Ahhh, Williamsburg

We spent last weekend in Colonial Williamsburg at their “Prelude to Victory” event. We turned our coats and portrayed Continentals en route to Yorktown to meet up with Cornwallis.

The medical-types were ensconced in both rooms of the East Advance of the Governor’s Palace (yes, we play the Palace!) and the four of them talked non-stop both days. The weather was lovely for October. A wee bit cool at night, but the days were gorgeous, if a tad warm. The crowds were steady, but not the mobs we get in June, so that was nice, too. I scored a gown at the CW Costume Design Center yard sale that mostly fits. It needs some work and it's a bit short in the sleeve and skirt length (I know! Who'd have thought??), but it's workable. The other highlight being some tourists asking if I was a student at William and Mary. I thanked them profusely and explained that I'd graduated from college twenty-mumble years ago. They almost started to argue with me. I thought I was going to have to pull out photo ID to convince them. I was highly amused.

You didn't think I'd miss a good retractor photo opp, did you:?

Many, many photos were taken, shopping was accomplished, and good fellowship rounded out the weekend. Now, to sort through everything, wash, repack, and head off next weekend to Yorktown.

Gun Pr0n

That's my kind of nail gun!

Do you think it's legal in MA or DC?

Not just for historians

Written by the U.S. Army’s Chief Historian, Dr. Richard Stewart, it appeared in the regular feature “The Chief Historian’s Footnote,” of ARMY HISTORY, the professional quarterly journal of the U.S. Army Historical Program, published by the U.S. Army Center of Military History, in the Fall 2010 issue.

A Historian’s Code (1)

1. I will footnote (or endnote) all my sources (none of this MLA or social science parenthetical business).

2. If I do not reference my sources accurately, I will surely perish in the fires of various real or metaphorical infernal regions and I will completely deserve it. I have been warned.

3. I will respect the hard-won historical gains of those historians in whose steps I walk and will share such knowledge as is mine with all other historians (as they doubtless will cheerfully share it with me).

4. I will not be ashamed to say “I do not know” or to change my narrative of historical events when new sources point to my errors.

5. I will never leave a fallen book behind.

6. I will acknowledge that history is created by people and not by impersonal cosmic forces or “isms.” An “ism” by itself never harmed or helped anyone without human agency.

7. I am not a sociologist, political scientist, international relations-ist, or any other such “ist.” I am a historian and deal in facts, not models.

8. I know I have a special responsibility to the truth and will seek, as fully as I can, to be thorough, objective, careful, and balanced in my judgments, relying on primary source documents whenever possible.

9. Life may be short, but history is forever. I am a servant of forever.

(1) Stewart, Richard, Ph.D., “Historians and a Historian’s Code,” ARMY HISTORY, No. 77 (Fall 2010), p. 46.

Why I'm feeling blue

Sometimes the interwebz lie.

No, really!

You see, I’m getting ready for an event in Williamsburg, VA, this weekend, and I thought that I’d see if I couldn’t get those pesky orange stains out of the neckline of Sweet Daughter’s and my white linen shifts. You see, if you put on sunblock and don’t wait until it soaks into your skin before you get dressed, it will rub off on your light-colored clothing, react with the iron in your water when you wash them, and stain your clothes orange.

So, I’m working my Google-fu, and find that I can rub in a dish detergent like “Dawn”, let it sit, and then wash, or I can use anything with rust remover in it, but not to use any oxy-type product as that makes it worse. A product called “The Works” got lots and lots of hosannas. One guy even said:

I read many of the recommendations and tried "The Works" toilet bowl cleaner because I didn't have any of the bathroom cleaner. It worked instantly, no scrubbing needed! The stains just disappeared! Even old stains that had been washed and dried multiple times.

Since I’m sort of pressed for time this week, I decided I liked the “it works instantly” option better than the rubbing and scrubbing option. My “local” (yeah, it’s still 30 miles away) Target didn’t have the bathroom cleaner, but did have the stuff for the toilet bowl. “That’s supposed to work!” I said to myself as I tossed it in the cart.

When I got home, I gathered up our shifts and squirted “The Works” toilet bowl cleaner on the necklines. Hmmm. The stains didn’t just “disappear”. As a matter of fact, the shifts started turning pale blue from the dye in the cleaner. Except for the orange stains around the neck. They were a lot more noticeable now, since they contrasted with the blue.

I tossed the shifts in the wash with the rest of my white linen, some borax, and some laundry detergent. At the end of the cycle EVERYTHING was noticeably a little blue except for the cheery orange stains. Oh, and that really nice linen sheet that wasn’t quite white. The fibers still retained a little of its yellowish color which, when mixed with the blue, made for an interesting green tinge.

Eh. I tossed everything back in the wash for another go-round, this time with some bleach which seemed to lighten things up a little. The sheet spent 24 hours outside on the wet grass getting a “dew bleach” which helped a little. The shifts still have a bluish tint, but I comfort myself with the knowledge that they did have bluing in the 18th century. Now if I can just get rid of that  toilet cleaner odor so I don't walk around all weekend smelling like a urinal cake. Because that's farby.

Commentary

My Friend’s Brother (MFB) reflects upon this quote:

“We don’t seek to be the alternative to the tea party or the answer to the tea party, but we’re very much the antidote to the tea party,” added Benjamin Jealous, president of the NAACP and a leading organizer of the rally. “This is a time of increasing tension and decreasing prosperity. We simply want to say we’ve come way too far to turn back now.”

And responds:

"Well.

Yes.

Of course.

Don’t turn back from the increasing tension and decreasing prosperity.

Keep on truckin’."

Overheard in the living room

Shorter Half: "Are you on the computer?"

Me: "Yup."

SH: "Can you check something for me?"

Me: "Depends. What do you need?"

SH: "Can you look up the date of the full moon for October 1986?
Me: "Sure." ::type, type, type, click.:: "It was the 17th. Why?"

SH: "I'm just fact checking."

Me: "You're reading science fiction* and you're FACT CHECKING? It's FICTION."

SH: "It's *fantasy*."

Me: "You're fact checking FANTASY?" (pause) "Was he right?"

SH: "Yup."

*Monster Hunter Vendetta

Brandywine Creek

Last weekend we traveled to Brandywine Creek State Park near Wilmington, DE, for an event. The weather Friday night was gorgeous. Warm, with a lovely breeze, and a moon one day past full meant I stayed up way too late enjoying both the weather and the company, including some friends I haven’t seen since before Sweet Daughter was born.

Sunrise on Saturday

Saturday was another lovely day. Sweet Daughter got out her 18th century-style watercolors and proceeded to paint some paper fans. The solid tablets of color are put into small dishes (oyster shells work really well) and a little water is added.

Painting a fan

Sweet Daughter explaining what she was doing to the public.

 

Oyster shells holding what's left of the paint tablets.

There was a battle scenario with lots of artillery. I reminisced about how I missed my days out on the field serving on a field piece, and then I watched the crews pull their guns UP the hill, back into camp, and I didn’t miss it so much anymore. There was a really nice bunch of sutlers and I found many, many things that I “needed”.

After a supper of corn chowder, we made bacon Peeps. And then the rum came out. But not just any rum. Michael W. brought Pyrat Pistol rum. Amazing stuff. (Michael W. is very, very good to his friends.) Much rum punch was consumed. There was mirth and merry-making. That’s what I remember, anyway. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

 Pyrat Pistol Rum. If single malt was rum, it would taste like this.

Sunrise on Sunday

Sunday morning dawned a bit gray. And then it rained off an on most of the day. There was a skirmish in the morning, for fun, and another fantastic battle for the public later in the day. And it stopped raining in time to pack up. All in all, a great weekend!*

More pictures (not mine) can be found here.
*The drive home was a bit odd, but that's a post for another time.