tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-332647242024-03-07T13:55:05.915+00:00My B sideNurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.comBlogger233125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-7976480838488204762009-12-25T09:22:00.005+00:002009-12-25T09:39:10.780+00:00The Tió in a sequence<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmmi5I5PWaeYtgOuMtHg2246o2PwxqTkpASX7SvLwN2uCmIU5oVJLYlPs-9nc44XEG7ofJXe_jiLVvkzA3nt7Nf8zkfebaQUiOvIJkXtecV36ksV-6ae40kvN5CATiBz-hd4Yt/s1600-h/tio3.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419103496535685586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmmi5I5PWaeYtgOuMtHg2246o2PwxqTkpASX7SvLwN2uCmIU5oVJLYlPs-9nc44XEG7ofJXe_jiLVvkzA3nt7Nf8zkfebaQUiOvIJkXtecV36ksV-6ae40kvN5CATiBz-hd4Yt/s320/tio3.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />The children recite a Christmas verse in their room (usually they have learnt one in school)...<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUX-nCh8C1BC820SdtK4-C9v_K-EB4cntXoOEz3RJZsD2-yX_EllY2mQaZzXkM5hwXs7LVBUNqOd7iaXrbS0gpht7JL4aHS5yYKcgva5zrknmEZZ-wC_AAAemvV5bM7OOapbt/s1600-h/tio4.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419103628959065010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 296px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUX-nCh8C1BC820SdtK4-C9v_K-EB4cntXoOEz3RJZsD2-yX_EllY2mQaZzXkM5hwXs7LVBUNqOd7iaXrbS0gpht7JL4aHS5yYKcgva5zrknmEZZ-wC_AAAemvV5bM7OOapbt/s320/tio4.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div>Next they go to the living room and start hitting the Tió with some stick while singing...</div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibPATgImIlLEOpHZml5ALr_o7YHek9X7xrnWoUpHv0ujKEbR355zj3DGDwZV_4EKGgNCP9apfcUW9An2LqP3RaRVXYjp7Fdjt-UaQLvvmIBFsbuBGsEvX2AGYcGrsAkPjcpVxq/s1600-h/tio5.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419103713118154258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 217px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibPATgImIlLEOpHZml5ALr_o7YHek9X7xrnWoUpHv0ujKEbR355zj3DGDwZV_4EKGgNCP9apfcUW9An2LqP3RaRVXYjp7Fdjt-UaQLvvmIBFsbuBGsEvX2AGYcGrsAkPjcpVxq/s320/tio5.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />And then they check for presents that have magically appeared underneath... they know it's over when they only find chocolate coins or candy. (btw that's my blurred arm on the left)<br />We did the Tió yesterday evening, with my nephew Pau and my daughters. It's great to see them so excited running to their room and back... usually the Tió brings small gifts and the Three Wise Men will bring the big ones on the 6th of January.<br />Today we're going to my in laws for lunch and then home sweet home... Both me and hubby are quite "homey" people.<br /><br />Sorry for not updating much, have a Merry Christmas and a happy new year!Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-60156000158997596722009-10-29T11:42:00.004+00:002009-10-29T11:58:15.568+00:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgubB5LhNW8i3wQ_FQqzdQpvChfNR1I6teYVSsId3rMWZ5r1BnO94P_GFaWwU9eB0zC0GZmfpapF7GalvjBGvbqg7pS2J6ntPHXywgm-sr4FQSQ_3SnndyaPFbNUQfwWMy2OKKN/s1600-h/CCI29102009_00000.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 165px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397989431107989426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgubB5LhNW8i3wQ_FQqzdQpvChfNR1I6teYVSsId3rMWZ5r1BnO94P_GFaWwU9eB0zC0GZmfpapF7GalvjBGvbqg7pS2J6ntPHXywgm-sr4FQSQ_3SnndyaPFbNUQfwWMy2OKKN/s320/CCI29102009_00000.jpg" /></a><br />The girls were in bed and hubby and I were just about to watch a film on tv when I found this on the floor. It was face down, with a drawing of two mermaids on the other side. This side read "Today was my worst day of school ever, I had an awful time, my best friend stood me up...." Alicia's childish handwriting went on to tell about her worst day of school and I couldn't help but go back to the girls room and see if she was still awake, which she was. We talked for a while and she told me about her trouble in class... no big deal, at least for an adult, but in the eyes of a 7 year old, her problems with two of her classmates were really big. Anyway... I think I conforted her... went back to watch tv and 5 minutes later she was knocking on the door of the living room. "I just wanted to tell you you're a good person", she said, and went back to bed.<br />So now you know. I'm a good person.Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-10805125844842272162009-10-24T21:07:00.003+00:002009-10-24T21:31:30.105+00:00Speaking of dad...<div align="justify">I was having dinner with my daughters (hubby was still at work) when Cristina said something about "mom" dying. She wasn't referring to me, she was just playing a game with her doll and it was her doll's mom that had died, so she was comforting her toy. Alicia told her the doll must be sad, because we would all be sad if a member of our family died, right mom? (she asked me). "Yes, we'd be sad, of course", I answered. "Like the time when you thought daddy was dead, remember?" And then she told me almost everything that had happened more than two years ago, when hubby had his second seizure when we were all having breakfast. She remembered I was crying, and worried -while talking on the phone with the paramedics- that he might be dead. I do remember that day, of course. I remember Alicia (who was not even 5 years old then) saying she didn't "think" dad was dead. I'm amazed that she remembers the day with so much detail after so long, and that she chose to tell me about it today. She never talks about it. </div><div align="justify">And after recreating this second seizure, she talked about the day when her father had a seizure in the park. "You know, mom, I don't understand why people would want to put a spade in his mouth". "What do you mean?", I asked. "I saw somebody trying to put a spade in his mouth, why would they want him to have sand in his mouth?". I understand why she says that. That "somebody" probably wanted to make sure my husband wouldn't bite his tongue. Something they shouldn't do, but they probably didn't know. In my daughter's mind, it made no sense to take a spade (you know, the kind children use to play with sand) and try to put it in her father's mouth. That annoyed her. And she's still scared about her father doing some kind of "somersault" backwards. (That's the way she described the first seconds of his seizure, right before he fell to the ground and started "twisting" ). Then she went on to explain how Cristina was crying and trying to get her father to wake up, how somebody found his cell phone and then they went through his address book and started asking her if she knew this or that person (trying to find out who to call until someone thought the best thing to do would be to ask her mom's name).... </div><div align="justify">And at last, she confided that she's a bit scared to go out alone with her father sometimes, in case "that" happens again. I told her I can always go along with them, if she feels that way. I really don't know what's best. I also told her his father's condition is quite controlled, and it doesn't happen so often, but still... </div><div align="justify">The thing is, I had tried to talk to her about that incident long ago, but she didn't seem too interested or just tried to avoid the subject. But today she surprised me by not only bringing it up, but actually telling me everything. Without my asking...</div><div align="justify"></div>Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-50543921228823475722009-10-10T08:29:00.003+00:002009-10-10T08:43:22.448+00:00Busy... and lazyBusier and lazier...<br />yesterday I had the chance to actually "teach" for the first time. It was just part of my training, and the "students" were my classroom mates. So there I was, telling them about comparatives and superlatives, how they are formed.... I used a powerpoint presentation, but I relied too much on it, because I was nervous and felt insecure, so it was easy for me to just shield behind the screen and avoid too much eye contact with the class. WRONG. Then I was told the topic I chose was too easy. I'm aware of that, my mistake. Anyway. It was a huge success for me considering that, when I was in high school I was so shy I'd rather fail than make a public presentation. I've realized it's easy to criticize a teacher, but it's so hard to be a good one!Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-79072136507512800012009-09-01T19:27:00.005+00:002009-09-01T21:14:53.735+00:00Family history...<span style="font-size:100%;">I almost deleted this blog, and then I started to go over the last 3 years (I can't believe it's been so long) and decided I would print some of it first, since some of the posts were about my daughters, milestones and such... Anyway, I changed my mind. It still feels strange to write a blog about anything that comes to my mind that's of no particular interest to anyone but me, but I guess I'm strange like that...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">So, what's new?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">1- My husband had two seizures last month. One when he was at work, and the second one in the hospital, so he had to stay for the night. Tomorrow we're going to the funny "doctor" in France... I haven't gotten used to the seizures or the funny man. Seizures are unpredictable, sudden, and always scare me, even if I don't see it happening. But, we've got to live with them... that is, unless his newly change medication finally does the trick. Will it? This time? I have faith.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">2- I've started a family tree. I've gathered quite a lot of information from my father's side of the family, and I have to say I love the research part. So far, everyone in my family back to the late 1700 seems to be from this land. I've looked at old photographs my father kept, along with old postcards, and it seems as if I'm making them "live" somehow. </span><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDeO5Z-3NPwya6LzpK6kNy1kTQ88Emf1EkhIlB8JyryHv4H2cgLu-1w_In3qpHSQfgNwa9vl7FudZ1nAF-TzLnz2dkZ12m5ayBZoDzsELxnn0cCxgThFmruJ4bh4yyyj3zmFRF/s1600-h/Merce.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 205px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376608313109354610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDeO5Z-3NPwya6LzpK6kNy1kTQ88Emf1EkhIlB8JyryHv4H2cgLu-1w_In3qpHSQfgNwa9vl7FudZ1nAF-TzLnz2dkZ12m5ayBZoDzsELxnn0cCxgThFmruJ4bh4yyyj3zmFRF/s320/Merce.jpg" /></a><br />This was my father's aunt. From his comments, the mental image I have of her is that of a freedom loving woman, never married, but fled with her lover/partner to Mexico when the civil war started in Spain. I have an old poscard with her "husband" and two boys they had in Mexico, but that's all. </p><p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivOGnuYSxVQ9s6onL6tOZ7cnG-3Fqqu2obMxG_nh5bfoVEwlatx_kpM4PsDdVrCce4BNAMokussBfxpAN_jT8nETGSCPzr3EXWb9BJdqu4P-QBFTGxDDFJZnxE-uofcD0P6imh/s1600-h/CaraNeus.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 290px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376609321681398434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivOGnuYSxVQ9s6onL6tOZ7cnG-3Fqqu2obMxG_nh5bfoVEwlatx_kpM4PsDdVrCce4BNAMokussBfxpAN_jT8nETGSCPzr3EXWb9BJdqu4P-QBFTGxDDFJZnxE-uofcD0P6imh/s320/CaraNeus.jpg" /></a><br />And this is my paternal grandma. I never met her, I was only a few months old when she died. Don't know much about her either. Tracing relatives is kind of easier I guess because in Spain we all have two last names: one from the father and the other from the mother. Women don't change their last name when they get married, which seems better to me than the widespread practice of giving up your last name and adopt your husband's... Don't you think?</p>Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-56592012768643507722009-06-29T20:26:00.004+00:002009-06-29T20:38:41.273+00:00This and thatThis title is in honour of one of my teachers this year. One I didn't like much, actually. She taught her subject in English, but I'd say many of her students were better in English than her, so it's been... strange. And she always used the expression "this and that" in the middle of sentences. I had never heard it before, is it a common expression in English??<br />Anyway... all my grades were good (mostly Bs and two As). Not bad. Problem is, my best friend in the university is this over achiever, talented, intelligent woman (my own age) and so far she has 5 "10" with honors (way over A). It's hard not to feel a failure when somebody else at your side is so good. <br />Something bothers me about one of my examinations. It was about philosophy, and I had to write about Education (fairly easy), Marx and education (not difficult) and Sartre. I never understood Sartre, so I didn't even write a single sentence about this man. <br /><br /><em>"The basis of Sartre's existentialism can be found in The Transcendence of the Ego. To begin with, the thing-in-itself is infinite and overflowing. Sartre refers to any direct consciousness of the thing-in-itself as a "pre-reflective consciousness." Any attempt to describe, understand, historicize etc. the thing-in-itself, Sartre calls "reflective consciousness." There is no way for the reflective consciousness to subsume the pre-reflective, and so reflection is fated to a form of anxiety, i.e. the human condition..." </em><br /><br />This is just an extract from wikipedia, but I still don't get it. Do you?Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-44070680398665051152009-06-20T20:58:00.003+00:002009-06-20T21:06:16.283+00:00HookedI'm going to need to go through some rehab program. Seriously. It's only been two days, but I'm alredy missing school. University, that is. The atmosphere, the classes, my new friends. It's been a great, busy first year... Maybe we're too young when we go to college or uni or whatever you call it. When you're in your thirties, you no longer worry too much about grades or getting rid of the work, you're there to enjoy and learn, and I know I have.<br /><br />Oh, and... speaking about being hooked. I talked to my doctor and I'm slowly getting off my antidepressant. Hope I can stay without it.Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-70660543886894307452009-06-15T16:10:00.000+00:002009-06-15T16:11:15.109+00:00Too many choices??<object width="334" height="326"><param name="movie" value="http://video.ted.com/assets/player/swf/EmbedPlayer.swf"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><param name="bgColor" value="#ffffff"></param> <param name="flashvars" value="vu=http://video.ted.com/talks/embed/BarrySchwartz_2005G-embed_high.flv&su=http://images.ted.com/images/ted/tedindex/embed-posters/BarrySchwartz-2005G.embed_thumbnail.jpg&vw=320&vh=240&ap=0&ti=93" /><embed src="http://video.ted.com/assets/player/swf/EmbedPlayer.swf" pluginspace="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" bgColor="#ffffff" width="334" height="326" allowFullScreen="true" flashvars="vu=http://video.ted.com/talks/embed/BarrySchwartz_2005G-embed_high.flv&su=http://images.ted.com/images/ted/tedindex/embed-posters/BarrySchwartz-2005G.embed_thumbnail.jpg&vw=320&vh=240&ap=0&ti=93"></embed></object>Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-6009011253489710342009-06-11T19:36:00.001+00:002009-06-11T19:36:03.608+00:00Videoclip with Billie The Vision and The Dancers<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><p><object height='350' width='425'><param value='http://youtube.com/v/h41kHW9M3d4' name='movie'/><embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/h41kHW9M3d4'/></object></p><p>This song is becoming quite popular... the group is Swedish I think, and the video is set in Formentera (Spain).</p></div>Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-24326199742239710042009-06-10T06:37:00.005+00:002009-07-01T21:21:13.619+00:00The value of human lifeOk, I'm too lazy to blog, but let me introduce you to a very interesting blog by a Saudi woman... <a href="http://sandgetsinmyeyes.blogspot.com/">Sand gets in my eyes</a><br />and a post about the value of human life.<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:100%;">OK, she's not Saudi, she's an American living in Saudi Arabia. My mistake!!</span></strong>Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-43493126925177511812009-06-03T06:19:00.004+00:002009-06-03T06:31:18.469+00:00Ballet and other stuff1-I have exams next week. And the week after. I've just started reading. I never study (as in memorising), I merely read again and again...<br /><br />2-Hubby had another test and as it came out, his neurologist is pretty convinced that he doesn't have juvenile myoclonic epilepsy, but frontal lobe epilepsy. It's harder to control, but he hasn't had another seizure since september. The doctor also said there's a different range of medications available for this type of epilepsy, but will not change his current medication if he doesn't have another seizure. He gave as a prescription for another drug to be taken ONLY if he has another seizure. I didn't get why we don't start now, until I read the side effects. I think it's better if we stick to his regular drugs. <br /><br />3-I wrote a book report (3 pages) on J.M. Barrie's Peter Pan. If you're interested I can post it or email it. I think I have a bit of this Peter Pan syndrome: I so wish I wouldn't get any older! I'll be 40 in july!! Anyway, I love going to University again... I recommend it, at any age<br /><br />4-Alicia had her first ballet performance two weeks ago. See some pics:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit3JKDbPNEqo1h-hLiKJ9XtdbpnCFR68KNCp_fXQHKdnp5bkswylLvvXv0b6GmhNz5qbOmfiiXMa9JAGsqoE_w8Br4n56EKS55TEl1TLYSLtM_XBuNo8sSZ4pf4lUdjXQCN1LN/s1600-h/Alicia12.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit3JKDbPNEqo1h-hLiKJ9XtdbpnCFR68KNCp_fXQHKdnp5bkswylLvvXv0b6GmhNz5qbOmfiiXMa9JAGsqoE_w8Br4n56EKS55TEl1TLYSLtM_XBuNo8sSZ4pf4lUdjXQCN1LN/s320/Alicia12.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342984397986096322" /></a><br />She's the girl in the green dress walking to the edge of the stage. She was a frog, just like the rest of the girls in green...<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3EUSykcNCZmaw-ZwJFMV882kNp0EUX3g39Pc5cRzOcsbVzaB9zA3TpbHLLjcyzLqN5FcZOE9rs_PxMD35aSMBpo26yFjfD6jfDN-gO75_paP08LdbFon_oEI0GgaLbETcJT0u/s1600-h/Alicia19.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3EUSykcNCZmaw-ZwJFMV882kNp0EUX3g39Pc5cRzOcsbVzaB9zA3TpbHLLjcyzLqN5FcZOE9rs_PxMD35aSMBpo26yFjfD6jfDN-gO75_paP08LdbFon_oEI0GgaLbETcJT0u/s320/Alicia19.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342984936590624466" /></a><br /><br />Another view of my favorite frog...Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-34759042607076620492009-05-01T13:58:00.002+00:002009-05-01T14:06:31.650+00:00The waiterI just went to a golf tournament with hubby and came back home a while ago. He has to write a piece about this tournament and I had lunch with him at the press restaurant. We were speaking Catalan, our maternal language, and one of the two official languages in this land, and hubby asked for napkins to the waiter. To our surprise, he said, rather rudely and in Spanish "you mean you want a napkin (he translated into Spanish), well next time talk to me in Spanish, because I'm from Madrid". What the fuck? Who is he or anybody else to tell me what language I must use? He could have asked politely. He could have said he doesn't understand Catalan and ask us to speak Spanish but to assume we must use another language is so arrogant. After a while, the napkins didn't arrive so I just went to him and said: "Well, I see it didn't work in Spanish either, because we still don't have our napkins". He apologized and came back with them. When he handed them to me I said: "look, we cannot guess where the waiter comes from...." he started to say something but I added "you actually told us to speak Spanish. Well, we could ask you for napkins in English or French, but you cannot really demand that we speak a language". Too many people in this country still believe we made up our language just to give them trouble. It's sad, really.Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-39307273661445624632009-05-01T11:42:00.005+00:002009-05-01T13:57:53.556+00:00Heavenly indeed...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhorks2X_EzEN4P8zO23jFXxBKTyxUB28U2VHFtSO5wtth80rU5zapV86mfE3UMHq65h36DJcxVOk5BLkm5ACu7xmx1CampQw5Vg8e7_damgi44fWOZMV9iIjJuM4IQ8wWLTqPI/s1600-h/IMG_6620.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 230px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhorks2X_EzEN4P8zO23jFXxBKTyxUB28U2VHFtSO5wtth80rU5zapV86mfE3UMHq65h36DJcxVOk5BLkm5ACu7xmx1CampQw5Vg8e7_damgi44fWOZMV9iIjJuM4IQ8wWLTqPI/s320/IMG_6620.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330820171318159922" /></a><br />Just look at where that girl is sitting. Those pizzas in Edinburgh must really be heavenly ;-)Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-74565381963066761672009-04-30T20:13:00.003+00:002009-04-30T20:23:16.390+00:00Scottish breakfast<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbEbpzG0Tf4Jc6Ya518QbED_1N5_eaEvtzaFbVDX-d9G7EG_KoBFnhHGpQTKmxB6Tenf23VEMLWZGmfbWDQ5Y9fNlFsmrxuoFJjhFgmMzmzIYVv2laxvMM9ljY5FLros8zWaty/s1600-h/IMG_6484.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbEbpzG0Tf4Jc6Ya518QbED_1N5_eaEvtzaFbVDX-d9G7EG_KoBFnhHGpQTKmxB6Tenf23VEMLWZGmfbWDQ5Y9fNlFsmrxuoFJjhFgmMzmzIYVv2laxvMM9ljY5FLros8zWaty/s320/IMG_6484.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330581063396823714" /></a<br /><br />Ok, I've gained weight, and it's no surprise, since I've had this huge breakfast almost everyday during our stay in Scotland (one week). The brown stuff is something called haggis, cooked with lamb and spices, the darker brown is black pudding (I think it's pork), then there's bacon, egg, toast and mushrooms. And then of course there was cereal, coffee, more toasts, butter and jam. I loved it, but I think I should go back to my regular more modest breakfast, or what they call "continental" breakfast... Many things in Scotland remind me of the US: carpet on all floors, no blinds on the windows (which I don't find practical), and that tasteless coffee (sorry, we're used to espresso). Love it, though.Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-48570830710593932172009-04-25T13:42:00.004+00:002009-04-25T13:49:35.719+00:00Scotland...<div>We arrived in Scotland two days ago, hired a car and started our 6 day stay. I had to get used to driving on the wrong side of the road, but so far, so good. Thanks to my dad's GPS we are getting around easily, even though, when we crossed Glasgow, instead of a straight line, like the GPS showed, we did something more like this:</div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-UmdYWUpByelSxI7RuXbGN6q8Ir7owkBtydLfM-4DVpmHx47ge7M2dbLU3d3KEriiRejsAAqnvSl5-4omBKAE6m__VS3DhjHUpbU9CR-U2YaYdnTu2Or7wm0-ofCJSTTAO-D4/s1600-h/untitled.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328625487134655730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 194px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-UmdYWUpByelSxI7RuXbGN6q8Ir7owkBtydLfM-4DVpmHx47ge7M2dbLU3d3KEriiRejsAAqnvSl5-4omBKAE6m__VS3DhjHUpbU9CR-U2YaYdnTu2Or7wm0-ofCJSTTAO-D4/s320/untitled.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Option A would have been preferrable, but we happened to get lost and choose B.<br /><br />I'll keep you posted, my internet time is up!Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-48111870978843492612009-04-11T07:29:00.007+00:002009-04-11T07:48:06.454+00:00Holidays and workWe've had a few days off (Easter), and visited my parents. My father bought quite an expensive camera, a Leica M8. I just had to try it...<br /><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2grMRNhSaG7nRSSjrmhLkg5RMfsFCQCp0Jw8lDMr9jrOL12E0iyhcuA2p9TNxPV4gszARas6lR_L0mEP5890kLppKnl9y5rgC6zBnX71BS1_OHfZJ7Zl5T9K5PTA1HcqfNgBS/s1600-h/L1000418.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323335009381418818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 245px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2grMRNhSaG7nRSSjrmhLkg5RMfsFCQCp0Jw8lDMr9jrOL12E0iyhcuA2p9TNxPV4gszARas6lR_L0mEP5890kLppKnl9y5rgC6zBnX71BS1_OHfZJ7Zl5T9K5PTA1HcqfNgBS/s320/L1000418.JPG" border="0" /></a> These are typical pastries we have for easter... my mother made them.<br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidq-rjEGlMJLLVL4p2ek1GBdp_4Emlwxiy1R9fPnev6KChjrDesHLkMMluFVI23lTjs-4YrPNV9tXgri2rE-IXbm-wi0ySMI0bb-l60C4-FY7GHMXkXZNtk0GJuiE-uMDsdf6K/s1600-h/L1000343.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323334648861870514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 217px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidq-rjEGlMJLLVL4p2ek1GBdp_4Emlwxiy1R9fPnev6KChjrDesHLkMMluFVI23lTjs-4YrPNV9tXgri2rE-IXbm-wi0ySMI0bb-l60C4-FY7GHMXkXZNtk0GJuiE-uMDsdf6K/s320/L1000343.JPG" border="0" /></a>Cristina and her dad...<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKe17BA6q4XdWo59CBgGx6YN-d86yL98TxRPhyphenhyphenuqFJcOp-MuQsqo2L2ExuB1tY7LWEi7B4g_oDqQ4U-GHgPajl7-AyrOBQdXRYBFpBmLiLyxAQsTCE5Goo8zLOz_ou20VkEFdy/s1600-h/L1000357.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323334207998791666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKe17BA6q4XdWo59CBgGx6YN-d86yL98TxRPhyphenhyphenuqFJcOp-MuQsqo2L2ExuB1tY7LWEi7B4g_oDqQ4U-GHgPajl7-AyrOBQdXRYBFpBmLiLyxAQsTCE5Goo8zLOz_ou20VkEFdy/s320/L1000357.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />I'm working on different essays right now, so even though I'm not going to school these days, I still have a lot to do. One of my papers is on immigration and education. It's a team project and we're focussing on immigrants from Morocco, because they represent the largest group of migrants here. I interviewed two mothers. they both quit studying when they married (and they were just 18). When I asked them if they like teachers here, and if they should do something in a different way, one of them told me that teachers here are too soft, and they need to spank kids, otherwise "they don't pay attention"!. I told her it's actually illegal, which she didn't know. She didn't understand why her children are so difficult at home, and just assumes she has to hit them, which only makes the problem worse...</div>Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-63901050648603285532009-03-30T20:35:00.004+00:002009-03-30T21:03:58.888+00:00My dear e-friendsYes, it's been a looong time...<br />University and kids keep me busy. And then when I have time to write something on this blog I feel I have no inspiration at all!<br />Let's see... I'll let you know what's going on...<br /><br /><strong>About health</strong>: Hubby is fine. The doctor said he has to another EEG after night of no sleep at all (he alredy did that about a year ago). Since he had been taking one pill less, he feels it's the best thing to do in order to determine if the decrease in medication could have caused this new seizure. But we're not too concerned. I think we've learned that epilepsy is not going to go away, so we'd better just take it as it comes and do our best not to dramatize (did I spell it right?).<br /><br /><strong>Work/Studies: </strong>I made the right choice when I decided to go back to university. Life without challenges is just.... missing something. Doing the same thing everyday was killing me. I love my daughters but I just couldn't be home all day doing nothing but take care of them. Classes have given me the oportunity to meet interesting people and learn, not just about many subjets, but about myself too, and the way I relate to others. I feel I'm still growing. We never really stop changing, do we? I mean, we have this tendency to think only children change, but life is about constant growth (to me, at least). Sometimes I have second thoughts about this career change thing. I'm a journalist, and I've been a journalist since I was 20. working for the same newspaper all my life, and it's like a second home to me. But journalism was good before I had children. Since hubby is a sports journalist (working at the same newspaper), we decided we couldn't have the same schedule. Somebody had to be home at a decent time for our daughters, and I made some changes. I adjusted my working schedule, but with that came a more boring kind of reporting. And I miss the old one! Interviewing people, reporting about all kinds of things... but I don't think I can ever go back to that. It entails finishing work after 8pm which is too late for me. Who'd be home with the girls?<br /><br /><strong>Travel: </strong>As a part of my studies, I'm supposed to go to Scotland late in April for an observation week in a school. So I decided I'd take the whole family with me and we'll be there some more days just on a short holiday. I couldn't risk leaving hubby alone with the kids. What if something happened to him? And anyway, I like it that we can travel together...<br /><br />And one last thing: this week I'll have to tell "Green eggs and ham" to the whole class so they can evaluate my "performance"...! I know the story by heart, I've told it to my daughters so many times! I'll let you know how they rate me!<br /><br />Take care, my e-friends. Don't give up on this lazy blogger!Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-86824840853772821692009-02-16T20:58:00.002+00:002009-02-16T21:13:41.004+00:00I'm a B student and other tales...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIRhZc9IBEz4927SogkacV1YICuyAsgKJI-XTGLpbLs6jBDxYvhyphenhyphenOwjEiGYrNsJn2ah_nFNMqEPZGM8TFt4jASHhj72SEhLi6JMbQsUpGRd2FQFBscz8QoMH-LtiCTtvakbNNK/s1600-h/student1.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303506388586633650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 82px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIRhZc9IBEz4927SogkacV1YICuyAsgKJI-XTGLpbLs6jBDxYvhyphenhyphenOwjEiGYrNsJn2ah_nFNMqEPZGM8TFt4jASHhj72SEhLi6JMbQsUpGRd2FQFBscz8QoMH-LtiCTtvakbNNK/s200/student1.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I'll start with the "other tales". Hubby had a seizure on friday. It had been nearly 15 months since his last seizure. We were at home, I heard a scream, banging noises, and I feared the worst. He was seizing on the floor, and had hit his head and elbow against something (my guess is the door frame). I said something out loud that I can't really remember, but it was something that brought Cristina to my side, and she started crying when she saw her father shaking in that strange way, unconscious. She was really upset, so I had to put myself together in order to calm her down. This time, somehow, I was more in control. My sister arrived right then and offered to take Cristina for a walk (Alicia was taking ballet lessons). I tried to make hubby comfortable, with a pillow and a blanket, and he just slept on the floor until he slowly started waking up. When he saw me, he reached out to me with his hand. I held it, and wondered if this time, he remembered who I was, but he didn't. A while later I took him to the hospital, just in case, and they decided to keep him there for the night. He's alright now. No more seizures since friday. I guess we're learning to deal with epilepsy. It's out of our hands, really. So we'd better get used to it.</div><br /><div>Anyway... I've also been busy with exams, and so far, so good. I have a bunch of B's, and I'm so proud! I've never been a very good student, but I'm having so much fun now, learning a lot, not just academically, but about myself and the way I relate to others. It's a great experience and I'm glad I decided to change my career... </div><br /><div></div>Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-4812008655800247402009-01-26T18:51:00.004+00:002009-01-26T19:39:51.334+00:00The lazy blogger is alive<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRbsRtLo5KaZDc1BEBDUdmHv3Wd673PcAzvgXuSuZQKIDhNWh-_nsYl8TeWDaE1T8IFvtgtcgbpjtnJ0T4rjIpP7zgHEjtNvKfA-32z_mv4LfEu6V_m4xqlXVf161lO17DFNQ9/s1600-h/DSC_0300.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295679730435961778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 134px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRbsRtLo5KaZDc1BEBDUdmHv3Wd673PcAzvgXuSuZQKIDhNWh-_nsYl8TeWDaE1T8IFvtgtcgbpjtnJ0T4rjIpP7zgHEjtNvKfA-32z_mv4LfEu6V_m4xqlXVf161lO17DFNQ9/s200/DSC_0300.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I had my first exam today since... well.... I can't remember.</div><br /><div>I found it tough. Hope I pass! I honestly thought it would be easier. I hadn't memorised stuff, I merely read my notes several times hoping to understand everything and get a good idea about everything, but I'm not sure that will be enough. Anyway...</div><br /><div>Cristina turned 4.</div><br /><div>A few days ago at my children's school a man broke the window of a car to steal something inside. Some parents caught him and held him till the police came. Alicia was really interested in the scene. She hadn't had the chance to see the thief and asked me "What do thieves look like?" </div><br /><div>I said they can look like anyone. She didn't like that. And then I thought how we all seem to need an accurate picture of "bad people". It would be easier to avoid them, right? That's why we stereotype (to some extent). Because we feel safer this way. If we believe thieves are always immigrants and from a different ethnic group we like it because it allows us to clasify people... We need to think none of our neighbours can be bad so we can sleep well... </div><br /><div></div>Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-14801919161341942042008-12-31T18:29:00.003+00:002008-12-31T18:37:44.196+00:00A trip to the dentist... on new year's eve...I had a tooth pulled today.<br /><br />The dentist was a big, robust, tall lady, with red hair and freckles. I couldn't help seeing her as a viking... as in <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0118715/">The big lebowski</a>, one of my favourite movies...<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2LH-J5YW8lhTrPpR7Kygl1by9ImT-YwTtlGD3a0oAeLnwzi5Y_1TQLOS7CFoeO-cHXrKf53A-6G_2H4xzCNhA9sNEJv5DTjgOlzGv1QZs2HiIk-YBUoOBfeogtpa_waBp2eC4/s1600-h/viking.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286024392850382706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 370px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2LH-J5YW8lhTrPpR7Kygl1by9ImT-YwTtlGD3a0oAeLnwzi5Y_1TQLOS7CFoeO-cHXrKf53A-6G_2H4xzCNhA9sNEJv5DTjgOlzGv1QZs2HiIk-YBUoOBfeogtpa_waBp2eC4/s400/viking.jpg" border="0" /></a> Meet my dentist... and her nurses.<br /><br />Hey, I almost forget!! Happy New Year!!Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-72153908228251821092008-12-23T17:53:00.001+00:002008-12-23T17:53:41.862+00:00Children See ... Children Do<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><p><object height='350' width='425'><param value='http://youtube.com/v/SJF50kwwRJE' name='movie'/><embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/SJF50kwwRJE'/></object></p><p>I liked this ad...</p></div>Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-55989505501044644622008-12-05T15:10:00.002+00:002008-12-05T15:15:14.852+00:00God?<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Alicia (my 6 year old) and I were having a conversation yesterday about God (the one who lives in the sky, as she says). </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">She doesn't know much about religion, so I told her many people in the world actually believe God is the creator of all things.<br />She looked at me in disbelief and stated:</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">"<em>that's not true</em>!"<br />"<em>How can you know</em>?" I asked her.<br />"<em>It was the Romans who made everything</em>!", she said.</span>Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-10946861462821735082008-11-27T08:51:00.001+00:002008-11-27T08:51:25.418+00:00Dr. Seuss' Green Eggs and Ham<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><p><object height='350' width='425'><param value='http://youtube.com/v/RdR0LXOiEB8' name='movie'/><embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/RdR0LXOiEB8'/></object></p></div>Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-1322062376395294402008-11-25T20:43:00.003+00:002008-11-25T20:47:33.086+00:00StorytellingI have to choose a story to tell in class. A children's story, but my audience will be adults (university). I'm finding it hard, because I'm used to reading stories to my daughters, but they're 3 and 6 years old and are far from being an intimidating audience. I can be silly with them, but will I feel confident telling a story to a group of adults, knowing that it actually is a test??? AAAAHHHH!!! I initially thought of telling the story of <span style="font-style:italic;">the Cow that went oink</span> as an example of the good thing about learning languages, but I'm not sure it will be good enough. Any suggestions? Any stories that you think might work?... HELP!Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33264724.post-62384528102553434312008-11-21T13:00:00.003+00:002008-11-23T21:04:24.515+00:00What a week!Tough, interesting week.<br />I've been assigned a second grade class (seven year olds). I'm just to watch and help when I'm told... May I introduce you to my class?<br />14 children. All of them have brothers or sisters. Lots of them. Many of them come to class with dirty, stained clothes. Sometimes they don't wear a jacket and it's november, and no, this is not a tropical country. It's cold. It's not just the clothes that are dirty: sticky fingers, long dirty fingernails... At first that's what most caught my eye: their unkempt appearance. Their family history is, in too many cases, quite sad. L's stepfather beats him up regularly. Thankfully, social services know now, and they're working on it. M's mother is known for her shoplifting: she usually takes a bag lined with aluminium paper so that she can steal clothes without the metal alarm going off. That's her role model. And now F. She didn't come to class for a few days, and showed up wednesday. Now we know that her father beat her mom, so they left and stayed in a shelter home until mom decided to "forgive" her partner and they are both together again. It's sad because you know the cycle is not going to be broken. J is funny but sad also. He's attending school, but in a few weeks he will probably be gone to some Carnival along with his parents. There's a couple of children who just show up from time to time, because they don't like going to school and their parents don't seem to think it's important either. Not that they're homeschooled! At home they just do whatever they want, or play on the streets. S's father is a drug addict. D is always yawning. If he goes to bed at midnight, it's a huge success. All of them stay up too late, watching programs that were never meant for their age... <br />They crave attention. If you're just a bit kind to them they'll be hugging you all the time. But some of them have huge behavioral problems, and they are behind in development (no books or computers at home). The problem is, all these gipsies live in the same neighbourhood. They have a school, a civic center, a sports facility and a health facility (primary care). No need to go downtown.... Or is it that the neighbourhood was set especifically distant so that we don't have to see them? I think the school should be closed and the children should attend schools in the downtown district. Otherwise, they don't know another reality other than their own...<br /><br /><br />I'm sorry I haven't visited blogs and have not posted much, but believe me, I've been too busy. In december I'll quit my job so I can focus on studying and my children. Hopefully, I can return to my workplace in december 2009.... <br /><br />James, in answer to your question, I do enjoy what I'm doing now. Some classes are really interesting and we're debating over education, attending conferences... it's fun, stimulating and stressing if you alredy have a job and a family, but it's worth it!Nurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09138066354375202568noreply@blogger.com3