Hi, my name is Maria and I am a recovering romantic.  It was inevitable really that I would be one, after all, my mother named me after the song in West Side Story in hopes that someone who someday feel that way about me.  Reality doesn't stand a chance against that.

Anyway, life moved on as it does, and I slowly became more cynical and jaded.  But recently something happened that has given me the tiniest glimmer of hope.

I work with a woman named Brooke who is easily one of the nicest people I have ever known.  She is from a small town in Southern Illinois and everything good that implies.  Brooke married her high school sweetheart (who is just as nice) and now has been married for 13 years.  One thing you should know about her is she is a huge Dirty Dancing fan.  Huge.  So when she saw a commercial some months ago about the play coming to Chicago she mentioned to her husband that she would love to see it.  She was convinced he would remember and get tickets.  And we were all convinced she would be disappointed.  Happily, we were wrong and he remembered, managed to get tickets and pay for them without her knowing and surprised her with them for their anniversary.  He even took care of finding a babysitter.  Now, because they have a small child and live more than 1 1/2 hours from the City, so this was a very special evening for them.  Her friends and family  joined in, hiring a limo to take them, and giving them dinner at a very nice restaurant near the theater.  Needless to say, this was a couple of weeks ago and she's still smiling. So maybe I won't hear strains from my favorite musical, but maybe romance isn't totally dead.

My only question is: short of introducing her to Patrick Swayze himself, what could he possibly do to top that next year?

So after 21 days, I finally called the doctor.  I was supposed to go to the doctor today.  But of course, the minute I called the doctor, I started feeling better.  So I canceled.  But I have it far better than this guy I know.  He has been sick since August. So I can't really complain.

Interesting thing in the news today.  The head of the Lincoln museum was placed on administrative leave under suspicion of shoplifting.  Now while this on it's own is interesting and somewhat puzzling, I was going to write about the recent trip Shannon and I took to the Lincoln museum.

That trip HAD to have won me some parent of the year points.  We had to be on the bus by 6:00am (which meant I had to get up at 4:30 since we also needed to pack lunches and snacks).  Because of that early rising time, Emma spent the night at a friends, which didn't go well at all. 

Anyway, the trip is 4 hours.  On a bus (a charter bus at least).  There were supposed to be DVD players on all the buses, which there were, except for ours, so there went the movies.  It was really supposed to be a parent child bonding day, but I had an extra child (a parent who couldn't come), so that also didn't happen.  Our first stop was New Salem, where we got to see a partially recreated town where Lincoln lived.  The biggest hit was a horse who loved being petted so very much that if the kids stopped, he would stretch through the rails and nudge them until they petted him again.

Next stop: the Lincoln Museum.  I was a little worried about how boring it would be, but it was really cool.  The entrance hallway opens into a large atrium with the Lincoln family standing in the middle.

(Hmmm, the family seems to have acquired a couple of extras).

Then, off to one side is a log cabin with Lincoln sitting out in front.     

When you walk through the log cabin, it winds around through scenes from his life up to when he was elected president. 

Then you walk around back into the atrium again and there is the White House portico with Sojourner Truth, Grant and MacClelland and of course, John Wilkes Booth in front.

         

                                            

When entering the White House, you are in the Blue Room with one of Mary Todd Lincoln's dresses and several other society ladies dresses.  Then you walk into the room where they are sitting with their dying son (Tad?).  The next room is where the Emancipation Proclamation was drafted with everyone that was involved.  Then it gets just tragically sad.  You walk into a slave auction complete with whipping sounds and an auctioneer.  It was sad and horrible and startling and everything it should have been.  There are documents lining the walls, including one of the original copies of the 13th amendment (did you know there are only 13 surviving copies?  Weird).  More Civil War information and suddenly you're entering the Ford Theater.  And we all know what happened then.

The best part of the museum was this show that I can't even describe.  It's part live show, part holographic imagery.  I can't even describe it.

Our next stop was Lincoln's home in Springfield.   When you tour, the guide points out that as you walk up the stairs, you are touching a piece of history, the very same railing Lincoln used. 

Our last stop was a really bad restaurant and then back home.  We picked up poor exhausted Emma from our neighbor and got home at 11:00 p.m.  Getting the girls up for school the next morning was quite challenge, but I'd say, all in all, it was well worth it.

Our class reunion was this past weekend, which is a story in itself.  But I have a different one to tell.

My friend (who I will call Janet, and you'll see why in a minute) was my "date" for the evening.  She went out and bought a new dress for the evening.  A smut dress.  She most definitely has the body for it, so I can't say I blame her.

So I called her on my way and she informs me she is having a wardrobe malfunction.  Apparently her zipper had jammed and she couldn't get it zipped up.  Then her boyfriend got it zipped up, but it separated and now she couldn't get the dress off!  After I stopped laughing and managed to steer the car back into my lane, we decided just to meet at the event.

So off I went.  I got there and was talking with people and suddenly I realized that nearly an hour had passed and no Janet.  I called her cell and she told me she was on her way.  I asked her how she got out of her dress and she told me she hadn't, that her boyfriend had sewn her in.

I think I was still laughing when she finally arrived.  And I was quite worried that the sewing job wouldn't hold.  But it did, even through the dancing.  Apparently it held so well she actually had to be cut out of it!

The best part about having a neighbor who's favorite holiday is Halloween when you live in a townhouse?  Not having to do any decorating. Every day when I have come home from work there has been something new in the yard.  This first there was the cemetery entrance, then tombstones, signs, a fence, strobe light and black light.  Every day I can't wait to come home and see what's next.  Here's what we have so far (and it's much better in the dark, but I can't get a good photo).

And last night, as he was telling me how much more he wants to add, a great horned owl landed on the roof.  I tried to take a picture, but basically it's a black blob on a black background...oh well.

I took the girls to Target yesterday.  As we're walking out, I see our car's lights flashing on and off, like it's trying to signal me in Morse Code.  This has happened a couple times before, but that was after really severe rain.  We get into the car and turn off the automatic headlights and head home. 

This morning was the first orchestra practice for Shannon, so we were headed out the door at 7:00 into the brisk 46 degree morning.  The car windows were covered with dew, so as I was pulling out, I turned on the windshield wipers and lowered the windows to clear them.  Then I heard this terrible noise come from my door and turned just in time to see my window disappear inside the door.  Completely.  I tried to put it back up.  Nothing. 

Well, I have no time to worry about this, so we head over to the school in our now breezy car, while Emma keeps saying, " Mom, put the window up!"

I then drive Emma over to our neighbor who normally drives her to school, and when she answers the door, I get that sinking feeling.  She's in her pj's.  And sick.  So now I have to take Emma to work with me for a half hour, then turn around and take her back to the school.  In the well air conditioned car.  As I'm walking to the school door with Emma, she says, "I think I'm going to cry" and she bursts into tears.  I look at her and say, "Please don't cry Emma!" And we walk off to the side to get her calmed down.  Then I head back to work.

When I get to work, I call the garage about my car (which thank God is literally right around the corner from work) and they say they can look at it, but only if I bring it over right now. So I leave AGAIN and go drop off my car.  And walk back to work.  They eventually call me and tell me it will be $400.00 to fix.  Of course.  Because it's not like I can drive around with an open window in the winter.  I mention the lights and ask them to check that out.  Why not?

Near the end of the day I call the garage and they tell me the mechanic has stepped out but needs to talk to me.  Which cannot be good.  I explain that if my car isn't ready I really need to make some arrangements. So they tell me to come over.  I get there and the car is ready, but they can't find anything wrong with the lights.   And they tell me just to keep an eye on it. So I roll my eyes and head off.

Oh, and when I told one of my co-workers about the lights flashing, she told me it was my car trying to communicate with me.  Seriously.