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Creating Home: last class of the year
May. 26th, 2013 09:45 pmI am torn between jubilant relief -- my Sunday mornings are free again, free at last! -- and the melancholy sense of time flowing inevitably past.
The lesson, inasmuch as it was a lesson, was about memories, sort of a "let's sum up the year" medley. We had a story about a memory table, a "my grandmother's attic" style game about a memory suitcase, and then we made necklaces of memory beads. Memory, memory, memory -- say it often enough and it turns into meaningless sounds. *sigh*
The memory table story is VERY HIGH on my complaint list of "oh god, why are so many 'moral lesson' stories SO BADLY WRITTEN?!" just FYI. It is vanishingly rare for me to read an RE story straight from the text. I am far, far more likely to paraphrase them, because people have to draw lines somewhere and terrible writing is one of my personal OH HELL NO lines in the sand.
After the parents picked up their kids, I went to the downtown outpost of Collegetown Bagels to get breakfast (and also a loaf of Southwest Sourdough, which is my new favorite bread in the entire universe -- sourdough with corn and white cheddar and jalapeño peppers mixed in, mmmmm, yes, get in my mouth) and head to the smoke shop, where I worked a 1-8pm shift. Tomorrow I am working 9am-4pm, which is very unusual -- I am almost never in before 11am -- but it's Memorial Day so normal need not apply.
And now I am faffing around on the internet. Because I can. :-)
(I should probably be working on fanfic -- I need to finish ch. 15 of "Secrets" and also the next section of "Trollstuck" and... way too many other things -- but pfff, no, this is a holiday weekend. I will resume my attempt to pretend I am an organized person tomorrow. It has never been a very successful pretense and today I officially do not care enough to even try faking it.)
The lesson, inasmuch as it was a lesson, was about memories, sort of a "let's sum up the year" medley. We had a story about a memory table, a "my grandmother's attic" style game about a memory suitcase, and then we made necklaces of memory beads. Memory, memory, memory -- say it often enough and it turns into meaningless sounds. *sigh*
The memory table story is VERY HIGH on my complaint list of "oh god, why are so many 'moral lesson' stories SO BADLY WRITTEN?!" just FYI. It is vanishingly rare for me to read an RE story straight from the text. I am far, far more likely to paraphrase them, because people have to draw lines somewhere and terrible writing is one of my personal OH HELL NO lines in the sand.
After the parents picked up their kids, I went to the downtown outpost of Collegetown Bagels to get breakfast (and also a loaf of Southwest Sourdough, which is my new favorite bread in the entire universe -- sourdough with corn and white cheddar and jalapeño peppers mixed in, mmmmm, yes, get in my mouth) and head to the smoke shop, where I worked a 1-8pm shift. Tomorrow I am working 9am-4pm, which is very unusual -- I am almost never in before 11am -- but it's Memorial Day so normal need not apply.
And now I am faffing around on the internet. Because I can. :-)
(I should probably be working on fanfic -- I need to finish ch. 15 of "Secrets" and also the next section of "Trollstuck" and... way too many other things -- but pfff, no, this is a holiday weekend. I will resume my attempt to pretend I am an organized person tomorrow. It has never been a very successful pretense and today I officially do not care enough to even try faking it.)
