And We're Off!

I'll be away for a few days - it's time for the Grand Encampment! This is one of the larger historical reenactments specific to "our time period"; i.e., roughly the mid-18th century -- in this case, a reenactment of the French & Indian War near Detroit. (That's pronounced something like "Day-Twahn" by us les francais. As I've been saying for weeks, with great relish: "If we lose....be prepared to having to speak English from now on!" (Insert great hilarity and laughter here. Thank you.)

So I'll be tucked into my cozy lodge (notice knitting baskets). On this particular occasion, I will be dressing as a French-Canadian woman for at least part of the time, so I can knit. (I will otherwise be dressed as an Ojibway or Metis woman, at which time I canNOT knit.) However, I have multiple other diversions available, including visiting with my dear friend Jen (albeit she will be in the British camp, so I may have to pretend to be sympathetic to the British forces).

I am, in this instance, NOT, however. I (or at least the men of my people including my voyageur husband) are allied most firmly with the above-mentioned francais.

THEREFORE! This is the level of technology which will be available to me for the duration. Notice that there are no outlets in evidence, no power cords, no plugs. You will see a goodly supply of fuel (my husband always makes sure there is plenty of hewn firewood) and a proof of my great prosperity (the result of being involved in the Fur Trade) - I have a lovely brass kettle!

But it'll be 400 years (give or take, I'm dreadful at doing the maths) before anyone thinks of innerwebs or netbooks or iPods or wossname....so I will report back upon our return to the 21st century. I wish a nice (not overly hot, not dreadfully humid, not pouringly-rainy) weekend to one and all, ourselves included.

NOTE: these pictures were from a foray to Grand Portage, MN in 2007; there is a certain sameness to the appearance of our camp, regardless of its geographic position.

Le Mariage du Fils....

We're beginning to organize for our trip to the Grand Encampment of the French & Indian War. I have breadstuffs to bake and pack (never did master baking in a dutch oven), new leggings to make; I should see if my corset fits; launder my caps and petticoats -- and decide if I'm going to be a White Lady or a Red Lady for the weekend. (Or both -- maybe both, because only my White Lady can knit.)

Hence the French title of this post. If the Brits win the battles, we'll all be speaking English, so watch this space - I'll report results when we return on Monday.

Now then! THE WEDDING! On June 26 my Number One Son married my daughter-in-love, at a nice small park nearby. It was very hot, but the shelter was on a knoll and enjoyed breezes most of the day. No wedding goes off without a hitch....well, of COURSE there has to be a "hitch" -- but there is invariably some little problem.

In this case - the musician had a glitch with his equipment at the beginning. It took a little futzing before it actually worked. (Mind you - his double keyboard sounds like an eleventy-eight piece orchestra - far as I know it's some kind of magicalness in there.)

Tempting as it is to try to post all 150 pictures (and those are just MINE, I can hardly wait to see everyone else's!) I believe I'll select just a few of my favorites for your delight:

Had I mentioned that I am qualified to officiate at weddings? ("Hatch, match and dispatch", actually....) So here we are, my son and I, waiting for his bride. The one drawback to my appearing in an official capacity was that I HAD to not weep, and I always weep at weddings! Especially considering that this is MY SON...and more to the point, I love his bride dearly.

The bride approaches on the proud arm of her father. Hard to see any details here - but her gown had palest pink flowers with crystals and tiny pearls scattered on the skirts and arranged on the bodice. In spite of the heat, she looked stunning!

The text was fairly traditional (I wrote a framework, they polished it to perfection) and following the exchange of rings, my DIL had a paragraph to read to her new husband, so I handed her the book to read from. He had NO idea it was coming - and during her loving, heartfelt reading, I admit it, I wept a bit -- but I was in good company, for she wept a bit and so did he.
(And, I imagine, not a few of the assembled company.)

"By the power vested in me...." Ladies and gentlemen, this is one of those Proud Moments that we simple human beings are given from time to time. Because this moment united two of the people dearest to my heart in the world, securing in the mundane world that which was secure in our hearts already.

And following the ceremony, their musician played a specially-arranged song, his wedding gift to them:


There followed a fine afternoon. The pot-luck was an absolutely stellar repast (perfect fare: soft little buns, turkey and ham, yummy macaroni salad, fresh potato salad, cole slaw....and the Lovely Daughter's sweet-and-sour meatballs, by special request -- her brothers LOVE 'em!). Some clever souls put the meatballs in the buns, VERY nice. Here, then, just a couple of other pictures - because I am unabashedly, unashamedly PROUD of my family!

How's this for a collection of breathtaking daughters? And each is "as they appear" - good-hearted, loving, clever young women.


The entirety of the Family of Son Number One (may I brag on those BOYS? Aren't you glad I don't have the capability of unrolling one of those long accordion-fold picture things SOME grammaws carry around?)


Here is the Family of Son Number Two: may I say, in all humility, that they too are as brilliant, clever and good-hearted as the other bunch? And although they're (strikingly) outnumbered, Son #2 and Grandson manage very well.

And in closing, you can now clearly see why I am so pleased and proud. I'd have to say, during all those days of my children's "trying times" (you know, the Terrible Twos through the Terrifying Teens) I never gave up hope that all would turn out just like this. Mostly. But it's all so much better than I could have hoped. I am a Happy Old Lady, confident in the Future of the World (and secure in my Advanced Age ahead!)

Happy Birthday, America!!

I wanted a proper image for Independence Day. Something that meant something to ME....and this is it. This is the medal of the Grand Army of the Republic (GAR). It was a sort of fraternal organization for the Veterans of the Union forces following the Civil War. One of the main purposes of it was to advocate for the wounded veterans - and as such, the local branch, headed by our own Lucius Fairchild, became very active here in Madison, and in Wisconsin.

Now - as a (former?) Hippie and Peacenik and all that good stuff (sure, I DO hug trees, ya wanna make some'n of it?) there are those who think I don't care a rat's....a pound of....don't care very much for Independence Day. "My kind" has not been known as Flag Wavers, &c. And Those of Us who experienced Viet Nam (and came away believing that we'd learned, and THAT nightmare was laid to rest) are not the ones you might expect to see at the parades.

Well - WRONG ANSWER, CLIVE! (with apologies to anyone who is named...or related to anyone named..."Clive"). This time of year I always get downright verklempt. I think memories have something to do with it -- that and Realizations.

Memories? Guests at my mother's beautiful dinner parties with numbers tattooed on their arms. Seeing President Eisenhower (sitting on the back of an open convertible) in Minneapolis. Reading books about the Holocaust. Sitting in the ballet studio and listening to our Hungarian refugees talk about seeing the Russian tanks -- and one fellow described seeing his sister shot down as he fled with his family toward the Austrian border. And then -- seeing Willie, that handsome man whose face I see now in his son and his grandsons, in the uniform of the United States Army, with such a look of pride on his face.

Realizations? I can say that I think George Bush was an idiot and was responsible for some pretty bad horseapples....and no one will drag me out of my bed, pull me into the street and shoot me. I am SAFE in my little home. Because of my birth, and my lot in life (about which I had considerable choice) I am now 67 years old and have virtually everything my heart desires. Furthermore, I have Aspirations. I write silly kiddy stuff - and I might could just get it published! I can dance (don't worry, I won't SING) and I can go stand in front of my beautiful State Capitol and break the law by drinking raw milk....and complain because I don't like the way the whole thing fell out. (See "drag out of bed", above.)

So - forgive an old woman for getting all over sentimental. It's not lost on me that I have a life unimagined by women all over the world, and although we share sadnesses, we Americans (I can no longer watch much footage of oil-soaked wildlife) our blessings and privileges are endless.
The forecast is for thunderstorms tonight - so I expect that we'll vary our usual routine: instead of taking cream-cheese-and-olive finger sandwiches and lemonade to Black Hawk for fireworks - we'll stay home and watch televised fireworks while eating leftovers (barbecued ribs slathered in Lovely Daughter's singular sauce, cole slaw with Rudolph's singular dressing -- and probably Kitty Mommy's homemade strawberry jam, which really DOES taste like fresh strawberries....maybe ON something other than a spoon. Which is the way I've eaten some of it. NEVERMIND.)

So Happy 4th of July, fellow Americans! A salute to our young men and women in uniform - especially my own fine Marine grandson, he of his grandfather's handsome face. May the day come when all the parades in all the towns and cities have rank after rank of our soldiers and sailors marching behind the flag.......here at home. Safe.

Hurrying, Scurrying - and Delight!

Today is the happy wedding day of my #1 son and his dear bride. I am only using this photograph (circa 1908) because I do not have a picture of my beloved Daughter-in-Love in her wedding gown - yet. Suffice it to say that she's much sweeter of face than this austere young woman!

But I do have a ton of things to do (as you might imagine). Not only will I be a proud witness to this union, but I am officiating - (yes, I can, legally; I have a certificate from the State....) Being allowed to participate in this joy pleases me so much!

Now - we're spared a lot of the anxiety of many families on their children's wedding days, as this dear girl and my son have been united in heart for ten years, and have two of the funniest, brightest (and dare I say HANDSOMEST) lads you could ever hope to meet. Much as I would love to take full credit for their extraordinary brains, amazing personalities, cleverness and good looks - well, their mom contributed heavily too. (I won't go all verklempt on you here about bloodlines Willie's bloodlines and their heritage and ancestry &c &c - probably until tomorrow.)

So I'm off to rush around, as I am wont to do, but suffice it to say that I feel wrapped in such warm affection and happiness that I can hardly stand it - and a full report will follow. With pictures.

OBSERVATION: It is said that things truly precious are worth waiting for; I think it can now be said that I have, at this stage of my life, two sons and three daughters into whose hands I pass the legacy of my family, with pride.

Magic!

A Blessing!

I am MORE than delighted to report that, after three days of separated quarantine ("SHE made me fall outta the window!" "No, SHE pushed me and then fell out!") my beloved kitties have made what passes for peace - and to my great astonishment, sat side-by-side in the very Window of Doom* and gazed out at the bird feeder and the site of their recent Bad Day.

* Mr. Dearling brought in the frame, replaced the screening, then put it back into the frame and affixed it to the house with brass clips top, bottom and both sides. The window will not be falling out again. ONCE was enough! (Furthermore - all other windows were examined, and appear to be entirely sound.

Saturday we went to a rededication of a stone marker placed at the site of a major Wisconsin event, The Battle of Wisconsin Heights, which is known as The Black Hawk War. It was a conflct between the American militia and Black Hawk, chief of the Sauk people; Black Hawk's actions are described as heroic (I'm not wise about military history, but by all accounts, Black Hawk befit himself nobly).

The dedication was presented by a local chapter of the D.A.R. (which was responsible for replacing the original stone placed by their members in 1923) and included some speeches and a presentation by Colonel Henry Dodge himself (VERY respectable interpreter).

Following that, we joined a small party and traversed the battle site, guided by Col. Dodge, who showed the irregular terrain and described the incident. I found it very interesting -- it was still another case of my going to places where I can weep into the earth.

NOTE: some time later, the militia chased Black Hawk to the Mississippi River, where almost all of his band - including women and children - were slaughtered as they tried to flee across the river in what is now known as "The Massacre at Bad Axe".

If anyone should be interested, there is a description of Bad Axe as told by Black Hawk himself, here . I tell the children at the Museum that one reason it's good to study history is "because we LEARN from History"......and then I add that there are lessons we never seem to quite get aholt on. Seems there's no shortage of places for me to go weep into the earth.

While I don't understand about "movements" and "ambushes" and so on, I CERTAINLY understand things like:

The Witness Tree. This tree was standing, as the Sauk warriors ran past it; it towered over the conflict, it was, in fact, a witness to history. In the last 180 years the people passing by, the changing landscape - all around the base of this tree. (At the time, it was savannah; now there is thick underbrush, making it harder to imagine the movement of large numbers of men going through.

Rather than the quiet of the lovely vista, instead of the bird song we heard - there was gunfire, cries, shouting. While we were enjoying a balmy afternoon, it was quite a different scene those long years ago.....Have I mentioned that a Vivid and Overactive Imagination is not always a gift? 'Cause if I haven't, consider it mentioned.

We, the Interested, also had time to pause along the way to enjoy some fat, sweet black raspberries which were growing in abundance - an irony, since both Black Hawk's warriors and the American soldiers were near to starving; the battles were also not in the balmy warmth of spring. Quite a perspective of history.

We ended the afternoon with a visit to a Civil War reenactment; we were hoping that there might be sutlers, as Mr. Dearling would like a proper 19th century shirt. It was a small event, however, it was interesting. There was a great demonstration of cannon - during which (I cannot tell a lie) I took the opportunity to enjoy a little afternoon nap. What's that? Napping during cannon fire? Sure, you get to a Certain Age you can nap no matter what when the time comes.

As I rested (shading myself, of course, to avoid Dreaded Freckles), Mr. Dearling attended the Surgeon's Quarters, where (he told me with delight) there was a foot amputation....rendered realistic by the judicious use of a pig leg. Mr. Dearling observed: "You can't really fake the sound of sawing through bone". The good doctor also apparently dug a musket ball out of the leg of a willing little girl, with a great deal of spurting "blood". While such things often interest me, I'm glad I napped.

All in all, a very pleasant week-end day, and Mr. Dearling succeeded in securing the names of both the surgeon and Col. Dodge as possible speakers for our Tuesday lunchtime programs at the Museum next year!

VERY glad to report that things have largely been returned to what passes for normal in our little house (wars, cannon, amputation --- and both cats snuggled safely into our little nest.

Blind Terror!

It's no surprise to anyone here how I feel about kitties in general - and my kitties in particular. What's the first word in the name of this blog? CATS! What're the first sites I visit when I log on? Cute Overload. Next? Itty Bitty Kitty Committee.

You all have met my kitties here:

My darling, my cherished Evangeline, and

our precious LITTLE kitty, Lilliane.

They're INDOOR cats. Evangeline came from our excellent Shelter; she had come in as a foundling with her sister and some kittens, but she was only about a year old; since coming home to her Forever Home she has NEVER been outside, other than in the carrier to go visit the Kind and Friendly Dr. Smith. (Her terminology for her varies....she is, after all, the vet.)

Lilliane was born to a foundling kitty in Dr. Smith's office. She came home to her Forever Home in a carrier and has never experienced Life Outdoors.

New Scene :

Mr. Dearling and I left home this morning at 7:30 AM, clad in our 18th c. clothing and with a carful of furs and trade goods. We went downtown and presented a History of the Fur Trade for a group of Senior Citizens at the Senior Summer School. After finishing and repacking the car, it was 11:00 AM. Mr. Dearling had to be at a meeting at the Arboretum at 1:00 -- so we stopped at a Senior Center Ginormous Resale and poked around some. We did find wine glasses ($2 for 4) but not really anything else, so we left and I dropped him off at the Arboretum and came home to change into normal human clothes.

WARNING: Graphic description of Sad and Fear ahead.

I parked in the drive, as always, and gathered the bag with the glasses, my purse and Mr Dearling's muzzleloader trade gun, (rather than leave it in the car).

When I opened the door - the usual Welcoming Committee did not appear. I put the gun away, -- and started looking for the girls. Lilli was not sleeping on the bed; Evangeline was not sleeping in the cat tree. I was puzzled....but it's quite warm, so I thought perhaps they had gone down the basement where it's cooler.

I went down there, turning on all the lights and calling - and then I heard Evangeline miaowing...I couldn't see her, and couldn't figure out where she was, but she sounded distressed. I thought she might have gotten caught somewhere in the basement behind some shelving........

....and then I saw -- her silhouette against the window.

OUTSIDE.

NOTE: I can now report: all's well that ends well.

I took a bowl of food out - Evangeline was along the side of the house, in the foliage. I tried to reach her but she danced away from me, and she was miaowing and miaowing. I just sat down with the bowl of food and waited and talked to her -- and eventually, she let me come a little closer and put the bowl down and she did come to eat, then allowed me to pick her up. I managed to get her and the bowl into the house. I gave her a little more food and some treats - then put her in the basement (with a bowl of water, her bowl of dry food and some more treats), then went out to find Lilliane.

I called and called, went around the house a few times (I'd seen her nearby when I was trying to get Evangeline). I didn't see her anywhere - but then followed a hunch and looked under the parked car. Lilli WAS there........and when I held out my hands toward her she came straight to me and let me pick her up and bring her inside.

SO!

I report, with delight and blessed relief, that both of my kitties are once again where they belong (albeit separated; they're having their "I've been traumatized and it's YOUR FAULT" snit going on though I'm sure it won't last long). Mr Dearling is going to replace the screen and then literally affix the frame to the house from the outside by nailing it to the windowframe of the house. Peace reigns at Chez CATS (the sticks and books tend to take care of themselves). There will be knitting tonight - and friend Donna will be coming over with her fabulous seafood salad in hand. I believe that 4-5 hours of "Housewives of New York/New Jersey" coupled with fresh seafood salad, iced tea and conversation will reset the gyro of my life.

Dear Fates: thanks for the excitement; you may resume normal programming now. I'm too old for this chazerai.

Recent Shenanigans

NOTE: How embarrassing is this: I thought I'd posted this; I went to start a new posting and thought I might check for comments -- oy vey iz mere. Hadn't posted it. Chalk it up to Advancing Age (or what will you) and accept my profound embarrassment apology!

Not that someone as old distinguished as I would ever commit a shenanigan. But you know, some of the last few days were captured on film. (NOTE: there are VERY good reasons I haven't been contacted to do a Reality Teevee show. 'Nuff said.)

First, there was Bratfest. This is the annual event (biannual? Two-annual? there are two in a year) where I and my fellow Madisonians gird our loins, hitch up our overalls and really DIG IN for a major fundraiser. We're very good at fundraisers around here, might I add, and this one? Well, every time it's better than the one before.

In a nutshell: it's an opportunity to buy beautifully-grilled brats from local celebrities (on my first visit we bought ours from Mayor Cjis...Czels...Mayor Dave). Then we go to the "Condiments Island", dress 'em up as we see fit, and find a spot at a table and eat said brats. They've done it often enough that there are now 1) plenty of condiments with volunteers refilling often; 2) several different kinds of mustard for every taste (I'll take honey mustard, thanks); 3) lots of tables (though more in the shade would be nice); 4) bazillions and gerjillions of NAPKINS; 5) a corps of TRULY SPLENDIFEROUS volunteers who empty out the multitudinous gobbitch cans often. Imagine 84,562 people (give or take) each eating 35 -- 18 -- between two and 10 brats each. That's a LOT o' gobbitch of the paper-wrapper-used-napkin variety...and the grounds are CLEAN.

The first day, we went with "the children" from the Museum. These are the college youngsters who work at the Museum doing tours for 4th graders with us (and may I add, clean tables, move furniture, do schedules - all that stuff that no one thinks about, but permits the whole thing to work). NOTE: WE in Madison always have the super-cool Weinermobile at our events, neener neener. You haven't lived if you haven't seen the Weinie-inna-Bun rolling down the street.

I'll thank you to overlook the wrinkles. Those are "laugh lines" and "gettin' big food in the mouth" lines. For the record (which is why the picture in the first place) I ate, over two visits, FOUR brats. I did my part. And for the Curious, I have mine with about four tablespoons of honey mustard under 3" of sauerkraut.

Now, I recently found a product, little capsules which you take "at the first bite", to minimize the terrible gas and bloating possible effects of sauerkraut and mustard and brats. In its first experimental use I can simply note that I am still here; I have not blown up had any problems.

Here are a few more pictures from the event:

Brittany was there, drinking (WATER!)

Here are Tim, Buck and Liz enjoying the day....

Here are Cristina and Kate holding up their end of the table;

The youngest member of the crowd, my pal Blake -- NO, he didn't eat brats. He's LITTLE! (However, his Da, seen behind, was in a competition with:

Tim, tucking into #6!

There's nothing like a heart-stopping, breath-holding competition to really get.....well, wait. This was NOTHING like a heart-stopping, breath-holding competition. It wasn't a speed thing -- WHOOAH! I felt a rant coming on (about those revolting speed-eating-65-hot-dogs-in-40-second thingies) but squelched it. No - Tim and Ryan were just going on quantity. When we left, I think the score was: 7 - Ryan; 6.5 - Tim....but Tim was taking has last half-brat home to finish. They each had their own classic techniques - Ryan is a Purist. Bratwurst in a bun. No relish, no ketchup (there are those say that should be illegal anyway), no mustard, no onions, no sauerkraut..........whereas Tim's technique involved veggie brats in a bun with a delicate enhancement of mustard (and maybe something else...dare I admit, I wasn't paying very close attention.

NOTE: Lovely Daughter and I went the next day too, and Did Our Part. Last year's goal was indeed surpassed.