and now for something you're sure to enjoy

After Kids Day celebration on Friday Emporn stops us to ask what we will do on Monday. "We're going to work." Why would you go to work Monday, stupid foriegn teachers, its Teacher Day! Oh another crazy national holiday where Im not expected to go to my job. Fun times for everyone!
In that case, I think Ill sleep and knit a hat.

Heres the deal. www.headhuggers.org Lets all make hats!

Everyone tries to make the charity blanket because it seems like the most obvious choice. Guess what, lameass? Blankets, like bad and/or boring relationships; take time, committment, and a good chunk of your sanity. Unless said blanket is for a premature baby. But usually its not.

***I ran across a charity that was for people who had lost a child to a miscarriage or a still birth and the charitable part of it was making baby clothes...why? Isnt the point to elliviate some of their suffering?***

Back to the point - making hats is a really great charity project. Making a hat takes about zero talent. In fact, a hat was the first thing I ever crocheted during that cold, lonely month of just me & host mom in Shimane, Japan.
It was sent with great joy to Ronica and Im sure she filed it somewhere between the turtlenecks and the socks with holes.
Hats, like myself, are very fast pieces of work. Even a super complicated hat should only take about a week. Instant gratification. Isnt that what charity is all about?

And the greatest thing is that even if I screw up the size, which I do without fail (usually twice), I dont have to rip it out. Case in point - the green bucket hat that only fits my shower bucket. Somewhere, some kid, with the smallest head ever, is wanting this hat real bad. Only its not up to me to find him. I just have to make the hat.

My parents called this morning and I was pleased, for now. My dad read poetry to me, isnt that sweet? It was actually composed by myself (circa 15 years ago) and had resurfaced during the annual flooding of the basement. Apparently Seattle is currently bending under the pressure of the northwest monsoon season.

Here's an except from one composition about being a pious daughter under my parent's loving care & ever watchful eyes:

"...and there is no way to escape the terror/ of living with them forever and ever..."