I chaperoned the 5th grade field trip to Gettysburg yesterday.  I’d never been there.

This is the cupola that Sam Elliott shouted out of in the movie. Buford it appears to be.  Yup, I get my historical information from imdb.  This is on Seminary Hill because there’s a seminary there.  Not to be confused with Cemetery Hill, because there’s one of those too. 

I think this is a house with a cannonball in it.  If it isn’t, it’s some house near the action.

This is the beginning of the battle.  They weren’t supposed to be shooting at each other.

This is the view up to Little Round Top.  The north had the higher ground and the south had to go up there.  No wonder Longstreet wasn’t in a big hurry to get there.  Day 2.

This is from the museum.  Many of LLO’s girl compatriots were all gaga for Chamberlain (and bought the bobbleheads that I mentioned yesterday).  This leads me to believe that the Gettysburg movie is the same one I watched.  No statue of Chamberlain at Gettysburg- it’s up in Maine.  The girls nearly hijacked the bus. Chamberlain’s men ran out of ammunition and still chased the south away. 

This is the engineer dude (who probably has a name) who spotted the south moving toward Little Round Top and told the northern generals to get some fighters over ASAP.  The dude is the stickish looking thing sw of the monument.  Yes, I do have telephoto.  No, I don’t remember to use it.  Engineer dude does have a name: chief engineer, Brig. Gen. Gouverneur K. Warren

This is Devil’s Snare.  Where some guy from the north went to instead of following his orders and staying on LRT.  I’ve been reminded that Devil’s Snare is from Harry Potter and that I meant to say Devil’s Den. Dude who didn’t follow orders was Sickles.

This would be LLO sitting on a big honking rock on LRT. It’s a much, much bigger drop off than it looks.  Much.  I was a little concerned that she or someone near her would be less on the rock than off. 

I love this picture.

Um.  Some guy on a horse.  I know he’s important.  But all I remember the guide telling us was that the statue was recently renovated and the copper was polished and waxed to get rid of all the green stuff.  Well.  I looked it up here.  The guy on the horse IS pretty darn important.  It’s Lee.  This is the Virginia state monument representing the Army of Northern Virginia.

a field people had to run across to shoot at each other related to famous guy on horse.

This is where the north was hanging out waiting for the Rebels to get stuck getting over fences.

This is the eternal flame monument.  My kid would be the one who asked what happens when it rains.  Our guide, who was quite funny, called it something like an almost eternal flame or a lying eternal flame or something and told us when the flame goes out (occasionally with lots of rain or snow) that somebody comes with a big match to relight it.  Then he let us know he was fibbing about that.

Fifer outside the museum.  He was terrific, of course.  LLO and I got to talking about drummers and fifers and how important the drummers were.  Always need a little plug for percussion in the band.

This is part of an incredible painting in the upper part of the museum.  It’s a panorama that goes completely around in a circle.  It’s huge.  I overheard someone say the artist painted Lincoln in.  He’s the bearded guy those two men are carrying.

Throughout the battlefield, there are monuments for each state represented in the battle.  I think this is Mississippi for @be_the-rain.  I couldn’t figure out what that thing is when I was looking at it either.  The bus was moving.  Maybe an alligator?  I thought it was a person.  I dunno.  nope. person.  check it out here.  Why did I just think it was an alligator?  Not a lot of alligators in south-central Pa. 

Naturally the biggest monument is for Pennsylvania.  As it should be.  I think that’s LLO’s teacher up on the balcony.

And this is the view from up there.  It was high, boys and girls.  The two cannons across the road are green (I think it’s hard to tell that in this photo). The green cannons shoot regular round cannonballs.  The pair on this side of the road are black and are grooved, so that when the ammo comes out it’s faster and goes farther.  It may also be cannister ammo, which is a can filled with shot.  I blinked when the guy was talking.  You know what happens when I blink.

Guide told us about Jenny Wade, the only civilian casualty.  She got hit by a bullet while baking bread.  Our guide quipped “she was kneading dough because she needed dough.”  He really was quite amusing.  He kept me focused on what he was saying about 80% of the time.  This is pretty good.  For me.

I hope this is a satisfactory report, @Bricker59

 

I’m not much of a magazine person.  I don’t need to read People except in the dentist’s office. (I get all my gossip from the godfather and that’s more than enough.)  I do sometimes succumb to telemarketers and their wiles of getting me to order magazines to support underprivileged basketweavers at the north pole.  So there’s some cooking magazine subscription collecting dust somewhere and I get Family Fun for ideas for summer camp stuff.  But that will do me just fine. I found myself today wanting to get a magazine (and there’s a wild connection in there which I don’t believe I’ll be sharing today but maybe later) and having a Barnes and Noble gift card.  Seemed like a good idea to put the two things together. 

Barnes and Noble has one or two magazines in stock and they’re organized, but not alphabetically.  So I did a little looking.  Under the women’s section we have cooking and fashion and weddings because after all that is what we’re interested in.  My favorite though was Lifestyles, because at one end of that category is Penthouse and at the other end is Backyard something or another.  Thinking that my magazine was probably in that section, I spent quite a bit of time looking there.  Until I realized someone might think I have some special interest in that section.  Certainly didn’t want anyone to think I wanted to build a deck, so I gave up and asked at the desk.  No luck.

And I also asked about a book someone had recommended.  I had the author and a partial title because when I wrote it down, I must have blinked or something because I only wrote part of it.  It didn’t matter though, because I had the title of a chapter in the book, not the title of the book.  And searching through all the titles of this prolific author with a very patient sales associate yielded nothing.  0 for 2.

So I did the only thing I could do.  I headed back to the magazines and said yes to my passion.  Ha.  I found my favorite crochet magazine.  And then I went to the Starbucks and got a yummy green tea lemonade.  That took care of my gift certificate and quenched my thirst and made me wish I had time to start yet another project which I don’t.

Got online. Found both magazine and book.  Why did I leave the house?

In other news, I have to be conscious and functional and out of the house by 6:45 tomorrow. in the am.  This is not going to be pretty.  Oh. and LLO has to be with me.

In other other news, I actually finished reading a book yesterday.  A miracle.

In other other other news, I started painting the footstool for my wonder chair.

In other other other other news, I think I’ve conquered my melodrama.  Another miracle.

By the way, tomorrow I’m going to Gettysburg!!

LLO didn’t get her letter for Mount Nittany Magic School.  But that doesn’t bother the people in my house.  We don’t need a letter to avoid reality.  This is Spawn’s drawing of LLO in the halls of the magic school.  I think I could stare at this all day.  She has captured the wild creature that is LLO: the straggly hair, the skort that she wears every day, even that shirt which has history.  I feel the energy of my kid in this drawing.  I wonder if anyone else can, or if that’s just in my head?

I love that owl too.  Something about it.  Aside from it being a pretty good drawing of an owl, (yes?) I feel like it represents freedom.  Purposeful soaring.  Like those walls aren’t really there.

My kids are pretty swell.  They’re making me old, though.

LLO had her first visit with the “therapissed” today.  She came out extremely happy.  She got to talk for 60 minutes nonstop.  Loudly.  I moved across the room and stuck my nose in book so I couldn’t still hear her through the very large closed door.  And then she got to use the Keurig for some fancy tea.  And then we went out for Rita’s therapy.  And it was just one big party.  She is happy today.  She is the star of the show.  Then she came home and proceeded to talk through dinner at high volume in the sisters pick-at-each-other-until-someone-is-screaming-or-crying game.  You know what? I’m done. 

I was reading this book study last night about all kinds of syndromes kids can have.  I’m reading about bipolar depression and oppositional defiance disorder and plain old depression and when I finished reading the damn book, I wanted to throw it out the window.  Because this kid of mine could fit in any one of those.  And the other one has ADHD.  And I can’t tell right from left today and can’t finish a thought and I can’t stop crying because I have just passed along all kinds of bad shit.  I’ve ruined them. 

Then LLO just has this wonderful grand time chit chatting at $80 an hour and the world is her playground.  And I’m thinking I’ve been had.  I get fooled a lot.  I tell you.  I’m gullible.  And I can’t help thinking this girl has my number.  It pisses me off.  Because I’m dying inside.  If she’s doing this all for attention (no matter how valid that may be), I’m going to be mad.  I hate to be made a fool of.  The one thing I can’t let go is when someone thinks I’m stupid.

When spawn was way little she had this “look”.  It was a look that ripped my heart out.  It was a “my world is ending, mommy, fix it” look that made me get all teary.  It always worked.  I would drop everything and do whatever was necessary to fix the world when she gave me that look.  Then, one day.  I caught her practicing it in the mirror.  Game over, girlfriend.  Imagine her surprise when the look didn’t work anymore.

LLO was talking to her sister while I was standing kind of in-between them staring out the window.  Don’t ask.  It was a serious discussion.  I don’t remember what it was about, but I could feel LLO staring at me, judging the effect her words were having on me.  And I asked her why she was watching.  She didn’t deny it.  Oh, sweetie, if you want my attention, you’ve got it.  You may not be so pleased to have it.

Feed me my eyes.  Can you sew them shut.  I’ve been listening obsessively to Man in the Box today.  I woke this morning with that song in my head.  It’s probably been years since I heard or thought of that song.  Maybe I’ll listen to Locomotive Breath next or I’ll take suggestions for angry songs.  Death on Two Legs maybe. 

The fine print:  I’m not assuming that this drama is all fake.  (I will forgive her even if I believe she’s faking.)  I wouldn’t take the chance anyhow, because occasionally I’m wrong and the stakes are too high.  Maybe I’ll go to a therapist too so someone has to listen to me talk for 60 minutes. 

Now I believe I will take my urethaned wonder chair (which I’ve already promised not to make you look at again) into the backyard and read some more of that book.

Today was a melodramatic free-for-all at church.  We sang all the sad, sappy hymns about time passing as we watched the confirmation class join the church.  The class of 9th graders- all kids spawn knows well as it’s her class- but not my girl. She didn’t participate in confirmation this year.  She lost Jesus again.  He was an important part of our lives for about a week or two after her mission trip to Pittsburgh in March, but he exited the building pretty soon afterward.  I accepted her decision not to do confirmation.  I do believe in choice.  I know that may seem contradictory to a lot of the things I say, but on some things I don’t believe in pushing.  Spouseman had churchification jammed down his throat when he was a kid, and we have an understanding.  If the kids have something going on at church, he is there because he’s a great dad, but other than that it’s a food and coffee hour kind of place for him.  I’ve always been ok with that.  Because I believe in choice and there’s nothing I can do about it anyhow. 

Most of these kids I’ve known for a long time.  I taught Sunday School for spawn’s class from age 3 to 1st grade.  I was with them in the midweek program from 1st grade to 5th grade.  I remember them.  I don’t remember when they got so tall.  I don’t remember when the little boys became giants with deep voices.  I don’t remember when the girls bloomed into beautiful young women.  But I remember them when they were little.  I remember that talented young lady who played a sax solo today when she was just learning the sax.  I remember that stringbean boy who played the electric guitar to accompany her back when he wore his hair in his eyes and said “cheese” in answer to every serious question in 3rd grade.  I remember that kinda short kid with the serious eyes when he freaked out after I said something mildly inappropriate in 1st grade SS.  (I think it might have been “crap”- somehow I can’t remember that now.)  Those young people stood up in front of everyone today and made a promise, took one gigantic step closer to adulthood.  It touched me.

Today was also the day the 2nd grade Sunday School class received their big kid Bibles in church.  This is a big deal to me because this is my class.  It’s my favorite Sunday.  The kiddos are pretty excited to get their own Bible and nervous to stand in front of everyone and wound up and just glowing with pride about the whole thing.  It’s adorable.  This is my fourth year of teaching 2nd grade (since LLO was in the class).  Even though the kids can be pretty obnoxious most of the year, I keep coming back for more because of those 10 special minutes.  So I sniffed some today and that’s that.

Here’s the thing I need to know.  When exactly did I become this person who does the same thing year after year measuring the passage of time by the height of the people I know?  And why does it make me somewhat sad, but not ever bored?

Incidentally, the music group (with the aforementioned sax and electric guitar) also had cello, acoustic guitar and banjo of all things.  How wild is that?

Epic fail day.  I like to think that I don’t suck at this motherhood thing, but I get the rose-colored glasses ripped off my face occasionally.  Like today.  When the school counselor came in to class to talk to me.  LLO said something on the playground (I think) that completely freaked out some of the girls in her class who she claims are not her friends.  I have trouble even saying the word.  I want it not to be said.  Ever.  I want to have her not to have said it today.  I want it not to be something she’s said before at home.  I want this word banished from the language, the concept obliterated.  I might type for another five minutes before I can even type this word.  Maybe if I make it small, I can do it. suicide.  Geez.  My beautiful, hilarious, bright LLO mentioned that to the other kids on the playground.  The girls who then went en masse to the school counselor, who immediately pulled my baby into her office and listened to her cry her eyes out about all the things that are bothering her.  She has no friends.  She’s not smart.  She’s not responsible. Everybody dies around her.  Her sister bullies her and hits her. She’s a terrible person.

And I’ve heard all of this before.  And I say the same things over and over again.  She does have friends.  Those girls wouldn’t have gone to the counselor if they didn’t care about her.  She may not have many playdates but that’s more because I’m so done arranging those things.  She is smart as can be.  Aside from getting good grades (when she turns stuff in), she’s really good with science and math- definitely has an aptitude in that direction.  She’s a creative writer.  And, unlike the rest of her family, once she gets her mind around the idea that she can do it, she can totally focus on getting something done well and efficiently.  She can be responsible, she just saves that for special occasions.  I know she’s nervous about middle school.  As for death, our cat died two years ago.  Turns out that she kicked the cat early in the week poor kitty got put to sleep and she wanted a kitten.  She has been carrying this guilt for two years.  Golly.  Yes, I suppose her sister does hit her sometimes and certainly tries to tell her what to do (because spawn is mini mom), but LLO pokes the hornet’s nest and the hornet has no ability to fly away. That’s another issue in paradise which plucks my last nerve.  Obviously, LLO is not a terrible person.  She’s my kid. 

I don’t know where this is coming from.  I also don’t know what to do about it.  The first time she ever said it I completely freaked on her.  I assumed she didn’t know what it meant.  She does now.  And she knows how I feel about it.  Because I don’t think I could be on an earth that doesn’t have my LLO on it.  I don’t. 

A good friend of mine said I can’t just ignore it.  I know he’s right.  The stakes are too high.  But I missed the lesson in mother school that told me the magic words to fix it.

Earlier this week I thought I was a rock star because I convinced her to take a bath and brush her hair.  I’d let her keep the dreads, if she’d never feel this way again.

bluemooncat enormous thing. poetry 24. use words: Alaska, blueberries, time-space continuum, apology, satin, moon

 

the apology was never accepted

acknowledged, yes, and at the time

I was more than grateful

but the time-space continuum was

jammed

never to be realigned

freedom never regained

always the constant wonder

when the choices would bite

me in the ass

when satin words would

wander through my memory

when I’d remember what was

lost

the night under the moon

when conversation led

to a doom that led to

tundra in Alaska that led

to connections more sweet

than blueberries on a summer day

can I wish it all away

probably wouldn’t if I could

In other news. A pretty little twenty-something knocked on my door today trying to sell me services of College Painters, poor college students trying to make a buck over the summer to pay for their tuition (parties). I took the flyer in my hand right around the time she said “I looked around and noticed that the paint on your house is chipping. When can we set up a time for an estimate?” I just looked at her, wondering if this opening statement often works for getting new clients. I declined the opportunity she was giving me to support her college dreams. And she continued by asking if I was thinking about painting the house. To which I kinda snarkily reponded that I would be doing it myself. And the little charmer actually said, “Can you do that?” Yes, little girl. I can. I have. I did. And if she’s not happy with how my house looks, that’s just fine. Because I wouldn’t have her little team paint my house if they paid ME.

You can call me Maurice ’cause I speak of the pompetous of love. Not really. 

I found out this morning that Maurice Sendak is no longer where the wild things are.  This bothers me.  For a lot of reasons.  For one, he was only a little older than my dad and, if I’m remembering correctly (it was more than 12 hours ago, I may not be), he died from a stroke and my mommy had a little one of those a few months ago.  I can’t help but see the temporariness of the parental units in my life.  My mom is fine and my dad is too ornery.  But still, it makes me feel guilty for not being the kind of daughter I should be when my remaining time with them should be counted in years rather than decades.

More than that is the connection I have with his writings.  When my girlies were small, we had a fun tape for the VCR with several of his stories.  Chicken Soup With Rice that Carole King sang.  Who doesn’t love that?  And Pierre who didn’t care.  My girlies didn’t see the connection between Pierre and their attitudes- but I sure did.  I will never forget one day I was substitute teaching in a jungle of a Kindergarten class and the teacher said we could watch a movie at the end of the day, but I’d have to pick it out at the library.  In a somewhat panicky hurry, I picked that movie to show to the kids.  I about keeled over when we got to the Night Kitchen and a little naked boy butt appeared on the screen.  I’d forgotten all about that.  I’m sure the kids told their parents.  What kind of a teacher doesn’t pick the movie for the sub anyhow.  A jungle kindergarten teacher, that’s who. 

And then there’s Really Rosie, which is a totally fun musical based on his stories.  We went to see it when my friend’s incredibly delightful daughter was in it in 8th grade.  She has just finished her first year of college and she’s asked me to be a reference for her summer job.  It is crazy to imagine that this girl I met when she was 8 years old is now nearly 19, so grown up and happy and bright.  I’m torn between feeling proud to give a reference and disgusted that she thinks I’m grown up enough to do that.

The biggest thing of all though is Where The Wild Things Are.  I love this book.  Because sometimes I wear a wolf suit and make mischief of one kind and another. And sometimes I start a wild rumpus.  And sometimes I roar my terrible roar and gnash my terrible teeth.  But when I make it back home, it’s good to know that supper is still hot.  It is a perfect book.  Especially on a rainy cranky day when I’d rather be in the jungle.

The rain beat down my poppies.  The cold snap a few weeks ago froze my lilacs. The only thing that made me remotely happy today was working on my obsession in the hour that it wasn’t raining.  It’s just about done. I won’t make you look at it anymore.  Promise.

 

The state of my current obsession.  No time for anything else but this.

and a poppy explosion

 

I seem to have nothing to say lately.  Can’t allow that to continue.  So you get… photos of stuff I’m working on/obsessing about.

I started this adirondack chair this week because I did.  The urethane peeled off last summer and so it’s scratchy.  Can’t have that since I like to sit outside in the sun to read (assuming I still can read.)  Yes.  It’s dark and raining and I have the smallest flashlight ever made.  I’m using one or two colors.

I forget when I started this thing I don’t have any use for.  But I liked the pattern and I love the yarn. 

I’m reading Lone Wolf by Jodi Picoult.  I read a lot of her books.  I’m not exactly stuck in it yet, but maybe this weekend. I have a big pile of stuff I need to read.  Including a book that’s sort of for work called Kids in the Syndrome Mix of ADHD, LD, Asperger’s, yada yada.  I need to read that sucker by the 16th I think and answer questions for fun.  Yippee.  All kinds of other goodies on my reading pile too. 

I’ve killed a flower that was a gift.  Whoops.  I’m hoping some TLC will bring it back.

That’s all I got.  Sigh.