Hahaha….best thing ever.

 I’m sitting in the library with Rich, griping about my test grades. Rich smells like Philly Cheesesteak, which reminds me of the first time we kissed. Anyways, this girl just gets up, screams to a guy (whom I later found out she wasn’t even dating) and says a string of things ending with a loud “FUCK YOU AND YOUR DOUBLE STANDARDS!!!” Way to bring an entire group of studyers together to talk about shit.

And I thought I was wearing my own ovaries on the outside.

 On a (majorly) sadder note, they are shutting down Letchworth Village. I know that doesn’t mean a lot to you, but it’s the only abandoned asylum in my area. They are turning it into, you guessed it, high-volume housing. Not that I protest high-volume housing, but it really is a beautiful piece of history. Carl Solomon stayed there for quite some time, and it was lobotomy and ECT centeral. It makes me wonder why we didn’t follow Long Island’s method of turning abandoned crap into parkland for kids to get high in. Oh well, I still have Pilgrim (kinda cool), King’s Park (majorly cool), and Old Main at Utica State (majorly majorly orgasmically I might have an orgasm talking about it unlike most of their patients in 1836 cool). My goal is to: a) get into Old Main and photograph it before they destroy it; and b) get into Building 93 of King’s Park and make it to the top floor (you can clearly see CT and MA from there) without crashing through all 12 floors, getting arrested, or being attacked by some of the “left-behinds” that are still roaming (I kid you not, it’s only been on the market ten years and there are several police reports of this…especially in buildings 105-106 [medical/surgical] which are still in perfect condition). Definitely a daytime, maybe winter project for those short Long Island days.

Anyways, I am off to read important stuff and gripe about Letchworth. Or maybe to read Poe and look at Kirkbride architecture.

I’m back from Oriskany but I’m tired. I was up for 22 hours straight last night (Richard and I drove back to Manhattanville and it was a four hour drive) and I have work tomorrow morning. So yeah, don’t be surprised if you don’t hear from me for a few days.

Check it out. It’s all about reenacting.

Okay, so today after the Hellion of Hellion days (okay, so not only is The General going away to Milwaukee [I know] but I spent the entire day calling people at work as well) I had to march in the parade. And you should of heard me: I was like “oh crap, I have to march in the parade” in that same obnoxious tone I used when I was thirteen. And to make it worse, my new shiny Townsend (before y’all kill me…you have to understand that my sewing skills and funds are limited…and Townsend actually sells the most correct stays for the lowest price. I mean, Silly Sisters has a great set, but there is no way I’m spending $300 for something I have to buy myself. I’ll eventually make my own stays) stays don’t fit. They fit pretty well, but there is still that 1″ gap that I’ll need to fix before Friday. So I nearly killed someone over that. But they really are good stays. Heavy duck drilling, nice narrow green stripes, front and back lace, full boning, the works. But that’s another story. So I put these stays on and, hey, my bumroll never arrived with the rest of my stuff on Sunday. It’s probably still in Rich’s car, along with his hat. So I put my grey gown on and did the whole refugee thing. It was weird without a bumroll…I actually looked more 1790s in it.

So we stopped by my grandma’s to wait for the Kish family, and poor Mac was terrified of my dad. Like he got used to my mom and I, but he was scared to death of my dad. I don’t know why, either, especially since he loves my dad. The Kishes werent there at 6:15 so we went over to Fifth Street to line up. I saw Mr. Ryan and the rest of the Fire Department and I was eternally scoffed for using a cell phone to text Richard while I waited in line (what else is a girl to do?). At 6:45 the Kishes showed up and we had three men at arms. It’s not a lot, but it’s better then one. And then we kicked off.

For the first half, I was kind of in my somber, “why do I have to do this?” mode. Then, I looked around. People were waving and smiling. Old Italian ladies, old Irishmen with brogues, little kids with puppies; they were all cheering. I cracked a huge smile (I don’t think I’ve had a smile that big for some time) and waved to everyone. People were cheering from both sides. I saw familiar faces. Best of all, my former dance teacher was in the crowd. I broke formation to run up and give her a hug. All the smiling, waving, and cheering made me forget my frustration or my huge blister on my heel. I felt like a queen, even if I was in refugee’s clothes.

Okay, so I am back from Long Island (finally…and I must admit that I do really miss the place) and I am finishing getting ready so that I can be up and at ‘em in six hours to get ready to head down to the New York Historical Society for some good old fasioned dorkiness reenacting. Good news: The General is coming. And this is good, being that it’s our anniversary (two months of dating) and all. He looks damn good in kit. Anyways, come and see me, and wish me luck, as I’m sure that I will be saying that some ill-behaved children need a good case of the Woodshed Treatment.

 P.S. – Admission is free if you wear red, white, and blue. Otherwise it’s $10.

Okay, so my parents do this presentation for the fourth-graders at my mom’s school every year. Usually it is a whole day thing and they arrive at 9:15 and go directly outside. This year (do to the contingency budget), it was a half-day thing starting at 8:45. So my mum and dad had to pass all the other kiddies in kit. Fun fun. Anywho, story time! My parents past the kindergarteners, and this goes down:

Kindergarten boy [to my dad]: Is that a real gun, Mister?
Dad: Sure is, son.
Boy: Can it blow someone’s head off?
Mom: Isn’t it time for you to go to class?

It was one of those things where you didn’t know to laugh or cry.