And the magic word is . . .

DIARIES! 

She would look at people’s diaries! 

Believe it or not, my boy (!) figured it out.  I asked the author today to tell me what she’d look at with that third eye on her forehead, and it was, indeed, diaries.  I brought the journal home with me on Friday because I knew my boy had a pretty good record for decoding funky spellings.  He did it.

Trying to take advantage of every minute of knitting time.  Some progress on the French Market Bag:

And my sister tipped me off to a great close-out price from WEBS on Cascade Bollicine Revolution, so I ordered a whole bunch of it to knit Juliet. 

I’ve also started on a shawl as a contribution to the Comfort Shawl Project, a project sponsored by the Milford Jaycees to provide shawls to cancer patients.  Several of us girls from SnB are knitting them and we’re happy to be able to wrap some hugs around the shoulders of people who are putting a whole bunch of energy into kicking cancer in the hindquarters.

Since what I just told you might make me sound like a mature, respectful grown-up, let me give you some further insight . . .  Today at recess, I saw one of my girls standing off to the side, head hanging down, tugging at the bottom of her t-shirt.  She told me that she’d split her pants in the back.  I told her I’d been there myself (terrible memory – rollerskating at Rollerhaven – fell down – backside of pants ripped open – song that was playing:  “Bustin’ Loose – it was brutal) and suggested she go to the nurse’s office to call home for a change of clothes.  Nope.  She didn’t want to.  Shirt was long enough.  She’d stick it out and be fine.  Later, when the kids were reading silently at the end of the day, this little girl was laying on her stomach on the floor, resting on her elbows, with the seat of her jeans fully exposed.  BIG hole.  Hot pink underoos. 

I snorted.  Loudly.  Covered my face and faked a coughing fit.  Whispered to the para-professional in my classroom.  She looked.  Snorted.  Tiptoed across the hall to grab the teacher who was with me at recess.  We giggled.*

I’m a mature, respectful grown-up.  I SO wish I’d had my camera.

*No feelings were hurt during the making of this silly business.  I promise.

And for those of you who have never seen me in real life . . .

this is what I look like.