Lots of fun and exciting things happening!!
Last weekend, I was lucky enough to hang out with the 6th New Hampshire Volunteers over at Spangler's Spring in Gettysburg - I camped out with them and there was lots of great music and fun times! For those of you who don't know me all that well, please know that I'm obsessed with Gettysburg and the Civil War in general. So of course I was just in my element (and my dress... and my corset...) this past weekend. I have a lot of stuff to do today so I can't go into too great of detail of how much fun I had, but I wanted to share a particular experience I had.
When I say we camped out at Spangler's Spring, I mean we actually camped out. On the battlefield. The spring was just a couple of feet away. As in, around 149 years ago, there were Union and Confederate soldiers walking around and dying exactly where the encampment was located. (Go here for a picture of the area not taken by me - you can see the Spring right in front - the encampment was to the left, around the rocks and the trees. That little cabin-esque building in the far right was renovated into a men's bathroom and a women's bathroom.) So for my first real camping experience, you can bet that it was pretty damn awesome.
Due to the lack of tent and then the sudden temporary acquisition of a tent, which is another story in itself, I stayed Saturday to Sunday. Saturday night, after some great camp music, the guys called it quits around 1AM. It was about time for me to get out of my corset and get into my blanket nest. I grabbed my little toiletry bag and MagLite from the tent. I made my way to the bathroom facility, roughly 50 yards away. The little building was divided in half with the men's bathroom on the left and the women's on the right, doors on opposite sides of the building. Flushing toilet, running water, paper towel dispenser, hand soap. Quite clean, barring an odd few bugs, and clearly renovated within the past year or two.
I entered the bathroom, pushing open the spring-loaded door. Spring-loaded because let's face it. Who really wants to walk into a bathroom occupied by an angry raccoon? "Not I," said The Cat. I gingerly closed it, letting the tongue of the latch rest on the strike plate. I didn't want to let it slam shut with a bang lest I either wake some guys up or startle the ones still awake into thinking that the Confederates had shown up. So obviously, that means I didn't lock it, the lock being a wee little sliding bolt lock. I really didn't think I had to, since most of the guys had turned in for the night anyway, and the ones that were awake knew where I had gone and would use the guys' bathroom on the other side. Besides, there was woods enough and brush underfoot that I would have been able to hear anyone coming.
I sat my stuff down on the deep windowsill (oh goodness, I just love deep windowsills... the kind you can sit in and read?) and trained my MagLite on the mirror above the sink. I performed my evening ablutions and constitutions, applying my lotions and potions, and finally pronounced myself fit enough to go back out to the tent and go to bed. I repacked my bag, zipped it, gathered up the MagLite, and turned around, reaching for the door.
You will be interested to know that I found it both shut and bolted. I'd like to thank the spirit of the soldier who was concerned for my modesty!!
Here's to a great weekend hanging out with the men of the 6th and many more fun times! Thanks for putting up with my petticoats, guys!! =D
Today, I've already finished my dirndl for the Reading Air Show coming up in two weeks. Right now in two weeks, I will mostly likely be in Reading and the 1940s!!! *Eee!!* More on the dirndl later. In case you don't know what that is, think St. Pauli girl.
Now it's time to dig crap out of the yard sale pile to list on eBay. Fingers crossed. I need to get rid of this junk.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Quilts, Sims, and Other Things
Got my first quilt pattern in the mail today!!! How exciting is that! However, if I would have known that I could purchase them at Sew'n Place, I would have gone there and bought it instead!! However, I did get a bunch of fat quarters to piece together for my quilt. I'll be making an appearance as Asyneath Bellhurst Grey at Spangler's Spring on Friday/Saturday/Sunday/IWishForTheRestOfMyLife and will be hand-piecing it as I hang out with the guys and sing rousing Civil War songs.
I had to ask one of my coworkers at our PCA meeting tonight if there was smoke coming off my ass. She looked at me like, "Wtf...?" I proceeded to tell her that I thought my pants were on fire because that salesguy at Sew'n Place was HOTTT. But of course, when I went back to actually purchase the fabric (stopped before my work meeting, was overwhelmed by the amazing fabric selections, had no time to browse, let alone wipe off the drool from my lipsticked kissers) I noticed he had a ring on. Which confirmed my suspicions that he was either married or gay. Dammit anyhow. I'm pretty sure that if God made me, like my mother says he did, he did so for the sole purpose of amusement. "Hmm. How can I disappoint Moose today?" I bet that's what he says as he sits on his celestial throne with a beer in his hand. I feel like I need some Sims upon which to take out my frustrations.
I had to ask one of my coworkers at our PCA meeting tonight if there was smoke coming off my ass. She looked at me like, "Wtf...?" I proceeded to tell her that I thought my pants were on fire because that salesguy at Sew'n Place was HOTTT. But of course, when I went back to actually purchase the fabric (stopped before my work meeting, was overwhelmed by the amazing fabric selections, had no time to browse, let alone wipe off the drool from my lipsticked kissers) I noticed he had a ring on. Which confirmed my suspicions that he was either married or gay. Dammit anyhow. I'm pretty sure that if God made me, like my mother says he did, he did so for the sole purpose of amusement. "Hmm. How can I disappoint Moose today?" I bet that's what he says as he sits on his celestial throne with a beer in his hand. I feel like I need some Sims upon which to take out my frustrations.
Monday, May 7, 2012
"Moosey's got a gun..."
I had a little scare last night, which resulted in emails to my three trusted guys containing a link to a handgun from Cabela's.
I have my bedroom A/C in the window, but just haven't gotten around to plundering my workbench for an extension cord and outlet adaptor. I sleep with my bedroom door shut so that the cats don't come in and wake me up and locked because the door is slightly wobbly on its frame but wobbly enough that when I walk around (or move around) in my room, it bumps against the frame and just irritates the crap out of me. Locking it keeps it mostly still, if that makes sense. (Ah, the joys of living in a 1940s cottage!) I decided to leave a window open while I slept so that it wouldn't get hotter than the seven hells.
I laid down last night and blissed out for a second. It was about midnight before I finally got to bed. I laid there, pleased as punch I have today off, which all of a sudden I heard a baby crying. My eyes flew open and I tensed up. Spidey senses tingling. There is only one baby I know of in the neighborhood, and there's no way they would be taking it for a walk at midnight. Besides, I didn't hear other voices or the crunch of stroller wheels on the street.
I immediately thought of an email I'm sure you've gotten or heard about.
"Someone just told me that her friend heard a crying baby on her porch the night before last, and she called the police because it was late and she thought it was weird. The police told her "Whatever you do, DO NOT open the door." The lady then said that it sounded like the baby had crawled near a window, and she was worried that it would crawl to the street and get run over. The policeman said, "We already have a unit on the way, whatever you do, DO NOT open the door." He told her that they think it is a serial killer. The man has a baby's cry recorded and uses it to coax women out of their homes thinking that someone dropped off a baby. He said they have not verified it, but have had several calls by women saying that they hear baby's cries outside their doors when they're home alone at night. Please pass this on! and DO NOT open the door for a crying baby."
www.hoax-slayer.com says it's untrue, but I didn't know that at midnight last night. Sounds a little far-fetched? Sure. But at night, when you're a single female alone upstairs in your house in a tiny village, everything can be real. Especially when you suddenly realize that you can't consciously remember locking your back door. I hate sounding vulnerable because I'm perfectly capable in any circumstance, but I had shit to do tomorrow and wasn't about to be bested by a serial killer.
I grabbed my Maglite, biggest one I could find at Walmart which is about the size of one of those fancy pepper grinders at a restaurant but five times as heavy, unlocked my bedroom door, and flipped on the lights. I know they say you're not supposed to turn on the lights because then the perp will know you're onto them, but how the hell else am I supposed to see what's going on? Besides, I just wanted to make it to the back door before anyone else did. I knew my front and side doors were locked.
I crept down the stairs, through the little hallway, through the family room, and saw Tabitha sitting in the dining room window, watching something in the back yard. I got closer and in the brightness of the moon could see two small lumps sitting in my grass. One was dark, one was silvery grey. So of course, I went over to the kitchen door, turned on the porch light, and proceeded to yell at Kinsey to get inside. Apparently he invited one of the neighborhood kids from the feral cat colony next door over for a slumber party and their caterwauling was what I heard. Don't ask me how it sounded like a baby crying, but honest to god, that's what I thought I heard. Kinsey, of course, slithered right across the street towards my grandparents' house. I stomped back up to bed.
So this morning, I'm redeeming credit card points for Cabela's gift cards. Just a deterrent to all potential breakers-and-enterers, horse thieves, pirates, cattle rustlers, and cat burglerz of teh hoomin variety.
I have my bedroom A/C in the window, but just haven't gotten around to plundering my workbench for an extension cord and outlet adaptor. I sleep with my bedroom door shut so that the cats don't come in and wake me up and locked because the door is slightly wobbly on its frame but wobbly enough that when I walk around (or move around) in my room, it bumps against the frame and just irritates the crap out of me. Locking it keeps it mostly still, if that makes sense. (Ah, the joys of living in a 1940s cottage!) I decided to leave a window open while I slept so that it wouldn't get hotter than the seven hells.
I laid down last night and blissed out for a second. It was about midnight before I finally got to bed. I laid there, pleased as punch I have today off, which all of a sudden I heard a baby crying. My eyes flew open and I tensed up. Spidey senses tingling. There is only one baby I know of in the neighborhood, and there's no way they would be taking it for a walk at midnight. Besides, I didn't hear other voices or the crunch of stroller wheels on the street.
I immediately thought of an email I'm sure you've gotten or heard about.
"Someone just told me that her friend heard a crying baby on her porch the night before last, and she called the police because it was late and she thought it was weird. The police told her "Whatever you do, DO NOT open the door." The lady then said that it sounded like the baby had crawled near a window, and she was worried that it would crawl to the street and get run over. The policeman said, "We already have a unit on the way, whatever you do, DO NOT open the door." He told her that they think it is a serial killer. The man has a baby's cry recorded and uses it to coax women out of their homes thinking that someone dropped off a baby. He said they have not verified it, but have had several calls by women saying that they hear baby's cries outside their doors when they're home alone at night. Please pass this on! and DO NOT open the door for a crying baby."
www.hoax-slayer.com says it's untrue, but I didn't know that at midnight last night. Sounds a little far-fetched? Sure. But at night, when you're a single female alone upstairs in your house in a tiny village, everything can be real. Especially when you suddenly realize that you can't consciously remember locking your back door. I hate sounding vulnerable because I'm perfectly capable in any circumstance, but I had shit to do tomorrow and wasn't about to be bested by a serial killer.
I grabbed my Maglite, biggest one I could find at Walmart which is about the size of one of those fancy pepper grinders at a restaurant but five times as heavy, unlocked my bedroom door, and flipped on the lights. I know they say you're not supposed to turn on the lights because then the perp will know you're onto them, but how the hell else am I supposed to see what's going on? Besides, I just wanted to make it to the back door before anyone else did. I knew my front and side doors were locked.
I crept down the stairs, through the little hallway, through the family room, and saw Tabitha sitting in the dining room window, watching something in the back yard. I got closer and in the brightness of the moon could see two small lumps sitting in my grass. One was dark, one was silvery grey. So of course, I went over to the kitchen door, turned on the porch light, and proceeded to yell at Kinsey to get inside. Apparently he invited one of the neighborhood kids from the feral cat colony next door over for a slumber party and their caterwauling was what I heard. Don't ask me how it sounded like a baby crying, but honest to god, that's what I thought I heard. Kinsey, of course, slithered right across the street towards my grandparents' house. I stomped back up to bed.
So this morning, I'm redeeming credit card points for Cabela's gift cards. Just a deterrent to all potential breakers-and-enterers, horse thieves, pirates, cattle rustlers, and cat burglerz of teh hoomin variety.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Sunday, SUNDAY, Sunday!
First, I'd like to ask a question that's really been bothering me.
Do we really have a bobwhite somewhere in the neighborhood or it just some idiot practicing his bobwhite call?
Now that I've gotten that out into the open, I feel a little bit better and a little bit more confused.
While I'm waiting on my Morningstar Farms chik'n tenders to fry their little selves (yes, I'm a vegetarian. Did I mention I also strive to find the most amazing recipes I can and post them?) I figured I'd work in another post. Let's talk about...
BOOKS!!
Just finished Mistress of Nothing by Kate Pullington.
Verdict?
Not a fan.
In French Cinema, a class I took in college, Monsieur said that one of the main differences between American and French cinema is that Americans need happy endings. We need closure. We need everything to be okay. We need the guy to get the girl and ride off into the sunset. I can understand a majority of American movie-goers wanting that, since that's how most movies end up. But I like a good open ending every now and again, a movie that makes me think. Sometimes I just need a movie that makes me bawl like I'm two years old again. (The Time Traveler's Wife, anyone? I cried at the end of the book and knew what was going to happen at the end of the movie, and I sat there sobbing anyway.)
But I'll sum up the entire premise of the book for you. Lady's maid Sally Naldrett, about as loyal as a Labrador retriever, follows her mistress (referred to throughout the entire book as My Lady, slightly irksome) to Egypt because her mistress suffers from tuberculosis. I want a summation, not a spoilation, so I'll just say that shit happens and Sally's lady refuses to have anything to do with her. Ever. Hate hate loathe. Subsequently, Sally spends the second half of the book wondering what she did wrong and why her lady doesn't love her anymore.
The writing is fine, the book was well researched. I just don't like the main character. She's too Bella Swan. (Oh girl, don't even get me started on her.)
On a more positive note, I started The Bird Sisters by Rebecca Rasmussen. On a slightly more pessimistic note, I'm waiting for whatever ominous thing it is to be revealed. Almost halfway through. Still waiting. Though I enjoy the characters of Milly and Twiss much more than I enjoyed Sally.
In other news...
Happy birthday to my grandmother - Gree!! She's the woman who originally taught me that it's okay to dress up in crazy outfits. The only person you should be worried about is yourself, and if you're having fun.
Game of Thrones tonight.
Day off tomorrow.
Plans?
Sweep the house
Finish my dirndl for the Reading Air Show
Trim my RevWar duck butt hat.
Draft a Civil War chemise pattern???
Eh. Mow the grass.
Do we really have a bobwhite somewhere in the neighborhood or it just some idiot practicing his bobwhite call?
Now that I've gotten that out into the open, I feel a little bit better and a little bit more confused.
While I'm waiting on my Morningstar Farms chik'n tenders to fry their little selves (yes, I'm a vegetarian. Did I mention I also strive to find the most amazing recipes I can and post them?) I figured I'd work in another post. Let's talk about...
BOOKS!!
Just finished Mistress of Nothing by Kate Pullington.
Verdict?
Not a fan.
In French Cinema, a class I took in college, Monsieur said that one of the main differences between American and French cinema is that Americans need happy endings. We need closure. We need everything to be okay. We need the guy to get the girl and ride off into the sunset. I can understand a majority of American movie-goers wanting that, since that's how most movies end up. But I like a good open ending every now and again, a movie that makes me think. Sometimes I just need a movie that makes me bawl like I'm two years old again. (The Time Traveler's Wife, anyone? I cried at the end of the book and knew what was going to happen at the end of the movie, and I sat there sobbing anyway.)
But I'll sum up the entire premise of the book for you. Lady's maid Sally Naldrett, about as loyal as a Labrador retriever, follows her mistress (referred to throughout the entire book as My Lady, slightly irksome) to Egypt because her mistress suffers from tuberculosis. I want a summation, not a spoilation, so I'll just say that shit happens and Sally's lady refuses to have anything to do with her. Ever. Hate hate loathe. Subsequently, Sally spends the second half of the book wondering what she did wrong and why her lady doesn't love her anymore.
The writing is fine, the book was well researched. I just don't like the main character. She's too Bella Swan. (Oh girl, don't even get me started on her.)
On a more positive note, I started The Bird Sisters by Rebecca Rasmussen. On a slightly more pessimistic note, I'm waiting for whatever ominous thing it is to be revealed. Almost halfway through. Still waiting. Though I enjoy the characters of Milly and Twiss much more than I enjoyed Sally.
In other news...
Happy birthday to my grandmother - Gree!! She's the woman who originally taught me that it's okay to dress up in crazy outfits. The only person you should be worried about is yourself, and if you're having fun.
Game of Thrones tonight.
Day off tomorrow.
Plans?
Sweep the house
Finish my dirndl for the Reading Air Show
Trim my RevWar duck butt hat.
Draft a Civil War chemise pattern???
Eh. Mow the grass.
And here I am.
Well. Sunday seems as good a day as any to start a blog, so here I am, at the behest of one Spec, or Speckles as I like to call her.
"By the way, you should have a blog. I would follow haha"
This made me wonder if others would feel the same. So like any good psychologist, I'm testing that theory.
I guess now it's time for the obligatory introductory post. My name is Moose. I'm 23 years old without a single marriage prospect in sight. Hence the Miss-Adventures part of my blog title. A lot of what I get into happens because I'm on my own and refuse to hire anyone to do things for me. (Except for making me dresses for my reenacting career. Now *that* I will spend money on.) Sometimes they turn out really well, sometimes they turn out absolutely dreadful. It's always touch and go, but at the end of the day, I always learn something.
This is a blog about being a Moose, being a single, empowered female, being a reenactress who plays in three time periods, going back to school for a Master's degree, and having two cats. (And my subsequent struggles to maintain a clean household.)
Comments are welcome, free samples are encouraged.
"By the way, you should have a blog. I would follow haha"
This made me wonder if others would feel the same. So like any good psychologist, I'm testing that theory.
I guess now it's time for the obligatory introductory post. My name is Moose. I'm 23 years old without a single marriage prospect in sight. Hence the Miss-Adventures part of my blog title. A lot of what I get into happens because I'm on my own and refuse to hire anyone to do things for me. (Except for making me dresses for my reenacting career. Now *that* I will spend money on.) Sometimes they turn out really well, sometimes they turn out absolutely dreadful. It's always touch and go, but at the end of the day, I always learn something.
This is a blog about being a Moose, being a single, empowered female, being a reenactress who plays in three time periods, going back to school for a Master's degree, and having two cats. (And my subsequent struggles to maintain a clean household.)
Comments are welcome, free samples are encouraged.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)