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Projection keyboard
Check out Dave's first grade class picture. I have a picture that looks so much like that one it isn't even funny. I'm about Dave's age, less than a year older. Being in the same generation probably is one of the reasons I tune in to his attitudes and opinions, even though I know I'm tuning into a virtual Dave. I really like knowing people older and younger than me. It gives you a varied perspective on things, and you can give the older and younger people your perspective, but there is something special about the shared experience of growing up in the same generation. I was in a conference room the other day waiting for some meeting goers to show up and four of us were talking about music. I felt a strong bond with my contemporaries, but didn't encourage the gen-xer to speak. Then there's politics. I never lost the radical bent I acquired when they were gunning down my kind, and I always like to run into another old hippie who still remembers how to smile on your brother, everybody get together and so on. MySpace security chief named -- and my life as a vigilante mom NYT story. I suppose it's the smart move to hire a former federal prosecuter. It will be good to put some teeth into the rules. You have to wonder if it's window dressing to protect equity. I'm inclined to think a pack of vigilante moms might be more effective in getting to the real goal of protecting kids. I was a vigilante mom, born out of circumstance. When Adam, my 21-year-old, was seven he was hit by a car on our street in Western Springs, IL. It should have been a sleepy little street, but it was parallel to, and a block away from, a major surface street. Wolf Road, if you know suburban Chicago. He broke a leg, and over the night of the accident when the scan results were contradictory, we were worried about brain damage . Such a night I hope never to spend again. The driver was in a hurry. She just had been ticketed for speeding a half-hour before hitting Adam. She was using our street as a way to avoid Wolf Road traffic. Maybe she hoped to get to where she was going a minute early. The accident caused me to change my behavior in two ways: 1. I stopped hurrying because think of the possible cost for getting there a minute early. 2. I started patrolling our street. I didn't go out on shifts, I didn't get that nuts, but when I was driving on the street, I went 15 mph. Many times drivers in a hurry would get angry and try to pass me. If I could, I'd get out of the car and confront them, tell about what rushing did to Adam, and ask them to avoid the street in the future if they couldn't maintain a tranquil mood while there. Then I'd say "thank you" and look them square in the eye. If they blinked or glanced away, I'd feel I had made a connection with somebody who had a heart. Moms might not be able to get through to pedophiles, but they could talk to kid bloggers, and the visible presence of a determined mompack might be something of a deterrent to scumbags. 80% percent serious I'm pretty seriously thinking about blogging here exclusively. It's just so much more efficient. Gotta figure out how to coordinate it, though. I'm not sure I want to map my learnandteachonline.com domain. Pulling strings Hil's world puppetrey directory is a good use of the technology. I see she's using my idea to include formatting instructions in the outline. Personally, I'd put that stuff at the bottom, according to a sort of inverted pyramid, good-stuff-above-the fold principle. Hil, I'm going to try to make it to chat tonight. Does anybody still go? Damn kids They listened to the South Park movie soundtrack all weekend. Of all the songs I'd rather not have swimming around in my head all day at work, it would have to be the first song in the movie, an ode to uncles. |
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