list. I lost count at exactly where we were placed. Maybe 100? Maybe 120?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's disappointing for sure. But it's also proving that the decisions we're making just may be the right ones.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-8072503452852634063?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/8072503452852634063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=8072503452852634063' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/8072503452852634063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/8072503452852634063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/02/now-door-number-two.html' title='Now door number two . . .'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-6585759328436689988</id><published>2011-02-15T14:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T14:46:59.701-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Behind door number one . . .</title><content type='html'>It looks like we got picked in our first lottery!&lt;br /&gt;Someone who went to the Co-Op this morning told me Marina got spot number 8 of 18. What!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course we got picked. The minute you declare that you're happy by yourself, you find a boyfriend. Isn't that how it works?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My initial reaction was to turn it down, but after talking to a friend who sends his daughter to that school, I'm not so sure. The odds were so low we'd get picked and we did. Does that mean something? Does it mean nothing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do know that I'll be riding our lucky wave over to the Museum School lottery tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-6585759328436689988?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/6585759328436689988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=6585759328436689988' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6585759328436689988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6585759328436689988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/02/behind-door-number-one.html' title='Behind door number one . . .'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-6298382820755066732</id><published>2011-02-11T08:38:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T10:06:09.799-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Anti-climactic lottery week</title><content type='html'>This is the week three of the four schools I applied for are doing their lotteries: SD Co-Op on Tuesday, Museum on Wednesday and Urban Discovery on Thursday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I'd think about this week, my stomach would get all knotted up. Even when I watched that movie "The Lottery," the actual lottery scene had me feeling so uncomfortable, I seriously hunched over with dread when they weren't calling out the names I wanted to hear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now that we're moving, I'm kind of feeling like those people on "Let's Make a Deal," remember that game show? They'd offer a contestant something fabulous and then they'd say stuff like "Yes, $100 is nice, but wouldn't you like to see if there's something better behind door number two?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I've already taken the $100 and this week I'm about to see what's behind the curtain.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-6298382820755066732?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/6298382820755066732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=6298382820755066732' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6298382820755066732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6298382820755066732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/02/anti-climactic-lottery-week.html' title='Anti-climactic lottery week'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-6731616281094376450</id><published>2011-02-08T23:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-09T00:22:36.537-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A place by the sea</title><content type='html'>This is the story of how I said goodbye to my (relatively) roomy suburban house in favor of a two-bedroom condo by the sea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something I do pretty often is check Craigslist for rentals. At first, when I thought I wanted to go to Hearst, I'd look for places in Del Cerro. Then Benchley/Weinberger had me browsing through San Carlos. Sometimes, for fun, I search through neighborhoods that are way out of my league.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except this one time, two days after I turned in my Choice application, a listing popped up. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, two parking spaces in La Jolla. And not, like, UCSD La Jolla, but right downtown, blocks away from the cliffs. It was only $100 more than what we pay and would definitely put us in the La Jolla Elementary boundary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I called. And when I got there, it was more ideal than on paper. Small, yes. But so close to the school, you can see it from the balcony. Close to cafes and restaurants and groceries, all within easy walking distance. Then Matt went over to see it even though he was sick, cranky and really not into it. And he loved it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before we knew it, we were signing a lease and putting money down. We did this one week before the charter lotteries, which I still am a bit nervous about. But it's official, we're moving. I've been in San Diego all my life and I've never lived by the ocean. It's exciting and scary and crazy and impulsive all at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It also means we've basically locked in the school. There are still some things I have to figure out regarding private school, or the one-off chance we get into Explorer or Museum. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But really. I am done worrying. Now it's time to concentrate on enjoying our new journey as a beach family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-6731616281094376450?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/6731616281094376450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=6731616281094376450' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6731616281094376450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6731616281094376450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/02/condo-by-sea.html' title='A place by the sea'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-19947080576953899</id><published>2011-02-07T20:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T20:42:05.523-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Plan B</title><content type='html'>Apparently I'm not so good at waiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's some crazy plans in the works . . . stay tuned!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-19947080576953899?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/19947080576953899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=19947080576953899' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/19947080576953899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/19947080576953899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/02/plan-b.html' title='Plan B'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-2575890171270884670</id><published>2011-02-01T15:18:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-01T15:27:29.919-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Choice list</title><content type='html'>After many hours of discussion last night, we've decided to only put three schools  on our Choice list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here they are in order of preference:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Benchley/Weinberger&lt;br /&gt;2. Sunset View&lt;br /&gt;3. Hearst&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking in terms of traditional public schools, I truly feel that, aside from La Jolla, only those three offer something better than my neighborhood option.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've also turned in our financial aid forms at private school and re-registered for a spot there next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now my job is to wait.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-2575890171270884670?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/2575890171270884670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=2575890171270884670' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/2575890171270884670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/2575890171270884670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/02/choice-list.html' title='The Choice list'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-497975810273422976</id><published>2011-01-31T12:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T13:30:44.858-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The end</title><content type='html'>I'm having trouble believing that it's all over. There are no more schools to tour. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, I guess there's always one more place I can visit -  the language schools or the Tierrasanta ones - but I've seen all I need to see and I think I'm ending on a good note.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My journey ends with Sunset View, a school that sits high on a hill in Point Loma and has the most spectacular view of the Pacific Ocean. You can watch the waves crash and foam up and do all the oceany things you see in a movie. It was by far the most beautiful location of any place I've visited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The school in general was pretty typical in the curriculum it offers. Thanks to being in a million-dollar neighborhood, the community picks up the tab on a lot of extras, like drama classes, grassy play areas and teacher aides. Being a true beach town, however, the vibe was much more laid back than La Jolla. The money isn't quite so obvious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The school goes from K through 4th, which is how all Point Loma schools work. Then they do grades 5 and 6 somewhere else, then middle, then high. I'm not sure if I'm breaking it down accurately, but you get the point. I like that system and think it's smart to keep those ages isolated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other observations: great kinder teacher led the tour; they have nap time until January; they assess incoming kinders like at La Jolla; did I mention the view? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunset View is a great, small school that is Choice friendly and also has good hours (9:05 to 3:35). It's just so very out of the way. Though I &lt;br /&gt;think making that drive along the ocean would be pretty soothing versus the traffic-heavy trek to La Jolla.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall I give it an A minus. I just have to figure out if it works for our circumstances.&lt;br /&gt;(Why is this the only school I've actually graded?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it's time to fill in my Choice paperwork. Stay tuned for the final results . . .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-497975810273422976?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/497975810273422976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=497975810273422976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/497975810273422976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/497975810273422976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/01/end.html' title='The end'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-4917041163279261922</id><published>2011-01-29T13:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-29T13:50:30.373-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Charter school meltdown</title><content type='html'>Last week, I went to see another school called San Diego Cooperative Charter, or SD Co-Op, or SDCC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should have gone straight home to write about how great it was. How it has a giant garden and (relatively) small class size and cool parents. About how logistically it's perfect for us. And how they have an in-house run after-school program that includes things like dance and Spanish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as I was enjoying my parent-led tour (all parents are required to volunteer a certain amount of hours there), we were told that due to an outrageously high number of sibling enrollments, there would only be 18 spots open for next year. And they already had 150 applications turned in with more on the way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole thing just got so frustrating. Not specifically at the Co-Op, but the crazy charter lottery thing in general. It's like, what's the point? Why am I spending two hours here - or at any charter school - when the chances of actually getting in are ridiculous? And why is it that this kind of education is only available to people who can luck into it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously I'm not going to fix the education system, but this project has really allowed me to see a side of the city - both good and bad - I had never experienced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, thankfully SDCC was my last charter tour. And even more thankfully, Monday is my absolute last public school tour! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good thing I already found my new obsession, the Wii Fit. Hopefully I'll burn off all the calories I gained from stress-related cocktails.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-4917041163279261922?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/4917041163279261922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=4917041163279261922' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4917041163279261922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4917041163279261922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/01/charter-school-meltdown.html' title='Charter school meltdown'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-6507374614006161968</id><published>2011-01-26T19:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-26T20:27:28.564-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Perfection, defined</title><content type='html'>If there is such a thing as a perfect public school, I found it in La Jolla Elementary. That place pretty much has everything you could ever ask for, including:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Ideal hours.&lt;br /&gt;The school day is 9 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Nap time.&lt;br /&gt;The only places that still offer a kindergarten rest time are private schools. And LJ Elementary. They get quiet time after lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Challenging curriculum that includes science.&lt;br /&gt;They're paired with a program from UC Berkeley and the principal said if they wanted, they would qualify as a science magnet. And when I went in the K classrooms, the kids were working with actual microscopes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Smaller class size.&lt;br /&gt;Instead of going to 30 kids in one class, they're keeping theirs at 24 because their parent foundation makes enough money to cover the cost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Amazing fundraising.&lt;br /&gt;By the way, guess how much they bring in each year? I heard Hearst brought in $60,000 at their fundraiser last year, Marvin about $50K. So I was expecting to hear a number like that.&lt;br /&gt;Uh, no.&lt;br /&gt;They raised $250,000 last year!! Though most of it is through the open air market they host every Sunday and from events like the La Jolla Food and Wine Festival that donates its proceeds to the three local elementary schools.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Clean grounds.&lt;br /&gt;The campus is incredibly clean and well maintained. It's got a bunch of Dr. Seuss themed art because, afterall, that was his neighborhood school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Spacious classrooms. &lt;br /&gt;There are four kinders, three were excellent and one was a bit psychotic with the amount of stuff on the walls. A bit of over-stimulation. But more than enough space for everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Cozy atmosphere. &lt;br /&gt;The separate kinder area has its own drop-off section, playground and garden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Library. &lt;br /&gt;Theirs looked a lot like the newer, beautified San Diego school libraries. Only with LJ's extra funds, they added oversized pillows shaped like books and they have very light classical music playing in the background at all times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Test scores.&lt;br /&gt;I don't care about this so much, but their API score is 988 out of 1000, making them the second highest-scoring school in the district. One point behind the first place school, which I believe is Torrey Pines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Technology&lt;br /&gt;In third grade, kids get their own laptop computers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Proximity to coffee/books&lt;br /&gt;The school is next door to one of my favorite cafes, &lt;a href="http://pannikincoffeeandtea.com/"&gt;The Pannikin&lt;/a&gt;, as well as &lt;a href="http://www.dgwillsbooks.com/"&gt;D.G. Wills&lt;/a&gt;, one of the best local bookstores around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were a few negatives:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. La Jolla stereotypes.&lt;br /&gt;La Jolla is a rich neighborhood. And I walked in behind two moms, one had a giant patent leather Chanel bag, the other a giant Louis Vuitton. Another dad in the crowd asked if kids could bring laptops to school before second grade, which came off as kind of ridiculous, even to the other La Jolla parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Parking.&lt;br /&gt;Parking is impossible and the commute would be pretty nightmarish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Funding.&lt;br /&gt;I assume you're expected to write a big donation check&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Choice&lt;br /&gt;The chances to Choice in, even if you go to an underperforming school that is re-assigned to go to La Jolla, are practically non-existent. You basically have to move to the area to go and the rent in La Jolla is pretty crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conclusion:&lt;br /&gt;The school was amazing enough that I would consider moving into a two bedroom townhouse to be able to send the kids there. But I still can't imagine doing pick-up and drop-offs at two different schools so very far from each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that maybe I'll wait until Ella is old enough for Kindergarten and then we'll figure something out? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It really was that spectacular.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-6507374614006161968?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/6507374614006161968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=6507374614006161968' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6507374614006161968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6507374614006161968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/01/perfection-defined.html' title='Perfection, defined'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-261332881998335576</id><published>2011-01-26T09:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-26T09:24:31.928-08:00</updated><title type='text'>From blog to front page</title><content type='html'>Well, so &lt;a href="http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/2011/jan/22/school-choice-fair-shows-options-education/"&gt;look what happened&lt;/a&gt;. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turns out my crazy search has been somewhat justified in the form of a front page Sunday article about School Choice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-261332881998335576?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/261332881998335576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=261332881998335576' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/261332881998335576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/261332881998335576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/01/from-blog-to-front-page.html' title='From blog to front page'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-4131026875766400452</id><published>2011-01-13T17:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-13T18:02:01.762-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Deconstructing the options</title><content type='html'>This school choice thing is confusing. And because my national readership (of one) has requested I explain how the system works in San Diego, here we go:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Go to my neighborhood school. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I chose this option, I do nothing but walk over to the office, register and I'm in. Likelihood: medium to low.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Charter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Charters are public schools that govern themselves. From what I understand, they get funded by the district but as long as they keep test scores up, they can hire their own teachers and teach their own curriculum. These are controversial because often they take over low-performing schools and the teachers don't have to be union. &lt;br /&gt;Some, however, have such innovative programs that they have very long waiting lists for &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;mayb&lt;/span&gt;e 15 to 25 spots.  So this is where the lottery comes in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You apply to each charter school individually and they basically pick names out of a hat, just like in the movies "The Lottery" and "Waiting for Superman." I have my name in four lotteries and find out in February if we get in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Likelihood: ?? It all depends on how many parents are also in the lottery. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Choice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In San Diego you have the option to go to any school in the district as long as there's space available. Some schools, called magnets, have specialties like communications or sports. They're required to have diverse populations and bus in kids from lower-income areas. Others on the choice list are just neighborhood schools with good reputations. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Choice application requires you to rank your top five schools - regular or magnet - in order and you're guaranteed one of the five. But only one. So that's why I've been touring so much. I want to be absolutely confident in my decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My tentative order: Benchley/Weinberger (which is a communications magnet by my house so chances are on the lower side), La Jolla Elementary, Hearst, Dailard and Muir? Maybe? Likelihood of that happening: medium.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Stay where we are&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Private schools most definitely will not have 30 students in one class. I won't have to worry about shenanigans and bullies in after school programs. Likelihood: Depending on financial aid, high.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phew. I need a beer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-4131026875766400452?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/4131026875766400452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=4131026875766400452' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4131026875766400452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4131026875766400452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/01/deconstructing-options.html' title='Deconstructing the options'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-7560590997931150543</id><published>2011-01-12T15:47:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T19:56:54.233-08:00</updated><title type='text'>School tours bonanza, day three, part two</title><content type='html'>I went to Marvin with zero expectation and was pretty much blown away by it. Then I went to Hearst with all the expectations in the world and I wasn't totally enamored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not really sure what the problem is. Or if there's even one at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hearst is the highest-rated school in my neighborhood and one of the best in San Diego. Parents who send their kids there love it and say it's like a private school. It's across the street from a synagogue and many of the students are Jewish. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tour was different than anything I've experienced. It was held after a short day of school and parents crowded into one of the classrooms where all three kindergarten teachers and the principal addressed us. It was more like an orientation, telling us about what kinds of snacks to pack and how big the backpacks should be. Stuff I don't really need to know right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The teachers were on the older side, which I like because they've dealt with big class sizes before and are very confident that every child will thrive. But they're very obviously set in their ways, too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is one of the few schools that had play areas with blocks and toy kitchens; one of the teachers told me later that when Alan Bersin was the superintendent, they banned blocks and even took crayons away from the kindergartners. So I'm glad that's changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The campus isn't as well-kept as Marvin, you can tell it's on the older side. But the kinder area was very peaceful and lovely and also had a garden, library and atmosphere that I liked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that the girls would get a good, solid public school education here. And because it's two miles away from our house, they'd make some area friends. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think perhaps I am being too hard on the school? It's almost time to fill out my Choice list and Hearst is definitely going on it. I just need to figure out if it's still at the top.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-7560590997931150543?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/7560590997931150543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=7560590997931150543' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7560590997931150543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7560590997931150543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/01/school-tours-bonanza-day-three-part-two.html' title='School tours bonanza, day three, part two'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-8803414518734956414</id><published>2011-01-12T11:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T12:05:11.915-08:00</updated><title type='text'>School tours bonanza, day three, part one</title><content type='html'>The only reason I toured Marvin Elementary is because it's my neighborhood school and I didn't want to do this project without even checking it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, OF COURSE, I loved it. All this work, all these posts and the school that's right in front of me is the one I like best (so far). How did my life turn into a Nora Ephron movie?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was immediately impressed when I showed up and they required everyone to sign in on this computer that takes your picture and then prints out a badge with your name and image on it. You also had to sign out. So that's a pretty secure campus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tour was led by an actual kindergarten teacher, so she was able to answer the specific questions parents had. The principal made an appearance at the beginning to talk about the school's junior-k program. Marvin is one of the only schools with a free JK program, which Marina doesn't need but Ella definitely will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The school was very clean, very green and well maintained. They also have a dedicated science classroom and their curriculum is very science-oriented. They have P.E. three times a week, which actually is more than most places. It's run by the kinder teacher, so it's more about getting the kids active than a regimented program.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are two kinder classes. The one belonging to the tour guide was fantastic. There was an area that had bleacher seats arranged in a U for story time. It sounds weird, but it actually felt cozy and sort of ensures kids are paying attention, not just rolling around on the floor. She said she had two advanced readers and they were sitting together doing a separate project. The other kinder class, though, didn't give me a great feeling. It was one of the most chaotic rooms I've seen so far. It was small and cluttered and didn't leave the best impression.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The JK was really warm and happy. The principal said it's where younger kids learn to be students. They seemed to be doing Kindergarten type work with letters, but there was definitely more coloring going on. The kids don't sit at a table for longer than 15 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other good things: beautiful library, giant garden area with compost, science class has lizards and bugs. And best of all? We can walk there. At 8:45 I put chicken in the crock pot, left at 8:50 and still got there way before the 9 a.m. start time. I never went to a neighborhood school, but I like the idea of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Negatives: it seems like the school is as good as the teacher you get, which I'm sure is the case everywhere, but this seemed to be an extreme example. Not very Jewish, though they do get a few students. Going to Marvin would tie us to our current house for longer than we really want to stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end, I'm very surprised at the quality of my neighborhood school. And if no other option works out, I *think* I'm confident with what we have.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-8803414518734956414?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/8803414518734956414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=8803414518734956414' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/8803414518734956414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/8803414518734956414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/01/school-tours-bonanza-day-three-part-one.html' title='School tours bonanza, day three, part one'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-8838458525656138644</id><published>2011-01-11T13:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-11T14:16:52.468-08:00</updated><title type='text'>School tours bonanza, day two</title><content type='html'>Marie Curie in University City was where I went today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;University City is a pretty small community that's made up of a lot of UCSD professors and staff. So it's an intellectual crowd and on the higher end of the middle class scale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, I was surprised at the size of this tour: at least 50 parents, all armed with very informed questions about budget cuts and, yes, a few questions about the gifted programs.&lt;br /&gt;Again, they said they had extra P.E. and art and science, but realistically it was similar to the other places I've seen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a massive place - almost 500 students and five kindergarten classrooms. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That being said, the school had a really warm, peaceful vibe to it. There's lots of garden space, a wide, open campus and a community of involved parents. I could picture us there for sure if we lived in the neighborhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm not going to put it on my list because the commute is seriously nightmarish. I signed up for the tour, not remembering the crazy amount of traffic through the Golden Triangle. It's a problem no matter which freeway I chose and it would hit us both in the morning and in the afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm looking forward to tomorrow since it's a neighborhood day, both my local schools - Hearst and Marvin - have tours. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since before this search began, I've felt like if we don't stay at private we'd do anything to get into Hearst. My cousins went there, I have a good number of friends who send their kids there and it has a great reputation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm putting myself in a Museum School stype situation, where I have very high expectation and I hope that the place lives up to my hype.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-8838458525656138644?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/8838458525656138644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=8838458525656138644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/8838458525656138644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/8838458525656138644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/01/school-tours-bonanza-day-two.html' title='School tours bonanza, day two'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-5620393552228458711</id><published>2011-01-10T20:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-10T22:16:08.206-08:00</updated><title type='text'>School tours bonanza, day one</title><content type='html'>This is a pretty intense week: four tours in three days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you'd think I'd be at the top of my game, but I was completely distracted during my visit to Clairemont's John Muir, the only K through 12 public school in the city of San Diego.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to file an article during the intro presentation. And the tour was going to make me late for my second hospital volunteering shift, which doesn't make me look like a dedicated or responsible person whatsoever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John Muir's thing is about being a global village and making its students aware of the world, which is pretty awesome. The kids exchange projects, like homemade bookmarks, with other kids in Russia or South America or even somewhere else in the U.S. It's a very small place, only 425 students including the high school. &lt;br /&gt;There are two kindergarten classes and they've got a nice area with a playground and a separate lunch room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't really pay attention to the amount of hours they spend on art and music and  P.E. It all seems to be the same wherever you go, even though each school tells you they're unique in what they offer. What I hadn't seen before, though, was kindergartners in a science lab. The kids were in a dedicated science room figuring out what particle boards are made from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The classrooms all have Smartboards and super nice Macs. The kids seemed well behaved and respectful. The hours are 9 a.m. to 3:45, which is ideal for my schedule. The bathrooms were clean. And overall I liked it. It's definitely going on the top five list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't really find any glaring negatives, unless I start nitpicking. Or maybe I just don't have the motivation to find fault because I'm not sure if I could truly, honestly see us there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's what's been most frustrating lately. I like plenty of places, but not many have felt like OUR place. And that's really what it all comes down to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-5620393552228458711?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/5620393552228458711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=5620393552228458711' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5620393552228458711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5620393552228458711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/01/school-tours-bonanza-day-one.html' title='School tours bonanza, day one'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-6339427804274615692</id><published>2011-01-03T20:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-03T22:08:19.212-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of place</title><content type='html'>It's been a long time since I was in an unfamiliar environment, a place where I don't know a single person, let alone how to get around the building.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you can say my first day as a hospital volunteer was mentally and physically exhausting. It's a whole different world there, with its own language and uniform and hierarchy. Taking all that in was pretty overwhelming, even though all I actually did was find various hospital departments in a scavenger hunt type thing and make a bunch of copies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been placed in a nursing department that takes care of people staying in the hospital for a short time, like after a stroke or a car accident. I didn't have to deal with patients today, which was fine with me since it was all so very new and scary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, I can't say whether or not I like it, but I am happy that I'm giving myself the opportunity to find out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in case you've been wondering about my cooking experiment, I won't go into details but I did make something fresh every day except for the day my brother got married. Some highlights include homemade whipped cream and champagne pomegranate punch. And, yes, there was real food in there, I promise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-6339427804274615692?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/6339427804274615692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=6339427804274615692' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6339427804274615692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6339427804274615692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2011/01/out-of-place.html' title='Out of place'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-6863840880893923391</id><published>2010-12-29T20:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-29T21:19:33.908-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My defense</title><content type='html'>Right about now is when the kindergarten quest goes from informing people to kinda creeping them out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I haven't realized how intense this whole thing can seem to everyone but the six people in my equally-obsessed kinder email group. Lately I've been getting more questions about my time and motivation than about actual schools. And that's fine. I get it. It is weird and obnoxiously suburban.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But also what people forget is that I'm a reporter. Since I was 17-years-old I've been finding facts, gathering notes and writing about what I see. You can argue that it's really one of the few things I can do well. Instead of using my interview/note-taking skills for an article, this time I'm applying them to my own life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll admit that I've gone to a school or two that I wouldn't seriously consider. But so very often, I think I'm done interviewing people for an article and then I'll make one more call, or approach one more family at an event, and thats often the interview that makes the story. I go to extra schools because I never know which one could be the right ending for this particular story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;January is almost here and that means one more month of this stuff. It means serious choices and big decisions that go all the way into where we're going to live. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm giving everyone fair warning that things are going to get a whole lot crazier, but be assured, I've been training for this for a long time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-6863840880893923391?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/6863840880893923391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=6863840880893923391' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6863840880893923391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6863840880893923391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/12/my-defense.html' title='My defense'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-4179201524945889813</id><published>2010-12-25T19:59:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-25T20:03:53.829-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Progress</title><content type='html'>Vacation cooking diary:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day one - cranberry pistachio biscotti&lt;br /&gt;Day two - orange pineapple salmon, Israeli salad&lt;br /&gt;Day three - though I technically wasn't on vacation on this day, I cooked honey chili chicken and lemony peach quinoa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow - Chocolate banana muffins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See? This project will not suffer the same fate as my disastrous running blog. It just can't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-4179201524945889813?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/4179201524945889813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=4179201524945889813' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4179201524945889813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4179201524945889813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/12/progress.html' title='Progress'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-8240209867199956905</id><published>2010-12-22T23:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-22T23:24:42.742-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A completely new, albeit temporary, project</title><content type='html'>I am (technically) on vacation! And I have zero school tours until mid-January!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does one do with all that free time? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I bought a copy of that book "Julie &amp; Julia'" at a school fundraiser, and because my last cooking story is due the minute I get back to work, I'm inspired to do an experiment of my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's this: Can I make something fresh every day that I'm home?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the last week or so we've been stocking up on Trader Joe's frozen food and not feeling guilty whatsoever. But then a foodie friend of mine casually mentioned that she doesn't do Trader Joe's. That just about blew my mind. What does it even mean?? We live off those tiny yogurts and Orange Chicken and honey pretzels and beet salads (and I dont even like beets normally).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She pointed out that practically everything at TJ is packaged, not fresh. And after she said it, I had a totally cliche lightbulb moment. And now my love affair with TJ has been tainted! It's not quite on Fresh and Easy levels, but almost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The project, which doesn't have a cutesy name, is starting off with my friend Kristin teaching me how to make pistachio biscotti. This just happens to be coincidental, something we were going to do anyway. But why not use it as a jumping off point?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-8240209867199956905?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/8240209867199956905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=8240209867199956905' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/8240209867199956905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/8240209867199956905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/12/completely-new-albeit-temporary-project.html' title='A completely new, albeit temporary, project'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-2840536414420593448</id><published>2010-12-16T19:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-16T19:09:25.774-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Slumber party</title><content type='html'>How many animals are invited to this thing??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TQrTtMIRWqI/AAAAAAAAA6w/jdvCk57eRqI/s1600/GetAttachment.aspx.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TQrTtMIRWqI/AAAAAAAAA6w/jdvCk57eRqI/s400/GetAttachment.aspx.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551482263991048866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-2840536414420593448?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/2840536414420593448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=2840536414420593448' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/2840536414420593448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/2840536414420593448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/12/slumber-party.html' title='Slumber party'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TQrTtMIRWqI/AAAAAAAAA6w/jdvCk57eRqI/s72-c/GetAttachment.aspx.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-1328563967263623516</id><published>2010-12-16T09:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-16T10:54:57.407-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dailard</title><content type='html'>What happens when you throw yourself a pity party? You get strep throat. Lesson learned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nonetheless, I hauled myself out of bed for my last school tour of 2010 (don't worry, January is a marathon of tours).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Dailard is in a hidden part of San Carlos and has an excellent reputation. I grew up around that  neighborhood and we happen to live about three miles away and I had no idea it even existed until recently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The principal is a young, earnest guy with kids of his own. I felt like the problems he has with his kids school in a different neighborhood are solved at Dailard. Like he hates all the nickel-and-dime fundraising he has to do and so at Dailard he asks for donations once or twice a year. He noticed that his own son didn't want to get dressed for school and wasn't talking very much in class, so he places great importance on mental health. Also, he was wearing a Red Sox lanyard, so . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing I don't like is the modular style design of the campus, to me it looks more like a college than a primary school. Like Green, the kinders are in one building and are separated by partitions, not walls. Because of this, the principal said their curriculum has to be more structured. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That being said, I found the classrooms bright, happy and not at all chaotic. Next year, all San Diego public schools are going to go to 29 students, which is very troubling to me. But I did feel this school was well equipped to handle it because partitions could be moved to fit extra kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the mental health thing. There is a room dedicated for students who may not be adjusting or perhaps they are having troubles with friends or whatever. There's a staffer who does one-on-one play and we were able to see it in action. I was incredibly impressed. I am having issues with Ella being controlling about her clothes and not talking to her teachers, so I think it struck a nerve with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other pluses: It has one of the only Dad's groups in the county, it has a strong music focus, there are other Jewish kids there, the principal knew every kids name, lots of playground space and is next door to a park.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Negatives: The 1970s modular building, the impending class sizes, I didn't really look into the upper grades program  and I've heard both great and not so great things about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end I will confidently put this one down as one of my top five choices.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-1328563967263623516?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/1328563967263623516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=1328563967263623516' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/1328563967263623516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/1328563967263623516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/12/what-happens-when-you-throw-yourself.html' title='Dailard'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-2290766406019954753</id><published>2010-12-11T13:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T14:10:20.413-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pity party</title><content type='html'>Things that have happened in December:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I got bronchitis for the third time in one year.&lt;br /&gt;2. Ella scratched my face and drew blood. &lt;br /&gt;3. Also, she won't stop crying.&lt;br /&gt;4. Survived a very awkward family blowout.&lt;br /&gt;5. Got a correction in the paper.&lt;br /&gt;6. Spilled salmon juice in my car and now it won't stop smelling gross in there.&lt;br /&gt;7. Got trapped in a silly kindergarten related fight with a friend.&lt;br /&gt;8. Had to call in sick for my first day of hospital volunteering.&lt;br /&gt;9. Was in the same room with Mike "the Situation" from Jersey Shore.&lt;br /&gt;10. I got PINKEYE and I am miserable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-2290766406019954753?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/2290766406019954753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=2290766406019954753' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/2290766406019954753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/2290766406019954753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/12/pity-party.html' title='Pity party'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-2031981072727680989</id><published>2010-12-10T10:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T13:32:46.314-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Already there. Or, a somewhat melancholy post</title><content type='html'>Earlier this week I toured the kindergarten of the school we already attend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I mentioned, we are enrolled at a private school that goes all the way to 8th grade. I don't want to say the name for safety reasons, but I felt that it would be unfair to tour all these public schools and not look at what is right there in front of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not going to go into intricate detail about the curriculum and the campus because, for one thing, the school isn't necessarily an option to the general public. But also because it's really not fair to compare public to private.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The private school classes have about 15 to 18 students in each class with two full-time teachers. And, wow. That is a crazy difference to the public ratio, which has plans to go up to 29 kindergartners and one teacher per class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will say that I loved what I saw. Totally loved it. And I think Marina would be happy because there's a big focus on art, music and a Jewish curriculum, which she loves. It's also a familiar environment and we are already part of this school's "family."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only concern I have is that the level of religion she'll get at home versus at school don't really match up. Will she start asking me why I work on Saturdays or why why eat cheeseburgers?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's a pretty minor concern, though. A bigger issue is that there's a tuition that we can't really afford. So if we make the decision to keep her where she is, we'd definitely have to apply for financial aid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What this tour really did, however, was put this entire search process in perspective. Do we really need to live in a bigger house? Do we really need to go out to dinner all the time? My mom made the sacrifice for me to go to a good school and that stayed with me longer than an extra pair of shoes or a house with a bigger room. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I see that I'm willing to do the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, I am desperately hoping to get into a charter because I think those are equally as wonderful as private. I think considering our lifestyle and our finances, a charter is our first choice.&lt;br /&gt;I will also continue to tour schools so that I can confidently fill in my application to get into one of the five best traditional public schools. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for all the kicking and screaming I did about finding the perfect kindergarten, I think one of our better and more realistic options is sitting right there in front of me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-2031981072727680989?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/2031981072727680989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=2031981072727680989' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/2031981072727680989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/2031981072727680989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/12/already-there-or-somewhat-melancholy.html' title='Already there. Or, a somewhat melancholy post'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-4744872529408399208</id><published>2010-12-02T20:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-02T21:14:23.721-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Xara Garden School</title><content type='html'>Today was the kind of day where I went to a school fully expecting it to be a joke only to find that it was everything I'm looking for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Xara Garden School is a teeny, tiny charter by my house that's located in an old church. The garden is a bunch of potted flowers and plants in the parking lot. I drive by it on the days I go to  Starbucks before work and see kids frolicking around all the time, always thinking how odd that a "garden" school doesn't have much of a garden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait. Let me back up. I actually first heard about Xara when I was covering an Earth Day festival in Balboa Park and the Xara kids, parents and teachers walked in a parade. They were playing music and giving off such a joyous energy that I wrote the school's name down in my notebook for future reference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have heard, though it's not confirmed, that the man who founded Xara is involved in the Burning Man festival. What's Burning Man? I got this from the website: "an annual experiment in temporary community dedicated to radical self-expression and radical self-reliance."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not particularly a Burning Man person, though I'm friends with plenty of people who have gone. But you can pretty much use the above statement to describe Xara, and apparently I'm all about this philosophy in a school environment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The principal said all the things I wanted to hear, like how kids will learn academics on their own time and they'd rather focus on curiosity and creativity and shift the class where the kids want to take it. This is a school, like Urban Discovery, that doesn't correct spelling at a young age so as to not limit them to use only the words they know. A kid will write extraordinary instead of good, for example, because they don't have to worry about red ink on their papers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like Burning Man, they are all about self-reliance and community. They don't raise their hands in some classes, instead they wait until there's a space for their voice. I like the idea of this, but I also worry that if you have a shy child, perhaps their voice will never be heard? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At snack time, I saw a teacher and a little boy sit at a table of food and together they figured out how to divide everything so that it would be fair to the class. They decided on one graham cracker, two apple slices and one spoonfull of almonds. I don't know why, but I loved this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing is that it had like a scatter-brained feeling about it all. The principal, who used the word "man" a few times (as in "these are kids, man") may be a bit too mellow. Plus, they're moving from their current location next year, but they don't know where yet. There's just something I don't totally trust, even though I really want to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing is that there's not much security. A friend on the tour pointed out that we're used to Jewish schools where there's fences and codes and the like. But another male friend of mine said he was curious about the school for his daughter, stopped by randomly one day and was able to walk right in without question. Do not like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I honestly went on this tour because I heard so many crazy things about it, how it's a mixture of genius and insane, and I wanted to see for myself. I didn't expect to be so conflicted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-4744872529408399208?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/4744872529408399208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=4744872529408399208' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4744872529408399208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4744872529408399208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/12/xara-garden-school.html' title='Xara Garden School'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-6932678728071337989</id><published>2010-11-24T10:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T10:51:12.021-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ella's birthday, part one</title><content type='html'>Today is Ella's third birthday! Woohoo!&lt;br /&gt;The celebrating started yesterday with a birthday party in her class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TO1cpUGh7uI/AAAAAAAAA6g/RYqxbVZIcTI/s1600/ellabday2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TO1cpUGh7uI/AAAAAAAAA6g/RYqxbVZIcTI/s400/ellabday2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543188581203439330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marina was invited to join the cookies, ice cream and fruit salad feast. It always makes me feel a bit guilty because Marina has a summer birthday and will probably never have one of these classroom parties.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TO1cpQ9605I/AAAAAAAAA6Y/Zdwy_RF_UIk/s1600/ellabday1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 160px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TO1cpQ9605I/AAAAAAAAA6Y/Zdwy_RF_UIk/s400/ellabday1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543188580362015634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a short day at school, we'll continue the party with cupcakes in La Jolla followed by a Thanksgiving/family celebration tomorrow, an actual party on Saturday and Yo Gabba Gabba on Sunday!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-6932678728071337989?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/6932678728071337989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=6932678728071337989' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6932678728071337989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6932678728071337989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/11/ellas-birthday-part-one.html' title='Ella&apos;s birthday, part one'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TO1cpUGh7uI/AAAAAAAAA6g/RYqxbVZIcTI/s72-c/ellabday2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-2289982542211885638</id><published>2010-11-18T13:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-18T19:06:10.677-08:00</updated><title type='text'>We're so smart!</title><content type='html'>I'm learning that the most annoying part of touring schools is the parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's the places I'm picking, but every time I go on a tour, a good 20 minutes is spent discussing the Advanced Placement or gifted programs. For kindergarten. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no problem with advanced curriculum, if Marina tests into those classes (which actually don't start until second or third grade), then good for her. But if she doesn't, she doesn't. I'm not one of these parents that behaves as if they've got some sort of genius child (even though I do).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The school I went to this morning was especially terrible about this. The place is called Grant Elementary and it a K-8th grade in Mission Hills, a well-to-do and trendy area of San Diego.&lt;br /&gt;I know three people who went there and they are all great, smart, funny people that I like very much. It also has high test scores and high popularity rankings and I was expecting this to be my first choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe that's why I'm extra disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I showed up five minutes late because of traffic and already they were talking about AP and GATE programs. And all the parents were asking all these ridiculous questions about tests and skill levels and are the smart kids separated from the "other" kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(There was a lot of discussion about separation at this school, actually. Smart versus regular/poor versus paid daycare/little versus big kids.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The school used to be a science magnet but the district took away its magnet status a few years ago. I asked the principal and she said they weren't bringing in enough outside students, but she also insinuated that there was some politics involved. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I also got the feeling - and this is only a gut feeling - that the neighborhood wasn't so into being diversified. One of the people on the tour was a resident and she said "so there's no bussing anymore, right?" like it was a good thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another issue is that the school isn't getting much money from the district because it's in such a wealthy neighborhood. They don't qualify for a lot of programs, like Title I, and so there's very little money for art, PE and extras. The campus isn't all that wonderful, either. Lots of trailer type classrooms. I can't even tell you what the actual rooms were like because they didn't take us inside. They didn't want to disrupt the class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I kind of tuned out when I heard that you have to apply for their after-school care. The day ends at 2:15 and there are two options for after school: the Head Start program which you have to qualify financially for and doesn't start until first grade. And a daycare that only accepts 150 students complete with a two-year waiting list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I have to point out a positive, I'll say that the kindergarten area is very cute, separate from the rest of the school and each class has its own bathroom so the kids don't have to wander around. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It does seem to have a very strong community feeling to it, but if you don't live there then what? If I did live in Mission Hills, I think I'd be perfectly happy sending my kids there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I don't. So the search goes on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-2289982542211885638?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/2289982542211885638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=2289982542211885638' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/2289982542211885638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/2289982542211885638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/11/were-so-smart.html' title='We&apos;re so smart!'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-1387666715278717973</id><published>2010-11-10T14:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-10T14:46:57.064-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween 2010</title><content type='html'>This is to prove to everyone - mostly Matt - that I don't just think about kindergarten.&lt;br /&gt;I do take time away from my own brain to celebrate certain occasions. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TNsgUgMrWVI/AAAAAAAAA6A/PJBNxBnfsSA/s1600/littlered.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 160px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TNsgUgMrWVI/AAAAAAAAA6A/PJBNxBnfsSA/s400/littlered.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538055703394736466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TNsgT1sqifI/AAAAAAAAA54/xBbn1LspTJs/s1600/alice.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 160px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TNsgT1sqifI/AAAAAAAAA54/xBbn1LspTJs/s400/alice.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538055691986176498" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TNsgTZmNuRI/AAAAAAAAA5w/mizT4DWG2sQ/s1600/GetAttachment%255B1%255D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 160px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TNsgTZmNuRI/AAAAAAAAA5w/mizT4DWG2sQ/s400/GetAttachment%255B1%255D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538055684442929426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-1387666715278717973?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/1387666715278717973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=1387666715278717973' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/1387666715278717973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/1387666715278717973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/11/halloween-2010.html' title='Halloween 2010'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TNsgUgMrWVI/AAAAAAAAA6A/PJBNxBnfsSA/s72-c/littlered.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-5939083109903008848</id><published>2010-11-08T18:57:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-08T19:31:30.106-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Green and Birney</title><content type='html'>Do you know how overwhelming it is to tour one school? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's all this stuff you have to process: the campus, the kids, the test scores, the amount of hours each one devotes to art or p.e. or music, the after-school programs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well today I made the crazy decision to tour two schools: Green and Alice Birney.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Green is a P.E. magnet very close to my house and even closer to my grandmother's. It's a wide, open campus with its own sports field and a philosophy to live healthy. The principal is super personable and embodies the school motto by getting up at 4 a.m. everyday to run before heading to campus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know why he has to get up at 4? Because the school day at Green begins at 7:30 a.m. That's not a deal-breaker for me, though. What did bother me was that the students are overwhelmingly male. It makes sense because there's tons of physical activity going on all the time and it really helps hyperactive kids focus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don't see my teeny, tiny daughter flourishing there. Even though they do gymnastics and even though they give all kids swim lessons (so awesome). I think she'd get lost among the kids, who the principal described as competitive. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The actual kindergarten classroom was laid out in a way I haven't seen. There are four separate kinders, but they are all connected by a little maze of doors. You can walk into all four classes from inside the building. I'm not sure how I feel about it, I didn't like it at first, then I did and now I'm just sort of confused all over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next was Alice Birney, an IB magnet in University Heights. It only became an IB (which is like the international equivalent of AP) last year so it's still in transition from being an under-performing urban school to a desirable magnet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kinder building is new and each class had a huge library. They also have several pretty cool vegetable gardens and I was impressed that they have a full-time counselor on staff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Matt, who came with me on this tour, pointed out that there must be a reason to keep a school counselor during such bad budget times. And there definitely was a big-city kind of feel there, which means big-city problems. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't see Marina there and Matt, who it turns out has even higher standards than I do, didn't either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Touring two places in one day did leave me with this: I believe all the schools I saw are truly trying their best. They've all got good test scores, dedicated teachers, an involved PTA. For me, these numbers and facts are just running together and it's becoming more about feeling, about where I can imagine Marina.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-5939083109903008848?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/5939083109903008848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=5939083109903008848' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5939083109903008848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5939083109903008848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/11/green-and-birney.html' title='Green and Birney'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-5448926129189852024</id><published>2010-11-02T22:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-02T22:32:36.197-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm telling</title><content type='html'>Because I really want to finish what I start, and because I don't want any kind of bad karma, I will share what I saw at Urban Discovery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The building in which it's located is really old. I used to have a pediatrician in that building and even when I was five-years-old I knew it was ancient. Also, it's directly across the street from Balboa Park, which along with being a good thing, does have it's element of sketchy characters and foot traffic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those are the things I was holding against it going in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the school is very secure. The only way in is through a front office with a giant glass window and the office people can see you coming from a good way away. Also, it was surprisingly clean and colorful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The "thing" at UD is "the whole child," which means they treat all subjects with equal importance. But it's also about making education fun. And while that's something that would seem to be all talk, like a random idea they put on the brochure, it was pretty obvious when you walked into the classrooms that they mean it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are two kindergartens and instead of learning letters, they were learning "ap" words: tap, nap, cap, etc. They had lots of projects on the walls, including science explorations and pictures from a play they had put on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We met both sets of K through 3rd grade teachers and they were all super enthusiastic and, though I didn't say this aloud, they all looked like Disney princesses. In a total, total good way - all smiles, stylish but not trendy, excited about their jobs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If there's a downside I'd say it's that they don't have a physical playground. Instead they walk across the street for recess and PE. It's kind of weird to think of my little kid crossing a busy street, but they showed us how the kids link arms in sets of three. They walk to the crosswalk and then pick a spot directly in front of the school. They don't let the kids use the public bathroom, either. They said if a kid really has to go, they call the office and an adult runs over and brings the child back to campus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing that made it pretty desirable is that there's also a preschool. So if we did end up getting chosen, there's a good chance we'd use a preschool that's in the same building (and next door to a pediatrician's office).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm done looking at charters. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I've got to concentrate on traditional public schools in my neighborhood. I've got to pick five schools and right now I'm only confident about two. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I plan to look at Hearst, Green, Daillard and ? suggestions?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-5448926129189852024?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/5448926129189852024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=5448926129189852024' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5448926129189852024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5448926129189852024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/11/im-telling.html' title='I&apos;m telling'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-8018303356192134404</id><published>2010-10-29T13:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-29T13:38:54.760-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To share or not?</title><content type='html'>Here's the thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to Urban Discovery. It was better than a French movie.&lt;br /&gt;I know I said this before but I saw myself at this place. And because it's a new school, my chances of getting in are pretty decent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So do I discuss it and hope that the karma of sharing will result in good things? Do I not talk about it for the selfish reasons of keeping applications low?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give me some time to think it over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-8018303356192134404?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/8018303356192134404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=8018303356192134404' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/8018303356192134404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/8018303356192134404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/10/to-share-or-not.html' title='To share or not?'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-4708659282233875787</id><published>2010-10-26T23:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-26T23:36:55.856-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Let's hope it's like a French movie</title><content type='html'>On Thursday I'm going to visit a school I know absolutely nothing about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the other places, I had one-word descriptions already formed: Longfellow = Spanish; Benchley = communications; Museum = awesome; you know, that kind of thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I know about Urban Discovery is that it's another charter (and another lottery) that's located directly across the street from Balboa Park. I don't really know what their "thing" is besides that it's spoken highly of by hipster and suburban moms alike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kind of like being in this situation. It's very similar to when I'd get sent to review the most random, obscure foreign films and I had no idea what to expect. Often the movies were forgettable, sometimes they were awful. But once in a while a "&lt;a target="new" href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0120449/"&gt;Dreamlife of Angels&lt;/a&gt;" showed up and completely blew me away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-4708659282233875787?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/4708659282233875787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=4708659282233875787' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4708659282233875787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4708659282233875787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/10/lets-hope-its-like-french-movie.html' title='Let&apos;s hope it&apos;s like a French movie'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-6760375365911428772</id><published>2010-10-22T09:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-22T09:57:08.919-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My birthday - a pictorial</title><content type='html'>I've been talking about having a roller skating birthday party for a good eight years. It's something that comes up, often at a bar, when I find out a friend has a birthday around the same time as mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of these talks happened at a kid-friendly yet "hipster-approved" restaurant in which Marina heard the whole conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So a few months later, when Matt asked her what we should do for my birthday, of course she said roller skating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I've always put ice above roller - especially when dealing with kids who learned how to walk relatively recently. So we headed for the ice rink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The amount of time it takes for you to look at these photos is about as long as we lasted there. It was "too cold" or "too wobbly" or "too tight" or "too hungry for a cupcake from the cupcake store upstairs."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for a few seconds, it was pure happiness. Thanks to my cousin Jacky for getting these shots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TMHAFM68yWI/AAAAAAAAA5o/YqSRdKI3tn4/s1600/photo.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TMHAFM68yWI/AAAAAAAAA5o/YqSRdKI3tn4/s400/photo.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5530913012988037474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Couples skate! I always had to sit out couples skate in high school, so this was both thrilling and foreign.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TMHAEDt4KTI/AAAAAAAAA5Q/62aiaM_PkCQ/s1600/photoice2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TMHAEDt4KTI/AAAAAAAAA5Q/62aiaM_PkCQ/s400/photoice2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5530912993337420082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TMHAEQCl3SI/AAAAAAAAA5Y/u35ZbnsVNsc/s1600/photoicecousins.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TMHAEQCl3SI/AAAAAAAAA5Y/u35ZbnsVNsc/s400/photoicecousins.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5530912996645526818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bench-warming cousins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TMHAEpvJYUI/AAAAAAAAA5g/dlO8bcT3o_I/s1600/photoicecry.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TMHAEpvJYUI/AAAAAAAAA5g/dlO8bcT3o_I/s400/photoicecry.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5530913003543290178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;. . .and, time to go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-6760375365911428772?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/6760375365911428772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=6760375365911428772' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6760375365911428772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6760375365911428772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/10/my-birthday-pictorial.html' title='My birthday - a pictorial'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TMHAFM68yWI/AAAAAAAAA5o/YqSRdKI3tn4/s72-c/photo.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-2434527689944835888</id><published>2010-10-20T20:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-21T08:38:00.648-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Someone has to get picked . . . why not me?</title><content type='html'>Museum School was great. Amazing. Spectacular.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw things happening in that kindergarten that I haven't seen in any other classrooms - lots of singing, absolutely no chaos and the cutest way to learn the alphabet, ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was almost too good to write about. Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's only about 20 spots open and more than 200 kids trying to get in. It's all chosen by a random lottery so there's nothing I can do to help my chances except what I've done. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The place looks like what I remember, down to the clocks with Hebrew letters hanging on the walls and the floor that gets too slippery when it rains. But it also has it's own vibe thanks to the bright green and orange walls, a sweet little garden and one of the coolest principals around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's other things I liked: the hours are perfect for my schedule, 9 a.m. to 4 p.m.; there's only 170 kids total in the school; they still do PE at Balboa Park; there's a kitchen/cooking class and sewing and tap and drama and gamelan instrument and art and math and writing and just about everything you'd want in a school. I also liked that the 6 to 6 program was held in a classroom rather than a giant playground where it's easy for kids to go unsupervised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I wasn't crazy about was the library, which looked EXACTLY like it did when I was there - just a few shelves of books and more of like an empty meeting space. There's a lot of construction happening on that block. And . . . I really can't think of anything else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now I wait for the lottery pick, which happens in mid-February.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in the meantime? Well, I'll keep going on tours. I've never won any sort of lottery or raffle in my life, and while I'd like to finally break that streak, I sure can't count on it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-2434527689944835888?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/2434527689944835888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=2434527689944835888' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/2434527689944835888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/2434527689944835888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/10/someone-has-to-get-picked-why-not-me.html' title='Someone has to get picked . . . why not me?'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-3265400673298848239</id><published>2010-10-19T20:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-20T20:31:31.812-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Great expectations</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow I tour a place called The Museum School and I am really, really excited about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember the idyllic elementary school experience I described a few posts ago? The one where PE was held at Balboa Park and in music class we learned how to harmonize to "&lt;a target="new" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IGg3_T_FcOQ"&gt;Stray Cat Strut&lt;/a&gt;?" Where we broke in our hiking shoes for a class trip to Yosemite by hiking up and down &lt;a target="new" href="http://sdhs1960.org/photos/yesterdaytoday_files/page4-1013-thumb.jpg"&gt;Laurel Street?&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;It was at this exact location.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back then it was called Beth Israel and it was a private school run by the synagogue next door. (Beth Israel has since moved to UTC and it only has a preschool, which we don't go to because have you sat in Golden Triangle traffic before?) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the old building now houses The Museum School, a charter that's heavily involved with the arts. I've been very intrigued with the place, especially after going to some of its fundraisers that feature amazing local artists, designers and restauranteurs. It seems like a great community of parents and teachers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I get to see what it's really all about. I'm going in fully aware that I'm putting unfair expectations on the place. I mean, I know it's not the same - but I'm hoping that it's just as happy an atmosphere that I remember from my time there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll see tomorrow if that's the case.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-3265400673298848239?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/3265400673298848239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=3265400673298848239' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/3265400673298848239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/3265400673298848239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/10/high-expectations.html' title='Great expectations'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-103477637502230212</id><published>2010-10-14T15:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-15T09:01:43.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New age, new experiences</title><content type='html'>You are looking at a soon-to-be hospital volunteer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the past many years, I've been asked what I would do if the newspaper industry came crashing down. I think people expect me to say something like write a book or become a publicist, but that's not what I say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say I want to be a nurse. &lt;br /&gt;Some people, the ones who know me pretty well, think I'm joking. And maybe the answer &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;does&lt;/span&gt; have to do a bit with the glamour of ER, my once-favorite TV show, combined with a postcard I once got when I was five-years-old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, before I wanted to be a writer, I wanted to be a nurse, but the most I ever "pursued" it was by having a pretty sweet doctor's kit. Around this time, my grandmother went on a trip and sent me a postcard of a girl wearing a nurse's uniform. I loved it so much and it clearly it set off something that I still remember it so clearly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But am I really going to invest time and money into something that I liked when I was five? Or because I thought Nurse Abby on ER was pretty great? I mean, maybe?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if I hate blood, though? Or if I get grossed out? Or just realize I &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;do not like people&lt;/span&gt;? &lt;br /&gt;That's why I enrolled in a volunteer program at a local hospital. If I like it, I can be around that atmosphere and fill that professional void I think is missing. If I hate it, well, that was that, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if  I love it, and I kind of hope I don't love it, because then I'll be in trouble. And in a lot of debt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-103477637502230212?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/103477637502230212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=103477637502230212' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/103477637502230212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/103477637502230212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/10/new-age-new-experiences.html' title='New age, new experiences'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-8623051999976403770</id><published>2010-10-09T18:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-09T20:51:28.439-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A moment of thanks</title><content type='html'>There's something I haven't mentioned yet and it's this: there is already a kindergarten where my kids go to school. In fact, it goes all the way to 8th grade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the place where they are right now. It's a completely loving environment, I was raised with many of the parents who send their kids there and I feel like the education is top-notch. I couldn't ask for anything more. &lt;br /&gt;(Well, except for fewer holidays - I never realized my people had so many occasions to take a day off.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I feel like after I write about a new kindergarten, it makes things awkward when friends from our school read about it. And I just want to say that  I'm so grateful for the relationships we've formed there - especially with the teachers - and it's going to be pretty painful to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we do have to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuition almost doubles for kindergarten. It's already a pretty big strain to send two kids at the preschool price - doubling it would be the end of fun at our house. There would be no gymnastics lessons, no new dresses at Old Navy, no stop at Starbucks for "chocolate/vanilla milk in a box," nothing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We could apply for a scholarship, I know. It is something that's been in the back of my mind - especially after yesterday's incident where a man shot bullets into a Carlsbad elementary school. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I guess, really, anything could happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But whatever the outcome, I guess I just wanted to take a minute to recognize the amazing place that takes care of my girls each day and lets me do my work without ever having to worry about their well-being. I would name it, but if you hadn't already figured out, I've got stranger danger issues. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The school has helped shape my daughters into the strong, funny, imaginative little people they're becoming. Thank you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-8623051999976403770?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/8623051999976403770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=8623051999976403770' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/8623051999976403770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/8623051999976403770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/10/moment-of-thanks.html' title='A moment of thanks'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-5201443592652954880</id><published>2010-10-07T16:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T16:20:07.727-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TK5VqPAAtNI/AAAAAAAAA5A/jRhTmiQrd3w/s1600/1007001617-707728.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TK5VqPAAtNI/AAAAAAAAA5A/jRhTmiQrd3w/s320/1007001617-707728.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525447976899622098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;sisters waiting for their first gymnastics lesson&lt;p&gt;This message has been sent using the picture and Video service from Verizon Wireless!&lt;p&gt;To learn how you can snap pictures and capture videos with your wireless phone visit &lt;a href="http://www.verizonwireless.com/picture"&gt;www.verizonwireless.com/picture&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;p&gt;Note: To play video messages sent to email, Quicktime@ 6.5 or higher is required.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-5201443592652954880?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/5201443592652954880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=5201443592652954880' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5201443592652954880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5201443592652954880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/10/sisters-waiting-for-their-first.html' title=''/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TK5VqPAAtNI/AAAAAAAAA5A/jRhTmiQrd3w/s72-c/1007001617-707728.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-211668739937359421</id><published>2010-10-07T10:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T16:54:53.217-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The one?</title><content type='html'>Today's school search took me to Benchley-Weinberger, a communications magnet that's about five minutes away from where we live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't expecting much, especially since Hearst is pretty much the star of our neighborhood. It's also, in the back of my mind, where the girls will probably end up going and where we'll eventually move so we can get in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I walk into the Benchley auditorium and they're playing this video about how great the school is, and the music it's set to is that ukelele version of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," you know, &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/8578344"&gt;the one they played on ER when Dr. Greene died&lt;/a&gt;? Ever since that episode, that song just gets me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the talk, they mentioned all these awards and test scores and blah blah blah. They talked a lot about communication, which means, yes, the kids do put out a newspaper and also a news broadcast. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But! Wait, it's not like that. I certainly do not want to encourage my children to work at a place where you devote hours and hours and can barely afford to pay the rent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I did like the communication aspect where they pair up younger kids to work with older ones, as well as doing class plays and school assemblies. I was surprised to see that they had some pretty cool after-school programs, too, like yoga, art and . . . Spanish classes! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it's already looking perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kindergarten is a bit separate from the main school - they have their own playground, garden and even little bathrooms. And it was hidden from the street, which is something I didn't like about Longfellow. At Longfellow the kindergarten playground was totally visible and any old creepmaster could just come right up and talk to the kids. Not that this happens or anything, but it happens in my imagination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inside, there was no chaos. The rooms were clean. The kids looked happy. I didn't have the feeling that the teachers were overwhelmed and not totally in control, which is sort of what I felt at Longfellow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They showed me a music room and met the new music teacher, Miss Marina (see? perfect!) and inside she had everything from xylophones and triangles to bongo drums and maracas. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what got me was the library. You don't even know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The library at Benchley is, like, 100 times nicer than the Kensington library, where we usually go. They have rows and rows of books, all neatly arranged and cozy. They even had some Roald Dahl books I've never even seen before and got a vision of Marina sitting in a chair, reading it one day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved this school. It felt warm and friendly and happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, there's bad news. Because I live so close to it, the chances of me getting in are very low. I am in cluster one, which is the cluster they pick the fewest students from. But, after a quick search on Craigslist, it seems that living in San Carlos is so much cheaper than living in Del Cerro, anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next stop: Museum School on Oct. 20. There's going to be a lot to say about this one, which, right now is where I really really want the girls to go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-211668739937359421?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/211668739937359421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=211668739937359421' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/211668739937359421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/211668739937359421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/10/one.html' title='The one?'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-4665206632990430146</id><published>2010-10-04T19:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-04T20:27:19.423-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm still here</title><content type='html'>It's been almost two months since I posted. Wow, I didn't realize that. I thought it was only a few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a long while, I was very reluctant to continue this blog. Something happened at work that made me reconsider sharing much about my personal life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And for now, I'm going to be writing a lot about schools because I'm kind of obsessed with finding the perfect kindergarten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't go to public elementary school. And what's more, I loved the place where I went so much that I think I'm holding it up to a ridiculous standard that no school will ever meet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My third through sixth grade experience was magical. It was a small, start-up school a few blocks away from Balboa Park. The airplanes would roar above us during quiet time; we'd take our snacks to the &lt;a target="new" href="http://www.hillquest.com/history/spruce.html"&gt;suspension bridge&lt;/a&gt;; art class was on the sidewalk outside the &lt;a target="new" href="http://www.brittscripps.com/index-2.html"&gt;Britt House&lt;/a&gt;;  we'd have P.E. in the park and have to move the homeless out of the way, which was a weird lesson in appreciating what we had and gave us an early sense of compassion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately that school is gone. Well, sort of gone. (More on that another day.) And we can't afford to do private education for two girls. So I've been really stressed about finding a place that will give them even a tiny bit of what I had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm on a mission, I'm touring schools. And today I visited my first one: Longfellow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Longfellow is a Spanish immersion school in Clairemont that's designed for English speakers. They teach the required curriculum only in Spanish from K through 3rd grade and then bring in English bit by bit after that.  Because I don't speak Spanish to the girls, or at least not enough, I thought sending them to a place where they'll just be around it would be ideal. I still think that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really liked the idea of the school and I also like how it goes up to 8th grade; like if you go there from K-8 you'll be part of a community. But I didn't love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know, that part of Clairemont really confuses me, I can't get a read on it. Like why do so many people there own boats? And why is there one mansion next door to three creepy rickety houses? That's just me being weird though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kindergarten classes were really, really chaotic. The kids seemed to be running around doing their own thing with only one or two teachers to watch. Again, this is probably due to the California budget more than anything else. I was on a tour with another mom who is also a teacher and she asked to see a first grade class. It was a good call as those classes felt much more structured.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Granted, the kindergarten class has only been in session for a month and the recruiter said that most kids have a really hard time their first few weeks. They're around a new language at a new school and their brains just get worked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as of now, I'm not going to rule out Longfellow but it probably won't be our first choice, either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next tour: Benchley Weinberger - a communications magnet in our general neighborhood - on Thursday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-4665206632990430146?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/4665206632990430146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=4665206632990430146' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4665206632990430146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4665206632990430146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/10/im-still-here.html' title='I&apos;m still here'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-1291967857445123806</id><published>2010-08-14T20:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-14T20:48:22.559-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vacation: day one (Saturday)</title><content type='html'>You can blame me for the worst start to a vacation in the history of vacations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm the one who took Marina to her four-year-old checkup without realizing that, HOLYCRAP, they give you lots of shots at this one. Not since her baby days was the kid stuck so much with a needle. And after the first one, Marina wasn't having it. She screamed and cried and yelled and announced, "I do not want this" about a million times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But those nurses are sneaky. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today Marina was all fevery and crabby and blah. At one point I looked in the playroom and she was just laying there on the floor, her belly on the ground and her arms and legs spread out like a starfish. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then her mood just oozed onto all of us. And there was no food in the house. And the Padres lost. And that was the first day of our vacation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-1291967857445123806?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/1291967857445123806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=1291967857445123806' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/1291967857445123806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/1291967857445123806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/08/vacation-day-one-saturday.html' title='Vacation: day one (Saturday)'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-2834045914393615497</id><published>2010-08-11T20:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-11T20:56:55.938-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Meal time(s)</title><content type='html'>Remember when I wrote that article that made everyone in San Diego upset because OMG I make two dinners sometimes: one for the kids and one for me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All those letters and comments got me thinking that maybe I should change my ways. And for a while I only made one dinner. And then I gained, like, five extra pounds. And so you know what haters? I'm over it. If I want to make two dinners, I'm going to make two dinners.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TGNvZOfVBGI/AAAAAAAAA4w/cwIEzTa9UiY/s1600/0811001809.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TGNvZOfVBGI/AAAAAAAAA4w/cwIEzTa9UiY/s400/0811001809.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504365648753788002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-2834045914393615497?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/2834045914393615497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=2834045914393615497' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/2834045914393615497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/2834045914393615497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/08/meal-times.html' title='Meal time(s)'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TGNvZOfVBGI/AAAAAAAAA4w/cwIEzTa9UiY/s72-c/0811001809.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-852535104320923269</id><published>2010-08-11T08:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-11T09:02:34.124-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sick</title><content type='html'>When I last wrote a post on this blog (which I sent via text message and thought I was pretty clever), I was sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the first day that I was sick. I got something weird from working Comic-Con, an assignment that involved me tracking down a stabber and then photographing him. For that, I got my first photo credit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I have also been sick since. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been on antibiotics, steroids, rest and work. Nothing seems to be working.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when we do something like get Ella a new bed, or take a family trip to Coronado on the ferry or go watch Ramona and Beezus after school one day, I'm too wiped to talk about it after the fact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm off to the doctor. Hopefully we'll get my breathing issues back on track in time for Mexican vacation next week! Woooo!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-852535104320923269?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/852535104320923269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=852535104320923269' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/852535104320923269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/852535104320923269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/08/sick.html' title='Sick'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-2127806845384266221</id><published>2010-07-26T20:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-26T20:32:24.776-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>hello. matt and i are on a date! in anaheim. watching red sox.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-2127806845384266221?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/2127806845384266221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=2127806845384266221' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/2127806845384266221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/2127806845384266221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/07/hello.html' title=''/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-4160695094031570807</id><published>2010-07-19T21:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-19T21:13:55.350-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A roomfull of Garins</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TEUg19JNomI/AAAAAAAAA4g/fzSDYNTizyE/s1600/DSC_0004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 269px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TEUg19JNomI/AAAAAAAAA4g/fzSDYNTizyE/s400/DSC_0004.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495835031593919074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last time my brother was in this house, he was about a year old and had swallowed a bunch of pills that he found on a night stand. After 28 years, the experience of being in our Ensenada grandmother's house was less stressful, but still kinda Twilight Zoney.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then this happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TEUiCixkzZI/AAAAAAAAA4o/6o2MAqrur3M/s1600/DSC_0013.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 269px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TEUiCixkzZI/AAAAAAAAA4o/6o2MAqrur3M/s400/DSC_0013.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495836347365379474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-4160695094031570807?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/4160695094031570807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=4160695094031570807' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4160695094031570807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/4160695094031570807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/07/roomfull-of-garins.html' title='A roomfull of Garins'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TEUg19JNomI/AAAAAAAAA4g/fzSDYNTizyE/s72-c/DSC_0004.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-8934834420888095234</id><published>2010-07-14T22:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-14T22:38:18.218-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The coolest person we've ever encountered</title><content type='html'>On our way to dinner tonight, the girls and I saw a group of people clustered on the sidewalk staring at the side of a building. I saw some familiar faces, so we went over to investigate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And look who it was!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TD6ZdMADLNI/AAAAAAAAA3w/V_EIFbTFc5s/s1600/GetAttachment-2.aspx.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TD6ZdMADLNI/AAAAAAAAA3w/V_EIFbTFc5s/s400/GetAttachment-2.aspx.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493997322155273426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The artist/muralist/&lt;a target="new" href="http://tonyserve.files.wordpress.com/2009/01/shepard-fairey-barack-obama-11.jpg"&gt;Obama poster&lt;/a&gt; creator, Shepard Fairey! He's back in town for an art exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Art and has been putting up graffiti art all around San Diego.&lt;br /&gt;Apparently lots of people knew this would be happening, but it took me completely by surprise. And it was almost as exciting as the time Tony Hawk stood next to me at The Strokes concert and I couldn't pay attention to the show because, holy crap, Tony Hawk is standing next to me, and who knew he was so tall?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, first Shepard painted the building in deep brown and red shades. Then he took some stencils that were pre-cut with swirls and things like his Obey star logo and he spray painted over them onto the wall.  You can see half of the star on the top, left hand square below.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stencils were kept in the office of a local publicist I know, so she let us have a closer look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TD6ZdqFy_pI/AAAAAAAAA34/DLuFCn7QaMo/s1600/GetAttachment-3.aspx.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TD6ZdqFy_pI/AAAAAAAAA34/DLuFCn7QaMo/s400/GetAttachment-3.aspx.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493997330232442514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;And off it goes to the brick wall. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TD6Zc_O8w1I/AAAAAAAAA3o/sd72ZeHwVTo/s1600/GetAttachment-1.aspx.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TD6Zc_O8w1I/AAAAAAAAA3o/sd72ZeHwVTo/s400/GetAttachment-1.aspx.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493997318728106834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the restaurant, there were a bunch of local artists selling t-shirts and books and paintings, which is why we were there in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;Inspired by the mural, the girls went into a magical metallic Air Stream trailer where there was a paper mural people could draw on. With Sharpies! Do you know how exciting that is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then they made tiny t-shirt projects. Ella displayed hers on the wall, like you were supposed to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TD6ZeyCw1hI/AAAAAAAAA4I/jrCHFspz2nY/s1600/GetAttachment-6.aspx.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TD6ZeyCw1hI/AAAAAAAAA4I/jrCHFspz2nY/s400/GetAttachment-6.aspx.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493997349547070994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marina wanted to keep hers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TD6ZeRR6fJI/AAAAAAAAA4A/lEnyxZC4IUg/s1600/GetAttachment-5.aspx.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TD6ZeRR6fJI/AAAAAAAAA4A/lEnyxZC4IUg/s400/GetAttachment-5.aspx.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493997340752247954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On our way back to the car, we stopped to check the progress of the mural and that's how I got this money shot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TD6cdrDbpmI/AAAAAAAAA4Y/ULBnObXk60U/s1600/GetAttachment.aspx.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TD6cdrDbpmI/AAAAAAAAA4Y/ULBnObXk60U/s400/GetAttachment.aspx.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494000629025842786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-8934834420888095234?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/8934834420888095234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=8934834420888095234' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/8934834420888095234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/8934834420888095234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/07/coolest-person-weve-ever-encountered.html' title='The coolest person we&apos;ve ever encountered'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TD6ZdMADLNI/AAAAAAAAA3w/V_EIFbTFc5s/s72-c/GetAttachment-2.aspx.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-5756027992754650593</id><published>2010-07-12T19:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T22:12:25.338-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kind of like that movie, Cocoon</title><content type='html'>I had the morning to myself on Sunday and rather than spend it watching TV and playing iPod solitaire, I went to a yoga class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I only had a short window. The girls were at the movies with Diana, the most awesome teacher in the universe. Matt was playing soccer. And the World Cup finals were starting at 11:30. (Aside: I picked Spain to win it all on day 1. Wooo.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the only yoga class happening at 10 a.m. was something called NIA, which was described as a mixture of yoga, martial arts and jazz dance. Hmmm. That should have stopped me right there. But a kick-boxing class kind of uses those elements, too, sometimes, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It didn't bother me that I was 20 years younger than everyone. It didn't even bother me that the instructor had dreadlocks and yoga pants with black, flowing gauzy stuff at the bottom. So that when she moved the gauzy things made waves. Well, the pants did bother me somewhat, but not enough to walk out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first 25 minutes or so were typical aerobics class stuff. Yoga set to synchronized steps and a lot of it required hip-shaking. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then. It was time for the "free dance" portion. Yes. Free dance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm not opposed to free dance. Just that morning, Ella and I were free dancing to the Chemical Brothers' "Hey Girl, Hey Boy." We were pretending we were at a rave and we built up to the big beat and everything. It was amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Free dancing in a room full of silver-haired strangers, however, was a different ordeal. Like, all of a sudden these ladies began to fling their arms about and skip around the room. Sometimes they'd stop and pose. One lady stood in place and did, like, a Deadhead type of spin. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me? I was horrified. I stood in the corner and shifted from side to side, the same thing I did when I went to my first dance. I didn't make eye contact with anyone. I waited and waited for the song to end. It had to end soon right? Right??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It finally did end. And guess what? There was ANOTHER free dance! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should have walked out. Any sane person would have. But the writer/observer side of me took over and I just couldn't leave. What if something even more ridiculous happens and I miss it? Well, something else did happen. One of the ladies, the sweetest looking one who wore an old-school sweatband, she got on the floor and started writhing around on the floor. Like a snake. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm all for people expressing themselves. And I think it's cool that these women have this outlet. But if NIA class taught me anything it's that I'm a person who likes structure. Apparently, I like things done a certain way. I like rules. And at yoga, the rules should not include a Dance Jam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/gxuaIvHg0cg&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1?color1=0xcc2550&amp;amp;color2=0xe87a9f"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/gxuaIvHg0cg&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1?color1=0xcc2550&amp;amp;color2=0xe87a9f" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-5756027992754650593?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/5756027992754650593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=5756027992754650593' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5756027992754650593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5756027992754650593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/07/kind-of-like-that-movie-cocoon.html' title='Kind of like that movie, Cocoon'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-3638622804811977842</id><published>2010-06-29T19:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-29T19:55:14.341-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In which I get a little too into parties</title><content type='html'>I never knew I would spend a Saturday afternoon baking 50 cupcakes, half of them made from scratch with lemon zest and two varieties of homemade icing: raspberry and lemon. I didn't think I would make 30 sandwiches and cut them into circles and flowers. Or spend days and days in thrift stores accumulating 25 teacups for the kids to take home. But I did. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, folks, I am a mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TCqveou1hgI/AAAAAAAAA24/allKlUmIxOw/s1600/100_0520.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TCqveou1hgI/AAAAAAAAA24/allKlUmIxOw/s400/100_0520.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488392036769170946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TCqvfogq-1I/AAAAAAAAA3I/AQJV-QdkXcM/s1600/100_0542.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TCqvfogq-1I/AAAAAAAAA3I/AQJV-QdkXcM/s400/100_0542.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488392053889629010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TCqvfCzZB1I/AAAAAAAAA3A/n0pEjm7BZgU/s1600/100_0531.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TCqvfCzZB1I/AAAAAAAAA3A/n0pEjm7BZgU/s400/100_0531.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488392043767596882" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Matt, as always, is awesome dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TCqwTTL8E5I/AAAAAAAAA3g/qbnHLSgpurQ/s1600/100_0552.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TCqwTTL8E5I/AAAAAAAAA3g/qbnHLSgpurQ/s400/100_0552.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488392941518721938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-3638622804811977842?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/3638622804811977842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=3638622804811977842' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/3638622804811977842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/3638622804811977842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/06/in-which-i-get-little-too-into-parties.html' title='In which I get a little too into parties'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TCqveou1hgI/AAAAAAAAA24/allKlUmIxOw/s72-c/100_0520.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-6279620521931898582</id><published>2010-06-28T20:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-28T20:47:21.549-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The lost photos</title><content type='html'>I can't find my camera and for Marina's birthday party I had to borrow my grandmother's.&lt;br /&gt;I don't think she's ever uploaded a single photo and and hidden inside the memory card were some never-before seen gems like these:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TClsOBRvB-I/AAAAAAAAA2w/_NbrWYDT4xg/s1600/100_0180.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TClsOBRvB-I/AAAAAAAAA2w/_NbrWYDT4xg/s400/100_0180.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488036609044449250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TClr371_79I/AAAAAAAAA2o/Go1kJhPqzr4/s1600/100_0386.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TClr371_79I/AAAAAAAAA2o/Go1kJhPqzr4/s400/100_0386.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488036229628817362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TClr2109vjI/AAAAAAAAA2g/aRZVE13MhRw/s1600/100_0381.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TClr2109vjI/AAAAAAAAA2g/aRZVE13MhRw/s400/100_0381.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488036210833997362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-6279620521931898582?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/6279620521931898582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=6279620521931898582' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6279620521931898582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/6279620521931898582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/06/lost-photos.html' title='The lost photos'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TClsOBRvB-I/AAAAAAAAA2w/_NbrWYDT4xg/s72-c/100_0180.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-7246884971879758553</id><published>2010-06-24T19:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-24T23:06:41.687-07:00</updated><title type='text'>College-bound</title><content type='html'>Ever since we saw Toy Story 3, where Andy goes off to college, the girls have been asking me lots of questions about college, especially the concept of sleep-away school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marina: Did you go to sleep-away college?&lt;br /&gt;Me: No, I went to stay-at-home college, but Daddy went to sleep-away college.&lt;br /&gt;Marina: Um . . . I think I will go to stay-at-home college.&lt;br /&gt;Me: OK.&lt;br /&gt;Marina: What is sleep-away college like?&lt;br /&gt;Me: If you go to sleep-away college you get to go to bed whenever you want. You get to watch TV whenever you want. And if you want to eat candy for dinner, you can.&lt;br /&gt;Ella: I'M GOING TO SLEEP-AWAY COLLEGE.&lt;br /&gt;Marina: And if we go to stay-at-home college can we do that?&lt;br /&gt;Me: No, you will still have to follow the rules.&lt;br /&gt;Marina: OK, I will go to sleep-away college.&lt;br /&gt;Ella: I'M NEVER GOING TO BED!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-7246884971879758553?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/7246884971879758553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=7246884971879758553' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7246884971879758553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7246884971879758553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/06/college-bound.html' title='College-bound'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-5122756206091386343</id><published>2010-06-19T22:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-19T23:00:45.524-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wiped</title><content type='html'>So this is how June 2010 has evolved so far:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends at work got laid off, others took drastic pay cuts, the girls got stomach bugs and, on top of that, the entire city of San Diego judged me because I wrote &lt;a target="new" href="http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/2010/jun/16/mission-feed-the-fussy-rookie-cook/"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; article.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am drained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing keeping our house sane is World Cup soccer, which has been totally fun and exciting. Or maybe I'm saying that because Mexico won when no one thought they would, and it came on pretty much the worst day, ever, and instilled a weird sense of hope in me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, here is a picture of a good day. And I'm posting it even though people are going to be all upset that we take our kids to Pinkberry. We do, everyone! And then later we bathe them in high fructose corn syrup!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TB2tvpQjfZI/AAAAAAAAA2Y/u87kgPTGE6E/s1600/GetAttachment.aspx.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TB2tvpQjfZI/AAAAAAAAA2Y/u87kgPTGE6E/s400/GetAttachment.aspx.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484730955247877522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-5122756206091386343?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/5122756206091386343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=5122756206091386343' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5122756206091386343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5122756206091386343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/06/wiped.html' title='Wiped'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/TB2tvpQjfZI/AAAAAAAAA2Y/u87kgPTGE6E/s72-c/GetAttachment.aspx.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-178415679438835877</id><published>2010-06-05T15:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-05T15:45:42.803-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First Hall Movie</title><content type='html'>While I was on assignment today, I got this little gem sent to my phone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="400" height="326" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-9816261f7e2df3e3" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v20.nonxt6.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D9816261f7e2df3e3%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330161806%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D500034C6041EC31E8C200C8155F3D7DE7DE8BA03.1435393D85B30D257673008A5F78615AA5685E92%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D9816261f7e2df3e3%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DheCLl64u_kA5hisT1rCvsFcPy0U&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="400" height="326" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v20.nonxt6.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D9816261f7e2df3e3%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330161806%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D500034C6041EC31E8C200C8155F3D7DE7DE8BA03.1435393D85B30D257673008A5F78615AA5685E92%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D9816261f7e2df3e3%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DheCLl64u_kA5hisT1rCvsFcPy0U&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;first hall movie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-178415679438835877?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/178415679438835877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=178415679438835877' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/178415679438835877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/178415679438835877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/06/fwdfirst-hall-movie.html' title='First Hall Movie'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-7087562936960739044</id><published>2010-06-03T19:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-03T20:07:19.988-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Here we are again</title><content type='html'>So, it's June again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And while the first three days have been non-eventful, save for some super cranky mornings, I know that this particular June will be filled with lots of change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As many people already know, it's a given that something bad usually happens to me in June, things so terrible I would never write about them on a blog. And because of those dark and scary things, I have an irrational fear of this month even though Matt proposed to me on June 1 in the hopes that he could make it better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I know for sure things are happening where I work this month. I don't know how it will play out, but perhaps because I know it's coming in June, I'm not so wrapped up in my hatred of the month. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today I decided to celebrate the start of summer. I cleaned out our little baby pool, filled it with water and watched the girls splash about while I sat in the warm evening sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's June.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-7087562936960739044?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/7087562936960739044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=7087562936960739044' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7087562936960739044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/7087562936960739044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/06/june.html' title='Here we are again'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-3557519587448399344</id><published>2010-05-26T19:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T20:15:53.882-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ella's birthday</title><content type='html'>It isn't actually until November but we're already so! super! excited! because we got tickets to the Yo Gabba Gabba! live show!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wooo! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's happening four days after Ella's turns three. At such an early age, the girls will go to the magical arena that holds many of my favorite memories. Like Harlem Globe Trotters games. Or the Ice Capades. And later, much later, INXS and Depeche Mode concerts where I'd spend waaaay too much money on programs and posters.&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad to be taking the girls to their first Sports Arena experience, if only so that when they one day watch "Almost Famous," they can say "that's the Sports Arena! In this movie! I've been there! My home town is famous! And I'm famous, too!" Or maybe that's just me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway,  I'm looking forward to Yo Gabba Gabba the same way I'd look forward to an actual, grownup concert with rum drinks and too much feedback.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just watch one of my favorite clips and you'll see why:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a target="new" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RjFPDUi6Rd4"&gt;DON'T EAT ME, I'M DIRTY!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To summarize:&lt;br /&gt;1. Good lessons! Especially for clean freaks.&lt;br /&gt;2. Bright colors. And lots of orange.&lt;br /&gt;3. Complex indie-esque song structures&lt;br /&gt;4. Talking crackers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-3557519587448399344?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/3557519587448399344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=3557519587448399344' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/3557519587448399344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/3557519587448399344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/05/ellas-birthday.html' title='Ella&apos;s birthday'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-8697759178070817582</id><published>2010-05-23T18:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-23T19:01:57.007-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday night dinner</title><content type='html'>Remember that cooking series I'm doing for the newspaper? Another installment is set to run in June and I have not been doing any fancy kitchen stuff lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, I haven't been doing much of anything. No cooking. No cleaning. No exercise. No nothing. And after a few months of this malaise, I think I'm finally over it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tonight, in honor of my new attitude, and to celebrate the amazingly clean car I now have, I made a lovely dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/S_nbqLkCX3I/AAAAAAAAA2I/j5GjLDeyync/s1600/GetAttachment-6.aspx.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/S_nbqLkCX3I/AAAAAAAAA2I/j5GjLDeyync/s400/GetAttachment-6.aspx.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474648339750477682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mini cheeseburgers and strawberry-feta salad. Please note we are using the fancy wedding china. And, yes, some of the fancy wedding china has polka dots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/S_nbqREKwPI/AAAAAAAAA2Q/CRd13DUioJ0/s1600/GetAttachment-5.aspx.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/S_nbqREKwPI/AAAAAAAAA2Q/CRd13DUioJ0/s400/GetAttachment-5.aspx.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474648341227421938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And a strawberry sorbet pie. Sorry for the sideways tilt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-8697759178070817582?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/8697759178070817582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=8697759178070817582' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/8697759178070817582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/8697759178070817582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/05/sunday-night-dinner.html' title='Sunday night dinner'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/S_nbqLkCX3I/AAAAAAAAA2I/j5GjLDeyync/s72-c/GetAttachment-6.aspx.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-337321935259157020</id><published>2010-05-22T12:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T12:42:56.571-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My new favorite picture</title><content type='html'>She's not the easiest two-year-old in the world. Like if she's putting on her dress (which can only be short-sleeved and twirly) and, say, her arm goes through the neck hole rather than the arm hole, and you try to help her out of the predicament, she will collapse on the floor and cry because of the implication that she can't do it herself. And don't expect her to hold your hand crossing the street, even if it's really busy. She won't wear diapers anymore, either, instead we have to invest in the prettier princess "training pants."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when she wants to smile, get ready, because she gives it everything she's got.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/S_gx7svv5II/AAAAAAAAA2A/FdP4W019lyc/s1600/bells22.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/S_gx7svv5II/AAAAAAAAA2A/FdP4W019lyc/s400/bells22.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474180248762311810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;(Thanks to Mops for the photo, which was taken on her wedding day.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-337321935259157020?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/337321935259157020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=337321935259157020' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/337321935259157020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/337321935259157020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-new-favorite-picture.html' title='My new favorite picture'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/S_gx7svv5II/AAAAAAAAA2A/FdP4W019lyc/s72-c/bells22.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-5259975962227841207</id><published>2010-05-16T06:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-16T07:03:40.659-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The psychology of a zoo trip</title><content type='html'>All these road trips up and down California have made quite an impact on Marina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/S-_4cv8AdBI/AAAAAAAAA14/WsABWoUjpDo/s1600/GetAttachment.aspx.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/S-_4cv8AdBI/AAAAAAAAA14/WsABWoUjpDo/s400/GetAttachment.aspx.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471865245066621970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now that Ella's given up her pacifier, she's taken an interest in all things nature. Which mostly means she refuses to wear shoes, pants or diapers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/S-_4cBqAxwI/AAAAAAAAA1w/2H1l9o80brI/s1600/GetAttachment-1.aspx.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/S-_4cBqAxwI/AAAAAAAAA1w/2H1l9o80brI/s400/GetAttachment-1.aspx.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471865232643114754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-5259975962227841207?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/5259975962227841207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=5259975962227841207' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5259975962227841207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/5259975962227841207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/05/psychology-of-zoo-trip.html' title='The psychology of a zoo trip'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rdLkU-rB6nE/S-_4cv8AdBI/AAAAAAAAA14/WsABWoUjpDo/s72-c/GetAttachment.aspx.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-769594364958864442</id><published>2010-04-25T17:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-25T17:13:15.620-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A list of good things</title><content type='html'>The past few weeks have been pretty crappy. And when I say crappy, realize that I'm sugar-coating it with whipped cream and a cherry on top.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this weekend some good things happened and so I will document them in list form:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* The girls and I went to Cups, a cupcake place in La Jolla and we loved it because it was pink and they were playing Modest Mouse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Then we walked around downtown La Jolla and when we were in front of the Armani Exchange store, Ella insisted we go in to see "the pretty dresses."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* We got hamburgers at Smashburger and had more fun smashing our burgers than actually eating them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Finally, I convinced the girls that dresses at American Apparel were much better than the ones at Armani Exchange and so they picked purple ballerina ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* The family created letter day. Saturday was brought to you by the letter, "M" (of course).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Stop 1: The Mission for breakfast&lt;br /&gt;* Stop 2: Children's Museum where we made masks!&lt;br /&gt;* Stop 3: Mamma Mia's pizza for dinner; Mariposa ice cream for dessert&lt;br /&gt;* Stop 4: Music at the Adams Avenue Roots Fest (where we saw John Doe and Marina and Ella threw the skirts of their ballerina dresses over their faces, exposing their underwear (or training pants) for all to see, and then went on to shake their "bums").&lt;br /&gt;* Stop 6: Med, goodnight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-769594364958864442?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/769594364958864442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=769594364958864442' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/769594364958864442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/769594364958864442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/04/list-of-good-things.html' title='A list of good things'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-1951220766366750673</id><published>2010-04-17T21:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-17T21:50:02.024-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In defense of diapers</title><content type='html'>Ella has decided to potty train herself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not something I want. Changing diapers is so much easier than living under constant fear of urine. And, also, you look like a total jackass saying, "do you have to go potty" every five minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Ella, who by the way is the most stubborn person in the world and I should have realized this when she decided to be born two weeks late, is totally over diapers. But she's also not into potties. So for the last week, the kid's been going through, I kid you not, eight pairs of "underpants" a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At night, it's the worst. THE WORST.&lt;br /&gt;We fight about diapers versus non-diapers and I leave the room shaking, defeated and in tears. Every night!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then deep down I think, holy crap, if she's this much of a brat now, I am so not ready for the night I tell her she isn't allowed to go see UB40 at the Sports Arena even though she already bought tickets and her friends are waiting outside in the white convertible Cabriolet. Oh, wait, what?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-1951220766366750673?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/1951220766366750673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=1951220766366750673' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/1951220766366750673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/1951220766366750673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/04/in-defense-of-diapers.html' title='In defense of diapers'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7910058513237203928.post-2839503282414320381</id><published>2010-04-16T22:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-16T23:00:10.552-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A favor</title><content type='html'>Someone, please, tell Ella to chill out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7910058513237203928-2839503282414320381?l=costofbeans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/feeds/2839503282414320381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7910058513237203928&amp;postID=2839503282414320381' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/2839503282414320381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7910058513237203928/posts/default/2839503282414320381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costofbeans.blogspot.com/2010/04/favor.html' title='A favor'/><author><name>nina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11553363227636000703</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
