We're Off!

...for our final Civil War weekend of the season.  Weather's great, we're packed (finally) and off to end our month in the 19th century with a bang.  Lots of bangs, actually, guns and cannons.  Wish us Rebs luck.  Alabama!!

I'll write a wrap-up blog when we get back.  XXOO

Autumn

Fire!!

Fire is life.

We have totally lucked out with weather this month.  Warm sun and not a single day of rain.  Not one!  I'm sure the parts of the Pacific Northwest that are going up in smoke at this moment aren't as happy about that as I am, but we've really had it very easy for this project.

But what if we didn't?  What if it was cold and rainy and we still had to cook and wash clothes and be happy?  Fire.  Gotta have fire.

So how do you get fire?  Glad you asked.  I'll show you.  Maybe you already know this, and I knew some of it, but in case you haven't yet acquired this vital skill, I'll teach you how to make fire.  Who knows?  Maybe you can win Survivor with this!

Lots of air is the key to starting a good fire.  Actually, any fire.

You start with a bunch of paper folded into nice, fluffy wads (not just dropped in as fat sheets.)

Then loosely pile on some kindling - little, splintery bits of wood.  Babies, not grown up logs.  Again, lots of air space in between.

Lots of air!!  Open all the dampers, portholes, whatever.

Light the pile and blow.  A Magic Fire Stick is really useful for this.  Keep blowing until the everything is blazing or you pass out.

Only when you have a bit of heat going and some nice bright flames should you add the big guys, the logs.  But don't dump them on in a heap.  You guessed it...leave air space!  If your fire goes out, it probably can't breathe.  If it smokes a lot, it's choking to death.  Give it air!  Either that, or your wood is wet, but you didn't need me to tell you that you can't start a fire with wet wood, did you?

Now, some fire music to get you in the mood:

The Ohio Players, with "Fire, duh duh duh, duh duh duh."  Gotta love the 70s.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y47G-Wa4qfs

"Fire", Bruce Springsteen.  You can have The Pointer Sisters if you like; I'll take The Boss.  Oh yeah.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d5PoIrcyd34

Autumn

Blog Stats and Betty Friedan

I actually managed to stay off the computer nearly all weekend (apart from helping Brennan with a paper a little on Saturday.)  I'm shocked at how hard it's been to let go of the computer - the constant contact of email, the opportunity to satisfy curiosity in an instant with google, and just having something to do.  It's something I reach for without thinking when I have a free minute, like smoking.  I've never smoked, not even once, but you get what I mean.

Do you know about blog stats?  I'm totally new at this, and I thought it was really interesting.  Apparently, my computer, or my blog or whatever, tracks you.  Yes, you.  It knows what internet service you use and what country you live in.  I have 2 readers in the Middle East, and 15 in France.  Fifteen.  I have to assume those are Roddy friends, in which case "Hi Camille, Romane, Sophie & Jeanne!!"  I'm sure I don't know anyone in the Middle East.  It's fun to know people in other countries are reading this.  Can I come visit?

Kind of scary that my computer knows all this though, isn't it?  It has these little charts showing - hour by hour, I swear - how many people are reading the blog.  And they can't all be just family!  I topped 1,000 pageviews tonight.  Seriously?  The numbers keep changing and I can't quite figure out how.  Does it do the same when I read a blog?  I'm sure it does.  Big Brother is just around the corner and we're all happily blogging away, posting on Facebook, friending and commenting and toasting our cookies - where are we headed?!

I'm starting to look ahead to the end of this project.  It'll be next Sunday at 3:00.  When the last Civil War battle is over and the public leaves, I will dive into my tent and re-emerge in jeans.  Woo-hoo, no more corset!  I have a plan for eating my way around the world every day next week in a glorious ethnic food-fest.  But I know I'll miss parts of this project too: When I come downstairs in the morning and light the woodstove, is when I feel the most immersed in the 1800's, and is such a peaceful start to my day.  Wearing a dress everywhere is cumbersome, but also really, well, feminine.  I like pretty cotton handkerchiefs and oil lamps and the smell of candle wax, and Willow Ware dishes and even meat pie.

I also really like cooking on the wood stove.  Its' a bit tricky, and I get such a feeling of accomplishment pulling off meals as good as those I could make on my modern stove.  I like having mastered the fine art of feeding the fire.  I've learned a lot in a few weeks!

The evenings are the nicest part of the day.  (After I arrive back home from driving kids around to activities, which is not only totally modern, but pretty uncomfortable in my clothes.)  The house glows, the edges are softened.  We've finally mastered evening lighting: a candle in the bathroom, one in the kitchen, and several scattered around the livingroom to provide a balanced light.  The first night we all gathered in the livingroom, we put all the lights on the coffee table, and then huddled up next to them, trying to read our books.  The rest of the room was dark, and the seating was uncomfortable.  But tonight my kids are in the livingroom playing piano and violin and apparently they can see okay, because they're hitting the right notes.

When we leave the house in the evening we have to remember to leave a candle and matches by the back door.  In the evening as we all head up to bed, everyone takes a candle lantern or a candlestick, and slowly the lights are all extinguished.  I was a bit worried about giving the kids candles, but I think they've all gotten used to them at Civil War events already.  I love the way the rooms look by candlelight.  I feel a bit like a character in a movie taking a bath by candlelight, and my usually boring bedroom glows with even one small candle.  I hope we'll continue to have some candlelit evenings in the modern age.

I even like doing the laundry this way.  (Not that I'll likely continue.)  The clothes smell fresh and clean, but without that perfume-y, chemical smell they normally have.  It's actually very satisfying work.  I think it's funny that we've given up aerobic clothes-washing in favor of performing the exact same motions in a gym stuck in front of a tv screen.  I would so much rather build my muscles by being out in my yard doing something useful!

After college, I read Betty Friedan's The Feminine Mystique.  It wasn't at all the bra-burning manifesto I expected it to be.  From Wikipedia: "For her 15th college reunion in 1957, Friedan conducted a survey of college graduates, focusing on their education, their subsequent experiences and satisfaction with their current lives. She started publishing articles about what she called 'the problem that has no name'."  Friedan writes: "The problem lay buried, unspoken, for many years in the minds of American women. It was a strange stirring, a sense of dissatisfaction, a yearning [that is, a longing] that women suffered in the middle of the 20th century in the United States. Each suburban wife struggled with it alone. As she made the beds, shopped for groceries … she was afraid to ask even of herself the silent question — 'Is this all?"

I can totally relate.  If all my life consisted of was making beds and folding laundry, I'd be hitting the valium too.  But doing those chores in the 1800's is somehow different.  There's a greater sense of accomplishment in turning out a load of laundry or a well-cooked meal because it's difficult, and absolutely necessary.  There are no safety nets in the 1800's.  If I don't master these chores, my family will starve in filth.  And there have been a few times we've eaten dinner pretty late because of my poor planning.  If (when, because it happens) I don't manage to get dinner on the table in 2012, there's always the pizza place, and we're never more than an hour away from clean underwear.  Because my 1800's housewife job is difficult and critical to the health and well-being of my family, I feel valued.  I don't think Ma Ingalls, my current heroine, had any angst about her role in life, like Betty Friedan's friends, (though she may well have had issues with Pa over having to live in a hole in the creek bank!)

Autumn

What's for Dinner?

Have you been wondering what we're eating around here?  (Apart from my little cheat with the salad the other day.)

Yes, for the most part, we are eating meals from the 19th century.  Apart from the chocolate chip cookies Hailey made last week, we haven't seen chocolate all month.  Or tacos.  Or eggrolls.  Or pizza.

Here are some of our dinner menus:
Corned beef, potatoes, cabbage, carrots, onions
Baked beans, cornbread
Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans
Beef stew, biscuits
Bacon, scrambled eggs, toast
Chicken pot pie
Steak, curried rice with carrots, celery, peas
Macaroni & cheese, ham, green beans
Welsh rarebit, toast, bacon, tomatoes

It's very different from our normal bill of fare, where we eat vegetarian about half of the time.  All this meat is foreign, and while my family mostly enjoys it, I was pretty skeptical about eating so much heavy food for a whole month.

But it hasn't been that bad.   It might be that more physical work makes this a better diet for us, or that we're just accepting it as part of the 19th century, or maybe we're just so excited that we can cook successfully that we don't care!  I'm not even gaining weight, which I was afraid would happen.  I think it's because The Corset limits my appetite.  I've even had to make myself eat more a few times.  And it turns out that you can live comfortably, even happily, on fewer vegetables.  Who knew?

This is a picture of my groceries for this week:

It's nearly all meat - chicken, pork chops, and bacon.  Always bacon.  Bacon is the solution to anything lacking flavor.   I also bought onions (because our garden onions are just too small), peaches, beef broth and buttermilk for baking.  That's it, for a family of five, $74.  I'm not sure if it will last us the whole week, but it should do for most of it.

We are also eating vegetables from our garden - zucchini, carrots, chard, green beans, tomatoes, potatoes and broccoli.  (Except that over a candlelit dinner the other night someone discovered several critters in the broccoli, so now no one will eat that.  It's hard to be as careful when there's so little light to cook by.)  Besides the meat and vegis, we have rice, cornmeal, and flour for various baked goods.  Our neighbor has been supplying us with fresh eggs, (thanks Bill!), and Karl milks the convenience store cow periodically.  We're baking up a storm around here - cookies, pies, bread, biscuits, etc.  I'm not much of a baker, but Karl and the girls are terrific.  (I made a deal with the kids, that in exchange for participating without complaint in this project, we'd have dessert every day.)

My trip to the grocery store yesterday revealed how great are the differences are between our modern lives, and those of people who lived only 100 years ago.  As Abigail, I walked through the whole store looking for things I could feed my family.  First the deli counter, with lots of pre-made foods.  I can't have any of those, although I may have heard of some of them - soups, sandwiches, chicken pieces.  But many others are  completely unfamiliar, such as the dips and salsa.  Did you know that tomatoes were thought to be poisonous until Thomas Jefferson began raising them?  They are more tart in the 19th century, so are often eaten with sugar, and perhaps cream.

A counter full of Chinese food and sushi.  Never heard of 'em.

The produce section.  Although many of these foods are totally unfamiliar to me, like bananas, mango and avocado, this part of the store looks the most like home in the 1800's.  However, most of the varieties of fruits and vegetables available here are different ones from my day.  Modern produce varieties are usually chosen for their ability to survive shipping long distances - a trait that seems very peculiar to me, given that y'all plan to eat them!  What happened to flavor?  Some modern seed companies and individuals are beginning to revive heirloom plant varieties before they die out altogether.  Hurrah!  (Search "heirloom vegetables" for more info.)

I walk right by the aisle containing cereal.  Ready-to-eat cereals were invented in the last quarter of the 19th century for patients at a health sanitorium.  However, it costs too much for my 1800's farm wife budget. 

We have some canned foods, mostly vegetables and seafood, such as salmon and clams.  The Borden company began selling canned milk in 1857, and prospered during the Civil War selling milk to the Union Army, and other canned foods followed.  But most of the aisles are off my map.  Cleaning products and medicines are replaced with vinegar, baking soda and common sense.  Snack food?  Utterly foreign.  In the meat section, I actually feel at home, but frozen foods are again impossible.  Very little in the modern grocery store is available to me as Abigail.  A small corner market selling staples, meat, eggs and fresh produce would be a luxury, and everything else, a science fiction tale!

Meals in the 1800's are very different from today, and are frankly quite unappealing to modern tastes, so used to spices, variety and a heavy ethnic influence.   Check out this recipe for "Housewife's Beef" from Godey's Lady's Book, a popular magazine, 1865: 

"Take about twenty rather small onions, brown them in a frying pan with a little butter, and when they have taken a bright color, sprinkle over them a little flour or some breadcrumbs.  Remove the onions to a stewpan, taking care not to break them.  Add a teacup of broth, the piece of beef whole, a sufficient seasoning of salt, pepper, and nutmeg, and a bouquet of sweet herbs.  Let the whole simmer over a slow fire for about two hours.  Serve the beef on a dish and arrange the onions round it."  (From Civil War Recipes, by Lily May Spaulding and John Spaulding, editors.)

Not too bad, except that all the recipes look the same.  And folks ate this way until very recently.  My mother-in-law, who is of German heritage and grew up in the midwest, shared with us a week of meals she cooked as a teen when her mother was away for a week:

Tongue:  Brown onions, add flour, tongue broth, 1 T lemon juice and serve.

Goulash: Cut beef chuck in small squares, brown and add water as needed.  Add 1/2 c. tomato sauce, a teaspoon of paprika.  Cook slowly for 1 1/2 hours.

Pfeffer Pfleisch (Pepper meat): Cut veal in small squares.  Brown and add water as needed, salt & pepper.  Simmer for 1 1/2 hours.

Veal Stew: Simmer onions, add flour, 1 1/2 quarts water and veal squares.  Cook for 1 hour.  Add vegetables and cook for 1/2 hour.

Swiss Steak: Flour beef chuck and brown.  Add onions and ketchup.  Cook.

And so on.  Beef every night, and seasonings were limited to salt, pepper, onion, tomato, and paprika.  By the way, did you know that there were many, many varieties of ketchup in the 19th century, using many different seasonings?   How about mushroom ketchup?

Something has occurred to me about the differences in our diet.  Although I know that many Americans are overweight, even severely overweight, due to the fat, sodium, etc. in convenience foods, I also think the sheer variety and excitement in our food causes us to overeat.  There is always something new to try.  Look how many television shows, blogs and magazines there are devoted to cooking!  We are a nation obsessed with food, and with abundance.  I think that eating a 19th century diet keeps food in balance.  We still enjoy it, but we don't think about it as much.  We've been using The Little House Cookbook as a resource.  Laura Ingalls Wilder writes very fondly about food, but it's from a sense of gratitude for simply having it available.  She gets excited about bean broth and apples!  I hope I never starve through a Long Winter, but I think there's something to be said for keeping a healthier perspective about our need to eat.  

That said, I intend to spend October catching up on tacos, eggrolls and Vietnamese pho!!

Autumn

Drowning in Abundance

Wow.  Oh wow.  Today is the first day I have felt different.  Changed.  Totally out of place in the modern age.  This morning I went to the grocery store, and suddenly the world flipped upside down.  Instead of feeling strange in my dress at the store, the dress felt familiar and the store felt strange.  Really strange.

Everything looks, feels and smells all wrong, slightly scary even.  It’s too loud, too bright, too much.  I notice the smells first. All around me wafts a vast array of intense smells, but they’re not natural.  Not food, but products.  Like something out of a science fiction novel, everything smells enhanced, forced, and loaded with chemicals. I can sense them all around, unfamiliar and vaguely threatening.

The store feels cold, and the chilled air flows all around.  And it’s huge!  After spending most of my time in my pared-down kitchen, full of candlelight and softer colors, the grocery store is an assault on my senses – bright colors, print everywhere, plastic, strange shapes, and so much stuff I can’t take it all in.

The absolute, excessive abundance makes me feel a little anxious.  I have so many choices, so many decisions.

In my long dress, apron, and hand-knitted shawl, I’m a curiosity.  I am quaint, or very peculiar.  People either step away a little, or smile at me kindly.  They offer to help me, or apologize for getting in my way.  They recognize that I’m out of place, and now I recognize it too.  I don’t really mind being looked at a bit, because I’m here to teach living history after all, but now I no longer feel the need to explain why I’m dressed this way.  In fact, when people ask, I really feel like saying, “Because this is how we dress.  And y'all dress very strangely.  How can you bear to show so much skin?  Don’t you feel naked?”

I like the look of speculation, as people wonder what I’m up to.  I like not answering it.  I’m perverse that way.

In the parking lot, I ran into a Civil War friend.

This is First Sergeant Josiah Henry Newton.  He doesn’t usually wear the hair clip.

I felt surprisingly relieved to see someone who knew me; I mean someone who knew this me, Abigail.  (My Civil War name is Abigail Baker Kirkland.)  It’s like being in a foreign country and running into another American.  Sgt Newton doesn’t think it’s at all strange to see me like this, since he seldom sees me dressed in anything else, and he’s usually dressed to match.  (Okay, he probably does think it's strange, but at least he gets it.)

Last week I was asked to give a talk on living history.  I felt a bit pompous, actually, being called a living historian.  Today I know I am a Living Historian.  Because I’m living it.

Abigail

This & That

The Magic Fire Stick

Do you know what this is?

It's a Magic Fire Stick.  Actually, it's a piece of copper pipe, with one end squished nearly closed.  But when you blow through the wide end onto glowing embers, they become a roaring fire in seconds!  With a Magic Fire Stick, even the tiniest remains of a fire can be salvaged, or a reluctant pile of kindling coaxed into action.

How to Wash Clothes

You: Dump a pile of moderately soiled clothes into the washer with a bit of packaged soap.  Push buttons.  Done.

Us:  Grate a bar of soap.  Add borax, washing powder and baking powder.  Mix thoroughly and store in a jar.

Haul a bunch of water from the pump.

Build a fire, (with the Magic Fire Stick.)  Heat water.  Add soap and stir to melt.

Get more water.  Because you always need more water.

Gather a pile of incredibly filthy, fire-blackened clothes.  

Dump them in the washtub, scrub, scrub more, add more soap because they might possibly not be clean enough.  Rinse.  A lot.  (Haul more water.)  Squeeze until the seams rip.  Hang on the line and pray for sun.  (Prayers answered!)

Done.  You win.

An Officer and a Gentleman

Sergeant Lawless came for dinner last night.  He brought gunpowder.  You never know what you're going to get with Sgt Lawless.

Doesn't my boy look great washing dishes?  Really, anyone looks good washing dishes.  Except me.

This is a candle Brennan made from bacon grease.  It works!  But it stinks.

Must Have Salad!

You can take the girl out of California, but...

 And this is what teenagers do with too much time and a camera on their hands.  Uh huh.

That's all folks!

Autumn

Visiting Hours

Many of you have asked about our adventure living in the 1800's.  I always intended for this to be an educational experience for anyone who is interested.  We'd like to invite you to drop by for our visiting hours:

Thursday 9/ 20 1:30-3:30
Friday 9/21 10:00-12:00
Wednesday 9/26 10:00-12:00

If you come for a visit, we'll show you how to make butter, start a fire, wash clothes, knead bread, and anything else we can think of, the old-fashioned way, and we'll tell you how it feels to live this way around the clock.  Feel free to come in costume and ask us lots of questions!

Since I probably shouldn't post my actual address on the internet, if you'd like to stop by, send me an email at karlforz@aol.com and I'll send you directions.

Hope to see you!!

Autumn

Re-enactment Splinch

I've coined the term "re-enacment splinch" for the way I feel after returning home from an event.  Besides being filthy and exhausted, I'm usually sad that it's over.  But the worst part is feeling caught between the centuries, sort of splinched, if you will.  (Splinch: to be separated.  A reference from Harry Potter.  When someone is splinched, some part of their body is split apart because they did not apparate correctly.)

For about three days after most events, I wander around feeling sort of listless and checking facebook regularly for any pictures or stories from our recent adventure.  Karl and the kids and I rehash every story from our weekend.  Pathetic, I know.

Yesterday, Claire and I rode an old-fashioned steam train, the Mt. Ranier Scenic Railroad.  Clarence fought a few skirmishes, died in a glorious suicidal charge, and hung out with a gang of Civil War boys.  They formed a new unit, gave each other impressive ranks, marched and drilled, and fought some exciting rear-guard action.

Meanwhile, I walked up and down the train talking to the public with my friend, Rufus Lawless, our unit's 2nd Sergeant.

Acting as brother and sister, we told people that he and my son Clarence were returning to the war front in Virginia.  I gave him hand-knitted socks and he showed kids his gun.  I wouldn't have felt brave enough to talk to people alone, but we had a blast together.  It was just what I needed, since I got to stay in the 1800s, but with other people playing along.  Plus he's hilarious.

And now I feel splinched.  Somehow even with all the cars around yesterday, and a veritable paparazzi, I still managed to feel more in the 1800s than I ever have.  Today, no one but Karl is even making an attempt.

Also, the kids and I went to see some friends perform in High School Musical - lights, music, sound - I felt overwhelmed by the modern age.

I also felt pretty darn silly sitting in the audience dressed like this:

Yep.  I did dress like this.  I don't even try to explain anymore.

Does anyone else splinch?

Autumn

Farb-free Friday

Here's a word you need to learn right now: farb.

Wikipedia definition:
Farb (and the derivative adjective farby) is a derogatory term used in the hobby of historical reenacting in reference to participants who are perceived to exhibit indifference to historical authenticity. It can also refer to the inauthentic materials used by those reenactors.  Some think that the origin of the word is a truncated version of "Far be it from authentic."  An alternative definition is "Fast And Researchless Buying."

I was going to tell you all about how farb-free we were today...only we weren't.  As you can see, I'm still on the computer.  Huge farb.  Made a call or two on my cellphone, also farby.  I drove in my farby car to the farbiest possible location: a copy store - bright lights, (to which my 19th century eyes are now unaccustomed, since I'm even typing this by candlelight), and thousands of square feet of electronics, plastic, and bright colors.  Total farb-fest.  It couldn't be helped; I had to make copies for my English class.

So now I'm hoping for a farb-free weekend.  Well, apart from driving 6 hours in my car to get to a re-enactment.  And going to a party Saturday night.  And church, though that's pretty period-correct.  But I'm pretty sure the play I'll be attending Sunday afternoon, High School Musical, will be pretty farby.  It's virtually impossible to carve a little 19th century corner out of this 21st century world!

But I'm trying.

Today was Ironing Day.  Until today, I never got why they needed a whole day just for ironing.  The answer is because it takes A Whole Day.  And it's all about fire and water again (see previous post.)  The iron has to be really hot, because everything is cotton and really wrinkly and it won't work without a very hot iron.  Then you have to sprinkle water on the clothes.  Then you iron (with a cloth over the clothes if your antique iron is ancient and rusty like mine.)  Then you wait for the iron to heat up again. Then you sprinkle the next little bit of clothes and iron again.  Then you wait for the iron to heat up again.  When you realize after staring at it for half an hour that the iron isn't getting hot, you build the fire again.  Then you wait for the iron to get hot.  Then you sprinkle...you get the idea.

You won't believe it when I tell you that all I ironed today was a chemise and 2 pairs of drawers.  (Chemise = Victorian tank top, drawers = underwear.)  I'll bet you've never ironed your underwear before!  (I have actually.  Apparently in Africa they have this weird bug that gets into light-colored underclothes and I wasn't taking any chances while traveling in Cameroon, so I ironed...never mind.)  You're probably getting sick of hearing about underwear, but at least I haven't mentioned The Corset in this post, and I won't, because we've called a truce for the moment.  But I can't help talking about underwear.  It looms large in our daily lives at present.  Get it?  Looms large?  I'm just punchy enough now that that cracks me up.

Back to farb.  Some of you have asked what we're "allowed" on this project.  Well, limited (hopefully) use of car, cellphone and computer, obviously, though they really should be more limited.  We're also using this:

I have to keep the freezer because it's full of our summer garden produce, and I was going to shut off the fridge, put block ice in it and use it as an icebox, but it was just too much trouble.  However, Karl turned off the light because everyone was using it when it got dark.

Our leopard gecko Lizzy still has to have her heat lamp.

We are also keeping this, since we don't need long-term plumbing problems, (sorry - can't get this to turn), as well as certain unmentionables without which life would be unmentionable.

But most of our farb is locked away.  The kitchen is divided.  We can't use these cupboards:

This one brings up a great mystery: What did people do before Tupperware?  I've pressed into service for leftovers every pot, jar, plate, and bowl I own!  And we're eating leftovers for lunch every day.

One benefit to this project is that the kids are helping out a lot.  Brennan washed dishes.  (Doesn't he look cute in his Civil War shirt?)

Then because it was already wet, he washed the floor.

And I made fried chicken.  Minnie Jackson's Fried Chicken.  Did you see "The Help?"  If not, you really should.  I fried my chicken in Crisco, just like in the movie.  

Ew.  It felt absolutely sinful.  We just don't eat like that nowadays.  I cook vegetarian half of the week, so my more carnivorous spouse and offspring  are loving it!  Fried chicken is fun to cook, actually.

Well, I'm off to bed.  My carriage leaves at half-after-dark tomorrow morning, and I expect Claire and I will encounter armed Yankees several times tomorrow.  She might even die.  I'm preparing to weep/giggle into my handkerchief.

I'm going to try not to post any more until Monday.  If you see another post before then, please call me and tell me to get off the computer.

Autumn

Baking Day(s)

You would think that baking in the 19th century is much harder than in the modern age.  It's actually not that difficult, except for making bread.

Have you ever watched an experienced baker kneading bread?  It looks so easy!  I should know by now that anything that looks easy actually isn’t.  I don’t know if it’s because I have never done it before, or because I am short, but I found kneading little difficult. Also, I had no idea you had to knead dough for so long.  I’m just glad it came out well.  My dad had made bread a couple days before that we had to throw out because it was undercooked and the yeast was still  active.

Besides bread, we have made two pies, cornbread, cookies, a plum tart, butter, and baked beans.  My dad made the pies; one apple pie, and one custard pie.  The custard pie was okay but it had absolutely no flavor!!

We (mainly me brother) have made butter successfully at least three times!  I think Brennan doesn’t want mom and dad to buy butter anymore.  The cream takes awhile to thicken, (we don’t have a churn so we shake cream in a jar) but it tastes good!

After "churning" the butter, you have to wash it.  (As if we're not washing enough around here; we even have to wash the butter!)  This gets rid of all of the buttermilk, which can spoil faster than the solid butter.

Just before we started this project, I learned that chocolate wasn’t a common item in the 19^th century.  Only rich folks had chocolate, and they only made it into hot cocoa. I LOVE chocolate; anything with chocolate in it is my absolute favorite dessert (chocolate cake, pie, ice cream, etc.)

So, a few days ago, my mom let me make chocolate chip cookies.  They were too big, and a little burnt, but delicious.

Thank you for reading our blog!  

Hailey

 

Washing Day

Today was supposed to be ironing day, but instead I taught the first meeting of my middle school English class.  With twelve kids, the candle-lit diningroom was packed, but they are a great group, and I think the day went well.  Some of the kids, knowing of our 1800s house, came in costume.  Regular life goes on, in spite of the project.  I think teaching an English class is totally period-correct, except that I'm married.  Did you know that female schoolteachers in the 1800s were not allowed to be married, (or even courting, which I imagine required them to either be very surreptitious or resign themselves to permanent spinsterhood!)

Yesterday, Monday, was Washing Day.  Knowing we could never handle the job alone, some friends offered to come help.  We had already done some laundry last week, but judging from how our more experienced friends handled it, I think I probably over-worked the clothes.  Left to me, they'll all have holes in them in no time! 

We borrowed two washboards, which we quickly nicknamed "regular" and "gentle cycle."  I didn't realize that washboards came in different roughnesses.  I also never knew they could be made of glass.  Check out this picture: http://www.flickr.com/photos/coronita/2513964471/

I don't know how our foremothers did it.  We got only half the laundry done, with help.  (And since half of what the kids are wearing is modern clothing, I think it's only fair to wash that in the machine.)  Haven't even tried to tackle sheets yet.  Sheets!  How are they ever going to fit in the washtub?!

Thank God for friends!

And for hardworking children:

This is Claire's zouave look, but at least she's wearing a skirt (and without complaining!)

Off to bath and bed.  Zzzzzz.

Autumn

Respect the Burden

Women in the 19th century lived a life encumbered.  There's no other way to put it.  I thought when I started this project that the clothes would be easy and the cooking difficult.  This week has proven the opposite.

The stove is working great.  I honestly think it's not really harder to use than my modern stove, apart from checking the wood all the time, but the kids like doing that anyway.  Not that I've exactly attempted a souffle...yet.  But we have been doing a lot of baking around here, which I'll let Hailey talk about.

The clothes however, have nearly brought me to tears - not an easy accomplishment.  The utter confinement of so many layers - stockings up over my knees and underwear down to my ankles - is a burden to carry around every minute of the day.  It sounds so romantic, and it is, but there's nothing romantic about tripping over your skirts, or shoveling them ungracefully into a car.  And I seriously hope my bust will return to its normal shape when this is all over!

I like dressing like a lady.  Although I had fun on the battlefield last weekend, I felt really uncomfortable (while being more comfortably dressed) walking around as a man.  Part of being a re-enactor is being an actor, and, although I like men, with their delightfully gravelly voices and scratchy beards, I don't want to play one.

I thought staying in 19th century clothes would be the easy part.  I have an excuse to wear a dress every day, (not to mention lots of girly, lacy cotton underthings) - how bad could it be?  Kinda bad, actually:   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AmZysl8OLos&feature=related

I woke up Saturday ready to cry.  Besides the whole hair problem I mentioned earlier, I just couldn't face The Corset again.  My ribs hurt.  My back hurts.  And I'm not even laced up very tight!  Sarah was right...cars and corsets don't mix.  I just had to take a break.

So I cheated.  But I can explain!  The girls were at a birthday party (modern clothes, modern music, a modern movie, and no mom looking embarrassingly like an extra from Gone with the Wind.)  I've been promising my son for weeks to take him on a particular hike, and there's no way I'm going to make it 4 miles uphill in full dress.  (Though I know plenty of Victorian women managed.  But they didn't have options.  I do.)

I've also been terrified of missing the last of the lovely weather, stuck indoors making homemade soap or hemming a petticoat while the last precious rays of sun shine without me.  I'm a southern California girl.  I can't actually turn my back on the sun.  I just can't.  I threw on some jeans, which actually felt kind of strange, and took a vigorous and refreshing hike with Karl and Brennan.  Sunday, I avoided The Corset by changing into a nightgown in mid-afternoon.

All this talk about the clothing has got me thinking about femininity.  I've heard several women say that men treat them differently when they are in a dress.  I imagine that's true.  I know I feel different in a dress.  And even though I was raised in the era of "I am woman, hear me roar" by a single mom with a career, I like the difference between the sexes.  Not that I want to get paid less for the same job, or be denied educational opportunities or anything.  Nor do I want to return to the burden of all those clothes!  But in our modern-day race for equality, sometimes I think we go too far.

Today the clothes felt normal, which is a little weird, really.  Maybe I just needed a break, or maybe I'm actually getting used to it.  Or maybe, to quote Napoleon Bonaparte, I'm learning to Respect the Burden.

Autumn

It's More Fun When Your Friends Play Too

I'm living this weird blend of 19th and 21st century life.  I'm trying desperately to stay in the 19th century, but I still have to get in my car every day to drive kids to various activities, and I can't get away from the computer, though I really want to try...soon.  I begin teaching an English class next week, and I really need to finish preparing some papers for it.

So I'm driving around town, looking and feeling ridiculous.  My kids refuse to dress up outside the house.  Karl is excused for work, so even at home, I'm sometimes the only one playing this game, and sometimes I feel like a really peculiar grown woman playing dress-up.  Okay, I actually am a really peculiar grown woman playing dress-up, but at least if the kids are playing along I can say it's for educational purposes.

I miss my Civil War friends.  They play the same game.  In fact, at a Civil War re-enactment, it feels a little odd to be dressed in modern clothes.  Or it should, anyway.  If you're reading this, please dress up, come visit, and make me feel normal!

On another note, here are some random pictures of our 1800s house: