I'm really bad at coming up with titles.

*wriggles fingers with pure happiness*

I'm BA-aaaaaaaaaaaack! :D

So yeah! It's been a while! I haven't had time to post recently, not to mention I keep forgetting everything on the rare occasion I actually do have time to post. So this will be a rather long and rambling post. Kind of like...yeah, like, um...every other blog I've written.

Today I wore one of my Civil War outfits to work. I don't celebrate Halloween, but I figured it would be a legitimate excuse to wear one of my so-called "costumes." (I hate it when people call my Civil War clothes "costumes." What, am I in some kind of vaudeville show? Should I put on greasepaint and Pan-Stik and a big red rubber squeaky nose? Oh, wait, that sounds too much like the nose I already have. Never mind. Ignore that part. But they actually do still make Pan-Stik, I've discovered!)

Two ladies came in mid-morning and began exclaiming over my dress. "Oh, it's lovely! Wherever did you get it? That's a wonderful costume!"

As they headed for the restaurant to eat, one of the ladies scrutinised me closely, with that narrowed-eye look that usually precedes a statement beginning with, "I think..." "That's not..." "You should..." or "You shouldn't..."

She shook her head at me with, if I may borrow from Patrick O'Brian, "that strong authority that belongs to her age and [gender]." In her very best I am going to save this foolish chit of a child from herself tone of voice, she rumbled, "You just be careful, dearie. Don't try to sit down while you're wearing that. It could be dangerous!"

... !

Certain questions/retorts sprang to mind:

"Who are you again and why do you think it's necessary to warn me not to sit down?"

"Would I be wearing this 'costume' if I didn't know how to manage it?"

"Do I look as if I'm two years old and about to wipe peanut-butter-and-jelly fingers all over my clothes or something?"

...


Oh, I know where she was going with her statement. She probably recalled certain embarrassing moments in her distant past involving inconveniently buoyant crinolines and public displays of...er...undergarments.

But really! I was wearing more layers under that "costume" than she'd ever seen in her life, so I don't think public humiliation was an issue.

I just laughed it off and replied, trying diligently to keep any acidic undercurrent from my voice, "Oh, I've been doing this for seven years now; I think I can manage, thanks! Been doing just ducky so far!"

Speaking of Ducky, NCIS is on tonight and Abby is going to be dressed up as Marilyn Monroe or some such person. Wheee! A new ep!

Anyway. I'm sure my blog readers are just as tired of hearing about NCIS as most of the other people I know.

So, vacation was GREAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We spent a day and a half getting to Williamsburg, two and a half days exploring the wonders of the Historic Triangle (not anything like the Bermuda Triangle, for those who were wondering), and another day and a half coming back home.

Rather than give you a moment-by-moment account of our time there, I will proceed to give you the highlights -- because I know you're all just dying to know what happened. My life is just fascinating, isn't it?

Yes, so very fascinating that whenever, in my younger days, I tried to start keeping a diary of the events occurring in my life, I'd always end up switching to someone else's diary. That is, I'd begin writing a short historical fiction story in the form of a diary, taking over someone else's voice (someone who never actually existed except in my head, of course, but that's not important).

Anyway, I spent many happy hours chronicling the life and times of such made-up people as a nameless pioneer woman (she was married to a man named John and had four children named Bessie, Johnny, Susie, and Hannah), Mary Chamberlain, a fictitious sister of Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain (and married to the entirely fictitious Jamie Hartford), and Molly Blood, once again a fictitious sister but this time of Captain Peter Blood (of Rafael Sabatini and Errol Flynn fame!). "That name, Blood -- the pride and toast of every buccaneer of the brotherhood of the coast!" If enough interest is garnered (and maybe even if it is not), I shall provide you with carefully selected excerpts at some time in the future. They would be very amusing, I promise you. I was about fourteen when I wrote them, and therefore *quite* immature. My younger set of niece and nephews enjoyed them, however.

Where was I?

Vacation, oh yes.

Most interesting moment: seeing a dead and rather squashed-flat black bear along the highway as we entered Pennsylvania. Bear 0, truckers 1. Go truckers!!!! Sorry, I'm normally quite an animal lover, but I hate bears.

Favourite moment (OK, it's one of many, and technically more than one moment): spending time talking to a cute blacksmith about the Latin quotations written in chalk round the inside walls of the blacksmith shop at James Fort. Semper ubi sub ubi! Sorry, sorry...that's really bad...

Favourite day: spent at Jamestown (Jaymes Towne!) exploring the Fort, the fairly new Powhatan village -- which totally rocks -- and the two small ships docked right near there. I can't think of anything fantastic enough to say about this day.

Favourite meal: believe it or not, a several-minutes-expired (no, seriously! The label said it was set to expire at 12.48 that day and I believe I began eating it at...um...1.05?) turkey, cheese, and lettuce sandwich from a Sheetz somewhere in PA (I think?), complete with a small bag of Black Pepper Jack Doritos. Mmmmm. It just tasted so good for some reason.

And while we're on the subject of food, the foods I missed most while we were gone: milk and cheese. Just call me Dairy Queen.

By the way, Sheetz rules the world of mini-marts. I don't think even a regular super (grocery store) could have more variety.

Favourite programme on TV: well, aside from live PBR finals and Prison Break (which we barely made it to the motel in PA in time to see and which we normally watch anyway), there was an hour-long ep of Crocodile Hunter I just sat and soaked up. So good to see Stevo again! He really, really, *really* loved animals.

Favourite single hour: buying authentically made and packaged sweets and herb-y stuff at Yorktown's 225th anniversary re-enactment. I was about ready to jump out of my skin with excitement when I saw what this one lady was selling at her tent near the beginning of sutler row. Between my mum and me, here are some of the things we bought!

Vanilla bean (yes, one single bean)
Yellow, brown, and white sugar candy
Candied ginger (woooooooo! SPICY!!)
Candied orange and lemon peel
Candied citron
Powdered chocolate for making into authentic hot chocolate...mmm...
Lavender tea and hyson tea
Aniseed comfits (SO GOOD!)
Rose water
And...Be Still My Heart! Get this -- she had MARCHPANE!!!!!!!!! Marchpane, can you believe it?! I have never seen and/or tasted marchpane before in my life (nor yet marzipan, which some say is the same thing...). Marchpane was dear old Killick's favourite treat!! "Well, I take it kindly that you remembered, sir..."

*sighs blissfully*

I cannot explain precisely why these things make me so happy...aside from the fact that it's a little window into the past, which always makes me happy...

And oh, one more thing before I sign off...I finally got my lavender! I've waited years to go back to Williamsburg's Duke of Gloucester Street and buy more little packets of lavender. It's the best lavender ever, I swear. The packet I bought years ago still smells *heavenly*...

The Lord gave us a great trip down and back. The weather wasn't that bad and we had a grand time. Now I just have to try to catch up with everything going on here. Speaking of which, Clair my dear, I hope you are completely recovered from your icky strep and horrible surgery... Can I call you sometime soon? When do you not have classes? o_O

Well, hugs to all my faithful readers. Thanks for waiting so patiently. :)

I will post again...

...when I return from my 6-day trip to VA!

YAY!!!!

So excited!

Don't worry, I will come back with many stories and interesting tidbits, I'm sure.

Until then, let this tide you over...

The other day at work (yes, I know, now all my stories come from work instead of school), a gentleman and his wife passed by on their way out the door. I had been talking to them about one of our little music box things. He stared at me for a couple of seconds, and then came out with,

"So, are you Russian, Slovenian, or Polish?"

*I* stared at *him* for a couple of seconds.

"Um...none of the above?"

He looked vaguely disappointed.

"Don't be silly, dear," his wife interrupted, tapping him on the shoulder. "She's Italian, of course!"

I began laughing. "Um, actually, not that either. I'm Scottish, Native American, English, German, French, and a few other things. I'm a total mutt."

They were both surprised (and, I'm guessing, confused because their various theories of my ethnicity were proved incorrect).

Then today some ladies noticed that I had sort of adopted what I call my Clair Bannerman/Calleigh Duquesne accent. It's slightly and ambiguously Southern. It kinda comes with the territory given where I work, and besides it's fun to cultivate.

"You're from North Carolina, right?"

"Nope, afraid not -- born and bred right here..."

"Really!!"

"Yes, indeed..."

Ah, I love confusing people...though I do not always intend to do so, it always turns out to be very entertaining.

Well, much love to all. I will be back soon.

:D

Sorry!

Yeah, I know I haven't exactly been high-profile in the blogosphere lately. Work has been consuming most of my waking moments. But my dear Hattie/Laura has been prodding me (very politely of course) for a new blog for quite some time.

So, I decided to post about...The Vast and Unbridgeable Chasm Between Reality and Wishful Thinking (aka Fantasy). It's really self-explanatory. All it means is that my having a job that requires that I be really friendly and chatty and bright and cheerful and smiley makes me long for a life up in the mountains or out in the bush or just somewhere in the country where all I'd have to do is make preserves, clean house, experiment with new receipts (cooking over a wood fire as a matter of course), read, work with the horses, learn how to shoot (bow and gun), hang laundry out to dry on a line, write whenever I feel like it, learn how to make and use natural plant medicines (i.e., tinctures, essential oils, &c.), spend long lazy afternoons doing nothing but...*adopts ultra-Southern accent*..."diggin' in the dirt and sangin' songs Ah love," making my own tanned leather -- yeah, you get the picture, I think.

WOW, that was a long sentence.

Um, OK. So anyway. That's been my fantasy lately. Whenever I hear bluegrass on the satellite radio at work, my mind immediately drifts to things like, oh, Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman or Christy or Gillian Welch's music or my unfinished and languishing cabin in the backyard or... *sigh*. Anything that involves getting away from all this...this...I don't even know what to call it. Pressure and hectic rushing and having no money/time to do what one needs/wants to do and endless repeated days like recurring nightmares; yes, that about sums it up.

See, out in the mountains or somewhere in the country, the only pressure I'd have is what would be building up in the pressure cooker as I'd seal my 18th jar of homemade applesauce. The only time I'd be in a rush would be to get all the potatoes dug before the frost hit 'em. Out there, I wouldn't need money, and time would be free for the askin'. Endless repeated days...of washin' and ironin' and cookin'...right about now that doesn't sound so horrible.

We've been deprived, I tell you! Deprived of what we used to have in excess. In short, work and the time in which to do it.

Maybe the Amish do have the right idea after all.

...

In other news, I got a new ring yesterday. It is sterling silver and marcasite, with a blue stone in the center that is almost exactly the colour of the Williamsburg, VA Colonial Campgrounds' pool at 9 p.m. every night with the sidewalk lights shining into it -- right before the pseudo-lifeguards would say, "Everybody out! It's the frogs' turn!" All the people would slowly vacate the water, and then hundreds of little chirping tree frogs would hop joyfully in. This was the same pool in which my sister caught and drowned for me what my mother thought was a bat and what I thought was a Luna moth -- and what actually turned out to be a huge, beautiful green silk moth.

...

And in still other news, the other day my oldies and I were visiting someone in the hospital. As we got out of the car, walked through the parking garage, and headed for the elevator, my mother admonished my father and me to pay attention to where we were parked so we could come back to the exact same spot and not wander round looking for our car. I burst into laughter as I read the indicators painted on the concrete wall of that floor of the parking garage: "Stair No. C." Do you see anything amiss?

Ha, ha.

Much love to all. More to follow. I had more I wanted to write, but as usual the thoughts have fled my brain. They will return at some point, and thus, so shall I.