Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Disarmament (sorry!)

Everyone has their own personality quirks--I'm not talking here about dark, twisted secrets or the proverbial skeletons in the closet--just some aspect of the Total Self that doesn't entirely mesh with the rest. Like the well-educated woman who should read the many classic works of literature she hasn't gotten to yet...but vastly prefers the collected works of J.K Rowling (oh wait...that's me).  Or the clean-living, healthy-eating woman who is also a chocoholic (um, yeah...me again).  Anyway, what I actually meant to confess is:  I'm a total non-violent, anti-war, pacifist-peacenik...with a strange penchant for visiting Civil War sites. I have no idea where this fascination came from, unless it started when I read Gone with the Wind approximately 17 times as a teenager. And I don't particularly care about battlefield logistics or strategy--whose regiment attacked on what hill or which battalion was outflanked and retreated down what road--I just enjoy photographing cannons...and meandering through graveyards...and seeing history recreated  in buildings that were constructed 150 years ago.

In my travels I've hit some of the "biggies" in the War Between the States: Gettysburg, Antietam, Monocacy, Manassas, Vicksburg, Appomattox, Harper's Ferry, to name a few. Yet somehow, even though it's only 70 miles away, even though my late Great Uncle Jere and Great Aunt Phoebe owned the second oldest house in the city, I had thus far failed to explore Fredericksburg, Virginia. So when my family was away this past weekend, and the Road Trip Bug bit me, I headed into the South for an educational field trip.

First stop: Chancellorsville--which would have been a stupefyingly boring waste of time (lots of big empty fields, marked by plaques describing troop movement....YAWN) if it weren't for the ultra-helpful and friendly Park Ranger who took the time to give me a brief history lesson. As he handed me my useful National Park Service map, he pointed out that, if I chose to make a small side trip, I could visit the Wilderness Battlefield. And just why would I want to do this, you may wonder? Because: General "Stonewall" Jackson's arm is buried there.  To be perfectly clear: not the whole body, just the ARM...WITH A HEADSTONE*. Now I ask you, how could I possibly miss this? It's just so compelling, in a delightfully bizarre and macabre sort of way!

Clearly, this needed to become a priority of my excursion. I found the scene of the...um..."internment", Ellwood House, tucked at the end of a quiet, winding country lane. Hoping to leave behind the (stifling, 100-degree) heat of the day for a few blessed minutes of air-conditioning, I opened the front door;  immediately three nice older gentlemen welcomed me and leaped to my assistance. The first Retired Volunteer led me to the "parlor" which had been reconstructed down to the most minute, exact details, using correspondence that described the room as it appeared during wartime meetings in 1863. In his quiet, gentle southern voice (in which "eighteen-sixty foh-uh" has 6 syllables--say it out loud and you'll hear what I mean!), with hands folded across his portly frame, he shared some of the colorful history of the property. He was an absolute treasure.

Then his partner, a silver-haired, distinguished-professor type, instructed me in the use of the interactive film clips in the next room. When I had dutifully listened to the presentation and absorbed all the facts and lore I could, I prepared to venture back out onto the grounds. The Professor followed me onto the porch and, with twinkling eyes and a sly sidelong look, whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "are you going to see The Arm?" It didn't seem polite or respectful to snicker (no matter how much I wanted to), so I earnestly assured him I was about to do just that, and he pointed me in the right direction and wished me well.

So of course, I proceeded to the small graveyard to...pay my respects? gawk in utter amazement? marvel at the absurdity? (a little bit of all of these, as a matter of fact). The General's arm is marked by the only headstone in that tiny cemetery, and once you've taken the obligatory picture, there's really nothing else to do. But my Fredericksburg experience would have been tragically incomplete without the Tale of the Arm. And what a weird, fantastic "Been There, Done That" kind of story it is, wouldn't you agree?



(*the Ranger also felt inspired to share a bit of related trivia with me: there is one other headstone in the United States dedicated to the final resting place of a famous person's...ahem...body part. The limb in question would be Benedict Arnold's leg, buried in Saratoga, NY. No, I do NOT have plans to go see it...right now, anyway!)

Saturday, June 26, 2010

Roll Over, Beethoven

Today's post will be a sober commentary on the topic of: "Growing Up in America, amidst the influence of the Popular Cultural Media".  (Ha! I had you going there for a minute, didn't I? Relax, it's just a kid story...with musical overtones...)

Everyone in our family loves music. The kids come by it naturally, as they have been exposed to a variety of musical genres from the time they were born. For example, one of their favorite shows when they were pre-schoolers was the Disney Channel's Little Einsteins, which featured a famous piece of classical music in each episode. We knew Derek was absorbing some of it when he walked into the kitchen one day, heard the Classical Station that was playing, and commented thoughtfully, "Hey, that sounds like Mozart!" (He was right. He was also 4-years old.) These days, we frequently have the radio on in the house, as background. When we get in the car to go somewhere, Derek reminds me if I haven't turned on the music by the time we're at the end of our driveway. Riley often walks around the house singing to himself (selections from Hot 99.5...which kind of freaks me out, to tell you the truth--my not-quite-7-year-old belting out "I'm only gonna break-break-your, break-break your heart!")

But things quite suddenly have become less Rock Me Amadeus and more American Top 40 boys around here...the other day Royce came searching for me with an incredulous look on his face, and sputtered, "WHAT have you guys been listening to lately?" (Um..that depends...how much trouble am I in exactly?) Turns out the boys were mulling over a question in the "Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader" quiz book I'd gotten to amuse them on their upcoming flight to SC. The query: "What was the first name of legendary 18th- century composer Beethoven?" Derek claimed he didn't have a clue, so Royce prompted him: "starts with an L".  Derek's guess? LUDACRIS! (I'm sure he was kidding...he must have been...right?)

To paraphrase another legendary songwriter: "Oh, the times, they are a-changin'...."

Thursday, June 24, 2010

I never learned THIS in Schoolhouse Rock!

As a parent, you send your kids off to school each day, trusting that their hours away from you are filled with useful lessons that increase their knowledge and personal growth, and valuable information to help them along in life. You fervently hope that at least some of this learning will make a strong impression and stick with them after the bell rings...that is, until you discover that the burning topic that has fixed itself indelibly in the minds of the 4th-graders is: Cannibalism. (Yes, you read that right! And no, I'm not kidding!)

Allow me to explain. They spent a great deal of time this year studying the Jamestown Settlement, the early American Colonists, and the Powhatan Indians. (Sounds interesting and enriching, right? Wait for it...) Now, Jamestown had its share of serious troubles, including rampant disease and hunger. Experts say that when things got really desperate, the residents were forced to eat people who had died, in order to survive themselves (who knew?).  Let me just interject here that I am sure this was a MINOR point in the examination of the historical period, probably mentioned quickly in passing...but to the 10-year olds, it was apparently an Instant Sensation. And I probably wouldn't even know about it, except that I volunteered several times in May, when the class was working on their Final Presentations, and I happened to help out one little girl who was obsessed with writing a play...about a family who ate the youngest brother (it was somehow hilarious and creepy at the same time--as if Stephen King was inhabiting the body of a big-eyed, ponytailed elementary school kid).

Anyway, I didn't realize the macabre discussion had carried over to the homefront, until Riley was looking at a list I had made of potential "Things to Do" this summer.  At the bottom I had written Williamsburg/Jamestown. With an expression of mild alarm, he asked, "Why would we want to go to Jamestown, Mom...there's no FOOD!" (hence the gravity of the situation:  no field trips allowed without snacks, you know!) I assured him that in fact, they have resolved this issue in modern-day Jamestown. After a moment of relief, he began laughing; "That's good, but it would be funny if you walked up to your neighbor and said 'hi neighbor'....CHOMP!"

Sigh. 4th-grade Curriculum, meet 1st-grade sense of humor...so please, whatever you do, refrain from asking "what did you learn in school this year" unless you're prepared for the gruesome consequences!

Monday, June 21, 2010

Summer begins....

Today was the "First Meteorological Day of Summer" (sounds so festive, doesn't it? those weather gurus really are a wild and crazy bunch...), so let's review how it went. The boys, whom we often have to cajole from their beds at a quarter to eight during the school year, popped out of bed at: 7:45. Which part of "you can sleep in--it's summertime and you have nowhere to be" did they NOT get? Clearly this needs some work.

The school year "No TV on weekdays" rule has been lifted, and even the "daily 2-hour time-limit" has been chucked out the window due to the World Cup Mania currently gripping our household. So by 8:40 this morning, Derek and Riley had parked themselves in front of a match, and were raucously cheering on the players,  trash-talking the refs, and rating the best and worst commercials, while I drank my coffee. (Oh, don't worry that I wasn't fully involved in the excitement--after each and every one of Portugal's SEVEN goals, I was treated to a high-volume Sports Center-worthy blow-by-blow recap of precisely what had happened, including who scored, who assisted, who was near the play, who was adjusting their shorts at the time, etc.) After the game, they were so charged up that they felt inspired to play their own version of an International Soccer Contest...which ended abruptly about 5 minutes in, after Riley stubbed his toe and accused Derek of cheating (as a matter of fact, it was a darn good imitation of some of the more dramatic fake-injury moments I've seen professional players pull off when they want to draw a "foul call"!)

In the afternoon, Derek and I attempted to play tennis for the first time this season. I thought it went pretty well, but the 10-year old seemed to believe he should step on the court after not picking up a racket for a year and instantly channel his inner Roger Federer.  So there was a little more ego-placating and less baseline-rallying than I had hoped. And did I mention it was H-O-T on that asphalt today?!

Which leads us to the ideal end for Day 1 of Summer: the pool! Ah, the sunscreen...the chlorine...the whole lounge chair scene...But wait just a minute--I remembered something very important that we missed! How could we have forgotten ice cream? Oh well, we'll have to do better tomorrow (you know, Day 2 of Summer... : )

Thursday, June 17, 2010

The Loo, Part 2!

After I had recovered from my mind-boggling Home Depot fact-finding mission (makes it sound so serious and important, doesn't it? Like "toilet features" should be Code Blue Classified Information or something...), I bravely ventured out to another Home Improvement Outpost: The Tile Center. "How bad could it be?" I reassured myself, "all they have is one thing!" And in fact that turned out to be true. They just have ROWS and ROWS of that one thing...stretching off as far as the eye can see. Sigh. That whooshing sound was my "free morning" blowing away before my eyes...

Even here, in such a specialized store, the choices immediately begin to pile up (somewhat like the stacks of money that will be handed over eventually, when all the decisions have been made!) First: what material would you prefer? There's ceramic, porcelain, and something called "Travertine", which I gathered was a fancy name for "stone". Then you can focus on color (solid? light? dark? marbled? speckled?) and texture (completely smooth? slightly bumpy? bumpy enough that you feel like your bathroom is on a garden path?), and finish (shiny? matte? I didn't find the surface-type I really wanted: "self-cleaning, thoroughly hiding dust and hair"...darn it). 

But don't relax just yet; you're far from home-free (pun intended)! You must sift through each of these options several times, as you select tile for the floor...then the shower walls...and the shower pan (that's Secret Bathroom Talk for: the floor of the shower). All of these should of course complement each other--and work with everything else you tentatively picked out in Home Depot (relying on memory, since you couldn't exactly bring a mock-up of your model bathroom with you). Finally, your helpful Consultant will suggest an "accent piece" to make your shower "stand out". (Um...why? I don't plan to give tours of my shower, no matter how good it looks when this is all completed! And when I'm in there, soaping or shaving or whatever, I do not intend to stand around admiring my beautiful surroundings! But I chose one anyway; I figured at this point, "what the heck?")

And then, the Moment of Truth (or "Moment of Math" is more like it) when you sit down with the Consultant and his trusty calculator, and total up the final cost of re-tiling your wee bathroom...and discover (to your abject horror) that on paper you've spent: $700. So now I'm thinking maybe I WILL give tours of my renovated bathroom...$5 per person...tips appreciated! 

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

"Taking the Plunge" (so to speak) Part 1

Well, the time is upon us again...every year like clockwork we can count on something in our 35-ish-year-old house needing "attention" (which of course is just one big euphemism in Homeowner Speak for "requiring time, effort, and a big pile of money to repair or replace". Someone neglected to tell us this pertinent fact while we were signing the stacks of papers necessary to buy the house. Or maybe it's buried somewhere in all the fine print and legal speak on page 127 or something...must've missed that...)

Anyway, this year the big Home Improvement Winner is: the Master Bathroom. Mind you, Master Bathroom is a somewhat lofty title for a room that is approximately 5 feet square, and routinely used by one person (that would be: me!).  So I figured this "project" would be fairly small, easy and inexpensive. Yes, you may feel free to start chuckling now at my naivete (or shall we call it "Blissful Ignorance"? whatever, it's been dashed to bits by now...) It all kicked off when I noticed cracking around the base of the shower. I promptly ignored this...for a couple of years, actually (there was no actual water leak that we could see, so it must be fine, right? Denial also works well for me on occasion). Then small pieces of drywall started chipping off, and suddenly I envisioned a cascade of water flooding my bathroom--and I called a professional immediately.

Obviously, the shower is the major component in this tiny Water Closet (the British term applies nicely in this case, as there is indeed water, but barely enough space to turn around in there), but--and here comes the big sucking sound of me being drawn into a diabolical "Renovation Plan"--once you tear out and rebuild the shower, you might as well re-tile the floor (changing the 1-inch square tiles that just scream "70s"!), and choose a new vanity (updating the peeling wood/stained plastic version in there now), and switch the toilet (for a modern, water-saving, dual-flush variety).

See how easy that was? Um, yeah...sounds great...looks awesome on paper. But then I went to Home Depot (whose motto should really be: "You can do it...just hand over all your money, and we can help!") and, just to start somewhere, contemplated toilets (size--yes, there are choices! color? shape of opening? handle type? amount of water consumption?). Mentally already beginning to reel a bit, I moved on from there to vanities (doors? drawers? wood color? dimensions that will actually fit into my diminutive space?). Holding tightly onto my last remaining sparks of brainpower, I hastily sought out fixtures (faucet finish--chrome? brushed nickel? brass? does the sink have one opening or three? do I want a big, swooping silhouette, or a more modest look? shower head: spray options? compact or large round shape?) And then, dazed and staggering like I'd gone 10 rounds with one of the orange-aproned helpers, I escaped the mayhem, clutching my fistful of notes and fleeing before I started doing something crazy...like buying things.

So to sum up: in less than an hour, I spent a cool imaginary $500 (not counting the multiple-thousands of dollars for the Contractor's quote--which is enough to give a Penny-Pincher like me an imaginary heart-attack). And I hadn't even been to the Tile Store yet (more on that later). This tiny virtual-bathroom is already turning out to be more costly and complicated than I thought! I'd better go regroup for Round 2...

Friday, June 11, 2010

A Modern-Day Apple for the Teacher...

Another school year has ended, for all intents and purposes (although there are technically 2-1/2 days left, I think the boys are running on fumes and have already "checked out" mentally) and I must say, both kids were blessed with phenomenal teachers this year.  Warm, caring, upbeat, skilled, and--as a total bonus--funny as well! So I was out shopping today, wracking my brains (yes, it was as painful as it sounds...particularly in the middle of WalMart!) for a solution to the age-old problem: what to get teachers for an end-of-the-year gift? I  strongly subscribe to the "Useful Gift" philosophy, because I myself am adamantly opposed to receiving "knick-knacky stuff" to clutter up my life (trust me, I've seen teachers' desks, and there's always plenty of decoration already!). And let's face it, no matter how absolutely adorable, no one NEEDS another "#1 Teacher" mug or more stationary with cutesy pictures of pencils and books. Besides, I want a present that somehow expresses all at once: 1. how wonderful they are  2. how grateful we feel and 3. how much their hard work is appreciated. Besides a chocolate bar the size of Mt. Everest (and who wouldn't want that?), I just couldn't come up with anything...

As I meandered up and down the aisles, nothing jumped out at me and screamed "Tasteful and Appropriate Reward for an Excellent Teacher" (I waited patiently, but it just didn't happen), so my mind drifted off in a daydream. If I could put together my own Magical Gift Basket, this is what it would contain for each of my sons' teachers:

--a Bottomless Coffee Cup (refills itself automatically each morning just before you arrive, and waits steaming invitingly on your desk. That would certainly help ME face a roomful of children at the bright- and-early hour you greet them!)
--an invisible Whine-Barrier (fits snugly over your classroom door, preventing any unpleasant tone-of-voice from entering your domain for the entire day.)
--Fidget-Proof Chairs (gently but firmly keeps feet on the floor, bottoms planted, and--most importantly--hands to self while kids are working.)
--Lightly-Scented Air Freshener (spritzes the room at strategic intervals, neutralizing the pungent odor of 25 moist bodies when they re-enter after recess.)
--Obedience Drops (like gumdrops, but all-natural, with no added colors or flavors : ) that when given to a misbehaving student (sorry, I meant "a friend who's not making good choices") would cause them to immediately change their attitude or behavior to a more acceptable one.
--Industrial-Strength, Jumbo-Sized Jar of Patience: because although teachers NEVER seem to be running low, I believe it would be nice to have some extra on-hand...just in case!

There! Just throw in that Mountain of Chocolate, and it's perfect! Now I wonder if Amazon carries such a thing...

Monday, June 7, 2010

(He's) growing older (but not up!)

Like most elementary schools, ours has a team of Safety Patrols chosen from the upcoming 5th grade class. These student Officers of the Law wear the bright orange Belt of Authority (reflective, yet jazzy!) and are responsible for monitoring and protecting their classmates at the bus-stops, on the bus, and on school grounds. Derek had brought up the subject a number of times ("Mom, do you think I would be a good patrol?" Very subtle!) so I knew how much he wanted to be chosen. At our school, there's no actual "application process"--it's all done by teacher recommendation--so as the end of the academic year approached both of us were waiting with bated breath for some word from the Patrol Supervisor (aka: the PE Teacher).  Finally last Friday Derek burst in the door at 4:00 waving the Pledge that he has to memorize, grinning from ear to ear, and announcing that he was officially a member of the Patrol Team. Of course Mom was so proud...kids are chosen for their reliability, maturity, academic achievement, blah, blah, blah. This is the first time he's been selected for anything in his short life, and it seems like a pretty cool job to have at his school, so overall it was a Big Deal. It also means my oldest son is truly growing up...but then that misty rose-colored image was smashed by the following conversation, held in the car over the weekend:

Me: "Hey, kids, there's only a week-and-a-half of school left; what do you want to do this summer for fun? Here's a thought: should we go to another Planetarium since you enjoyed the one in New York so much?"
Riley: (enthusiastically) "I wanna go to the coldest planet (by which he means Pluto--he utterly refuses to acknowledge its reduced status) and freeze my BUTT!"
Me: sighing, rolling eyes (they can't see me from the back seat, so no Mom Foul can be called on this one!)
Derek: "Don't you mean URANUS?"
(At this point Riley clutches his stomach and folds over, overtaken with maniacal giggling. Meanwhile Royce--overgrown boy that he is--has his head bent over, hand firmly over his mouth, unsuccessfully attempting to stifle his own snickers.)
Me: (trying to put a lid on the situation before it spirals completely out of control) "Riley, you don't even know what that means!"
Riley: (merrily) "Yes I do; Derek explained it to me after school one day!"

Naturally, I gave up and retreated into a Dignified Mom Silence (which I save for just such occasions when there's really nothing else to say.) All I could think was: maybe it wasn't such a good idea to give this kid a badge and put him in charge of other young, impressionable people! I certainly hope that Special Sash is magical, causing whoever wears it to use their powers only for good...

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

New York State of Mind...

Day 2 of our NYC excursion began with a huge breakfast. That is, Derek ate enough for two full-grown people (cereal, banana-walnut pancakes, sausage, fresh fruit, chocolate milk, and when the rest of us weren't making any move to get up from the table, he went back for a bagel with lox), and I drank approximately a gallon of coffee. We were all feeling a wee bit tired from our action-packed Saturday (all that walking and eating can really wear you out, I tell ya!) as well as the fact that the hotel fire alarm had gone off at 6 on Sunday morning. But finally we mustered our energy, and headed off to the Bright Lights, Big City once more.

This time we crossed the George Washington Bridge and made our way to Times Square. We let the kids stand around for a while, looking up with their mouths hanging open (not literally, but that was the impression) as they absorbed the flashing lights, the billboards, the skyscrapers, and the teeming mass of humanity swirling all around them. Can you say "overstim"? (and I'm talking about ME, not necessarily the short people!)  Then we walked--no more death-defying cab rides for me, thanks--to the Empire State Building for our first tourist stop of the day. (After patiently standing in line for a looong time) Derek and Riley both were awed and delighted by the view from the 86th floor. They loved looking down on the tiny people and cars below...I think they would have enjoyed trying to swat planes out of the sky as well, but fortunately we stopped short of a King Kong re-enactment.

Since we were running short on time, the group opted for buying lunch from one of the ubiquitous vending carts that dot the sidewalks of the city. I was skeptical--my stomach wanted REAL food--but once I bit into the warm knish, my protests evaporated. A fist-sized pocked of creamy mashed potatoes inside a crusty shell...yum! We ate under some shady trees outside the Manhattan Branch of the New York Public Library, feeling very much a part of the urban-street-scene. Our bellies content, our feet got to rest as well, as we enjoyed the next several hours on the top level of a double-decker bus, being shuttled around the Uptown Loop while our tour guide explained the sights and provided witty commentary. We oohed and aahed at the gorgeous brownstones, stately Columbia University, busy-but-serene Central Park, the MOMA, the Met (we admired the outsides--the actual art inside will have to wait for another time!), colorful Harlem, and several majestic churches. We finally jumped off on 5th Avenue (home to many famous designer stores--at least wishing and gawking cost nothing!) and wandered down to FAO Schwartz.

It was getting late...the kids were flagging...and we still had to drive back to Maryland. So we called it a successful mini-vacation, and went back to retrieve our car.  Little did we know that we weren't quite done yet...New York apparently didn't really want us to leave, as demonstrated by the hour-and-a-half it took to exit through the Lincoln Tunnel. Oh well. It won't kill the boys to get to bed at midnight once in a while, right? So now we're back in our little hometown, which seems extraordinarily quiet, clean, low-key and uncrowded after the Big Apple.  We had a fantastic visit, but it's good to be back!