Tag Archives: history

The rodent revolution has begun.

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It was bound to happen. You can’t evict multiple families of vermin over the course of a summer and not expect retribution.

The other day? I spotted this:

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Do you see it?

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It didn’t look impressive, just a weed growing in the gutter. But when I asked the husband to grab a ladder and remove it?

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We realized it was more like a potted plant.

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With a large amount of potting soil.

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Half of the down spout was packed with dirt and had to be removed.

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Shaken heartily.

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And unclogged with a screwdriver.

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Piles of lovely dark potting soil were packed in there for what I can only surmise were nefarious purposes.

It was momma red squirrel, I know it.

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That bitch has been plotting her revenge ever since I chased her children out of the eaves. And if you think a rodent revolution is ridiculous?

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History disagrees.

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I don’t know much about guns…

 

But this seemed like a weirdo even to me.

 

 

The husband is always picking up old magazines and articles about days gone by… probably in a vain attempt to identify the piles of crap he collects.

I don’t usually read them but hey, there’s a global pandemic and I tend to twitch if I run out of books.

 

 

Like I said, I don’t know much about guns..

 

 

But this does seem a trifle excessive.

Getting my geek on.

 

While I’m not a huge television person, I do tend to leave the husband to his own devices at night ( and by this I mean John Wayne and MSNBC, not self gratification )  and curl up in bed with a remote of my own on occasion.

More often than not? I’ll be watching some dry as toast documentary that no one else finds the least bit appealing.

Case in point?

 

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Yeah…. I loved it.

And if you’re wondering why the husband and I have to watch separate tv’s?

I once made him watch a 4 part series about Kublai and Genghis Khan called  “Mongol Horde… Storm From The East”.  He fell asleep 10 minutes into every episode and still never forgave me.

On my current DVR list?

 

 

Forbidden History is my jam.

Juicy secrets from the past….. what’s not to love?

 

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I just discovered Unearthed.

And have been walking through the Valley of the Kings, marveling over ancient Thebes and reading hieroglyphs from the Temple of Karnak …. in my pajamas.

You can’t beat that with a stick.

 

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I also record PBS’s Nature.

 

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And now want a pet Pangolin.

 

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I mean really…

 

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How could I not?

 

When ya gotta go…..

 

Due to the nationwide shortage of toilet paper, I feel it’s necessary to share a little history.

As well as a helpful alternative in these troubling times.

You know the old saying, “When in Rome?”

Well……

 

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The Ancient Romans were never bothered by a lack of tripe ply Charmin.

No, sir.

Not when they had their handy tersoriums.

 

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I’ll pause for a moment to let you conjure a mental image of using one the next time you pay a visit.

Got it?

Alright then…. moving on.

 

 

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Death by lion…. or swallowing a tersorium?

Sorry, but I’m going with the lion every time.

And in case you’re interested?

You should be thanking this man that you’re not outside searching for a stick right now.

 

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Joseph C. Gayetty.

The inventor of modern toilet paper.

 

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Corn cobs?

No thank you.

But if the Covid shortage continues, we’re all going to wish the Sears catalog was still being printed.

 

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And now that I think about it….

Maybe I need to check the husband’s barn for this stuff. If anyone has some, it will be my other half.

 

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Far be it for me to woo my own destruction.

I think I have to go there!

 

(Please try to refrain from telling me where to go, although I know it’s tempting.)

 

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Fair enough.

But since we’ve previously established my fondness for rocks…. it shouldn’t come as any surprise that I had a sudden itch to visit Spain when I saw this:

 

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A town that’s literally built into a rock?

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Oh, yes….

Hell yes!

 

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I’m in.

 

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Singular?

How about fan-fucking-tastic!

 

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Check it…

 

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These people love rocks more than I do!

 

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Is this wonderfully bizarre… or what?

 

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I totally want to go.

 

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Free air conditioning!

 

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Sign me up.

 

 

 

The Lord of Misrule and some happy Christians.

 

Toward the end of our tour of the Jamestown re-creation settlement, we were startled by a loud noise.

 

 

It was the Lord of Misrule and his motley crew.

 

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Jamestown Re-creation…. the settlement, some rusty tools and a cocktail tease.

 

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The first settlement in America looked something like this.

 

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And I have to admit the buildings were larger than I thought they’d be.

 

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This was the church.

 

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And I swear it’s bigger than the one in my town today.

 

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I loved the thatched roofs on the cottages.

 

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And we enjoyed poking around inside them.

 

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Some of them were simple.

 

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Some a little more grand.

 

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Check out the armor on top of the cupboard.

 

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Nothing like some weaponry over the dining room table to get the gastric juices flowing.

 

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Speaking of that…. there was an armory.

 

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And it doesn’t matter how many times I see these, I still can’t imagine having to wear them into battle. I mean damn, they make my underwire bra look positively comfortable in comparison.

 

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Needless to say the husband was loving all the old tools and farm implements.

 

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Yes dear….

 

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Rusty metal…. I see it.

 

 

The last building we checked out was a communal kitchen.

 

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And you know what I found… right?

 

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Wandering at will….

 

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Hoping something would fall off the table.

 

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There were also fake cocktails, which is a rude tease to those of us who happened to be thirsty.

Hell, if these fell off the table they’d bounce.

And that’s not my type of cocktail at all.

 

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Okay.

Now we’re talkin’….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 14…. The Jamestown Settlement Re-creation. A photography ban, some chickens, and a salty character.

 

This was the day we explored the Jamestown Settlement which is part museum and part living history re-creation.

 

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The museum section was large….

 

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But immediately pissed me off with the no photography allowed rule. (I took this one just because I’m ornery.)

We’d spent the last 2 weeks visiting museums filled with amazing artifacts and fine art, but this…. fake trees and cheesy dioramas…. was off limits? Go figure.

Okay….

Fast forward to the full immersion cinema we were learning were common in these parts.

 

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Admittedly, when you’re there?

It’s pretty cool.

 

 

Especially when the smoke starts rolling along the floor.

 

 

Finished with the film, we headed outside.

 

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Past whatever this was.

 

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And into a Native American village.

 

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It was basically the same thing we’d seen at Plymouth Plantation earlier this year.

 

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Except there were no bare chested young Indian men to chat with.

Boo to that.

 

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There were more huts.

 

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And a couple of people making baskets.

 

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And of course, because I find them everywhere…

 

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Chickens.

 

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Aggravated roosters…

 

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And fluffy butted hens.

 

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Next up was the harbor…

 

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And the reconstructed vessels that brought the first settlers from England.

 

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We toured the deck.

 

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The husband chatted up a crew member.

 

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We toured down below.

 

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Where accommodations were small….

 

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And pretty basic.

 

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Unless you were the cook.

 

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Who got his own room.

Of course it was also the kitchen, so there is that.

 

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The husband chatted up another crew member.

 

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And we enjoyed the views.

 

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While marveling at how more than a hundred people could travel together for months on end in these small spaces.

 

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And mind you, we were on the large ship.

 

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The whole time were touring?

There was a soundtrack….

 

 

 

He was quite a character.

 

 

 

 

Portraits continued…. funky hair, warts and finally, food.

 

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Crossing back over to the DeWitt side of the museum, things got a bit more formal.

 

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And a trifle bizarre.

 

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I think a little 18th Century photoshopping was in order here.

 

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Okay then.

 

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I saw the portrait of the gentleman on the left and thought, “What’s with the hair?”

 

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And apparently I wasn’t the only one who asked.

 

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It was an extensive gallery.

 

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And according to George…. will be even more extensive soon.

 

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Another sad statement of the times.

 

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This couple struck me as a little odd.

 

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Is it me or does the wife’s right arm look a wee bit…. off? As in, did the creepy husband chop it off and line it back up for the portrait?

We’ll never know.

At the far end of the gallery there was a video that was oddly mesmerizing.

 

 

And then on the way out there was a chair, which I forgot to photograph.

But George didn’t like it.

 

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Chairs that were no good for sitting.

Excellent.

 

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Through with the museum, we realized we’d not only skipped lunch but were now ready for dinner.

When I asked the husband what he was in the mood for, he said anything… so I picked a well reviewed barbecue restaurant in Williamsburg.

 

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And the husband didn’t like it from the minute we stepped through the door.

Why?

 

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Who knows.

They brought us yummy cornbread to munch while we looked at the menu.

 

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Which he also didn’t like.

Pulled pork sundae? Come on… what’s wrong with that!

I managed to talk him into staying for appetizers.

 

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So he had a chili he didn’t like either.

 

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I went with some spicy steamed shrimp.

 

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And while the rest of the customers were enjoying large platters of succulent looking food, he told me to pick another place because all they had on the menu was barbecue.

Gee. Who woulda thunk it?

People always think I’m the picky one, but when it comes to eating out my husband will drive you to drink.

Which in my case isn’t necessarily a negative…. but still.

 

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The second restaurant that night was Italian.

Everyone raved about Sal’s, so I figured, why not?

 

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He couldn’t complain about the menu being small.

 

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It went on for multiple pages.

 

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The garlic knots were perfect.

(Okay, I ate 4. Don’t judge.)

 

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The salads were fresh and tasty.

 

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My veal Marsala was tender, perfectly cooked and filled with wine soaked mushrooms.

 

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He certainly couldn’t complain his chicken parmigiana was a small portion.

Good God, it was huge.

But you know what? He didn’t like this place either.

And heck, I’m the one who should have been complaining….there were no cocktails!

 

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A study in portraiture, some funky hairdos and a watermelon on wheels.

 

The portrait gallery was large…. and filled with strange and marvelous things.

 

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Can’t say I’d enjoy having her as a Mother in Law.

 

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They are smiling?

 

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Perhaps the weight of that elaborate hair is pulling their lips down.

 

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Oh my.

They say all babies are cute, but I beg to differ.

 

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This is a girl.

 

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And this is a boy.

No, I haven’t had too many margaritas.

It was explained to me that folk art paintings of little girls have cats… and folk art paintings of little boys have dogs. The hoop is also a boy’s toy, never played with by girls.

 

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Yes, another boy.

Could have fooled me.

There were a few sad paintings, like this one….

 

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Since all the family members in black are dead.

But there’s a chicken, so it’s not all bad.

 

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And while these two portraits aren’t the most skillful, they had the saddest story of all.

 

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Jonathan Bartlett was a black man who chose to portray himself as white…. in a heartbreaking statement of life in his time.

 

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Lightening the mood, there was George again….

 

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And whatever this was –

 

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I can’t even do a Name That Crap because I have no idea…

 

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