The Statuary Necropolis or The Freaky Greeks, Part 1

We live in a small town that used to be a stop on the Pennsylvania canal. When I first moved here, I wondered why there was such a concentration of antique shops; it's not particularly picturesque, but there are are at least 5 plus an antiques mall/flea market on our 10 block long main drag. At some point, and I have no APA citations to support this, I read that our town was a stop for unloading all the canal boats before the goods headed up the mountains by rail. Hence, the remnants of this confluence are the little shops that remain. At one of our three stoplights, there is a antiques business that specializes in all kinds of statuary. While they usually have a good assortment of eagles, lions, and bare butts*, it is their newest acquisition that stunned us when it showed up.

He is HUGE. Part of me is awed every time we drive by, and the other part of me giggles. Who the heck is going to put this in their yard? Seriously. I hope some museum buys it or some small town for their historical society yard. For now, we are enjoying him. I had to take a picture before someone buys him, which pretty much guarantees he'll be looking in our bathroom window from a block away for the foreseeable future.

While I was there, I found some other interesting characters:

Who doesn't want Aslan living in their 'hood?

I don't know why I'm cuddling a fish.

Don't look behind you, but that idiot is still throwing fish at us.

No, it's MY turtle!

Herp de derp!

Have a drink, dear. Oh, you're falling down the hill? My bad.

Sister, would you care to dance?

Why, yes, Sister, I would love to!

Humph. Dancing is fine for some people.

Tee hee, we can't dance! We are weird cat/sphinx/Victorian lady people!!

Foie gras, anyone?

Hmmmm....no comment!

Why, yes, they ARE adorable....wait, what are they again?

Don't ask me again! Didn't you hear me? Nevermore!

Okay, so that last one was pretty pathetic, but I'm overwhelmed by the awesomeness of these statues. As Ethan said, "Those Greeks, Mom, they were pretty freaky."

*Gratuitous butt shot:

A Photogenic Fly Fishing Saga

Behold The Fisherman.

He is a Fly Fisherman.

Behold The Fisherwoman.

She is not a Fly Fisherwoman.

Matt and I have fished together since we started dating. It is quiet, relaxing, and soothing to both of us. It is not so soothing when you add a dog who is obsessed with swimming until she drowns and two kids that won't bait hooks and can't unhook a fish, but I AM NOT GOING TO COMPLAIN. SEE ME, NOT COMPLAINING!? Sigh.

USUALLY THERE IS A LOT OF BITCHING COMMENTS BECAUSE THE FISH AREN'T BITING MOM, WHY AREN'T THEY BITING? I CAN'T CAST. I STILL CAN'T CAST. MOM. MOM. MOOOOOOM. HE STOLE MY FISHING SPOT. I'M SNAGGED, MOM.

Luckily, on this day, they had success along with the rest of their usual fishing experiences.

why can't i go swim? i wanna swim. i wanna swim. i wanna swim.

pleeeeease. i wanna swim.

And where is their father?

Why, he is calm, soothed, and relaxing

50 yards upstream.

Of. Course.

Part of the fun of going fishing is trying to capture the perfect fly fishing picture of Matt.**

This is not at easy as it might seem.

For a variety of reasons.

He wasn't even close to hooking her, but there was a lot of *GASP!!* "DADDY!!!".

if you're not gonna let me swim, mom, can we please go home?

It's really easy to miss that moment when the line hangs in the air in a perfect arc.

I'm usually a few seconds late. Almost got it here.

Missed it again.

15 pictures later...

Perfect!

Perfection.

** I don't know why, because he certainly doesn't bother to try and get a good picture of me fishing. That picture above? Is the Only Picture of Me Fishing in existence. I am not even kidding.

Not Laboring on Labor Day

Random Thoughts:

-In the midst of looking for swag to fill up the geocaching kit in the car, I discovered there were 10, that's TEN random tops of popsicles/shirt tags/corners off fruit snacks/etc. that someone has kindly left in with the junk in the junk drawer. Really. How hard is it to walk 2.3 feet to the garbage can with the scissors and snip the tops off over there? Apparently, this ranks up there with putting clothes in the hamper and bringing dishes down stairs.

-In reading Telling Dad's blog this morning, I discovered that we are not the only household in which it is perfectly fine to eat all manner of meals in the bed. See the comment section, please.

-In four years at our small, Brethren, liberal arts college, my husband did not attend classes once on Labor Day. And after I met him, I didn't either.

-Last time we stopped at the cemetery on our way home from visiting my parents, we found these:

Why were they unknown? Where did they come from? How did they end up in this cemetery? And when? Most of the graves around these two date to the 1800's. The kids had lots of questions (well, Meghan did, Ethan had lots of theories to share) and I had no answers.

-Currently wondering why I am sleeping in excess of 9 hours each night, plus a two hour nap if I can catch it, with no illness or newborn children to blame. Reconciling myself with the thought that I am perhaps lazy.

-Today I am glad on Labor Day that I am a somewhat complacent member of my union, instead of my great-great-grandmother Stiles, who was married to a union organizer, and had something like 10 children at home, while he was out sending her postcards from all the towns where he was rallying and organizing the workers into unionizing.

Happy Labor Day.

Carrick Furnace

geocaching post alert

warning:: boring post warning:: boring post

geocaching post alert

When we went geocaching during our Cowan's Gap camping trip, we cached at Carrick Furnace. It is an old furnace that looks similar to limestone kilns in our area but it has some of the old steam powered equipment remaining. According to the Franklin Co. Historical Society, this furnace was built in the 1820's and was last used in 1884. It's on the National Register, and, lo and behold, we would not have seen it or explored it without geocaching. Viewing other kilns like this, I was never able to picture how they worked. Not that I understand it any better now, but at least I have more of a visual. Admittedly, these are among the more boring of historical buildings, but I was there, damnit, so now you get to see it as well. You're welcome.

Are you sure there are no snakes around here?

I am totally serious.

There had better not be any snakes.

Snakes in a Cabin

Ok, I know you've been dying for this post! Snakes in a cabin!

There is only one person who hates snakes more than my husband, and that would be my mother.

What did you say? A what?

My dad found Snake #1 in the bunk room. He tried to tell my mom it was a worm, and my mom was all like, "As if. Let me see that ACK WHAT THE HELL TOM GET IT OUT OF HERE NOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!"

I was lucky enough to find Snake #2. He was cheerfully sitting on the mantle, for crying out loud, watching us cook supper.

Dude, put lots of onions on my shishkabob.

Why exactly are there snakes on this plane in this cabin?!?

The kids promptly named him Squidgy. They should have called him Squirmy the Escape Artist, because he fell off the butter dish lid about 17 times before we got him outside.

Defcon 4! Dive! Dive! Dive! Away! Chutes open!

Cameron contemplates Squidgy, held by Daddy's thumb.

See my sister in the back? She has a funny look on her face.

Reminds me of the first time I peed on a EPT stick.

I was not sure what to think. And neither is she.

"Everybody listen up!

We have to put a barrier between us and the snakes!"

See me? I'm not screaming. I'm not panicking. I want to get the hell away from that snake,

and I do not want my children to touch it, but I am Calm in the Name of Scientific Discovery.

Father dear, why ever are the womenfolk standing on the tables?

When will our evening repast be ready? Will Mr. Squidgy be joining us at the table?

Squirm away, Squidgy! Be free!!

No. No, he would not be joining us for supper. Despite many loud protests from people under the age of 12, and much to the relief of everyone else, Squidgy was released back into the wild of Cowan's Gap. And we, very luckily indeed, did not see any more snakes in the cabin that week.

The bathhouse . . . that was a different story.

Burnt Cabins Grist Mill

So, we are off camping with much of the whole fam-damily, excepting for my brothers' family and my husband Matt who couldn't get off of work to go with me, the dog, my mom and dad, my sister and brother-in-law, and four kids ranging from 2 years to 11 years. Oh, and a snake.

Yeah. We'll get to that later.

First, another 'geocaching is so great, it takes me places I never would have seen' type post. You're welcome!

This is the Burnt Cabins Grist Mill. There was a multi-cache (a two-stage geocache) here, so we headed out. We were pleasantly surprised to find not only a working grist mill, but a campground and small store selling their own flour and cornmeal, as well as hand dipped ice cream.

Pappy told the kids how members of our family brought one of the first millstones

over the Allegheny Mountains to found the Edwards Feed Mill. God love 'em, is all I have to say, DRIVING Rt 30 over the Allegheny Mountains is bad enough, without having to spur mules carrying a very large and heavy stone over the non-existant roads.

Ethan, at stage two of the geocache.

We wound up getting ice cream and some items to use for making fried zucchini and shish kabobs that we had for supper that night. The pumpkin butter was tres yummy.

The darkening skies should have been a portent of what we were to find in the cabin when we got back from our innocent jaunt amuck around the countryside....

Coming soon: Snakes in a Cabin

Zee Zaniness, We Know Not Where Eet Comes From

Just possibly from the one on the left.

Or perhaps from this culprit:

posted from Bloggeroid