Stop Asking Me...

Being a teacher in the month of June means being asked, "How many?" How many what? Pickles in the jar? Buttons in the box? What? Oh, days of school left? Why do people think I am counting the days to summer break? Are all my peers and I just don't know about it? And for crying out loud, stop looking so shocked that I don't know.

It's like this. My final exam is June 23rd. I have a classes to take on July 10, 22, and 24. I have three days of curriculum work in addition to another two days in August for school improvement. Before September begins I will be at school for about a 40 hours prepping for the new year. So what exactly am I counting?

Saturday I started an entrelac felted bag. It's not that I needed a class, but it gives me the push I need to finish the project. So all in all it's worth the money to pay an instructor. I'll save the photo for next week when it actually looks like a bag...I bore myself with UFO shots.

On the bookshelf...I just finished the most adorable book. I LOVE books that have the "transport" switch. Maisie Dobbs was just such a book. Not a challenging piece, but fun. I adored the setting: Post WWI England. I loved the characters. I am thrilled it is part of a series and know that it will provide hours of happy reading in the near future. And better yet, I know someone who owns the whole series!

Remember

Our mini summer has retreated and the weather is back to normal for this time of year. Back to shivering at Lacrosse games and sprinting to the car. Oh well...

But today was a good day. My friend's daughter became Bat Mitzvah today. Have I told you I love that ceremony? It is such a happy time! I am always impressed by the work that goes into each child's journey to religious adulthood. I love hearing how each youngster connects the early writings of their faith to the world in which they live today proving that the words are alive and well. I love being inspired by the faith of young adult. I always hope that this day is one that they can look back on to guide them later in life.

Sitting in temple this morning was a good feeling. I have spent the last two weeks in school on the writings of the Holocaust. Elie Wiesel, Gerda Weissman Klein, and of course, Anne Frank. Normally, I go through this unit quickly. The students have generally finished the same unit of study in Social Studies and so they have a basic understanding of the period. They dutifully read the memoir excerpts and move on. But this year has been different. This year they have been listening. This year they have been feeling. And most importantly asking.

But not necessarily what you would think.

This year the question has been, "Is this real?" Not that they are questioning the authenticity of the event. But rather disbelief that such a thing was real. Is real. And what would they do? What if they were the targets? Would they help? Would they be strong enough? Brave enough? Resourceful enough?

This group. They make me feel better.

They make me proud.

First they came for the Jews
and I did not speak out
because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for the Communists
and I did not speak out
because I was not a Communist.
Then they came for the trade unionists
and I did not speak out
because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for me
and there was no one left
to speak out for me.

Pastor Martin Niemöller

Spring Break

I just added another item to the bookshelf. Part of the big "purge" is to read the the borrowed books and return them to their rightful owners. E.L. Doctorow's The March, is one of those. I normally am not drawn to Civil War titles, but this one was very unique. Doctorow's style is very different.

The story of Sherman's march north is told through the eyes of its victims on both sides. Little vignettes are developed. There is the relationship between Confederate belle, Emily Thompson and the German born Union surgeon, Wrede Satorious. Young Pearl and her "stepma'm/owner" Mattie. Will and Arly who jump from side to side trying to make it out alive. The devastation of this war always saddens me. And the sheer scope of this presentation did little to make the reader feel any hope. We all know how it ends, but Doctorow does a stellar job of making you feel the immense hopelessness of those caught in this point in time.

My Crush

I admit it. I am in love with Ian McEwan. Every word that he puts on paper I adore. This book is a treasure. One that I need to re-read as I found myself rushing in anticipation, forcing myself to slow down, to go back. On Chesil Beach is a gem. Read the times review - much more eloquent. Talk to me McEwan.

City Lights

I never and I mean never seem to make it into the city proper. Yet somehow this weekend I managed to get within the city limits three times in as many days. Friday was rather interesting. Fund-raisers are not really my thing, but a friend invited me to attend the Aurora Waldorf's Artist's Evening held at the 20th Century Club. Formed around 1895, it is the female version of The Buffalo Club. It is amazing to walk into a building that my family would never have been allowed to join. I am sure that the closest my Roman Catholic Polish and Italian ancestors would have gotten to those rooms was with a broom and a dust pan.

Saturday was fun day! Husband and I took the boy and two friends to the game. And we won! But of course after just one beer my resolve to not snack went out the window and we hit Duff's for some wings and fries. I cannot believe that in our attempt to clog our arteries we forgot to order the gravy! DH and I both paid for the three (!) wings we ate with wicked heart burn all night. We have indeed become middle aged wimps. So sad.

Continuing my not a resolution resolution, I spent more time with family and friends. Breakfast with my sister, and then the afternoon on the deck of my friends house in North Buffalo. To sit in the sun and unravel an entire sweater that has been a "dog" on the needles for the last four years was heaven. I think I have a good project lined up thanks to Ravelry for this Jo Sharp Silkroad Aran Wool. Something a better suited than the locally designed sweater that just was not singing to me.

Monday beckons...who invented work anyway?

Add a Little Spring to Your Needles

I finally got around to checking out the spring issue of Knitty. Finally, something I want to knit. Based on the fact that the last issue of IK left me so uninspired, I was keeping my fingers crossed. Honeycomb is perfect! I have been searching for a vest pattern with just this look for ages. And better yet, I believe I have just the right yarn hiding out in my stash. I absolutely love the scoop neck, narrow shoulder, and stretch.





My next pick is Yosemite. Again, stretchy fabric, clean lines. And love the collar! I have not really checked out the yarn specks, but I am thinking that the coral Catania I have been swatching for the last two summers may fit the bill.

Bits and Bobs

Have you read this one? Can you guess?
The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett is a lengthy, ambitious novel of 12th century England. The story chronicles the lives of power seeking church officials, humble people seeking love and happiness, and a host of other characters over the span of several decades. I have not become so engrossed in the lives of fictitious characters in many, many years. Well work each and every page!




The rigid heddle loom has been dusted off with the help of Mags:) Thanks, without your prompting it would still be in its lonely little time out corner:(

We warped last weekend for a set of place mats. As we were cleaning up what did I spy in the bottom of the bag? The second color that was intended for the warp. Can you say dumb ass?