<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<!--Generated by Squarespace Site Server v5.11.5 (http://www.squarespace.com/) on Fri, 03 Sep 2010 00:20:51 GMT--><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/"><title>Derfwad Manor</title><subtitle>Home</subtitle><id>http://thewomenscolony.com/home/</id><link rel="alternate" type="application/xhtml+xml" href="http://thewomenscolony.com/home/"/><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://thewomenscolony.com/home/atom.xml"/><updated>2010-09-01T18:42:13Z</updated><generator uri="http://www.squarespace.com/" version="Squarespace Site Server v5.11.5 (http://www.squarespace.com/)">Squarespace</generator><entry><title>Tales From Assisted Living: Facebook, Good on You</title><category term="Life"/><category term="People"/><category term="family"/><id>http://thewomenscolony.com/home/2010/9/1/tales-from-assisted-living-facebook-good-on-you.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://thewomenscolony.com/home/2010/9/1/tales-from-assisted-living-facebook-good-on-you.html"/><author><name>MRS. G</name></author><published>2010-09-01T13:03:53Z</published><updated>2010-09-01T13:03:53Z</updated><summary type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/28870271@N03/4948542730/" title="elvis by copelandh75, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4132/4948542730_4b9986e9eb.jpg" width="382" height="500" alt="elvis" /></a>
<p>Several months ago, Mrs. G's aunt discovered Facebook. At 67 and a shaky grasp of technology that began and ended with the television remote control, the internet (and email!) are a bewitching alchemy of whiz-bang <i>awesome</i>. She has burned some serious midnight oil tracking down old school and work friends and assembling an impressive gallery of "likes": <i>I'm old and if you don't like it, kiss my ass; Did someone say diet? Wash your mouth out with chocolate; There, their and they're are <b>not</b> interchangeable; If you're a dirty old man...call me.</i></p>

<p>In short, Mrs. G's aunt is a lovesick disciple of the World Wide Web.</p>]]></summary></entry><entry><title>Eight Things Mrs. G. is Loath to Admit</title><category term="Life"/><id>http://thewomenscolony.com/home/2010/8/30/eight-things-mrs-g-is-loath-to-admit.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://thewomenscolony.com/home/2010/8/30/eight-things-mrs-g-is-loath-to-admit.html"/><author><name>MRS. G</name></author><published>2010-08-30T12:01:18Z</published><updated>2010-08-30T12:01:18Z</updated><summary type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/28870271@N03/4941664728/" title="slurpee by copelandh75, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4123/4941664728_26de94fb1c.jpg" width="334" height="500" alt="slurpee" /></a>
<p>1) Mrs. G. has never trusted or liked Bill Maher. Nearly a decade ago, she told Mr. G. that she thought Maher was a misogynist, a puffed-up snake, the kind of guy who would viciously berate you on the way home from a party where he had spent the evening charming the room. She tried to give him another chance when he launched his HBO show <i>Real Time</i>, but the first time she watched it, he interrupted Cornel West three times in five minutes and that was that. She was officially done with his smug face. Mrs. G. can’t think of another celebrity who summons such sincere distaste.</p>

<p>Unless you consider Glen Beck a celebrity.</p>]]></summary></entry><entry><title>Friday Five</title><id>http://thewomenscolony.com/home/2010/8/27/friday-five.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://thewomenscolony.com/home/2010/8/27/friday-five.html"/><author><name>MRS. G</name></author><published>2010-08-28T01:31:00Z</published><updated>2010-08-28T01:31:00Z</updated><content type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<p><span class="full-image-block ssNonEditable"><span><img src="http://womenscolony.squarespace.com/storage/neonfive.png?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1282872751525" alt="" /></span></span></p>
<p><em>Five questions to&nbsp;launch you into the weekend...&nbsp;</em></p>
<p>1) What's your favorite song at the moment?</p>
<p>2) Do you collect anything?</p>
<p>3) If you have PMS or are&nbsp;in a funk, what's your "go to" food?</p>
<p>4) Where would you choose to live if you had to leave your country?</p>
<p>5) What's the worst hairstyle you ever had?</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>p.s. Regular reader,&nbsp;Laurie Hertzel,&nbsp;has written a <a href="http://womenscolony.squarespace.com/community-scoop/2010/8/27/news-to-me-by-laurie-hertzel.html">great&nbsp;book</a></p>
<p><a title="laurieb by copelandh75, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/28870271@N03/4930497531/"></a></p>
<p><a title="LaurieHertzelwoods[1] by copelandh75, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/28870271@N03/4931388195/"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4097/4931388195_19423ef083.jpg" alt="LaurieHertzelwoods[1]" width="447" height="335" /></a>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>and there is a cool PAPAYA!&nbsp;2011&nbsp;weekly planner&nbsp;<a href="http://womenscolony.squarespace.com/good-shit/2010/8/25/papaya-2011-weekly-planner-giveaway.html">giveaway</a> in GS!</p>
<p><span class="full-image-block ssNonEditable"><span><img src="http://womenscolony.squarespace.com/storage/joya.jpg?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1282910069937" alt="" /></span></span></p>]]></content></entry><entry><title>It Was Inevitable...The Next Generation Speaks: Dear Mom (by Miss G.)...Letter #1</title><category term="Dear Mom"/><category term="Life"/><category term="Miss G"/><category term="Mrs. G"/><category term="family"/><id>http://thewomenscolony.com/home/2010/8/26/it-was-inevitablethe-next-generation-speaks-dear-mom-by-miss.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://thewomenscolony.com/home/2010/8/26/it-was-inevitablethe-next-generation-speaks-dear-mom-by-miss.html"/><author><name>MRS. G</name></author><published>2010-08-27T04:40:00Z</published><updated>2010-08-27T04:40:00Z</updated><summary type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/28870271@N03/4929407346/" title="caitieknit by copelandh75, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4122/4929407346_c6f1772751.jpg" width="500" height="383" alt="caitieknit" /></a>
<p>Dear <s>Mrs.G.</s> Mom...</p>]]></summary></entry><entry><title>Striking the Balance and Finding the Line</title><category term="Colony Question of the Day"/><category term="Life"/><id>http://thewomenscolony.com/home/2010/8/25/striking-the-balance-and-finding-the-line.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://thewomenscolony.com/home/2010/8/25/striking-the-balance-and-finding-the-line.html"/><author><name>MRS. G</name></author><published>2010-08-26T05:07:00Z</published><updated>2010-08-26T05:07:00Z</updated><summary type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/28870271@N03/4925200749/" title="strikeline by copelandh75, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4074/4925200749_3c58db4416.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="strikeline" /></a>
<p>Several years ago, a reader asked a question that has stuck with Mrs. G; she thinks about it often. At the time, she couldn't answer it, but not for lack of trying. She spent many nights in bed mulling it over before sleep. She stood in hot showers rolling the question around in her head, hoping the steam might help dislodge an articulate answer.</p>]]></summary></entry></feed>