DC Adventure: Rosemary's Thyme Bistro

If I'd only known that the meal I was about to have would be, without doubt, the best and most delicious dinner I would partake in for the next five days…I would have savored every bite, and then carefully wrapped up any and all leftovers to take home with me, to be indulged in later…


…but alas.

I didn't know.


We're on Day #1 of our High School Musical bus trip to Washington, D.C…and after touring Ford's Theater, as well as the National World War II Memorial, we're all starving. Oh - and the high school kids are starving, too.


Rosemary's Thyme Bistro…a Mediterranean kitchen...

Fortunately, our tour organizers had made pre-reservations at a delightful little corner restaurant called Rosemary's Thyme Bistro…so the proprietors and staff didn't die of shock when three bus loads of hungry, starving high schoolers descended upon them like a pack of locusts. Seriously, we SWARMED the place, filling in every available nook, corner, cranny and table…and the staff hopped to attention, quickly getting salads placed in front of us, water glasses filled, and soda pop set in front of the kids.


Before the invasion of the hungry high-school barbarians...



Lucy, Daughter and myself...


I heard later that there had been an "adults" table - somewhere, some place - inside the restaurant, but I was so tired and so hungry at this point that I just blindly followed the teenagers to the next available empty table and sat down with them - which turned out to be quite fun, actually, as I got to know some of the kids better. And some of these kids were a hoot. Maybe I was a bit slap-happy at this point, due to lack of sleep - but I was laughing and giggling to the point of tears, and feeling more like a kid myself rather than a middle-aged chaperone.





Seriously - sitting with these kids reminded me that we are all pretty much the same inside, regardless of the difference in our ages…and the kids may not want to believe it, but we were pretty much exactly like them at that age.


Mr. "Cinderella" should be doing comedy on the stage…and little did I know how much I'd get to know the girl in the corner, Sadie...

After noshing on our salads, our entrees began arriving. We'd pre-ordered these before arriving, having been given a choice of chicken, beef, lamb or salmon. Looking around the table, it was interesting to spot the kids' choices, and how well their 'choices' matched their personalities. The kids who like to play things safe were happy with chicken…while the more adventurous and bolder kids had gone with lamb.


I'd chosen the salmon…and I had chosen well.



Nothing fancy. But totally delicious.

Nom. Nom. Nom.

It. Was. Perfect.


The restaurant was on top of things - they knew they had three gluten-free diners in the group, and somehow knew that I was one of them. A waitress discreetly asked me, before bringing the dessert, if I would be okay with flan - since I would be unable to have cheesecake, as the rest of the group was having.

Yes, please.



Squee.


That sauce has some sort of coffee-flavor to it - and it was to die for. If I hadn't thought that licking my plate would set a bad example for the kids - I would have totally done it. It was that good.


All too soon, it was time to load up on the buses, and head to our hotel. Where a bed…and a shower (gasp!) would be waiting for me.

We stayed at the Sheraton in Pentagon City…and I have to say, I was impressed by the hotel. It was spacious, clean, and beautifully decorated.




Not my picture…but pretty much what my room looked like...


I had a great view of the Pentagon outside my window, along with the United States Air Force Memorial, which we would visit later in the week:




I could also see just a tip of Arlington National Cemetery, if I looked over to the left outside my window:




After getting settled in my room, I headed down to the nightly chaperone meeting, where we'd go over the next day's itinerary, and any concerns or matters that needed discussion regarding the kids. Each evening, after this meeting, the various chaperones would scatter to the far corners of the hotel, each of us checking two rooms of four kids each, making sure THEY knew the itinerary the next day, and answering any questions or concerns they had.

After first checking on Daughter's room, along with her three friends, I made my way up a floor to the "older" girls' room - a group of four juniors. I knew two of them, Emily and Megan, from my neighborhood…but the other two, Mikayla and Caitlin, I would be meeting for the first time.

Or so I thought.

After letting me in their room (which already looked like a tornado had struck - seriously??!! I guess teenage girls are all the same!!), Caitlin immediately said, "I know you from somewhere. How do I know you??"

I looked at her, but without any recognition…It's funny how your mind tries to place someone…almost going through a card-sort in your brain…Church? No. Work? Obviously not. Neighborhood? Not that I know of.

I shrugged, and told her, "I have no idea…maybe I just have one of those faces…"


But.

But.

But.


The more I thought about it, as I was in my own room that night, tossing and turning and attempting to get to sleep in a strange bed, the more I realized I knew Caitlin, as well…but from where?? Gah. I knew I wasn't going to get to sleep until I had figured this mystery out, so I put my brain to work, flashing back over my memories the last few years in order to place her.

And then it hit me.

Eight years ago, I worked at a local elementary school…beginning the year as a paraprofessional, assigned to a 3rd-grade boy with high-functioning autism. The little boy was 'mainstreamed' in some of his classes, and it was there that I got close to a lot of the 3rd-graders - especially the little girls, who seemed to gravitate to me during recess and other breaks.

And Caitlin had been one of those 3rd-grade girls.

She was now an 11th-grader.

It had been EIGHT years, and Caitlin had remembered me.

Holy Memory, Batman.

I was impressed. I couldn't wait to tell her in the morning - but in the meantime, it was finally, FINALLY, time to go to sleep.

DC Adventure: WWII Memorial

After leaving Ford's Theater, The Bus took us to the National Mall area, also known as the Nation's Front Yard. We would visit the National Mall dozens of times over the next week, but this evening, we were heading to one thing: the National World War II Monument.

We had picked up a tour guide along the way, Ed, who would stay on our bus for the entire week. Ed was a walking encyclopedia of knowledge, and as we drove through the streets of D.C., he would point out points of interest and dissolve into a story behind them. I *hope* the kids were listening and picking up some information, but you just never know with kids. Although Ed was knowledgeable, he wasn't exactly funny - and you can definitely "lose" your listeners.

So, as we pulled up and parked by the WWII Memorial, Ed regaled us with all of the history and architecture behind this massive monument. I couldn't remember half of it, but I just decided to walk around on my own to see what I could find….

When first walking up to the Memorial, you come across this "Announcement" Stone:

"Here in the presence of Washington and Lincoln, one the eighteenth century father and the other the nineteenth century preserver of our nation, we honor those twentieth century Americans who took up the struggle during the Second World War and made the sacrifices to perpetuate the gift our forefathers entrusted to us: a nation conceived in liberty and justice."

Wow. Some powerful stuff there.

There were lots of other inscriptions to be found, including these noteworthy ones:






Dedicated in 2004, the monument contains 56 granite columns that symbolize unity among the states, territories and the District of Columbia. There are also two 43-foot tall structures that highlight America's victory on the Atlantic and Pacific fronts during the war:






We had a mere 30 minutes at the most to explore this massive memorial, but I managed to find some other little treasures:


A seal on the floor of the memorial using the World War II Victory Medal design




A series of 24 bas reliefs depict the all-out mobilization of America’s agricultural, industrial, and military and human resources during the Second World War.



The Freedom Wall is on the west side of the memorial, with a view of the Reflecting Pool and Lincoln Memorial behind it. The wall has 4,048 gold stars, each representing 100 Americans who died in the war. In front of the wall lies the message "Here we mark the price of freedom".


Up close…so powerful...


There's normally fountains and a pool of water at the site, but because we were there before spring (and warmer weather), the fountains had not been turned on. Later in the week, we did a drive-by of the memorial, as we'd heard a rumor that they water was running - and this was true. And it was stunning. But no pictures, as the bus was moving too fast to snap one. Drat.

So…I swiped a photo off of Wikipedia, showing how it would have looked if the water had been on:



Stunning.

And one more, just for good measure:




Unfortunately, due to our limited time to visit this, as well as the cooler temperatures, I don't think the kids really appreciated this - or got the impact. This memorial would be one I would definitely visit again in the future, allowing more time to really take it all in, and viewing the different bas reliefs and inscriptions.


This whirlwind visit would be just a foreshadowing of the week that was to come…we pretty much did this everywhere we went: swooped in, swooped out, with extremely limited time to fully take in whatever it was we were visiting. Just a taste…a nibble…but never a complete "meal" of a particular site...

And speaking of meals…it was time for dinner…and we were ready to head off to what would be, looking back, the best meal I had all week…stay tuned!!!

Peace.

DC Adventure: Day #1

One thing is certain…


…my life is never, ever dull.


I just spent the last week chaperoning Daughter and her fellow high school music students on a whirlwind visit to Washington, D.C. - where we soaked in the sights, made beautiful music, and ate lots of crappy food.

Notice how I did not put "sleep" in the above sentence...because, Dear Readers, there was none of that. Nope. Nada. And I learned a valuable lesson: that I am much, much too old to go a week without sleep, because now, I am cranky. And tired. And feeling very, very old.


Let me back up and start at the beginning of this adventure…which would be last Thursday, March 12th, when we gathered up our 100+ students, instruments and parents and boarded three charter buses, embarking on a 20+ hour drive to Washington, D.C.


The Bus. Our home away from home for the next week. Joy.



Trust me. After a week, with 36 kids and a half-dozen parents & teachers onboard, our bus did NOT look this pristine….


Our adventure began at 4:00 p.m. on Thursday, and we would only make one stop that evening - for dinner, at some food court somewhere in either St. Louis or Illinois - since I wasn't driving, I wasn't paying attention - where we began our crappy-food marathon. Finding gluten-free options at a shopping mall food court is like finding the winning lottery ticket - it's pretty much impossible, and with limited time to hunt down something both safe AND palatable, I ended up noshing on a Philly Cheesesteak - minus the bun, of course.

Nom. Nom. Nom.

It was awful.


Fortunately, I had packed a Lifesaver Bag of gluten-free snacks, which supplemented the meager dinner…and before long, we were back on the road, throwing in some DVD's for the kids to enjoy, while the adults settled in and attempted to make our "nest" comfortable. We would be spending the night on this bus, with no more stops scheduled until a breakfast stop Friday morning somewhere in Ohio, so we fiddled and finagled with our pillows and blankets, tasked with the impossible of trying to find a position that our bodies would find restful enough to sleep.

Around 11:00 pm, the DVD player was turned off, as well as the interior lights, and one by one, kids began nodding off into slumber…and the buzz of laughter and chit-chat dwindled down to silence…other than the rumble of the bus's tires as they traversed the highway.

And I tried to sleep. I really did. First, I popped a Benadryl, which is normally all I need to fall into a Zombie-like slumber. But that's normally when I am sleeping in a comfortable bed, prone - not sitting up in a HUGELY uncomfortable bus seat that dug into my back like a pokey, annoying child. Gah. Ninety-minutes later, I popped a Valium - and while I eventually fell into a rather restless doze, I woke up numerous times during the night, enviously eyeing the parents around me, trying to see what position THEY had managed to discover would be comfortable and bring on sleep, and quickly copying them. It was funny to discover the next morning that apparently, every other chaperone was doing the same thing during the long night - popping up every now and then, trying to see in the dark how others were sleeping, and then attempting to emulate them.



I eventually copied these guys - putting my head on the armrest, while putting my legs up in the air on the window. As bizarre as it sounds, it worked - until my legs developed some pretty painful pins and needles from lack of circulation.

I was up bright and early the next morning, but fortunately, all the kids behind me were nowhere to be seen - which meant they were all still sacked out, sleeping:




Soon, it was time to stop in Ohio for a brief breakfast - at another food court, of course, gah - and then we were back on the road to Washington. Although we were scheduled to arrive around 10:00 a.m., it was several hours later when we finally arrived. The excitement on the bus grew exponentially as we got closer - whether it was because we were finally getting to our destination, or whether it was because we'd finally get off our bus prison - who knows…who cares, actually - because that bus was awful.


Our first stop in Washington was for lunch at Union Station, where I gathered a bunch of kids and made a bee-line for Johnny Rockets. There, they were kind enough to create a hamburger in a lettuce wrap, rather than a bun, which I greatly appreciated.


Looking down on the craziness and insanity of the Union Station Food Court…it was truly a mishmash of people, smells and noise...



Johnny Rockets…always fast, always fun...


We didn't have a lot of time to dally, as it was back on The Bus for our first "official" tour stop in D.C., Ford's Theater:


Outside of Ford's Theater…such a small and nondescript place for such a momentous moment in history...


Ford's Theater is where Abraham Lincoln was shot on April 14, 1865 by John Wilkes Booth. Although it briefly shut down, it was renovated and reopened as a working theater in 1968. We were not able to go into the actual theater itself, as there was a performance rehearsal going on - so we were relegated to the museum in the basement, which had multiple items related to the assassination on display. That was all great and dandy, but I was a tad bit disappointed to not be able to visit the theater itself.


Daughter, Friend and myself at the theater…





We then walked across the street to William Petersen's house…which is where President Lincoln was carried to a back bedroom after being shot. While doctors cared for Lincoln, the Petersen family and their boarders spent the night in the basement, while soldiers stood guard at the front door and were posted on the roof to keep the growing crowds under control. President Lincoln died at 7:22 a.m. on April 15th, 1865 in the back bedroom of this house.


Petersen House exterior...


In case you forgot what happened here…


The bedroom where Lincoln died…although it's important to note that NONE of the furniture is original to the house...



We exited the Petersen House into a gift shop, which is part of The Center for Education and Leadership. The Center was closed, so we were unable to view the exhibits there, which features two floors of permanent exhibits addressing the immediate aftermath of Lincoln's death and the evolution of Lincoln's legacy. We DID get to look at this amazing 34-foot book tower containing nothing except books written about Lincoln:


Trying to get the entire tower into my frame...


Up close...


I'd give Ford's Theater 3 out of 5 stars…the fact that we couldn't actually get into the THEATER at Ford's THEATER was a major bummer. I mean, isn't that the whole point of going??!! The museum was okay…but being in a basement, it was small, and dark, and could easily get crowded - especially when 3 bus loads of high schoolers descend on it. Petersen's House was cool - but knowing that the furniture pieces are reproductions kinda' takes the significance out of it…so meh. And the Center was closed. So double meh.

The tower was cool, though. Towers of books are always cool - especially when they're over 34' tall.


Before too long, it was time to get back on The Bus and head to our next stop…and along the way, we passed through Chinatown:



I now know how to write "Starbucks" in Chinese…in case I ever needed to.

Stay tuned for more in the adventure...

Pass the Xanax, Please!!

As a parent, we sometimes do some crazy stuff for our kids….


Such as spending 4 hours at a birthday party at Chuck E Cheese, or riding "It's A Small World" at Walt Disney World 400 times in a row because it's your daughter's favorite ride, or allowing your daughter to play "Beauty Parlor" by painting your face with reds, blues and green make-up until you look like a Killer Clown in a Stephen King movie….

Or in my case…preparing to ride a bus beginning tomorrow for sixteen hours straight, in order to chaperone my daughter's high school band & orchestra on a spring break trip to Washington, DC.


Kill me now.


Yes, months ago, when Daughter first approached me about going along on this trip with her, I was honored, as it meant a lot to know that Daughter wasn't so embarrassed by my company that she'd be willing to hang out with her MOTHER on spring break, in addition to all of her high school friends. I must be pretty cool, after all, right??!!

But then the reality and logistics of the trip set in, and I realized I'd be cooped up, on a bus, with excited and hyped-up high schoolers, for an exhausting sixteen hours straight, as we roll through the midwestern states on our way to the nation's capitol. There, our orchestra, band and choir will be performing, as well as getting in some major sightseeing, for a week…at which time, I'll either be dead from exhaustion or in the looney bin.


Perhaps, though, I'll have a wonderful time.

Perhaps I'll use the time on the bus to have some heart-to-heart talks with Daughter, that we don't always have time for at home as we zig and zag through our busy and harried days.

Perhaps I'll actually experience some major laughter and light-hearted fun, hanging with the high school kids, and seeing the sites through their young, fresh eyes.

Perhaps I'll be wowed by their upcoming performance that they've spent months practicing and rehearsing for, their voices and their instruments blending together in beautiful, perfect harmony.


Perhaps this won't be so bad after all…

…perhaps.

Just Call Me "Mean Mom"

Dear Daughter started high school last week, so she has now officially reached the age where she is firmly convinced that her parents are complete idiots.

This became never more evident than in a conversation she and I had the other night…but before I recap our…um..."discussion"…I need to backtrack.

Approximately six weeks ago, Daughter had major nasal surgery…a 2.5-hour operation in which not one, not two, but THREE separate procedures were performed on her nose. This was all because of not one, not two, but THREE separate nasal fractures over the years, resulting in her not only having a very crooked and uniquely shaped nose, but the inability to breathe. The operation was a huge success, and we spent the last few weeks resting and taking it easy, to allow the bones in her face to slowly heal. She is still a bit swollen, but the surgeon assures us that the swelling will reduce over the next few months, and she will end up with one beautiful schnoz.

In the meantime, she was not allowed to swim, nor run - nor even allowed to wear glasses on her nose, so as to not damage anything. We have a follow-up appointment with the surgeon in another three weeks, where, hopefully, we'll be all clear.

Anyway.

So…Sunday night, while eating dinner, Daughter calmly announces, "I'm going to be playing sand volleyball with my theater club on Friday night - can you pick me up?"

I look at her like she's just grown three heads and sprouted ten eyeballs.

"WHAT did you just say???!!" I manage to croak.

"I said, gah, that I'm playing sand volleyball Friday night - and can you give me a ride?" This all said with a bit of attitude and tone, because, obviously, her parents are not only OLD, but also apparently, DEAF.

I looked her dead in the eye and firmly replied, "Not on your life."

"You won't give me a ride???!!!! Why not??!"

"Oh, it's not about giving you a ride. It's about the fact that you are not ABOUT to play sand volleyball."

Well. This set her off. She couldn't understand - at all - why she would be denied this golden opportunity, so I rationally tried to explain it to her.

"Did you forget that you just had NOSE SURGERY six weeks ago??!!" I asked. "One spiked ball to the face - one accidental elbow to the face - and your entire operation is DONE. OVER. KAPUT. WASTED."

Even with this explanation, Daughter did not see the rationale of being denied a game of volleyball…so she argued. And argued. And argued some more…obviously believing that her parents are the most idiotic, stupidest parents that ever lived. At one point, I said, "Fine. You think this is just Mean Mom talking right now. Go ahead - call your doctor. Ask HIM if he thinks you should be playing volleyball less than six weeks out of surgery. When you're not even allowed to wear GLASSES at this point. See what HE says."

Grumbling to herself, Daughter finally relented and sulked off…while my ears burned with whatever names she was probably calling me under her breath.

Sigh.

Mean Mom. Stupid Mom. In her eyes, that's what I am…she doesn't see me as Smart Mom or Safe Mom…but I guess that's the price one pays for having a teenage daughter around the house.

Peace.

What A Teacher Wants

When I was a little girl...I didn't play with dolls...nor did I play "house" or "doctor" or "dress-up."

I played "teacher."

As far back as I can remember, I was pretending to be the "teacher" ...and I would set up elaborate pretend classrooms, with pretend students, in my bedroom...where I would instruct and mold and educate for hours on end. I even went so far as to have pretend grade cards... and pretend parent/teacher conferences...and pretend lesson plans.

It was awesome.

When I went to college, it was a no-brainer that I would pursue my love of teaching, and I graduated with a degree in secondary education, preferring to work with the older students, rather than the elementary kids - but I really loved them all. However - a funny thing happened after graduation...I was engaged to be married, money was tight - and I took a job at a local hospital to make some quick bucks, rather than pursue a job teaching. The hospital paid extremely well, the benefits were outstanding...and before I knew it, I was trapped in the "Golden Handcuffs" - locked into a job that I didn't really enjoy, but paid so well I would be a fool to leave.

Years went by...and soon, the hospital job morphed into one where I was intermittently teaching...teaching hospital employees the computer software that we were using at the time. Being in a classroom...with real students...was second-nature to me, and invariably, after a computer class, a student would walk up and say, "That was great. You should have been a teacher."

And I would laugh and say, "You know...it's funny you would say that...."

Hurricane Katrina, in 2005, was an eye-opener for me, in that it caused me to do some soul-searching...I not only signed up as a volunteer with the American Red Cross, but I told the hospital I was going to quit, so that I could pursue my love of teaching...only THIS time, I would work as a substitute teacher in our local school district. I remember the first day I reported to the classroom to sub...I was a nervous wreck, and wondered if I'd made a huge mistake...but the minute the bell rang, and I was up front - instructing and molding and educating - I was in my element, and I was happy. I loved it.

My role at the American Red Cross soon expanded, as well...when I began teaching some of the training classes to new volunteers...I also began going out into the community, where I would teach Disaster education...to school groups, businesses, organizations, and colleges.

I loved it.

Last night, I had a class of nine brand-new volunteers with the ARC that I was teaching...and it was one of those moments when you feel like a Rock Star. Everything clicked - everything worked - and it was awesome. And after class, a gentleman came up and said that my passion had shone through as I taught, and it was clear to see that I love what I do.

And I do. I love what I do.

It always comes back to teaching...taking words (and I love words, actually - whether in the written form, with writing - or in the verbal form, with storytelling) and making those words come alive for my students...painting pictures with those words so that what I'm trying to convey shines through...

I always know I'm successful when I see the "I GET it!" look on the students' faces...I love that look. That's what teachers strive for. That look...of when a student comprehends and understands and learns. It's a look of mastery...of confidence...of wonder.

That's when I know I've made a difference...and it's a good thing.

Last night, nine new volunteers all had that "I GET it! It makes SENSE!" look...and it was awesome. By helping them master the subject material...by helping them succeed...by helping them walk out of that classroom with confidence...I was blessed.

Peace.

Rockin' the Chalk Walk!

My daughter, the artist!

About a month ago, we received notification from our daughter's art teacher that she had been chosen to represent her middle school at a local Chalk Walk art festival.

Today was the festival...a frosty 30-degree morning greeted us, as we bundled up and took Mickey up to the festival.

Wait. Let me rephrase that. Her father and I bundled up, but trying to get a 13-year old teenager to bundle up is worse than pulling teeth. Mickey kept forgetting that this was an ART show, and NOT a fashion show. Geesh. After much angst and teenage drama this morning, we finally convinced her to dress somewhat warmly, and off we went.

She worked with a team of a few other students, and the first order of business was "chalking off" their canvas on the sidewalk:




It took about 90 minutes for her to complete her project...working in tough conditions of a cold, windy morning, while on her hands and knees. We had tried to convince her to wear knee pads while engaging in this, but she decided knee pads were too dorky looking, and wouldn't go for it.




Eventually, her project, entitled "Cityscape," was completed...inspired by famous icons such as the Eiffel Tower and Big Ben:




There were some amazing other creations this morning, as well, that I wanted to share...here's an Andy Warhol-inspired piece (done by a high-school group):




Another entry in the high-school age was this one, inspired by Vincent Van Gogh's "Starry Night":




My favorite (well, SECOND-favorite, as my daughter's was my MOST-favorite, of course!) was this one, inspired by Michelangelo's "Creation of Adam" in the Sistine Chapel:




Another middle-school entry was this "anime"-inspired piece, which TOTALLY made my daughter jealous, as she's a HUGE anime freak:




After a cold morning, it was great to have Grandma stop by for encouragement:




Around noon, they announced the winners, and although Mickey's piece didn't win, we told her she was a winner in our book - just having been chosen to represent her school was a HUGE honor.

She had fun...we had fun...and although she came home totally covered in psychedelic colored chalk, it was great to see her expressing herself in a way that she totally loves best.

Peace.