This is one of the warmest September days I remember experiencing in Vancouver. I worked up a real sweat watering the school garden this morning. I loved hearing the teacher's voice coming through the windows. Bits of order, then sounds of chaos as the kids chatted to each other about what they did this summer.
My son said: "Today my freedom ended. School is a prison." He played a piece of somber organ music as he morosely got ready for school. But he was chatty and funny on the way there and the way back and told me anecdotes from last year I've heard many times. Other students tend to exasperate him. He just wants to get on with it and serve his sentence without all these tedious children acting up. He also says things and then warns me: "Don't quote me on that." Today he went on a sweet riff about the problem of the tree falling in the forest question.
Read: Scared to Live by Stephen Booth. Sometime police procedure gets in the way of a good novel. And we really need to care more about the characters.
Read: The Nesting Dolls by Gail Bowen. Somewhere along the way Joanne Kilbourne became so middle class cosy with her extended family and so luvvy duvvy with her smart, handsome lawyer that she's become a bit of a yawn. This novel revolves around a pretty unbelievable coincidence that I just couldn't get my head around.
In the dye jar: blackberries. I'm going to try solar dyeing.
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