The apple doesn't fall far from the quote-saving tree

My children are picking up my habit of scribbling down favorite quotes. Here are a few from one of the notebooks of Anne-with-an-e, age 14:

"Indeed, everything that could hum or buzz or sing had a part in my education." ~~ Helen Keller

"I am constantly on the lookout for miracles. The unexpected could happen at any odd moment and I want to be on the spot." ~~ Helen Keller

"She is too fond of books, and it has turned her head." ~~ Louisa May Alcott

"Not everyone has the privilege of believing in holy things." ~~ Anne Frank

"Never offend a writer. We will come back at you." ~~ Garrison Keillor

"When I ran, I felt like a butterfly. And that feeling was always there." ~~ Wilma Rudolph

"When one door of happiness closes, another opens, but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us." ~~ Helen Keller

"You must be the change you want to see in the world." ~~ Ghandi

"My most frequently asked question is, 'Where do you get your ideas?' followed by, 'Why do you get your ideas?'" ~~ Gary Larson

"Though I do remember eating the Play-doh." ~~ J.K. Rowling

Poetry Friday: a great article from Chicken Spaghetti

Susan Thomsen, at Chicken Spaghetti, has a delightful article up at the Poetry Foundation entitled, Home Appreciation. It's all about how homeschoolers introduce and share poetry with our kids.

I had the privilege of talking to Susan awhile back and sharing a little bit about how we approach poetry at our house. In the article, she included the story I told her of Betsy who, at age four, walked around the house reciting, "Because I could not stop for deff, he kindwee stopped for me ...."

Read the whole article here -- it's full of great ideas from Jenny at Little Acorns Treehouse, Becky at Farm School, Adrienne Furness at What Adrienne Thinks About That (yes, the Adrienne who is a homeschooling mother's dream librarian) and Julie Bogart at Brave Writer.

The Poetry Friday round-up is hosted today by Charlotte's Library.

Vocabulary with Ramona

Yesterday:

"Mommy, what does 'currently' mean?"

"It means 'happening right now.'"

"Well, currently, I'm hungry for some pumpkin bread."

Today:

"Mommy, what does 'necessary' mean?"

"It means 'needed.'"

"Oh. Mommy?"

"Yes?"

"You're necessary."

"Thank you!"

"Yes. You and chocolate make the world go around."

Late Have I Loved Thee

"You have made us for Yourself
and our hearts are restless
'til they rest in You."

~~ St. Augustine

Today is the memorial of St. Augustine. More here, here and here, for lots of great quotes.




(painting: St. Augustine, Botticelli)

I want to see this movie

if only to hear Alan Rickman say, "Wine is sunlight held together by water."

Here's a trailer for Bottle Shock.

"It is not possible that the son of so many tears should perish."

Today is the memorial of St. Monica!

Read more in this beautiful entry at Women for Faith and Family,
and at American Catholic, here at the Catholic Encyclopedia,
and Catholic Culture.

Finding Bonny Glen Land

Thanks to the lovely, sweet and thoughtful Patience, who just reminded me of something I meant to do the other day, which is to help Melissa Wiley get the word out about her blog problems.

If you can't access Bonny Glen, it's because of the problems explained in this post, which I'll repost here, since Bonny Glen seems to be going all Brigadoon on us, and mysteriously disappearing. Lissa writes:

I’m still missing some three hundred subscribers…if you’re reading this on the blog and wondering why my recent posts haven’t popped up in your feed reader, it probably means you’re among the people who were suddenly unsubscribed by my Feedburner snafu last week.

And I’m still hearing from readers whose IP addresses have been blocked from loading the site, for reasons neither I nor my hardworking web person can fathom. If you are one of those people, send me your IP address and we’ll get you unblocked. (But how will you know to do this, if you can’t load the blog AND have been unsubbed? I wonder if there will be people out there who think I just stopped blogging one day?)

So I’ve got the SURPRISE! YOU’VE BEEN UNSUBSCRIBED problem. And the SURPRISE! YOUR IP ADDRESS HAS BEEN BLOCKED problem. And let us not forget the WHOOPSIE, YOUR BROWSER IS SHOWING YOU A CACHED VERSION OF THIS SITE WHICH MEANS YOU AREN’T SEEING THE MOST RECENT POSTS problem which has been plaguing some readers for a while. (At least we know a solution to that problem. Register for the site and as long as you’re logged in, you will always see the most recent posts. Only—for Pete’s sake don’t forget your password because if you try to log in with the wrong password, my hypervigilant spam filter will label you a Suspicious Character and block your IP address. See problem #2, subset A.)

Thanks, friends, for hanging in here with me while I continue to try to sort out these obnoxious problems. I’m sorry some of you are having to work so hard to make it past the goblins to new posts. And then I go and reward your trouble with a boring post like this?! Heck, the goblins are more interesting!

Not My Imagination

The other day, Lissa mentioned The Water is Wide, which reminded me of this post from a couple of years ago, about dancing in the kitchen:

Having a bad day?

Drop everything and do this:

Put on your favorite music (it doesn't matter what, as long as it's your favorite), scoop up the nearest small child and dance with her. Twirl her, hold her, make her laugh, and kiss her sweet cheeks.

It works. It works with all kinds of music. If you love the music, it will change the moment.

This morning, I danced with Ramona in the kitchen. We were listening to "The Water is Wide" (yes, this was more the glide-and-sway, rather than the toss-and-twirl variety of dance) and this is what she said:

"This song reminds me of how much I love my family."

And it changed our day.

Atticus recently reminded me of this quote, which sums up that feeling we get when music reaches into our depths:

"All art aspires to the condition of music." ~~ Walter Pater

I was reminded of it again last night. Atticus and I were hunting down videos on YouTube so that the girls could hear first-hand some of the songs that he and I sing off-key. As I tossed and twirled Ramona to the Temptations' "Ain't Too Proud to Beg" and did a glide-and-sway to "Just My Imagination," I knew it was true: it's impossible to feel depressed when you're dancing in the kitchen with someone you love.

Random and saintly quotes for a Sunday morning

"Every moment comes to us pregnant with a command from God, only to pass on and plunge into eternity, there to remain forever what we have made of it."
~~ St. Francis de Sales

"You have made us for Yourself and our hearts are restless til they rest in You."
~~ St. Augustine

"Remember that you have only one soul; that you have only one death to die; that you have only one life ... If you do this, there will be many things about which you care nothing."
~~ St. Teresa of Avila

"God is there in these moments of rest and can give us in a single instant exactly what we need. Then the rest of the day can take its course, under the same effort and strain, perhaps, but in peace. And when night comes, and you look back over the day and see how fragmentary everything has been, and how much you planned that has gone undone, and all the reasons you have to be embarrassed and ashamed: just take everything exactly as it is, put it in God’s hands and leave it with Him. Then you will be able to rest in Him -- really rest -- and start the next day as a new life."

~~ St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross

Poetry Friday

Because words matter.

Because I love Billy Collins.

Here's today's CollinsFest:

Billy Collins on How to Read a Poem Out Loud.

An interview with Billy Collins, at Highlights Parents, about Sharing Poetry with Children.

Billy Collins talking to Noah Adams on NPR.

from his poem, Thesaurus:

I can see my own copy up on a high shelf.
I rarely open it, because I know there is no
such thing as a synonym and because I get nervous
around people who always assemble with their own kind,
forming clubs and nailing signs to closed front doors
while others huddle alone in the dark streets.

I would rather see words out on their own, away
from their families and the warehouse of Roget,
wandering the world where they sometimes fall
in love with a completely different word ....


The round-up this week is at Read. Imagine. Talk.

Cooperation

It was breezy this morning, and after a gust blew through, Ramona and I heard a slam.

"Don't worry, Mommy," she said. "It was just the wind and door, working together."

Tell me it hasn't been four days since I posted

Where is my life going?

I mean, besides to horseback riding and the library and three kids at the dentist and having friends over to play and having homeschooling moms over to discuss school year plans and eating M&Ms, and putting together a little talk to give at church, and working on some writing projects and planning dinner for our new priest, and celebrating Ramona's baptismal birthday, and telling Atticus I need a really big glass of wine. I mean, other than that, where is it going?

Not here, apparently.

I am, however (thanks to the little talk given at church) reminded of the fact that I once thought that Existentialism was the way to go, and I'm reminded of a couple of amusing posts about Ramona and existential crises.

So, until I come up with less to do around my home and more to do here on the blog, enjoy this and this. And this:

"Did you take this class in Existentialism by choice?"

~~ an actual dean of an actual university actually asked me this question.

Summer Trip 08, Part V (or, Will I Ever Finish This Account?)

Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV

**********

Souvenir Shopping and Sweet Old Men

It was going to be "browsing" rather than "shopping."

We were meandering through a small shop full of the usual souvenir suspects. I was poring over postcards with Ramona when I heard an unmistakable sound. Something had broken. I glanced over and saw that it was my daughter, not someone's else errant child, who had the mortified look on her face. I rushed over.

"What happened?" I asked Anne, who had the look of a deer caught in the headlights.

"I don't know," she said, as if in shock. "I was looking at this pretty candle, and I ... dropped it, and ...." her voice trailed off as together we looked at a broken shot glass on the shelf below.

"Was it already chipped like that?" I asked her.

"I don't know ... I don't think so," she said, clearly horrified.

"Well, then, we need to go show it to the clerk and pay for it," I told her.

"I'm so sorry, Mom!" she burst out. "I didn't mean to break it!"

"I know you didn't," I told her, "but we can't just leave it here. We need to tell them."

We made our way to the cash register with the broken shot glass, a rather tacky little piece of business with "Got Ghosts?" imprinted on one side, and a picture of ghosts and the words, "Gettysburg does" on the other (we were so put off by all the tourist-y ghost stuff in Gettysburg -- such a sad trivialization of the horrors of war.)

Atticus presented it to the elderly gentleman behind the counter, and said, "My daughter accidentally broke this, and we need to pay you for it."

Misunderstanding, the sweet gentleman said, "Oh, well, go back and get one that isn't chipped!"

Atticus said, "No, I'm sorry, you've misunderstood me. We didn't plan to buy it, but we've broken it and want to pay you for it."

It took a moment for this to sink in, but then the sweet gentleman shook his head and said, "Ohhh, noooo ... we'll just pretend that we broke it. Don't you worry about it one bit. No, no, no."

I was touched. I'd been all ready to teach my daughter a lesson in consequences and she'd suddenly been excused, had become the recipient of undeserved grace. She was redeemed, her debt paid. I wanted somehow to pay the man back for this sweep of forgiveness, so I immediately turned around to hunt for something we could buy. Directly behind me were the most adorable prairie bonnets, for only $5. I had each of the girls pick one out, and also grabbed a couple of souvenir documents, too (who doesn't need another copy of the Gettysburg address, after all?) and some postcards. Mr. Sweetest Clerk in the World couldn't comprehend that we would leave the shotglass behind, and he wouldn't hear of it, so he tucked it into our bag, chipped piece and all, and said, "Maybe you can glue it together and still enjoy it."

At first I thought, "Oh, he just doesn't get it. We don't want the shotglass. We never wanted the shotglass." But in the end, he was right. I will enjoy it -- not as the kind of souvenir it was meant to be, but as a souvenir of the kindness of a gentle man in a small store in Pennsylvania during the Summer Trip of '08.

Anne was immensely relieved at the outcome of the entire incident, of course, but we did have a little talk about shopping. I informed her that she'd just learned three valuable lessons:

1. Be extra careful around the breakable stuff, even when you already think you're being very careful.
2. If that man hadn't been so kind, she'd be out $5.
3. Most people are kind, despite what you read in the paper.

After pretzels and chocolate, we headed for Lancaster, PA and the Family Centered Learning Conference ....


Got bonnets? We do.

Join Heidi for "Mary Moments"

Yesterday, in celebration of the Assumption, Heidi Hess-Saxton and Co. posted their "Mary Moments." It's an ongoing series, and this month features books about the Blessed Mother. Head over for lots of great book recommendations.

Next month, they'll be focusing on Mary's birthday, which is celebrated September 8. Sarah Reinhard writes:

Next month...Mary Moments: the Birthday Edition
We'll be focusing on the Blessed Mother's birthday, traditionally celebrated on September 8.

• What are some of your favorite Marian recipes? If Mary was coming to dinner, what would you make?
  
• What do you give a mother who has everything? What will your gift to Mary be this year?
  
• In reflecting on "another year older," how does the Blessed Mother serve as a guide, role model, and mentor to you?
  

Submit by 10 PM EST on September 10, using the online form or by emailing me at peerybingle [at] gmail [dot] com. If you have a story to share but no blog, feel free to email me your story and I'll put you live as a guest post over on my blog.

The Solemnity of the Assumption

Read more here at Catholic Culture, and here at the Catholic Encyclopedia.

I have to note that Ramona was not keen on going to Mass tonight. She was tired, and wanted to stay home. Anne-with-an-e admitted that she, too, was tired, and that a part of her just wanted to stay home and flop on the couch. She knew she wouldn't actually do that, but she admitted to the feeling.

I admitted to them that we all feel that way sometimes. "But," I told them, "even when we're tired, and we don't feel like going anywhere, even to Mass, we're always glad later that we went. You'll feel so happy tonight that you had the opportunity to receive Jesus, and you'll be glad that you did what God wanted you to do today, which is to go to Mass and honor Mary."

After a gorgeous bilingual Mass (I always feel an even greater sense of community at the bilingual Masses) during which Anne sang beautifully with the parish choir and we heard an energetic and inspiring homily, we were all recharged.

"Now, that's why we go to Mass on a holy day!" I exclaimed as we piled into the van. "Wasn't it worth it?"

It was.


(Painting: Guido Reni, 1475-1642)

Decisions, decisions

I asked Ramona what she wanted for breakfast this morning.

She frowned slightly, then sighed and, while shaking her head, said, "One more thing to plan out."

Poetry Friday: If Everything is Lost

At about this time last year, I posted about A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanauken. (I haven't been able to find any more recent news on the making of the movie, which is to be written by Barbara Nicolosi.)

Sometimes when people read this book they are taken with the love story between Van and Davy. But, if one doesn't move beyond that, one misses the whole point of the book. The "Shining Barrier" that Vanauken describes was a misshapen, misinformed love, and the fact that it had to be shattered at some point, in some way, becomes clear. If you haven't read the book, definitely put it on your "to read" list. The letters from C.S. Lewis alone are worth it.

Coincidentally, this week one of our priests reminded me of a short poem from the book. What I love about this poem is its straightforward treatment of what a severe mercy is, the seeming paradox. Why would we thank God for losing everything? For the same reason that Sheldon Vanauken was eventually able to thank Him for the most enormous loss in his life. Vanauken was, as C.S. Lewis said, "treated with a severe mercy" (a phrase that comes originally from St. Augustine, who also knew what it meant to be stripped of everything -- read the quote here in this post at Church of the Masses) that helped him to see that ultimately, we can put nothing before God. And, ultimately, we wouldn't want to. Having experienced my own severe mercies, I can only say, "thanks be to God."


If Everything is lost

If everything is lost, thanks be to God
If I must see it go, watch it go,
Watch it fade away, die
Thanks be to God that He is all I have.
And if I have Him not, I have nothing at all.
Nothing at all, only a farewell to the wind
Farewell to the grey sky
Goodbye, God be with you, evening October sky.
If all is lost, thanks be to God,
For He is He, and I, I am only I.

-- Dom Julian

(H/T to Fr. Scott.)

The round-up this week is at the home of Poetry Friday founder, Big A little a.

For more details on Poetry Friday, see this post.

Book sifting

I read this post at Cay Gibson's blog, which was actually this post at MacBeth Derham's blog, and I thought, "What a small, unschool-y world. That's what I'm doing, too!"

MacBeth discussed curriculum shopping on her own shelves. (She gets a little more specific here about what she's actually plucking off the shelves for use this year.)

And that's what I'm in the middle of. There are piles of books in various spots around the house as I sift, sort and settle. I've even vowed not to crack open another catalog until all the sorting is done.

All of this reminded me of a post I did a couple of years ago, called, "The Plan." I've reposted it below, and I'll get back to you on this year's plan after the sifting and sorting have been settled.


The Plan

Lissa's posts on curriculum at The Lilting House seem to be striking a chord with many. It's almost like a virus that's making the rounds: homeschooling moms are assessing their curriculum overload and deciding that they've had enough. And they're not going to take it anymore.

But, the posts strike a chord here, too.

I'm an eclectic, unschoolish, flexible homeschooler, but I love to browse curriculum catalogs, buy new things, invest in new books and try out new ideas. And, I often end up abandoning the stuff I've bought in favor of fashioning our own curriculum or delving into treasures we've found at the library (or buried in our home library.)

That's really not such a bad thing. I think we homeschooling moms fall into this trap because we're so intrigued by learning. It's one of the reasons we homeschool in the first place: we love to learn, love to talk about learning, love to try out and tweak various methods of learning. A new curriculum is sometimes just part of the love affair.

Back in May, a friend of mine was talking about getting her book order placed (she is amazingly organized and so beautifully steers her seven children through homeschooling that it humbles me to no end.) I joked that I had enough curriculum in this house to plan out the next two or three years, but right after I said that, my summertime planning swam into focus.

So I started the plan. I haven't gotten very far, but let's not talk about that. The plan is to sort through all the books we have, decide what we can actually use in the coming year, sell or give away others, and to buy as little as possible this year.

This plan has a name: Be Realistic. The execution of the plan goes something like this: acknowledge that I love to investigate possibilities and ideas, but realize that I don't have to follow up the catalog-browsing with an actual purchase. It's okay (if completely nerdy) to think of browsing curriculum catalogs as a hobby.

"Hi, I'm Karen ... and I'm a Curricula-holic."

But I can beat this thing.

Summer Trip '08, Part IV (or, "Atticus and Gettysburg Finally Meet")

Part I
Part II
Part III

**********
When we last parted, Ramona had just turned six and Atticus had just stepped into his dream town.

How to describe this man's love affair with the Civil War? Hmmm. "Love affair" sounds all wrong, actually, as if he's romanticized it or turned it into something flowery and sentimental. "Civil War buff" doesn't quite do, either, as it might denote too fluffy a quality to describe Atticus's immersion into history, especially into this period of history.

To say that I should be on a first name basis with Shelby Foote, based on the number of his books that reside on our shelves and make their way around the house, might begin to describe it. To say that I know Ken Burns and his documentary so well that I could recite Sullivan Ballou's letter to his wife in my sleep might give you a peek into what we watch when there's nothing else on. To say that we have books by MacPherson, Gallagher, Catton, and Shaara might drop the hint that Atticus reads everything. To say that I know Jeff Daniels played Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain in the film Gettysburg, and that I know that Chamberlain was a fascinating fellow who was a professor before the war, with no previous military experience, and to tell you that even I got goosebumps when I climbed up to Little Round Top and considered what had happened there, is a testament to Atticus's influence on me and on our family.

the view from Little Round Top

Our first day in Gettysburg, we spent hours in the Museum/Visitors Center and even the girls were fascinated by much of it. Atticus is an encyclopedia of Civil War knowledge; we didn't need a single professional tour or docent. When the girls had questions, I simply said, "Ask Daddy."

On the day we toured battlefields, Ramona's (and everyone's?) patience was beginning to wear a bit thin so I mustered the troops and delivered a morale-boosting speech that would have had Meade beaming. I explained to the kids that we would each get to have our favorite parts of this two-week road trip, and that this was Daddy's part, this meant the world to him, and this was his gift from us. After a snack, Ramona said, "Okay, Mommy. I've had enough sugar now to keep me going and be a trooper. And, I'm really trying not to use the word 'boring.'"

Atticus took advantage of the fact that tired children wanted to rest at the hotel for awhile, and he went running on the battlefield trails (he's a distance runner, and likes to go 5-8 miles at a time.) It was the fulfillment of a dream for him.

Meanwhile, back at the hotel, I was fulfilling the dream of a few more clean clothes. I took advantage of the washer and dryer down the hall from our room at the No, That Would Be Too Much Service Hotel. The washing machine ate one of my quarters, and when we told the desk clerk about it, the response was to say "Oh, really?" and turn away. Other amenities included having to ask for milk each morning at breakfast, and the loss of electrical power for several hours on our first night there.

We went to daily Mass at the beautiful St. Francis Xavier church, which was used as a makeshift hospital during the war, with the Sisters of Charity caring for wounded and dying soldiers on and around the pews. (I prayed to be charitable and kind to everyone at the No, That Would Be Too Much Service Hotel.)

And in closing tonight, I'll leave you with one of the best signs I saw while we were in Gettysburg:



Up next: Souvenir shopping with Anne, Betsy and Ramona.

I'll meet you back here tomorrow at the blog ... by appointment or chance.

You know you've been watching the Olympics when ...

... Ramona, after taking a fall from a small height, says, "Wow! I really stuck to my landing!"

Atticus for President

I want the shirt.

(Thanks, Becky of Farm School, for the link.)

Eighty Candles on the Cake

We were busy and out of town this weekend, celebrating the 80th birthday of Atticus's father, Mr. Atticus.

My fabulous sisters-in-law pulled together a fabulous party and even managed to keep the level of fabulousness going when the three enormous roasting pans full of pulled pork and baked beans were not heating up. Youngest fabulous-sister-in-law Amy (she of the food biz, though she no longer owns that catering business) jumped into high gear and began heating appropriate portions on the stove and slapping individual sandwiches together. No one was the wiser and a tasty time was had by all.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Atticus!

And, umm, Amy? Atticus the Younger just elbowed me and said that he never did get that corned beef sandwich he ordered.

Speaking of Mike Aquilina ....

(and if you actually click through my links, you'll know that I was speaking of his son in the last post ....)

He (father, not son) has a new book coming out!

Go here for a first review, and here's the link for another review from Happy Catholic.

And, here's the description of the book at Amazon.

And, as long as I'm on the subject of Mike Aquilina, I must add that our only sadness on Summer Trip '08 was the inability to meet with him and his family. We'd hoped to connect with them on our drive east, but on the appointed day, Mike and his family were (no surprise here) helping out a friend who'd suddenly needed a medical procedure. They were watching kids and couldn't get away that day, and on our drive home, the timing simply didn't work for us to head back their way. Next time, as I think Atticus is already scheduling another Gettysburg visit, and the girls are already gearing up for more war memorials. Next time, however, we won't stay at the "No, that would be too much service" hotel. More to come on that as soon as I have time ....

No Question Left Behind

Maureen Wittmann has a great new blog for teens.

No Question Left Behind began life as a book but has been given new life as a blog. It features a team of teens and 20-somethings who have answered questions about all kinds of things kids face. Some of the topics are sensitive and difficult, some are less so, but all are relevant and real. (Maureen points out that it's not a site for homeschooled teens only -- it's meant to answer questions that all kinds of kids encounter.)

The kids of some familiar faces are contributors to the blog. Visit, read, link, and get your kids to link and think.

(And, ohmygosh, I just realized, as I started to categorize this post, that I don't have a "teen" category. Don't tell Anne-with-an-e of my shameful neglect. Expect a rash of posts with said category soon as compensation.)

Friends in the News

Our Sunday Visitor has made their Catholic Guide to the Internet available on -- what else? -- the internet. You can see their recommendations here. Great list -- thanks, OSV!

Update:

Yikes! I was trying to throw several different posts up this morning, and must have gotten distracted before finishing this one. I meant to point to a few specifics -- I was thrilled to see them, and some of my favorite blogs, on the list:

Under Blogging:

Cottage Blessings
Et tu?
Danielle Bean

Under Education:

Love2Learn (also called Favorite Resources for Catholic Homeschoolers)

*****

And, speaking of friends in the news, I also meant to mention the wonderful Theresa of Lapaz Home Learning, who made the papers here!

Poetry Friday: Clouds and More

Sometimes, other people just do your Poetry Friday posts for you.

Yesterday, I visited Jennifer's blog, and I knew I'd be sending you over there for Poetry Friday. She has a gorgeous picture of clouds, and a link to The Cloud by Percy Bysshe Shelley here. It seemed just right for today. I love the imagery and playfulness of this poem, and who wouldn't love a cloud that can laugh at its own cenotaph?

And, remember a few weeks ago, when I decided it was a good idea to occasionally send you off to other Poetry Friday blogs with a "You've got to see this!"? I'm doing that again, this time wanting to make sure you see the hilarious bag poetry (as in handbags, yes) at Melissa's Wiley's place.

The round-up this week is at Becky's Book Reviews.

Summer Trip '08, Part III

Part I
Part II

**********
On Ramona's birthday (though we'd celebrated it the week before our road trip, she actually turned six on the day after New Wave Pizza) we hit the road and found our way to Falling Water. We bought only grounds passes for the family (touring the interior of the house wasn't in the budget) but we didn't regret it. We had a delightful time on our self-guided tour. At times, my girls were as enamored of the local plant life as they were of the astonishing creation that is this house. Here they are checking out something at the base of a tree:


and here's a little something that Anne-with-an-e stopped to admire, wondering if it was Indian Pipe (though now that we've researched a little further, it looks too colorful. Pinesap? Anyone? I wish I had a better camera .... )


We spent an extremely pleasant couple of hours wandering, talking, marveling. Then, we took off for Gettysburg.

Atticus took the scenic way, Route 30, which was lovely, winding and rolling, and well, just a little bit quease-inducing after awhile, which prompted us to put Anne-with-an-e in the front seat in order to avoid any major catastrophes. Poor thing gets that from me. Ramona was delighted by this near-brush with carsickness, though, because it meant Mommy got stationed in the backseat with her. Bring on the guessing games! Bring on the songs! Bring on the joy of traveling right next to one's favorite companion! But, don't make Mommy look down for too long, or she'll be the one with the catastrophe!

After a long, scenic, long, winding, long, lovely, long drive, we got to Gettysburg. Whew. We checked into what we would later call the "No, That Would Be Too Much Service" hotel. We raced the kids straight to the closest restaurant before it closed, dropped many crumbs in the area of said restaurant that had already been vacuumed (I'm sure we had someone groaning) and Atticus secretly informed the waitress that it was Ramona's birthday. They brought her a free dessert and sang "Happy Birthday" to her.

She was adorably embarrassed.











Next up:
Atticus's dream of Gettysburg comes true.

In which Ramona sends me an email

She knows how incredulous I get about these things.

So she emailed me the following:

can you bieleve it im 6!

No, I can't believe it.

And I still can't believe that my six-year-old emails me.

The next thing you know, she'll be Twittering.

Summer Trip '08, Part II, or, How to Spend Thirteen Days on the Road With Your Family and Still Love Them (and Have Them Still Love You)

Part I is here.

************

I left you hanging in a small town in Pennsylvania yesterday.

A small, depressing town. Not much there -- just a cluster of hotels, gas stations, bars and a pizza place.

We ate dinner at the pizza place.

We dubbed it New Wave Pizza. It's not all that often that you stop for pizza in a small, depressing town and hear all New Wave, All the Time. Rock Lobster, Love Shack, London Calling, the English Beat ... Atticus and I told very '80s stories to the kids and waxed nostalgic and felt not at all depressed.

The radio station, we decided, was possibly chosen by our waitress. She was such a funny mix of perky and punk. The eye make-up was stark, a little bit of black, but the smile was sweet and engaging. The tongue piercing said she was too cool to be there, but be there she was. She served us quickly and well and with a smile. She thought Ramona was cute. We thought she was nice. We paid our bill and left.

Then, somehow, as we drove off, the amount of the tip came up. Atticus had tipped 15%, which he thought was fine for pizza, even New Wave pizza. I scolded. "15%? That poor girl works in this crummy little town and probably has to live on her tips! You should have given her at least 20%, if not more." I was mostly teasing, but Atticus felt bad all the same. We went back. He ran in to drop off a few more dollars (because he's just that sweet, though he'll hate that I'm telling this story.)

Our waitress laughed and insisted that the original tip had been "Fine, just fine!" But he explained that his nagging dear wife had insisted he do better. She laughed, he tipped and left, and we drove to our hotel in the pouring rain and settled in for the night.

And that would have been that.

But, the next morning, after taking the kids swimming, we packed up and were hauling our mountain of luggage out of our room, just in the nick of checkout time, when housekeeping appeared. And, who should our maid be?

Our New Wave waitress.

She did a double-take. We did a double-take.

"Didn't you eat last night at .... " she began.

"Yes, we did," we laughed.

She laughed, too, and then we all wished one another good days in this small world, and we headed down the hall toward the elevator.

But, in my heart, I was wishing this girl more than a good day. I was wishing her a good life. Her tough exterior notwithstanding, I sensed something more. I still can't articulate exactly why I was so touched that she watched us walk down the hall (I know she was still watching us, because I turned back to give her a little wave) with a smile on her face the whole time, as if she, too, sensed something more in this coincidence.

That night, at the next hotel in the next town, as we finished up our family prayers, I added, "And for Rachel. I'm adding Rachel to our nightly prayers, guys."

"Who's Rachel?" they asked.

"The pizza waitress. The maid. The girl who lives in that depressing little town and makes her living cleaning hotel rooms and waiting tables. She can't have an easy life. I think God wants us to pray for her."

A quick caveat: there's nothing wrong with the honest labor of cleaning and serving. I could do several posts on the idea that good, honest labor doesn't get enough respect. It's not that such work is somehow "not good enough." No, no. That's not it.

It was the tough exterior that spoke out, that told me, on some level, she wanted something more, something different ... perhaps a more daring and exciting life than the one she is living. And I felt prompted to pray that she'll find something more -- the real, divine Something More that is the only thing that really counts.

And so we pray for Rachel, a sweet young girl in a small Pennsylvania town -- a town that really wasn't so depressing after all.

Because where there are coincidences, there is hope.

Tomorrow ... on to falling water and winding roads.

Summer Trip '08, or, How to Spend Thirteen Days on the Road With Your Family and Still Love Them (and Have Them Still Love You)

Pre-trip preparation:

1. Remind yourself that the four people with whom you'll be traveling are, on the whole, a really delightful bunch. Remind yourself that you may need to remind yourself of that at various points along the way. Continue packing and tying up loose ends at home.

2. Have what appears to you to be a heart attack. Spend outrageous amounts of money (three days before you are scheduled to drive cross-country) to have a cardiologist put you on a treadmill, call you an old lady, then pronounce you perfectly fit and healthy and express dismay that someone could appear to be so out of shape and still last that long on a treadmill. Vow to find a new cardiologist if you ever appear to have another heart attack. Thank God that you know you're healthy but ask Him why He has to put you through this stuff. Couldn't he just send you a nice, recognizable panic attack?

3. Read Mary Ellen Barrett's excellent article, Are We There Yet?, from the most recent issue of Faith and Family. Thank God for Mary Ellen and her sweet and funny wisdom. Repeat to yourself: "A family trip is not a vacation for Mom. A family trip is not a vacation for Mom. A family trip is not ...." Okay. You get the idea.

Day One of the Trip:

Be sure the trip begins on Atticus's birthday. At 5:50 a.m.

Something really special always happens on Atticus's birthday. For example, last year, Atticus spent his birthday in a parking lot in Bellevue, Nebraska, waiting for the 7th Harry Potter book to be released. He's never read a single Harry Potter book himself, but he loves you and the kids and will do anything for you. He'll stand around in a parking lot full of geeks in costumes (and even cheer wildly for his own offspring when she wins the costume contest.) And, he'll leave for Pennsylvania at 5:50 a.m. if you ask him to. So, ask him.

Drive for eleven hours, stopping only for bathroom breaks, gas and ice cream, and arrive at a hotel in South Bend, Indiana to find that there is a baton twirler convention there. Hmmm. Keep moving. But first, enjoy the milkshakes at Steak and Shake, let the kids swim and thank God for those free breakfasts at the hotel.

Drive the next day to a very small town in Pennsylvania. Take in some great views along the way.



That's all for tonight. Tomorrow, I'll fill you in on why we're praying for a waitress in a small town in Pennsylvania.

"Ramona, why is the Declaration of Independence taped to your duck pillow?"

Ramona: "Because, the pillow is, you know, a demonstration-ish, display-kind of thing, like a National Archive thing, for the Declaration. That's why."


Of course. Silly me.

Atticus explains

Frank Lloyd Wright to the girls.

The accounting

2,935 miles.
150 gallons of gas.
7 hotels.
6 maps.
2 laptops.
5 McDonald's stops.
4 pizza orders.
29 bottles of water.
33 friends, old and new.
19 postcards.
14 tollbooths.
1 evening of getting lost.
1 encounter with the Holiday Inn swimming pool gestapo.
1 delightful new beer for Atticus (Yuengling, not available in Nebraska, alas)
0 incidents of carsickness.

17,280 minutes of family togetherness.

5 bags of laundry to be done.

Pictures to follow.