first week of September

This time of year I get very nostalgic. I loved the first few weeks of school--new books, new notebooks, new friends. And from there on, it usually just got better. Oh yes, I had my share of grumpy teachers and mean classmates, but they were in the minority. Some courses I really disliked (math and science, usually) and some I enjoyed even if I didn't excel (history and geography). I generally did well in English, but that's to be expected of someone who is (or wants to be) a writer. And languages! I love languages. All languages. One of my favourite anecdotes I like to tell people--sometimes repeating it to the same people--so I apologize if you've heard it before, is about when I took German in high school.
It was right after the Christmas holidays, and my German teacher, Herr von Wittgenstein, met me in the hall.
"Diane!" he called out. "I would like to shake your hand." I stopped and stared. He was speaking to me?
"Yes?" I said. We shook hands.
He continued, "I have been teaching German in this school for twenty years. You are the first student to take my course, write my exam, and get 100% wrong."
I quit German that day, and switched to Latin. Much easier!
School days! How I miss them!

never before!

I've never done this before. A couple of nights ago, I took the book I was reading aloud to my husband (he's legally blind) and walked over to the garbage can and tossed it in. I threw out a book in perfectly good physical condition. I can't believe I did that. But I just couldn't bring myself to read another word. The book is called The Bishop and the Three Kings, (Blackie Ryan #10) by Andrew M. Greeley. on goodreads it is rated 4 out of 5, so there's obviously something wrong with me. I just could not tolerate the writing. First, there are pages and pages of info-dump--stuff about the history of Cologne, and about the Three Magi (3 kings in the Nativity story in the Gospel of Matthew). That was bad enough, then there was that 1st person chapter told by Peter, Blackie's "nefoo"--more about that in a moment. That chapter, a young man/boy/whatever who has to finish writing his term paper, but is ogling a girl, wondering what she's like without her shirt on. Did we really need that? It's supposed to be a story about a Roman Catholic bishop visiting Germany to solve a mystery. It's written by Andrew M. Greeley, Father Andrew, a Roman Catholic priest.
Now about that "nefoo". Greeley goes on and on in his preface or foreword or whatever it is he felt the need to write before actually starting the story, about Appalachian English. I won't say it isn't a viable study for linguistics students (my B.A. is in linguistics, but I wouldn't waste my time on Appalachian English--for one thing, I didn't see much that was actually original. Many of the expressions are in common usage.) My complaint is the need to call decent people "no-count varmints"--no, it isn't funny, imho). But one of the characters is a "hill-billy" (is that PC?) and she talks like that most of the time.  Okay. If that's her way of speaking, but Greeley has the other characters--Blackie and Peter (the nefoo) dropping into it.  Everyone is a no-count varmint and all questions are answered "shonuff".  I absolutely could not read the book.
Into the garbage it went, and I picked up a much superior book to read, also rated 4 out of 5 on goodreads, Monday the Rabbi Took Off (The Rabbi Small Mysteries #4) by Harry Kemelman, swapping a bishop for a rabbi. (I'm Christian, by the way, but love Jewish culture.)