If you haven’t seen Where can i buy some isotretinoin online only using cash or money orders, or its cousin free running, then you really ought to get yourself on over to buy isotretinoin online with mastercardand take a look.  Or check out the opening to “how can i buy isotretinoin in uk” for some x-treme parkour (firearms and international intrigue are a movie extra). 

For me, watching an accomplished parkour athlete feels like riding a roller coaster—my internal organs are in freefall, my body wants to launch itself over the nearest railing.  I can only imagine that actually moving this way must be like flying.   And after seeing a few of these videos, I find the urban landscape starts to look a little different.  I’m thinking:  over, under, through.  What used to look like an obstacle becomes a jumping off point.  Things I never noticed now command attention.  (Do skaters’ moms see the world in terms of ramps and rails?   Certainly, when my children were toddlers every sharp corner in the world suddenly appeared to be painted caution yellow.)

Learning feels like parkour to me.  Someone shows you something new and imagination lets you see the world in a different way.  Let go of your fear, give it a try, stick with it, and you may get to fly.   And whether I’m trying to understand a human activity or trying to do it myself, it often starts with an imaginative shift.  Mastery, if it comes, comes much later.  But even if I never get beyond the novice stage, I’m grateful for the chance to try out those lenses.

One more thing:  Kerry Folan had an is it safe to buy isotretinoin from canada in the Washington Post about training sessions at a can u buy isotretinoin over the counter.  Here’s the final paragraph:

After class, no one seems quite ready to leave: Several people linger to rehydrate and rehash the day’s exploits; others continue to mess around on the equipment. Toorock encourages this: “Fun and community are so much more connected to successful training than you could imagine,” he says. “That’s why our program works. I tell people to forget exercise and go play.”

Fun, community, play—the stuff that keeps you going, keeps you engaged, keeps you creative while you sweat.  No matter what hurdle you’re trying to jump.

My daughter likes to try on shoes.  Especially the ones with 3- to 4-inch heels that she calls “Cram-your-foot-into-the-toe-Barbie-would-approve” shoes.  A Wallabee wearer myself, I’ve done my parental duty and had the Bunion and Hammer Toe Talk, but I try not to be a fanatic.    

So the other day we were in the Target when she spotted some slinky boots with the requisite heels, and then some red shoes with peekaboo toes, and some cork wedges with rainbow straps and we had to stop to try them on.  I waited while she walked off (with only a slight wobble) to look for a mirror and take in the full effect. 

When she returned, my daughter told me about the nice woman with two small boys who’d watched as she checked out the shoes and remarked,  “They’re cute, but you’ll fall.”   

My daughter laughed and the woman continued, “It’s ok.  I try them on all the time.”  

“My mother would never let me get these,” my middleschooler said, and the other mother replied, “It’s okay.  I do it too.  It’s okay to dream.”

My long-haired beagle-spaniel has entered into that time of year that we call The Big Shed.  Every summer he grows what must be an entirely new coat, and for a brief while his fur becomes as soft and dense as an otter’s.  Then the old coat falls out and I begin to follow him  around with a comb.  The first year I witnessed this process it was startling.  Now I know that I have to be diligent–even annoying–during The Big Shed, or dog hair will become so much more than a mere condiment.

My dog tries to be tolerant, but he hates to be messed with.  For the next few months he will regard me with suspicion:  Is she hiding a comb?  Is she going to pick at my fur again?  Finally, The Big Shed will move from his haunches to his back to his ruff and be over.  And then we will be free to be ourselves again.

Sometimes I think people have forgotten what it means to converse.  Okay, not everyone has forgotten, but enough folks for me to take notice. 

We all know that “debate” has largely gone down the tubes.  All you get at a debate these days is one person stating a position followed by another person stating his or her position.  It doesn’t really matter if they agree or disagree–how would they know?–their minds will never touch.  No one ever changes his position, not even in the audience, because there is no fruitful examination of the merits of the ideas expressed.   

But if we take these same ideas and put them in the context of a conversation or discussion, then in theory, the speakers’ behavior should change.  It’s a different game.  If good debate is about refutation and persuasion, then good conversation, it seems to me, should be about the refining of our understandings and solutions.  Conversations should be the place where we work things out to our mutual benefit—the forum where we clarify our understanding.   And while the process can be rough and tumble (“Are you guys fighting?” “No, we’re having a discussion.”), the shared committment to moving ahead makes it worth the effort to continue.

The “Choose Your Own Adventure” format has made its way into young adult chick lit with the “Choose Your Boyfriend” books.  As they say on the cover, “If you’ve ever wondered ‘What if…?’ when it comes to boys and dating, Date Him or Dump Him?  is a fun, interactive series that lets you navigate the ups and down of the dating scene.”

My daughter read one of these the other day.  Her review:  “It’s sort of like a first-person shooter with boys.”  (Ah, the metaphorical stockpile of youth!)

A local business advertises laser hair removal with “all procedures performed by licensed nurses and aestheticians.”  Every time I hear the ad I find myself wondering, do licensed aestheticians actually take courses in aesthetics?  How much do you have to know about beauty and truth to get a license?   Is this the skill philosophy majors fall back on if their philosophy shop fails?  And how do you get on the certifying Board?  I did find a web page for The University of Aesthetics (“an educational oasis”), but I’m curious, do aesthetic standards vary from state to state or is there some sort of federal regulation?  

There are lots of questions that need to be answered before submitting to laser hair removal.  Caveat emptor. 

This was so good I had to share.  Scroll down to where is the best place to buy isotretinoin online“Life is Short” piece in The Washington Post.

There’s something to be said for the experience of a waiting room with only three magazines.

Becoming an independent reader in a small town meant more than just reading on my own. My public library was tiny, and I learned early on that if I was going to satisfy my bookish habits, I needed to find some other sources. So I was always on the lookout.

The school library–also tiny–was home to some great books that I read repeatedly: In second grade, Whitey and the Wild Horse by Glen Rounds and Peggy Parish’s Key to the Treasure were special pleasures, and I devoured those “Childhood of Famous Americans” books with the orange covers. (I know they’re out of favor these days–considered “too-much-fiction-and-not-enough-fact,” but I learned about all sorts of folks outside the elementary school curriculum from that series.)

On the weekends, my search continued. In addition to the usual Bible tales, the shelf in my Sunday school classroom had an old Grimm’s Fairy Tales with tiny color emblems–not really illustrations but more like mementos of the stories. “Iron Henry” ended with a picture of a bright red heart wrapped in iron bands. The original version of “Snow White” was here too: the one where the wicked queen is forced to dance herself to death in red-hot iron shoes. These stories struck me as strange and otherworldly–not unlike some of the Bible stories that way. And while they could be a bit difficult to get through, they were so intriguing that I wouldn’t give up.

Sometimes my neighborhood yielded unexpected treasures. When I found that my next-door neighbor’s grown sons had left behind several shelves of Hardy Boys mysteries, I was set for months.

But without a doubt, the collection that most formed (and fed) my early reading was my parents’ bookshelf. How many times did I find myself going to their books thinking, “Surely there must be something interesting here that I haven’t read!” So I poured over a book of color plates from the Louvre, and I read the captions in National Geographics.

Along with the books for grownups, my mother, who had been an education school instructor, had a full set of Scott, Foresman readers through grade 8—including Dick, Jane and Sally, along with many folktales. I loved the short stories and the brightly colored, expressive pictures, unusual in an age when cost and printing technology meant so many children’s books only had line drawings with one- or two-color wash.

And finally, if the day was long and I had exhausted my own bookshelf, there was my mother’s Arbuthnot Anthology. Her anthologies were the first place I encountered Norse mythology—so much more exciting than the Greeks and Romans! No real pictures and lots of work to read the Arbuthnot, but I knew there would always be something new within that teal cover.

As I think back, I wonder if the limited choices in my early library experiences fueled a habit of curiosity. In the absence of a wide selection, I was forced to keep digging. And left to myself with only a few playmates in the neighborhood, I uncovered some unexpected treasures–like Loki and Iron Henry–that I might never have known if there’d been a Borders next door.

So what did you read?

My son recently introduced me to order isotretinoin online via purchase isotretinoin online.  Lolcats humor is like the first time you walk in on people reciting a Monty Python routine.  Some of the jokes are immediately funny, but sometimes it feels like “Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition,”—uh,  I don’t get it.  It’s only after repeated exposure that you begin to understand the rhythms and references.  You have to learn the rules—the fonts, the spellings, the subgenres within lolcats—before you can see what’s so funny–or not.  It’s another example of how much we humans love form.   A sort of visual limerick.  A game.