"Amy, why are you sitting by an empty field full of seagulls?" Just beak-ause.

 "Amy, where do you get the ideas for your blogs?" I am occasionally asked by one of the four people who read my silly little ramblings.

I sigh. "Oh honey. They write themselves."

Case-in-point:

For the last twenty years, my friend Joan has faithfully followed my classroom odyssey from the front of the building, with easy parking lot access...to the back of the building, with handy playground placement...to my now-infuriatingly-inaccessible-interior assignment. "I don't know how to find you," Joan complained in frustration, "Short of repelling down from the roof." My latest room has resulted in fewer visits from my friend so imagine my delight when, on my way out of the building on Friday, I encountered her, walking in!

"I'm going to watch my great-niece play soccer and thought I'd pop in," Joan said. I immediately volunteered to keep her company. Sporty events are not my area of strength or comfort but I was game to try on such a lovely afternoon. Joan and I made a side-line trip to gather up chairs and snacks and then sought out the field of play. There were several pockets of people spotting the school's generous acreage so we walked over for some assistance. Obviously, they thought I was lost. Our new Australian physical education teacher interrupted the interrogation of former students wondering if I was just seeking inspiration for a nature-based haiku. She said some helpful words and sent us on our way but I was so entranced by her delightful accent that I hadn't actually listened to her directions. Fortunately, Joan was on the ball.

We arrived at the directed field, filled with seagulls. "How about while we wait for the game to start, we sit over there in the shade?" I suggested. We wrestled our chairs out, tucked in the 90 degree angle by the playground, the lush branches of a generous maple providing a cool roof over our heads. We popped open our beverages and began catching up.

"Hi, Mrs. Mosiman!" a small voice shrieked from the swings. I waved.

"Mrs. Mosiman!" came a roar from over by the rock wall.

"Mrs. Mosiman! Mrs. Mosiman!" a kid screamed down the slide.

"What are you doing here?" my little roving reporters wanted to know.

Sigh.

Finally, my friend Michelle wandered over. 

An alert administrator with a talent for reading the room, Michelle had searched her surroundings quickly, trying to determine why Amy Mosiman was sitting in front of an empty field of seagulls on a Friday afternoon after school. It was a mystery. Time to investigate.

"Mrs. Mosiman, what are you doing?" Michelle asked. She annoys me because she is so beautiful. And kind. And smart. And supportive. And helpful. Ugh.

"Watching soccer," I told her.

Wasn't it obvious?

Michelle frowned. 

Joan took pity on her and explained that we were there to watch her niece play soccer at 5. "That nice new gym coach with the Australian accent told us to go to this field," I added.

"Amy," Michelle scolded, "She is NOT Australian. She's from England."

She sounded Australian to me.

Michelle frowned again and then begin typing authoritatively on her cellular device.

"I hate to tell you this, but the game doesn't actually start until 6:30."

I glared at Joan who groaned while Michelle attempted not to giggle.

Naturally, at this point, another administrator (who lacks MANY of Michelle's amazing qualities) drove slowly by in the school's side-by-side to investigate why Mrs. Mosiman was sitting in front of an empty field full of seagulls on a Friday afternoon.

This was turning into QUITE the spectacle.

Joan called it when the first mosquito arrived (presumably to ask why Mrs. Mosiman was sitting in front of an empty field of seagulls on a Friday afternoon).

We packed up our chairs and made our sad walk of shame back to the parking lot. Before I left though, I made sure to cheer on our loyal players. "You go, gulls!"