Self Portrait

I felt like this cat, especially at the end of the day when a student decided to play "tough chick" in my room. I was in no mood for confrontation, for aggravation, for instigation, or any other kind of "tion". Perhaps I was a bit over the edge, but I let it fly. I don't get paid enough to be abused, and in no uncertain terms I let be known. I am a kind and nurturing teacher, and usually kids are begging to get into my class. Today someone was begging to get out. FINE.

The card is part of a series of cards of mostly dogs that I just made, and have not posted anywhere for sale. Interested? Drop me an email.

I just got home from a screening of a film about the poet Stanley Kunitz by local film maker Toby Carey. By chance Carey found out that they both spent their childhoods in the same house in Worchester, and Carey made a documentary about him, with some of the footage taking place four days before Kunitz died at 101 years of age.

I know little of Kunitz's poetry. Larry, I suspect, is fairly well versed. But what I loved about the film was its universality in the quest for our history and past, our desire to know what our ancestors experienced, wanting to connect with those who either through death or circumstance have deserted us, the memories of the places we have lived in. Plus, Kunitz's mother was another fellow Lithuanian.

Off to bed. My brain is on overtime, and I need sleep. Till tomorrow, Patti