1) In the 7 Circles of Archaeological Hell, the seventh circle consists of having to lay line of shovel tests through Staten Island catbriar four feet taller than you. Imagine thorns so sharp and long they scratch you through your jeans and long johns, AND at one point go through your BOOT. Allow me to repeat: A THORN WENT THROUGH MY BOOT.

You have NO idea what my legs look like right now. It's pretty horrific, and they sting like a mo'fo' when I take a shower.

Though, it is a relief to no longer be digging along the Belt Parkway. I like the silence of working in the woods under the Outerbridge Crossing. If it just wasn't for those DAMNABLE CATBRIARS!!!!

Because I need my dose of blasphemy this evening, holy Christ, my everlasting sympathies.

Real Life-related:
1) I'm going to be Oscar Wilde for Halloween!...well, I will, once I modify a coat of mine, and make myself a fabulously foppish purple vest and green cravat. And then on November 1st at a little shindig [ profile] muneybags6 is hosting (themed "Saints and Demons: come as your best or worst!") I plan on going as Saint Lucy, with my eyes on a platter. I want to practice staring ahead with dark glasses on while I move my "eyes" to look at the people I'm talking too. I think it would be awesomely creepifying if I did it right.

2) I'm sitting on my grad school application for the March 31 deadline. Just didn't want to go to grad school this spring (assuming I would have gotten in in the first place).

3) My brother and I saw "Fuerza Bruta" on Saturday and it was AMAZING. It was like being in someone else's waking dream; one part nightmare, one part rave, one part "WTF that was AWESOME!". If you want to feel what's it's like to step into Wonderland, GO SEE THIS SHOW. You walk out of it and the rest of the humdrum world feels so much more magical. Just don't expect it to make any sense--just take it in and go for the ride. I mean, women swim in a clear pool as it's lowered within arm's reach of you. It's insane, but a good sort.

1) Everyone. Go to Watch the videos of my friend [ profile] theborderpatrol a.k.a. the Nostalgia Chick. Proceed to laugh yourself silly. The Anastasia review is a particular favorite of mine (though I LOVE the one for Pocahontas. Oh...Pocahontas)

2)I...have so many things for the internet to finish writing/to think about writing. The deadline for [ profile] thingsunwritten is nigh, and I need to finish my story about two gladiators. I have a slew of tables and prompts to start, much less finish ([ profile] thousandtables and [ profile] ink_twist being the big two)--

And NaNoWriMo Cometh.

I've an idea, but I've never down well with NaNo on even numbered years. I think I have a good idea for it this year, but...*sigh*

Other than that, my life is unexciting.
Remains of 5,000-year-old cemetery found in Sahara

I think that filled my "Cool" Quota for the next week.
Things Nella Learned Today: Should the power go out and my car's in the garage, I am unable to escape the confides of my house. How-to-open-the-garage-door-manually is getting top-priority rushed to the top of my list of things-my-father-still-needs-to-teach-me.

Luckily, the power returned after about a half hour, and I was able to escape after all. I'm at the library right now, trying to figure out what to do with myself this summer. Oh, why can't it be EASY to decide the course of one's future?!? Why can't I just be closedminded enough to only want to do ONE THING with my life, instead of figuring I enjoy a lot of things and should persue them all?!

So far, I've narrowed my summer down to three things:

1) Going back to the University of Maryland's field school. The UofM is my number one grad school pick, and I figure the best way to hedge my bets in the hopes of getting into their program is to intellectually and manually whore myself for them at their 6-week field school. Show them what I'm made of, that sort of thing. Of course, if my life was a movie, this could horribly backfire as I make a series of humorous but damning mistakes, resulting in bodily injury and property damage, but luckily, my life's NOT a movie, so it's worth a shot.

2) Actually taking the Mercyhurst College Forensic Anthropology Short Courses; I figure if reconstructing a staged terrorist crime scene (among other things in the 4 week-long courses) can't convince me one way or another of if I'm capable of stomaching, learning and mastering forensic anthropology, then I'm really screwed. But I've had this itch of "what if" in regards to forensic anthropology for years now, and I figure if I don't scratch it soon I may have regrets if I try to go straight into an Historical Archaeology master program.

Damn you, "What If". You are indeed my oldest and foulest foe.


3) Continuing to work at Greenhouse and doing diddley squat otherwise. Not something I WANT to do, but I know me, and I'm lazy as sin. We're trying to avoid this one though.

Considering that all these things start in June...Yea, I really need to get on that. NOW.

I've been using this face A LOT at work lately. Especially today. I HATE SEARCHING FOR THE CHAIN OF TITLE IN STATEN ISLAND!!! STATEN ISLAND, YOU ARE DEAD TO ME!

The Law of Nature decrees that research for me should never be easy, or straightforward. Example: This week I've been researching a site in New Lots. There was a cemetery. The cemetery MAY have extended to the block and lots we're writing our report on. The trouble is that tracing the boundaries of that old cemetery, or even finding if the State removed the bodies when they put the school playground in is being a bitch and a half.

I thought I had had a really, really good lead! A bill was passed in the NY senate in 1913, proposing that the cemetery be reclaimed by the state, the bodies removed, and the land given to the adjacent school for a playground, cause hey! The school kids are using the cemetery for a playground anyway, may as well give them a swing set, or something. Even better, I KNOW the law had to be passed between 1923-1925, thanks too two articles I found that shows that in '23 there was still the cemetery, and in '25 there was a playground. HUZZAH!! SURELY THIS WILL BE EASY!!

So I went to the NY Public Library Law Library and searched and searched...

And it turns out all those bill jackets between 1905-1925 were destroyed. In a big old Albany blaze.


There was nothing in the law indexes. NOTHING. NADA. ZLITCH.


Tomorrow, I'm in the Bronx. Huzzah for backhoe trench excavations! If it's going to be anything like Fishkill, this should be...eventful.

Well. At least I've got a hard hat now. Bring it on, heavy machinery!
You Know Your Christmas Dinner is Going to Suck When...

The archaeological digging season started for my company today. Sure, the top of the ground is still freezing over night, but by 9 a.m. things are thawed! Let's do some EXCAVATING!

I'll be in in Orange County, NY, just north of the Woodbury Outlets for the next week, maybe two. Sometimes, you really have a clear understanding of what it means to be the only non-penis in a 440 acre hill site over looking a vast, open valley that possesses very little tree cover.

More tomorrow! I intend to post maps and things!

I drove up to visit [ profile] neo_ninja after work today, as New Paltz is only 16-something miles away...but fell into a comatose state on his bed the minute I stopped playing "Rock Band". Winter makes me fat and lazy, and a day of excavating really took it out of me. Sorry I wasn't better company, Wyatt. ^_^;;;
Well, the Bronx has been abandoned for the moment, as my fact finding for the Ebling brewery was rather successful, and we have more pressing projects to worry about. Just before Christmas, I started researching in the Richmond County clerk's office, just a quick (and free!) ferry ride from the southern tip of Manhattan to the St. George station in Staten Island. You see, there is a mall going up right under the Outerbridge Crossing, and before it can go up, the site's history must be accounted for!

So, first on the to-do list is looking up land deeds.

Of course, it's taking FOREVER, because why would anything be easy in this line of work, really?! The reasons? One, because I have to look up more than one block. Two, because after about the 1920's, there AREN'T any block listings in Staten Island, what with it all having been farmland (at least, in the area I'm searching). And Three, because after about the 1900's, pretty much the same 5 or 6 families are buying up/own ALL OF THE FRICKEN ISLAND. So, in a single ledger, Abraham Cole, for instance, may have bought 50-odd lots of land from all sorts of different people…and without any way of pinpointing those pieces of land, because they aren't assigned block numbers, just their coordinates and what other farms or roads they might adjoin. So, what's a girl archaeologist to do, except find some land coordinates, an old map or two, and read through all the deeds that MAY match up, to see if you're even in the right ballpark land-wise.

…There are a LOT of deeds that MAY match up.

Luckily, my boss dug up a colonial land grant map, so after I traced the deeds back to the 1900's and hit a wall known as the 19th century, I began to trace FORWARDS from the colonial land grants (circa 1685ish). I hope beyond hope that when all is said and done, the two sets of information I have will meet up in the middle.

The major problem I find beginning around the 1850's, however, is the matter of BOUNDARIES. Or more importantly, how they are described in the deeds.

Cut for musings on large apple trees. You should read it, I manage to mention Peter Stuyvesant! Everyone loves Peter Stuyvesant!…and by love, I mean hate. But cut him some slack, the man had a peg leg for Pete's sake! )
And so, that is how my days lately have been spent. Reporting to the office at 8 am, catching the Staten Island Ferry at 8:30, researching deeds from 9-3, and back to Manhattan, to Penn Station, to catch the 4:19 train.

But before I leave you all, an open letter:

A love letter, in fact. )
And I've been looking high and low for a German brewery.

This week I started working in the office again; the digging season is officially over, and I'm done with the nomadic lifestyle until the spring, thank GOD. I was sent on a quest to the Bronx Historical Society, round about where Fordham University lies. Paula send me forth with the instructions to comb the archives for any and all information about Ebling's Brewery, a brewery that was located between St. Ann's Ave and Eagle Ave. in the Bronx, which was established in 1868 by the Ebling brothers, and was closed in 1951. Now it's just an empty block, and we've been hired to poke around the property to see how historically significant/sensetive the site is.

Over all, a good day today! I got to sleep in, because my appointment to fondle their research library wasn't until 1:30. Considering that my mornings begin at 5 am, which--TRUST ME ON THIS--is well before the ass crack of Dawn shows up, it was a WELCOME change of pace.

HOWEVER--twenty minutes before I reached the Historical Society, my phone rings. It's their librarian, calling to tell me that, oh so sorry, but the microfilm machine is broken.

Businesses are a trick and a half to research, because businesses have the nasty habit of throwing ALL their paperwork away. This place was one of the biggest, wealthiest breweries in the New York boroughs, even got majorly busted in 1922 for hiding beer in the caves under Eagle Ave (OMG CAVES OH PLEASE LET ME GO SPELUNKING PRETTY PRETTY PLEASE) and smuggling the goods out to Long Island (oh, and the keyword was "Brooklyn")--

And YET, no one knows ANYTHING about it, aside from the oral histories that have been collected from people who worked there before it closed in 1951. The only leads I've got is to comb through the microfilms of the Bronx Daily News and the Bronx City directories...which I couldn't. On account of broken microfilm machines and all.

True, I did find some good photos of the building, as well as a few articles about events that happened there, so my day wasn't a total waste...but it looks like I'll be heading to the New York Public Library this week to get my hands on their microfilm collection. To browse through the Bronx Daily News. From 1915 to 1951. *HEAD DESK*

*growls in frustration* I want to know more about this place, damnit!! I WILL uncover the truth! *heroic pose!!*

...Oh, and the official historian of the Bronx has given me an open invitation to call him whenever I have questions/I find something new and exciting. He sounded so excited when I told him about what we were researching, it was adorable. ^_^
On the twelfth day of Christmas, ink_n_imp sent to me...
Twelve kickass scots drumming
Eleven spooks piping
Ten catholics a-leaping
Nine etruscans dancing
Eight vimes a-milking
Seven browncoats a-hellsing
Six rpgs a-crossdressing
Five di-i-i-isney movies
Four sherlock holmes
Three john adams
Two mel brooks
...and a chauvelin in a sir percy.
Get your own Twelve Days:

*BITES FIST AT LAST ONE* Oh god, brain bleach now please.

Back in Fishkill this week, digging on a new site. Nothing exciting, just shovel tests. Hoping against hope we'll be finished by next Thursday. Visiting [ profile] vengefulbuddha this weekend, that is if I don't get HORRIBLY LOST between here and Northampton. Really, really, REALLY fucking tired right now. Is it Thursday? Can I has a Thirsty Thursday plz?

...I should update some more, but *dies*
I have to get up at 4 am so that the family and I can leave for the happy, happy land that is Florida. Thanksgiving in Florida? In EPCOT, no less? Still not certain how I feel about this.

So I leave you with this! (yoinked from [ profile] swankyfunk

William Shakespeare

Beware the ink'n'imp of March.

Which work of Shakespeare was the original quote from?

Get your own quotes:

Oh, fancy that, my birthday is in March...*whistles innocently*

When I return, I shall have to regale you all with tales of working in the Greenhouse office in the city, where archaeological drama reigns supreme, which is an accomplishment considering it's only me and Paula and two phone lines in the office. Wherein clients cut down trees in an attempt to force you into uncovering more graves (because the term "preservation" seems BEYOND their limited grasp of the POINT of archaeology!), fire you one evening and hire you again in the morning. Likewise, the joys of commuting and running errands through the Financial District (*glomps downtown Manhattan!*), the pains of having to get up at 5 am, and the general tribulations of not getting my hands on a stiff drink when I need one (though I've finally found a DAMN GOOD pizza place right off of Stone Street).

...and now, BED.
How many times in your life are you going to be able to think in a panicked manner; "Holy shit, I just put a trowel through his head."

Hopefully, not too many. But I got to today. And my brain is still running around like an puppy with ADD who just got a sniff of crack.

The possible grave unit we were excavating is no longer a possible anything. It is a BURIAL. And (ok, I lied, there's one more possible) possibly of a Revolutionary War soldier (you all have homework...look up "Fishkill Depot", or for that matter the Van Wyck House and see what you find. That's what I've been digging around for the last MONTH. GO!!)

However...I DID manage to put my trowel through the cranium. Or to be more precise, I was troweling the dirt, and a segment of the cranial bone about the size of a quarter popped out of the ground, leaving a hole that revealed nothing but dark VOID below. Bill (one of the Bills I'm working with out there) and I both screamed like girls. One wouldn't think you could be scared shitless when you're lying on your stomach reaching into a grave shaft to dig it out centimeter by centimeter; in fact, it's generally tedious and exhaustign work. But as soon as the bone suddenly appeared we both just STARED at it, afraid of touching it, of BREATHING on it, lest we damage the bone more.

We called the county Medical Examiner, and they sent a fellow out to make sure it wasn't a modern homicide. He gave us the ok to continue digging.

Afterwards, Bill (the one that screamed like a girl with me) and I went to the Mexican resturant across the street to sit at the bar, drink a shot and a beer and just fucking wrap our minds around the brand new AWESOME that just hit us in the face.

That is all.
I would go to Sweden just to see THIS SHIP.

That is all.
Ok, quicky run down of my life so far:

1) STILL working on that dig in Fishkill, and in fact am sitting in the motel room as I type. Two week dig my ASS, but, hey, can't complain as I'm getting paid.

Official word so far is that come hell or high water we WILL be finished Tuesday, but the way things keep changing on this dig, I'm not holding my breath.

2) Halloween was the site tour for the Fishkill Historical Society, the client, the representative from the state, and a lawyer from the state attorney general's office (cause the client is suing the state). The Two Bills gave the site tour while me and one of the newbies cleaned the trenches (We have trenches, OH SO MANY TRENCHES. Some times I look around and wonder why there aren't any Germans, or idiotic batmen with Cunning Plans...)

So far, the really awesome stuff we've found have been a series of stone walls (thank you, Ian, for letting me watch that Eddie Izzard sketch), the remains of a butchered horse (HUZZAH! CUT MARKS!! And honestly, who else is going to be eating HORSE but the Revolutionary army who was low on just about every other piece of meat...), six possible graves, and a circular arc of circular stains in the ground that SCREAM "ZOMG I'M THE POST HOLE REMAINS OF A WIGWAM!!!"

On Tuesday, we will be excavating one of the graves, to make sure it IS a grave, and to try and determine if it is a soldier's burial or a farm family grave. Have the coroner standing by!

3) Spent Halloween at New Paltz with Wyatt and his gang. Had the foresight to bring something costumey with me. Ended up trick-or-treating, and having an EPIC silly string fight in front of his dorm. Good times had by all.

4) Nano. Holy shit, did Nano really just start? *Get's cracking!*

And that's the very, very short of the rather long and tedious. Hopefully this post has broken the seal so to speak, and my next post won't be as long in coming.

Wait, does this mean I have a job?

Well, first things first, I can honestly throw down the gauntlet and claim with big brass balls that Prince Phillip from Disney's Sleepy Beauty ain't got SHIT on me. He may be one of Disney's most awesome princes, but he had the help of three fairy godmothers, a nifty sword and shield, and a horse that knew what was what. All I had was a pair of leather gloves, clippers, a machete, and a grizzly and pissy archaeologist in his 60s yelling at me from the safety of his surveying equipment.

…Ok, so HE had to face the Mistress of All Evil afterward while all I had to do was backfill units, but STILL.

Short of the long, we had to survey through a gorram briar patch nearly 8 feet high on Tuesday, which had large pointed thorns which dug into my flesh and didn't want to let go. Throw on top of that that this thorn jungle was growing over and concealing large mountains of concrete that had been dumped back when the Hess station on the corner was built (thanks guys for covering our archaeological site with your concrete!…wasn't even your fucking property, asshats), and you have yourself a veritable death trap. Seriously, one wrong step and you'd find yourself falling face first into a valley that just happens to be filled with all sorts of bloodthirsty thorns.

Oh, and while within this jungle I also slid five feet into a junk dump that was filled with old fences and really rusted and pointy metal things.

Oh, and on top of that, the dig was shut down just long enough for me to spend the night in the motel, drive home the next morning, and find 3 voice mails on my phone that evening saying the dig was back on. OMG I really hate NY state and lawyers right now. REALLY.

I'm going back up to Fishkill Monday evening, and am going to try to work at the site until Friday. However, some good may come of this…I MAY have an office job with this company once the dig is done. Paula, the woman from the office, asked Bill, the field director, if I might be interested in working in the office full time. He gave me a call to see if I'd want to, and HELL'S YES. So, I've finally given Target my two weeks notice.

…Oh PLEASE I want that office job. 40 hours per week, and 13 an hour, and at a place that the fact I have a major in anthropology actually matters? Damn it, I'll use that long commute for sleeping or come November for Nanowrimo writing!
So, motel TOTALLY doesn't have wireless. Or let me correct that. MY room has no wireless. The other building does, but it's touch and go at best. So, here I sit in a Panera of all places, where the wireless is free and the bread is DELICIOUS.

The dig goes well, or as well as a dig can go that was planned by people who wouldn't know the digged end of a trowel if you HANDED it to them. The field directors are improvising to the best of their ability, but yes, I am convinced the people that run this show back in the office A) don't understand what a dig entails and B) have no conception of how to properly budget a dig.

For example, there are only four people total digging. This week we have to excavate 6 1 meter x 1 meter units. No biggie, we finished three today, started the fourth. Next week however, comes the back hoe for the trenching. The Powers That Be decided that the back how would excavation nearly 1500 feet of trenches, and that we, we four, we hapless band of archaeologists we, would shift 100% of the dirt dug out.

ALL THAT DIRT. IN A WEEK. I don't even know how to put this in perspective without taking a picture of the aftermath, because SHIT SON, that's a LOT OF DIRT. MAYBE if you had 6 weeks and a crew of 14 (bemoaned the two old school field directors) it would be feasible. BUT A WEEK?!?!

So, the proposal has been tweaked to shifting only 20%...which means NOTHING really, so we're just going to shift every 5th bucket.

In other news, the site is pleasant, and is in the woods. Excavation is a bitch cause there are cobbles EVERYWHERE and every time the trowel/shovel/fucking pickaxe hits one the vibration goes right up my arm and rests in my wrists. My hands are still shaking a little bit. The motel is creepy and totally shady. Damned good thing there wasn't an old Victorian House on the hill and the owners are Indian, cause otherwise I might not dare a shower. If all goes well tomorrow I MAY be in New Paltz for the weekend. It's either New Paltz or go back home. I donno yet. But there's no way in hell I'm spending the weekend in that motel alone. Seriously.

Well, later! The battery's running low and I've got things to read before the night is out.
I need to add, since this work is being conducted for a private developer, none of this is supposed to be public knowledge. All information should be kept confidential.

…Well, that may put a damper on this post.

As some of you might know, I recently send my resume to an archaeology consultants company in hopes for jobs and better things. While there wasn't a full time position, there were several temporary positions that needed to be filled. So, I ran to Target, threw all of my hours for the next two weeks up onto the switch board, started calling some favors people there owe me, and tomorrow I'm driving up to Fishkill NY to work on a two week excavation of a Revolutionary War-era site. I'll be working Mon-Fri, 8 hour days. The motel is being paid for by the company, and the fact I have the weekend off means there are two chaps upstate that are POSITIVELY going to be getting a visit from me whether they like it or not! (so, [ profile] rathbandu and [ profile] neo_ninja--you had better like it! ^_^).

I am so excited I've been running around like mad. My duffel was packed last night, and I've been pulling up google maps of the area all day, plotting my drive up there. I feel like tomorrow's Christmas and goddamn I've been a good girl this year. Of course, I HOPE I can get all of my days (only four) at Target covered so I don't technically have to call out/get fired…but come on? Archaeology…Target…archaeology…Target….archaeology…Target…

Yep. Archaeology wins.

I WISH I could go into more details, but *points to above*. As I'm hoping to woo my way into a more permanent job with this firm, I don't want to fuck with the 'Berg, so to speak.

Fear not, the motel's got while I'm not reading about New York State SHPO regulations, you'll probably catch me online. Depending on how whip-cracky these people are.
The archaeology consulting firm officed at Bowling Green replied to the inquiry I sent them over their website! Now they want me to send my resume...which means by tomorrow, I have to learn everything there ever was to learn about their firm and what they do, so that I might woo them with the cover letter I most definitely should include. ('Why, yes, these are all the reasons you should hire me, because I appear to have an intimate knowledge/understanding of what you crazy archaeologically consulting sorts do!')

*bites fist*

Ok, the firm in Williamsburg, VA was hiring crazy amounts, and is, after all, in Williamsburg, VA (sends coquettish looks towards the College of William and Mary). But...but...BOWLING GREEN!! Uberly-downtown Manhattan could be mine once more!! True, I'd probably move in with my spinster aunts Angela and Giovanna until apartment possibilities arose, or stay at home and--dare I?--commute.

*shakes head!* Gah, chickens before eggs! I need to write out this cover letter and send my damnable resume first! And then make the appropriate animal sacrifices, pray to the proper saints, preform other heretical acts in an attempt to smooth my way, etc etc etc....

...mustn't get hopes up, mustn't get hopes up, mustn't get hopes up...

Though, they should seriously hire me, if only for my mother's 50 birthday (this Wednesday). Honestly, when I asked what she wanted for her big 5-0, "You getting a better job" was her reply. There's something terrifying about immigrant parents who have succeeded through education and hard work...even though they aren't laying the pressure down (...often), the guilt to make them proud is panic inducing.


Happier note: kick ass dream last night, about becoming selkies/mermaids, and diving to the bottom of the ocean only to discover it turned into the night sky and I was no longer swimming, but flying. Some issues though, when I tried to convince my land companions to dive in and swim down with me, and random people on the beach were like "ZOMB, MERMAIDS!". (Interestingly enough, under the water felt like breathing on a really windy day, when the wind whips the breath right out of your lungs, and you have to fight to breath in) There was some sort of nameless power/evil down there though, but I woke up before that part of the dream could develop.
Ok, ok, I KNOW. I've got a long list of things I've promised to post about that I haven't done yet, but I was distracted by an article about a dig happening RIGHT NOW over at the Lloyd Manor House at Lloyd Neck. They are excavating what they believe is a slave quarters there--the Lloyd family were one of the largest slaveholders on Long Island with 10 slaves, though slavery on Long Island has traditionally been one of those things that has fallen under the table of History, so to speak. And, as it's one of those things I read a lot about when I was researching Long Island archaeology back in junior year, but that little work has been done regarding it, it piqued my interest.

...So, short of the long, is that I've just sent off a desperate email to the associate professor in charge, and SWEET JESUS, I hope I can still get my foot in volunteer wise.

I apologize for the long silence. It's been an odd sort of week, but well worth the self imposed exile from friends and family so far. Of course, be sure to ask me if it was worth it a few more weeks from now, when this Maryland sun has been getting the best of me and I've had it up to my neck with glass bits and rusty nails and compacted dirt of SUCK my BALLS.

Allow me to expound:

For those of you who may not be in the know, I’ve signed up for a six week archaeological field school down here with the University of Maryland. For two weeks we’re digging in the city of Parole, which is a part of Annapolis, and the next four we’ll be at the Wye House across the Bay Bridge. It’s about 15 of us, with about 5 instructors and a few overlords of not so evil. Actually, quite chipper and fun. Maybe it’s the fact that anyone who DOES sign up for field school is more than realistic about how we are just plebs in the archaeological world and it will be years before any of us are skilled enough in the art of archaeology to merit a job with a salary one can live comfortable off of, but the lack of egos amongst my fellow future archaeologist is a relief and a joy. They possess a vibe that I never really felt from most of the students in the anthropology department (but then again, there’s something about being in the city that I think gives one the false confidence that no matter what, a successful future is in the bag as soon as you graduate. Or perhaps it’s just because Stern is in such a close proximity. Who knows?). I really can’t emphasis enough how friendly and awesome and down to earth they all have been so far, even though they all seem to know each other from the U. of M., and I’m the northern infiltrator. ^_^ Also, the instructors are a blast. I don’t get it, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt such easy camaraderie before in a school type setting before.

Mid week, we moved from our original site in Parole to a new one, the yard of Mt. Olive AME Church. Test pits dug, we found bone, nails, and a Minie Ball, and indentations that we hope with bated breathe are privies (forgive the godawful pun, but one can find some amazing shit thrown down the privy for safekeeping. Seriously.)

I’m working on a 5’5’ square that pulled up a lot of bone, but the dirt’s being a compacted, rusty bitch, so with a trowel it’s slow going. And never mind that the sun is also so strong that I’ve been getting burned even with sunblock on. I curse my fair skin, CURSE IT!

Though, it’s a little disconcerting to have big-ass turkey vultures watching you from a nearby roof line, one going so far as to perch on top of the Church’s cross. How…Poe.

JP is a dolt who went to New York this weekend to go to an art show of some sort, instead of staying in Maryland and waiting for my call with bated breathe. FHEH, I say. FHEH! So, I’m on my own this weekend, and Cars appears to be in my future this evening, to whittle away some time.

Five more weeks, my friends, and then I shall return triumphant to the state I adore and the city I love! Or, at least I shall be in closer proximity to the city I love.


December 2010

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