An Ordinary Day In: The Life of a Noble Roman Child

By: Stephanie Dray









In ancient Rome, the children of the poor would have awakened at daybreak by a harried mother, but nurses and slaves were the caretakers of wealthy children. Either way, once the sun was glowing in the sky, Roman children would have stumbled out of a sleeping couch and into their clothing. Noble children of both genders wore sandals and white tunics, but the tunics of the boys were bordered in crimson. It's in some dispute whether or not both boys and girls wore birth lockets known as bullas, but it's certain that boys did.

What kind of breakfast a child would have depended on how strict his or her father was. Some Romans shunned breakfast altogether during the Republic, condemning a morning meal as an effeminate practice that would weaken the moral and physical strength of their children. By their reckoning, the only thing anyone good Roman needed to greet the day was a cup of vinegar mixed with warm water. (Also known as posca.)

Other parents took a more pragmatic view and allowed their children to eat a simple breakfast of figs, porridge, or a crust of bread. Still other wealthy children were treated to every manner of indulgence at breakfast and may have feasted upon pastries, spears of asparagus, eggs, thick slices of eel or poppy-seed covered doormice. (Yes, a doormouse is exactly what you think it is.) But they would have saved the heavier, more exotic foods, like roasted ostrich and spiced sausages, for later in the day.

After breakfast, noble children would be sent off with their tutors--who were almos

t always highly educated Greeks. The children read scrolls made of papyrus or copied onto vellum and they would have practiced their letters on wax tablets, using a pointy stylus to draw the figures into the wax. If they didn't have private tutors they'd do this at school--also known as a ludus. (Poor children couldn't afford the fees to go to school, so they learned from their parents or not at all.)

After their schoolwork was done, ancient Roman noble children played much like children today. They jumped rope, played with clay dolls, and tossed balls made of sheep skin leather. Roman boys were encouraged to be warlike, so play-acted fights with wooden swords were common.

In the afternoon, Roman children may have joined their families in the public baths. Girls may have frolicked in hot and cold tubs before returning home to spin wool with their mothers--during the late Republic and early empire it was considered important even for the wealthiest and most powerful women to be seen as capable of working a loom.

While their sisters were spinning and weaving, however, it seemed that the boys lingered at the baths and exercised--the modern equivalent of a Physical Education Class. After, they would be cleaned in olive oil and scraped with a strigil, soaked clean, and sent home for the biggest meal of the day.

Through much of the Roman empire, children were to be seen not heard, so it's unlikely that they would have joined their parents for lavish banquets; Romans were constantly either having dinner guests or attending dinners given by others. Consequently, it's likely that children would have stayed home and taken their meal with the servants and slaves.

Afterwards, they may have tried to keep their eyes open, waiting for a pat on the head from their father, who would have dominion over them until he died. Or perhaps they made tribute to the family gods--often kept in a cupboard--effectively saying their prayers before bed.

As you can see, the daily life of a child in ancient Rome isn't altogether that different from the lives of children today!

Stephanie Dray's debut historical fiction novel, LILY OF THE NILE , was just release by Berkley Books. The sequel is expected to release at the end of 2011. Both novels are set in the Augustan Age and feature Cleopatra's daughter.

Greatest Hits: Get Out the Wash Board!

By Vicki Gaia

The domestic arts were essential for keeping a decent house in Colonial America. Even so, men gave little regard to women's chores, offering a third or fourth less wages for domestic help compared to a man's wages for agricultural labor.

The majority of Americans clothed themselves in homemade woolens, linen, and "towcloth" made from flax. Daughters often took the task of spinning, and unmarried women of the household, hence the term 'spinster'. Once the thread was ready, it was usually taken to a weaver in the village in exchange for goods or labor. Weaving wasn't as widespread as spinning, and not ever household had a hand loom. The cloth had to be cut and sewn into garments. Skill with a needle and thread, and sewing, were synonymous with womanhood.

"I somehow or somewhere got the idea," wrote Lucy Larcom, "when I was a small child, that the chief end of woman was to make clothing for mankind." [The Reshaping of Everyday Life by Jack Larkin]

The process of making butter and cheese still had a mysterious air about it. This attitude lingered from the witch hunt days, when trouble with cattle and milk was enough to accuse a woman of witchcraft. While women were safe from the pyre for curling milk, the process remained a magical transformation. In a corner of the kitchen, shed, or springhouse, women churned milk into butter and cheese without worries.

Butter took over an hour to churn, and then it was kneaded and pressed into solid consistency. A talented dairywoman could make good money by packing her flavorful butter into tubs or crocks, marking it with a distinctive butter stamp, and selling it or trading it for goods. Cheese-making was more widespread north of Pennsylvania and also provided a decent trade for women.

Cooking was the center of a woman's daily life. "Women needed to know the craft of salting, pickling and smoking meat to preserve it, of making wheat or "rye and Indian" bread, johnnycake or hominy, of stewing, roasting and frying. Salt, sugar, sugar, spices and coffee had to be taken in bulk form, ground and pounded." [The Reshaping of Everyday Life by Jack Larkin]

Can you image lifting heavy iron pots to set on the hearth, or hooking it to a crane which swung over the fire? This visual is enough to make my back hurt! The quantity of kitchen equipment depended on the family's wealth. If you were lucky to be affluent, you'd have various pots and kettles, gridirons and toasting forks, and a large fireplace oven. If not, often bread was baked in ashes and there'd only be one pot to cook in.

I'm doing a load of laundry as I type this post, and usually, I complain about having to wash clothes. Spoiled me! Back then, women rose before sunrise to begin their washing day. In the morning, they scrubbed and pounded their clothes in tubs of near-boiling water and homemade soft soap - washing, rinsing and repeating the cycle. In the afternoon, the washed clothes were spread out to dry.

The Industrial Revolution was about to change the lives of women by providing convenient appliances to shorten her work load.

Religious Beliefs: Nice Guys, Jerks, and the Romance Writer

By Anna C. Bowling

The topic of religious beliefs comes to Unusual Historicals at a very appropriate time. Right now, I am moderating an online workshop on writing the inspirational romance, and preparing to give the message (others might use the term "sermon" or "teaching") at house church this week. Faith is an important part of my life, and that carries over into my writing. Though I haven't written for the inspirational market before, who knows what the future will bring? For the moment, I'm having fun with general market historicals and dabbling in time travel.

A little personal information before we get into the topic proper. I consider myself nondenominational Christian. I prefer a more intuitive sort of worship, but the DH likes more structured prayers. Among our friends, we have those of the Jewish persuasion; secular, Reformed and Messianic sorts; others who would class themselves as some combination of Buddhist, Wiccan or different pagan paths; the not-really-spiritual; plus Catholic and various protestant and non-denoms. When I wore my Blackbeard t-shirt with the infamous pirate's flag on it into a local store this past autumn, the clerk commented that it was the "time for the scaries" celebrations back in his home in India, around the same time as we have Halloween here in the USA. I've learned a lot from all of them, even though we don't agree on everything. Some things, yes. Some things, maybe. And some, well, we have to agree to disagree, and carry on carrying on.

Today, we might call such a mix of friends normal and have, as I did, an interesting discussion with the clerk over different celebrations. Some of the best conversations can be among friends of differing outlooks, sharing why they walk the path they do. In that, I think I can safely say we're blessed (or lucky, if you prefer), but in previous times (and some parts of the world even today, sadly) where different faiths might make friendships difficult, not to mention love affairs and even--gasp--marriage. Families on either side might have something to say against such a relationship, and even take drastic measures to keep it from happening, while others might prefer to find common ground and respect differences.

Henry VIII broke from the Catholic church so he might divorce his barren first wife and seek a more fertile bride...and kept on seeking. Houses in England constructed during that time might have had priest holes--secret rooms, sometimes no more than a closet or the size of a coffin, where Catholics hid from those seeking to do them harm. Catholics and Puritans didn't mix well during the Protectorate of Oliver Cromwell, and yet both found themselves faced with losses during the English Civil War.

Merely being Jewish during the time between world wars in Europe meant incredibly high stakes, never knowing when the knock on the door would end life as they knew it. Even so, bonds of friendship, love and marriage have formed across faiths for centuries, with no signs of stopping. Similarly, ask any member of a congregation, meeting, synagogue, coven, etc, about the group dynamics, and you'll hear about annoyances, betrayals, pet peeves, and bad habits, as well as heartwarming stories of support, generosity and going the extra mile. At a given moment, that depends largely on the individuals involved. This is what I've found most important in exploring a character's spirituality: the individual.

Plainly put, there are nice guys and jerks in all belief systems. While it's easy to rely on stock figures--the wise, mystic Easterner who sounds like he moonlights as a fortune cookie writer; the dour Puritan who never smiles, hates everything, and probably has never read his Bible because he's too busy smacking people with it; and so on--a writer can get far more mileage by showing the individual rather than the stereotype. For example, what images come to mind when I say "the Pope"? For some, the leader of their faith. For others, someone they wouldn't invite to dinner unless something lethal were on the menu.


For me, the first thing that I think of is Pope John Paul II wearing Bono's sunglasses, with both men looking appropriately impressed. That picture touches on a side of the man many may not think of at first, but doesn't it make him all the more human?

Which, of course, is a great tool for writers, especially those of romance. One of my favorite uses of spirituality in romance is Laura Kinsale's SHADOWHEART, where Allegretto, the hero, believing himself to be damned already, finally gives in to the heroine's pleas to go to confession. She won't until he will, and he believes there's still hope for her. He won't put her soul in jeopardy, and so he changes. Annette Blair's Amish historical, THEE I LOVE, shows an Amish community making a difficult decision to place what is right above a circumstance that might force them to do otherwise. Francine Rivers' "Mark of the Lion" trilogy shows a wide spectrum of first-century spirituality and good, bad and ugly behavior among not only the early Christian Church, but Jewish, Roman and German communities of the period.

It's the variety of the individual that makes every relationship unique, and as romance writers, that's one of our biggest goals: to make our couples stand out as lovers, so that readers will long remember them and want to visit again and again. Religion may play a small, large or somewhere-in-between part in a particular character's life, and those around them may have a wide range of faiths, but all have the same needs: to love and be loved. Individuals read our stories, and that's a special relationship, one to nurture. No matter what a character's religious persuasion (or lack thereof), if we as writers can make a reader connect with their deepest feelings, cry with their losses and rejoice in their triumphs, then we've done our job.

Families & Children: Who's Your Daddy

By Anna C. Bowling

When I was in kindergarten, back when the dinosaurs roamed, I remember my teacher asking another child in the class what his mother's last name was, and thought that was the silliest question I'd ever heard. Today, such a question is fairly common, due to changes in many families. A child today may have one or two parent/stepparent combinations or other domestic arrangements that were even less common only a couple of decades past. Which might give such a child something in common with their colonial counterparts.

In any society where the mortality rate is higher than usual, it's a part of life that not every individual will live to raise their own children to adulthood. Especially in the early days of the American colonies, any number of factors might cause what we'd call premature death. The weather and climate of a strange land, scarce or unfamiliar food, disease, injury, death in childbirth or other factors could turn a two parent family into a one parent family. Widows or widowers with young children often began the search for a new mate within weeks or in some cases, even days of their previous spouse's death. A Dutch proverb even states "the best time to court a widow is on the way home from the funeral."

For colonial families, this made sense. Beside the companionship of another adult, two extra hands to feed, bathe, and generally wrangle the young ones came in, pardon the pun, handy, and a widowed mother would find life far easier economically with the help of a husband. A widowed father, also, could benefit from having someone to care for the homestead while he worked at providing for the blended family. Before anyone gets an image of a buckskin-clad Brady Bunch, these step families of course faced the same issues blended families face today; grief for the late parent or spouse, adapting to new ways of doing things they'd always done another way, or perhaps moving to a new home and leaving their old one behind. An only child might now be the youngest, or a pair of boys might find themselves overrun by a passel of girls or vice versa. Not so different from today?

There's one exception: the high mortality rate.

Let's say John and Mary came over from England to build a new life and produced bouncing baby Elizabeth. Unfortunately, their first year didn't go well, and John did not survive a hunting accident. Mary marries Thomas, and Elizabeth gets little brother, Luke, though Mary does not survive Luke's birth. Thomas now has two children under five he has to raise, and marries Abigail, a widow slightly older than himself, with daughters Ruth and Jane. Ruth is sixteen and a comely lass, and soon catches the eye of Jacob, a young man with his own small farm. Ruth and Jacob marry, and welcome the birth of son Samuel at the same time Thomas and Abigail have baby Josiah. Things are getting crowded at Thomas and Abigail's home as Abigail is expecting again, they've had to take in her elderly mother, and it's not the best year for farming, so there's a family discussion and Luke will go live with Ruth and Jacob. Plus cousin Ezekiel's wife doesn't exactly believe he somehow found an orphaned Indian child all by itself in the woods, and really, the toddler does have Ezekiel's nose, and there is the matter of Christian charity, as well as the stipend Ezekiel is willing to give whichever family will take in the poor dear.

Phew. That might not be the last adjustment for Elizabeth and her family; subsequent deaths and remarriages anywhere along the above lines could change things yet again, or one or more of the children might leave the family home(s) for indenture or apprenticeship, or even military service for the boys once they are old enough. By the time Elizabeth is ready to start her own family, probably in her late teens to early twenties, she may have acquired a few more branches to the family tree. If her teacher asked the class to draw family trees, Elizabeth might well raise her hand to ask for more paper, and she might not be the only one in her class, either.

Maladies & Treatments: Writing with Folk Cures

By Anna C. Bowling

Growing up as the child of older (both were over forty when they adopted me; the photo is of me, at three, on the blacktop where I skinned pretty much everything) first generation American parents must have hardwired me for unusual historicals right from the start. Many of the treatments for the minor childhood illnesses or injuries I had in the 1960s/70s were as likely to come from the traditions my mothers and aunts, one of whom who worked as a nurse, learned from their mother, who learned them from her mother back in Italy in the early 20th century.

As a child, I'd often wondered what my mother grew that patch of mint for (aside from the delightful smell) but when puberty hit, I found out it was a natural remedy for menstrual cramps. By then we had moved away from the house with the fresh mint in the garden, so it had to come from a store, but it still worked, and the mint tea also worked to help with nausea.

Sore throats were as likely to be treated with licorice as commercial medications, which may be why I still like licorice today, and I will long remember the discussion my parents had when my father wanted to give me a hot toddy (mostly rum) to help ease the discomfort of a bad case of chicken pox when I was ten. They left it up to me, and I declined.

One of my strongest memories of my mother's Aunt Anna, who I only knew as an elderly woman who spoke a fast stream of Italian was the time when I'd talked a neighbor child into splitting a bar of Ex-Lax (to be fair, I was five and the grownups had described it to me as chocolate.) Being sorely lacking in my Italian, I can't vouch for anything said that day, but Aunt Anna refused to let my mother take me to the doctor, instead pounding an endless supply of ice with a hammer and pouring it down my throat before depositing me in the bathroom with even more tall glasses of ice. When I asked my mother to translate, she said this was Aunt Anna’s treatment for loose bowels, something she learned back in Italy.

Since I survived and turned out okay, my foremothers must have been on to something, so when characters in my historicals now have the need for doctoring, I turn to the state of the art medical care of their time. Often, such as in colonial settlements, the most advanced medical treatments meant calling in whoever had dealt with the illness or injury before. If the need was something the person hadn't encountered before, common sense was often the best guess.

In my colonial historical romance, MY OUTCAST HEART, the hero, Dalby, suffers third degree burns to one hand. Today, witnesses would call 911 and paramedics would rush him to the burn unit, where trained professionals would examine him and use a variety of treatments and procedures to find out how bad the damage was, how much mobility he might be able to retain and even address cosmetic repair. In 1720, Dalby was lucky this occurred in winter, so heroine Tabetha can drag him outside and stick his hand in a snowbank. The cold would help, but the "everybody knows" medicine of the time--likely coating the burn in butter or bear grease--we now know would have the exact opposite effect.

Looking at the folk medicine of the times I write about, and consulting with several friends who work in the medical field of today as well as visiting living history museums lets my characters have the best--or worst--of both worlds, depending on what the story needs. Good thing a great read is excellent medicine in any time.

Daily Life: Ancient Egypt

By Jean Adams

Throughout the history of the world, no region has been more influenced by the natural attributes of the land than Egypt. The rhythm of the river Nile reflected the rhythm of life in Egypt for thousands of years.

The Nile was their main source for survival and for the great triumph of their civilization. The Nile was not only the source of water but the ancient Egyptians also had religious beliefs that focused on the Nile.

They relied on the gods to control the annual ebb and flow of the river. They built their homes from the soil of the Nile, and in proximity to the river. When describing the life of ancient Egyptians, it is virtually impossible not to consider the river as part of their way of life. Many of the major settlements in Egypt, such as modern Cairo and Giza, were located right along the corridor of the river Nile.

Houses of the ancient Egyptians were built of bricks made from mud. The mud was collected in leather buckets and taken to the building site. Workers added straw and pebbles to the mud to strengthen the bricks. This mixture was then poured into wooden brick frames or molds and the bricks were left out in the sun to dry and to cure.

After a time these dwellings deteriorated and new ones were built right on top of the crumbled material, creating hills, called tells. Only buildings that were meant to last forever were made of stone. After the house was built it was covered with plaster, very similar to the technique used in adobe housing in the American Southwest.

Inside the house, the plaster was often painted with either bright geometric patterns or scenes from nature. The interior of the houses were cool as the small windows let in only a little light.

Egyptian houses were typically built in along the Nile. They had to be built high in order to avoid annual flooding (inundation) from the Nile. The living areas were often on the top floors and many activities were done on the roof of the houses. High sand dunes were erected as barriers from to protect them from flood water.

There were two types of homes typical in Egypt, the home of the workers and the town house. The average dimension of the workers house was approximately 4m by 20m. A typical workers home ranged from two to four rooms on the ground level, an enclosed yard, a kitchen at the back of the house and two underground cellars for storage. Niches in the walls held religious objects. The roof was also used as living space and storage.

There was little furniture save beds and small chests for keeping clothes. There was no running water and sometimes a single well served an entire town. Egyptian villagers spent most of their time outdoors. They often slept, cooked, and ate atop their houses' flat roofs.

Entering from the street, there were steps into the entrance hall. The entrance hall had a cupboard bed, the use of which is uncertain. The next room had a distinctive wooden pillar in the middle supporting the roof. This was the main room of the house, and it was used as a shrine or a reception area.

The master of the house had his master’s chair sitting on top of a raised platform. There were several stools and one or two tables for the guests, and the room was lit by a high small window above the roof of the first room. This room was decorated with holy images along the walls, and a table with offerings in front of a false door. Underneath the master's raised platform (dais), a trap door led down a flight of stairs into the cellar where valuables could be kept.

Behind the central room was a hall with a door on the side leading to a bedroom. The bedroom and the roof were used interchangeably as resting areas. At the end of the hall was the kitchen with an open roof and from the kitchen a door led to another cellar that served as a pantry. Different heights in the rooves allowed for more private windows in the house.

The homes of the wealthy and noble classes were large. The typical town houses of ancient Egypt had many features similar to the workers houses. Town houses were typically two to three stories high. They were typically more spacious and more comfortable than the worker's houses.

They had high walls that supported multiple-story buildings by reinforcing them with beams. In multi-story homes, stones were often used in the first floor for greater strength at the base. The first level of the house was usually the working area where business was conducted, and servants would remain. The second and third floors are more adorned and were the living areas of the house with similar features to the worker's home.

The food was prepared on the roof and brought down to the rooms by the servants. Cooking was done outside because it was considered dangerous to cook in an enclosed area inside the house. Cooling was also a factor to keeping cooking outside.
Egyptians tried to keep their houses cool from the prevalent warm temperatures. Windows were built close to the ceilings in order to maintain cool temperatures indoors. Also mats were often spread on the floors for cooling.

Proper sanitation was a luxury that only the wealthier townspeople could have. They would have toilets carved of limestone, and the sewage would be disposed of into pits in the streets.

Even wealthy ancient Egyptians had a very limited assortment of furniture. A low, square stool, the corners of which flared upwards and had a leather seat or cushion on top, was the most common type of furnishing. Chairs were rare and belonged only to the very wealthy. Small tables were made of wood or wicker and had three to four legs.

Beds were made of a woven mat placed on wooden framework standing on animal-shaped legs. At one end was a footboard and at the other was a headrest made of a curved neckpiece set on top of a short pillar on an oblong base.

Lamp stands held lamps of simple bowls of pottery containing oil and a wick. Chests were used to store domestic possessions such as linens, clothing, jewellery, and make-up.

The garden had a formal pool and rows of trees and shrubs. The well was conveniently located near the garden and the cattle yard. It consisted of a wide hole in which a flight of steps led down to a platform. Water was drawn up from this using a rope and bucket. Foundations were generally non-existent.

Virgin soil above groundwater level was baked rock hard by the sun and needed just some levelling. In order to build on top of collapsed dwellings, the clay rubble was well watered and let to set and harden.

Wealthy Egyptian people had spacious estates with comfortable houses. The houses had high ceilings with pillars, barred windows, tiled floors, painted walls, and stair cases leading up to the flat rooves where they could overlook the estate. There would be pools and gardens, servant's quarters, wells, granaries, stables, and a small shrine for worship. The wealthy lived in the countryside or on the outskirts of a town.

There are two examples of excavated villages, one at El-Amarna, and the other at Deir el-Medina. The worker's village at El-Amarna was laid out along straight narrow streets, within a boundary wall. The houses were small, barrack-like dwellings, where animals lived side by side with people.

Many houses had keyhole-shaped hearths and jars sunk into the floor. There was no well in the village and the water had to be brought from some distance away.
Life must have been far more pleasant in the village of Deir el-Medina, home to the workers of the Theban royal tombs. There was a single street with ten houses on either side. The houses in this village had three large rooms, a yard and a kitchen, underground cellars for storage, and niches in the walls for statues of household gods.

For all that, I would still like the chance to visit there. When I go time travelling.

Daily Life: Shopping in Vienna

By Jennifer Linforth

There was a certain view of Vienna in the 19th century, carefree, happy--oblivious to the world outside. The popular view of the Viennese woman of the time was beautiful, upbeat and blonde. The opposite was true. They were down to earth. Cosmetics were a simple application of rice powder and a bit of cologne. What was fashionable was a more natural look--opposite that of Parisian society. Paris had all the fashionable clothing, much like today. The woman of the bourgeois class in Vienna even if they had a sizable income preferred their clothing to be made at home.

Hats however were another story. They came from Paris and were not to be trifled with. The hat was the most important part of their wardrobe. Covered in lively colors with feathers and fauna--the hat told a story of adventure and fancy.

(This blogger must place a side note here, or else I would not be doing my other job as a National Park Ranger. These feather bedecked hats were the rage in all major fashion centers across Europe and in the states. Fashion often went beyond feathers, to incorporate beaks and entire birds. Until a woman by the name of Harriet Hemenway, a Bostonian bird lover, objected to seeing women wearing dead birds upon their heads. Her crusade to get elite woman to join a society for the protection of birds--and thus remove their feathered head coverings--led to the creation of a modest organization she named the Audubon Society. Armed with a few determined women, Hemenway encouraged federal and state legislation to ban plume hunting and stop the importation of feathers stripped from migratory birds. The rest is history.)

Despite the extravagance of the hat, women overall were frugal in their daily shopping exhibitions. They usual took a servant along with them, for it was not respectable to stand outside a store alone. Most shops were family owned businesses specializing in one thing or another. The idea of large departments stores did not exist. Viennese women--bargained. And were quite good at it.

If the Viennese traveled about the city during their daily outings and did not own a carriage they could hire one. The least expensive was the fiaker with two horses or an einspänner with one. Again--bargain with your fare--most Viennese preferred foot travel. Occasionally the streets were crowded by the finest carriages ever seen--the court equipages. Lavishly painted four seat coaches drawn by two or four horses proudly displaying the doubled headed Austrian eagle on the doors. The coachman wore his trademark two cornered hat and was charged with hustling visiting dignitaries and tutors to the Habsburg children (and there were a lot of Habsburg children.) Unmistakable to a Viennese family out for a stroll, was the Kaiser's coach--reserved for him, his children and his wife. Black on top, green on bottom with green and gold wheels--it was hard to miss.

Life in Vienna was hard to miss--it was unlike any place in the world.

Daily Life: Snuff--No Grimaces Allowed!

By Sandra Schwab

By the Regency, snuff had become the preferred choice of tobacco in the fashionable world and had replaced pipes and cigars. In this, the beau monde followed once again the example of dandy extraordinaire Beau Brummell, and what's more, he also dictated how snuff was to taken: according to Brummell, snuff boxes should be opened and snuff transferred from box to nose with only one hand, which naturally required practice and concentration. To take a pinch of snuff in an offhand manner--even better: in the middle of a conversation--without glancing at either snuff or snuff box and, most importantly, without any grimacing, was considered highest art.

Snuff-taking was an expensive habit--not only did the prices for snuff ran high, but the substance also had to be carried around in a suitable container: the snuff-boxes of the rich were intricate pieces of workmanship. The lids were often decorated with miniatures depicting animals, children, pastoral scenes, or--less innocently--erotic scenes.

"If you knew a man intimately," Gronow writes in RECOLLECTIONS AND ANECDOTES: A SECOND SERIES OF REMINISCENCES (1863), "He would offer you a pinch out of his own box; but if others, not so well acquainted, wishes for a pinch, it was actually refused. In those days of snuff-taking, at the tables of great people, and the messes of regiments, snuff-boxes of large proportions followed the bottle, and everybody was at liberty to help himself."

Snuff was provided in dry or moist versions, many of which were scented as well, with jasmine, orange flowers, musk roses, or bergamot. It came in different colours, ranging from yellow to brown, black or even purple. Detailed descriptions of different kinds of snuff can be found in Arnold James Cooley's CYCLOPAEDIA OF SIX THOUSAND PRACTICAL RECEIPTS (1854):


Read this book: A Cyclopaedia of Six Thousand Practical Receipts, and Collateral Information by Arnold James Cooley

Daily Life: Thursday 13 at Sea

By Marianne LaCroix

Thirteen Things about Daily Life in the 1700s in the British Royal Navy:

1. The Ship's Bell was used to note the passage of time. When the half hour glass was turned, the bell was tolled.

2. Officers did not have to wear uniforms while at sea. The crew knew who were officers, and uniforms were expensive. They saved their best for important occasions ashore. Second best was typical for receiving a fellow officer at sea.

3. Sailors (non-officers) wore whatever shoes, shirts and pants they had for duty at sea. Sometimes the canvas rigging was used to make clothes. (I assume this would be from sails beyond repair after a battle. ~MLC)

4. Shore goin' rig for sailors were different from clothing worn on duty. They attempted neatness to appear respectable. There were no uniforms, but the men did present themselves accordingly to express the pride and honor of their skills and ship.

5. Shore goin' rig (continued) - Hats were blackened with tar to make them waterproof. Ribbon on hat could be embroidered with name of ship. Jackets were commonly wool and had no universal color. Neckcloths were decorative but could be used as a headpiece or bandage. Trousers were commonly made of canvas (see #3). These are only samples...there was no uniform for the common seaman.

6. At sea, seamen were allotted 18 inches for their hammock with other seamen sleeping on either side.

7. The captain was the only member on board who had the privilege of privacy. He had his own cabin, although it was small and usually stored a variety of navigational equipment.

8. There were three watches on board ship--first, second and third watches. One would be on duty while the second was "at ease" and the third slept, and on and on in rotation.

9. Among the daily food rations included beer, water, and bread. Other foods rationed over a week, but not daily, included salt pork, oatmeal, dried beef, and hard cheese. (No wonder they all had scurvy!~MLC)

10. Ship surgeons required some sort of certification to serve as surgeon, but it was rare to have an actual, trained doctor aboard.

11. James Cook (1728-1779) introduced the use of lime juice and sauerkraut on his ships to fight scurvy based on a study conducted in 1747 by Dr. James Lind. (see #9) He also encourages bathing and exercise to his crew. It wasn't until 1795 when lime juice was distributed by the Royal Navy to all ships to fight scurvy. (Vitamin C, the substance that prevented scurvy, wasn't discovered until 1932.)

12. Navigating was done via compass, lunar observation, and chronometer. They were used to calculate longitude. (Don't ask me to explain this, it is beyond my non-technical mind. ~MLC)

13. Prizes, or defeated enemy ships, were the property of the Crown until reviewed by the Admiralty (head of the Royal Navy). After this, the ship would be sold and the money divided among the officers and crew as previously agreed upon. This is how young men went to sea to make their fortune.

Research sources:
PlantExplorers.net
Mr Collins (The site is half there, half not.)

Marianne LaCroix
Crossed Swords, Ellora's Cave

Daily Life: Get out the wash board!

By Vicki Gaia

The domestic arts were essential for keeping a decent house in Colonial America. Even so, men gave little regard to women's chores, offering a third or fourth less wages for domestic help compared to a man's wages for agricultural labor.

The majority of Americans clothed themselves in homemade woolens, linen, and "towcloth" made from flax. Daughters often took the task of spinning, and unmarried women of the household, hence the term 'spinster'. Once the thread was ready, it was usually taken to a weaver in the village in exchange for goods or labor. Weaving wasn't as widespread as spinning, and not ever household had a hand loom. The cloth had to be cut and sewn into garments. Skill with a needle and thread, and sewing, were synonymous with womanhood.

"I somehow or somewhere got the idea," wrote Lucy Larcom, "when I was a small child, that the chief end of woman was to make clothing for mankind." [The Reshaping of Everyday Life by Jack Larkin]

The process of making butter and cheese still had a mysterious air about it. This attitude lingered from the witch hunt days, when trouble with cattle and milk was enough to accuse a woman of witchcraft. While women were safe from the pyre for curling milk, the process remained a magical transformation. In a corner of the kitchen, shed, or springhouse, women churned milk into butter and cheese without worries.

Butter took over an hour to churn, and then it was kneaded and pressed into solid consistency. A talented dairywoman could make good money by packing her flavorful butter into tubs or crocks, marking it with a distinctive butter stamp, and selling it or trading it for goods. Cheese-making was more widespread north of Pennsylvania and also provided a decent trade for women.

Cooking was the center of a woman's daily life. "Women needed to know the craft of salting, pickling and smoking meat to preserve it, of making wheat or "rye and Indian" bread, johnnycake or hominy, of stewing, roasting and frying. Salt, sugar, sugar, spices and coffee had to be taken in bulk form, ground and pounded." [The Reshaping of Everyday Life by Jack Larkin]

Can you image lifting heavy iron pots to set on the hearth, or hooking it to a crane which swung over the fire? This visual is enough to make my back hurt! The quantity of kitchen equipment depended on the family's wealth. If you were lucky to be affluent, you'd have various pots and kettles, gridirons and toasting forks, and a large fireplace oven. If not, often bread was baked in ashes and there'd only be one pot to cook in.

I'm doing a load of laundry as I type this post, and usually, I complain about having to wash clothes. Spoiled me! Back then, women rose before sunrise to begin their washing day. In the morning, they scrubbed and pounded their clothes in tubs of near-boiling water and homemade soft soap - washing, rinsing and repeating the cycle. In the afternoon, the washed clothes were spread out to dry.

The Industrial Revolution was about to change the lives of women by providing convenient appliances to shorten her work load.

Daily Life: The Food of Kenya

By Jennifer Mueller

Say African food and you get a myriad of options: from Arabic inspired North Africa and the coast of East Africa to the Maasai drinking blood and milk, spicy Ethiopian to San Bushmen eating what they find--the same as they have for thousands of years. While the cities might sport as modern a kitchen as you can find, the countryside still cooks over an open fire. Where I lived in Kenya, the traditional kitchen was a room separate from the rest of the house, with thatched high roofs. It allows the smoke to rise and filter through the thatch, an odd sight to see smoking roofs as you walk by. Only with the advent of tin roofs have lung problems occurred.

The daily routine is centered on water. If you have it close you save hours. If you have to walk kilometers to find a source, things get more complicated. Kenyan breakfast is usually a cup of chai--watered down milk with enough tea and sugar to flavor it--and a thick slice of bread and blue band with a margarine product needing no refrigeration. Uji is also popular, a ground millet sort of porridge with or without fermentation. For anything else, it takes time. Quite a bit of it. There are very few snack foods other than fruit: mangoes, papaya, guava, passion fruit, maybe an orange or pineapple, and little bananas as big around as a silver dollar and half the length of the ones we see in the store. They're like eating candy.

Market day is the center of any village, usually held twice a week. Everyone with something to sell would descend, whether it was a woman with 10 mangoes looking for some extra cash or a seller who went to the larger town and found treasures that no one else had. Staples usually ran along the lines of beans (up to 20 sorts), rice in some areas, potatoes, carrots, tomatoes, onions, cabbage, kale, fruits and, when in season, peas and green beans. Up the mountain where there was access to Mount Kenya, odd fruits--giant green and ugly--could be found if anyone was ambitious enough to go find them.

Kenya was a British colony, but in building the railroad to Uganda, there were thousands of Indians who arrived to work. Modern day Kenyan food is a mix of traditional Kenyan and Indian. Small packets of curry can be bought for only a few cents. Seasonings are minimal: salt, curry, mchuzi mix, bouillon cubes, sometimes hot peppers. But with it they create quite the variety.

It all depends on where you live what you would be eating. In one area the staple food is githeri, another irio, and across the country you haven't eaten unless you've had ugali. All are based on corn to some degree. Githeri is a simple combination of maize and beans. Irio is a mixture of potatoes, maize, and pumpkin leaves. Ugali is corn meal cooked like stiff grits, mainly used as a filler for a soup of some kind.

In the area where I lived, the basis for most dishes were tomatoes and onions. They would be fried in melted shortening before adding the rest, whether beans, kale, cabbage, or githeri, green grams. A few dishes went without, such as mashed bananas and potatoes--only made with green plantains so it is starchy rather than sugary. Mashed potatoes and pigeon peas were served on special occasions.

Meat is expensive. Most families might only eat it only once or twice a week. A special treat is nyama choma, or bits of roast meat. Some places season it; others just cook it plain, like grilling steak. Chickens are raised by most families, as well as goats, cows and, in the north, camel. It's lean meat with no marbling at all. It just takes a little more prep since the connective tissue is rather hard to chew through if left in large pieces.

The coast is an entity unto itself. Middle Eastern spices and coastal ingredients like coconuts all mix to create a menu unlike any in the rest of the country. They make pilau--rice thick with spices and fried--and potatoes cooked in coconut milk, just to name a few.

Barbecued Meat
1 kilo meat
Juice of 2 lemons
2 pounded onions
2 crushed chilies
4 crushed cloves
salt to taste

Marinate: Clean meat and make a few stripes 1/2" deep all over meat. Mix in the rest of the ingredients and let stand for 2 hours.

Barbecue: Prepare the charcoal fire and place grilling wire on top. Place meat on the wire and roast it on a very low heat. Cook evenly on both sides. Garnish with lemon slices. Serve with potatoes.

Pigeon Pea Sauce
1 cup pigeon Peas
2 cups water
2 tablespoons butter
2 onions
seasoning
1 cup milk

Cook the peas in the water until soft. Fry the onions in the butter until golden brown and add the peas. Cook until all the water is dry. Mash the peas into a paste. Season well and add the milk. Reheat and serve with mashed potatoes or bananas.

Ugali
3/4 cup water
1/2 cup maize meal
1/2 dessertspoon dried skim milk powder
salt

Boil water. Sieve maize meal, dried skim milk powder, and salt. Add sieved flour to boiling water. Cook for a few minutes stirring continuously. Serve with stewed meat.

Beef stew
1 lb cut beef
2 carrots
2 green peppers
4 tomatoes
4 onions
Coriander
Curry powder
Black pepper
Seasoning salt, cooking oil, salt

Fry the onions that have been chopped until they turn brown. Add tomatoes and chopped green pepper. Add carrots, black pepper and coriander. Wash the cut meat and sprinkle it with seasoning salt. When the carrots have become slightly soft, add the cut meat. When meat is almost cooked, add some curry powder and salt to taste.

Pilau rice
1.5 lb rice (water according to rice)
1/2 lb green peas
2 T pilau masala (type of spice)
3 onions
3 tomatoes
Oil
Salt

Wash the rice with cold water. Boil the peas until cooked. Chop onions and then fry until slightly brown. Add tomatoes that have been peeled and cut. Boil some of the rice water with the pilau masala until it boils. Add some salt to taste. Add the rest of the water to the fried onions and tomatoes. Add the green peas when the water starts boiling and the rice; let it cook.

Chapati
1 cup flour
1 T shortening
1/2 t. or less salt

Melt shortening in a small frying pan. DO NOT boil it. Mix shortening with flour and salt. Mix with warm water (add just a little bit of water at a time and mix the dough thoroughly, make sure the dough is not hard). Keep for at least one hour. Separate dough into small rolls similar to oven cupcake buns. Use rolling pin and roll the dough balls each on a large flat surface as you roll the pin spread a little shortening on the dough and then tear the now flat pizza like dough spread from the center by pulling evenly to all edges and cut one side so you are left with a long lean piece of dough in your hands. Roll it into a coil (snakes) from each end in opposite directions (one clock wise and the other end counter clock wise) when they get together, then twist one of the collected coil and put it over the other.

Clean area over the oven top and keep a wide flat heavy/thick frying pan on the cooking range, turn on the cooker at low. Leave the dough for about 10 minutes then roll with rolling pin on flat surface into an evenly spread round (pizza like) thin spread. Turn the heat on to medium using oiling brush, spread a little shortening evenly all around the pan and cook the chapatis. Keep turning (rotating it) to ensure even cooking and turn over and keep pressing after turning and also put shortening on top but not too much and keep on pressing in the frying pen until light brown.

Thursday Thirteen: Farm Chores before Breakfast

By Jacquie Rogers

In the Old West, farm chores lasted from dawn to dark, and even after dark, mending clothes, soaping leather, and that sort of thing still had to be done. This list is typical of what a family would expect to accomplish before breakfast. The day starts just before first light, and remember, they didn't have central heat.

1. Start the fire in the stove.
2. Pump and heat water for washing, and get dressed.
3. Feed the chickens.
4. While hens are occupied, gather the eggs.
5. Pitch hay to the horses.
6. While horses are occupied, check for injuries and clean the stalls.
7. Grain the steers.
8. Grain the cows and milk them. (This counts for all thirteen items. You wouldn't believe how tired your hands get.)
9. Separate the milk, store the milk and cream in the spring house, and wash the buckets.
10. Feed the pigs and nursing calves.
11. Pump water for all the animals.
12. Get the field equipment ready so you can hitch the horses as soon as breakfast is over.
13. Wash up and cook breakfast.

Even today, farmers have to do about half these chores before breakfast, but electricity has definitely made watering animals and milking cows much easier.

Farm breakfasts were no meager affair. A typical menu might be bacon, fried eggs, fried potatoes, biscuits and gravy, strawberry preserves, oatmeal and cream, and coffee. Then again, they had worked up quite an appetite. Besides, after breakfast, the hard work began.

Ah, I do love living in the 'burbs!

Valentine's Day Contest: Tell me your own faery special romance and you could win cool prizes! Details on the contest page of my website.



Jacquie Rogers *** Myspace *** Bebo *** Faery World

Faery Special Romances (see the book video)

Royalties go to Children's Tumor Foundation,
ending Neurofibromatosis through Research

Coming soon: Down Home Ever Lovin' Mule Blues

Daily Life: At Home, or the Art of Calling

By Michelle Styles

The formal visit or the call.

It is an art that is all but forgotten now but it was the lifeblood of Regency/Victorian society. It was a way of maintaining status and making sure niceties were observed. It also meant that women could choose to be *at home* or receiving callers on certain days. These were generally set days of the week. In London during the Victorian period, certain neighbourhoods divided up into given days of the week. So for example, Mayfair on a Monday. This made it easier to pay a number of calls in very quick succession. On other days, they could be engaged in other activities. Equally it meant that houses only had to be in the state to receive visitors on certain days. (I have some small sympathy with this approach as tidying up is not one of my favourite activities.)

Servants were informed. Women could be *at home* to intimate friends in the library but not to others. For a servant not to know if the occupant was in or out was considered very poor housekeeping.

The system was very formal and proscribed. These were not informal visits to friends but ways of maintaining the social fabric. The main injunction was when calling not to be a potted plant. In other words, you stayed for a short period of time, generally ranging between three and fifteen minutes. You might sip a cup of tea or coffee and you would engage in general conversation. It was considered bad manner to look at a clock. The proper lady was just supposed to know and leave. Women would often choose appropriate topics of conversation -- the weather or the latest play or places of interest to see. This way you would be less tempted to mention unmentionables.

There were strict rules about which room you were shown to. If you were seeing a male occupant, it would mostly be the study or the library. Or if you were visiting the lady of the house, it would be the drawing room.

Cards were also important. It was how friendships and basic social interactions were controlled. One left cards when one arrived in a city for example, within a few days of being invited to dine, after a dinner party/function, illness in the family, a death or if one was taking leave. Cards were used to form the basis of lists for invitations to balls for example. If a card/call was not returned within ten days, the caller knew the friendship would not be returned.

The calls after a marriage were some of the most important of a bride's life because it was when she could leave behind certain friendships without fear of censorship.

If one was leaving town and wished one's acquaintances to know of the matter, the initials p.p.c would be written on the left hand corner in ink. PPC stands for pour pendre change or to take leave. It simply meant the person was going, and was not considered a special note of admiration.

It appears to be a complex system but it was readily understood.

Daily Life: A Day in a Life Without Hope

By Bonnie Vanak

Ever imagine what daily life was like for a poor child living in a crime-ridden slum during Victorian times?

It takes little imagination for me, because I've seen daily life in one of the largest, poorest and most violent slums in our hemisphere. You see, I work and travel as a writer for a large international charity. While in Haiti last week I met a young girl whose sad eyes told a story echoed through the centuries; a story of hunger, pain and poverty.

A day in her life is much the same as a day in the life of a poor child living in a slum during Victorian times. Or the Georgian period. Or even Regency London.

The only difference is the ghetto is in Haiti and the time period is January 2008.


Cite Soleil, which translates to Sun City, in Haiti is just an hour and half plane ride from Miami, but it’s traveling back through time. No electricity. No running water, no cable, no sanitation. Transportation is typically on foot. Houses are doll-sized tin shacks jammed against each other, sagging against each other in endless lines of tin, wood and scrap metal. Sluggish rivers of foul algae-choked water move in a network of canals that hold drainage water--the sewage system. Diseases here are the same as they were in past centuries. Typhoid. Polio. TB.

In the past few years, Cite Soleil has been a hotbed of gang violence and ruthless kidnappings. The UN cleared out the trouble spots. As we drove through, I saw bullet holes pockmarking several buildings, scars from the gunfire that rattled through the streets. It's quiet now, very peaceful, but almost everyone knows someone else who was shot, wounded or even killed.

Nelda is eight. I met her in Soleil Seven, one of the 10 sections that subdivide Cite Soleil. She was toting Watson, age one, on her hip. Her little brother's hair was orange, a sign of protein deficiency, a form of malnutrition. Nelda's red and white gingham dress was stained, smudged with dirt and hanging around her thin neck. She was barefoot.

She took us to her home. Her mother was out, trying to earn pennies by selling wheat flour at the market. Nelda was playing babysitter. A little adult, she was cooking the single cup of rice that would feed herself and her siblings for the day. In a first world country, social service workers would be outraged to see a child left alone, cooking over a small open fire. Child neglect. Child endangerment.

Here in Cite Soleil, it's survival. The rice was their only meal.

Nelda told me when she's hungry she hurts inside. Then she mixes a little salt into water and drinks it and the "craving" goes away. Craving, meaning hunger pains from an empty stomach, not a craving for a particular food.

Her home is a simple 10 x 10 wood house in a rabbit warren of shacks in winding lanes so narrow one person can barely squeeze through. The burning sun heats these tiny tin homes like ovens. Nelda's bed is a single sheet and a small rag rug on the concrete floor that is shared by her mother, little brother and sister. There is no furniture. But the few, achingly few, belongings, a few pots, some sandals and clothing, are piled neatly in the corner. The house has a simplicity like a monk's cell, but this is not asceticism by choice. It's grim, stark poverty.

Tears rolled down Nelda's cheeks when she told me she's lost all hope. She has none. Eight years old and she is desperate for espoir, which means hope in Creole. Hope that her baby brother and sister will no longer cry because they are hungry. Hope that there will be food on the table tomorrow. And her greatest hope of all--her secret dream to escape Cite Soleil and its grinding poverty.

Nelda longs to attend school. Her voice grows soft as she confesses about seeing other children walk to school and wishing she could join them. She went to school once. She knows how to write her name. But school is as beyond her reach as living in a mansion. Not when there's only a single cup of rice to share between herself and her two siblings. Survival takes precedence.

A day in Nelda's life consists of finding food to eat, something to chase away the pain seizing her empty belly. A day in Nelda's life is filled with walking the dusty, gritty dirt lanes in search of a kind soul who will share what little they have cooking in their pot. A day in Nelda's life is a long stretch of emptiness, waiting for her mother to earn a few coins so their family will finally have rice to eat.

A day in Nelda's life is filled with many things. Except one thing she truly needs. Hope.

In my dreams, I envision for Nelda a real house with a soft bed, clean water to drink, sanitation, and food enough to chase away hunger for good. I imagine her in a clean, tidy school uniform, bright blue and white ribbons adorning her hair, as she sits at a desk and writes in a workbook.

In my dreams, I see Nelda escaping the wretched poverty that is Cite Soleil. I see her having hope again.

That is what I envision for a day in her life. Someday, I hope it comes true.

Daily Life: Indentured Servitude

By Anna C. Bowling

I've always wanted to open a colonial story with two characters debating the merits and pitfalls of purchasing an indentured servant rather than owning a slave. A family of sufficient means in the era might have had either, or both as well as hired employees.

Indenture was different from slavery, in that the indentured servant would only serve a specific term. Usually, seven years was standard, though the term could be extended for any number of reasons, fair or foul. During that time, the servant would work for the master, receive food, lodging, and clothing and even learn new skills they could use when their term was over.

For poor people in the British Isles who wanted a new start in the colonies, but couldn't afford passage, indenture was literally their ticket out. A man or woman could sell their indenture, (or parents could sell one for their child) to a colonial master, who would pay their passage, and then work it off as part of their duties. For the poor already across the Atlantic, indenture might be the best way to get a start on the hope of an independent life. While a viable option for many, it could also separate families, with no guarantee of reunion.

An indentured servant would not be allowed to marry during their term, and records exists of women who became pregnant while indentured (even if the father was their master) having their term extended to repay the master time lost when they were unable to perform their duties due to pregnancy and infant care.

With a good master, the arrangement could be beneficial indeed. Upon completion of a term, the former servant could receive money, tools, clothing, or even livestock as part of their pay. With a less scrupulous master, any number of infractions could be used to extend the term, and if the servant ran away, they or their family could even be fined the cost of retrieving them. Young Adult author M.P. Barker used this as the inspiration for her debut novel, A Difficult Boy, set in 1830s Massachusetts. While the date may seem modern for such an arrangement, the practice did continue into the nineteenth century.

Other novels which contain realistic depictions of lives indentured servants and their masters may have led include Sweet Release by Pamela Clare and Roanoke: The Lost Colony by Angela Elwell Hunt.

Thursday 13: Modern Conveniences

By Morag McKendrick Pippin

Thirteen Modern Everyday Conveniences Not Available Until the Late 20th Century

1) Electric can opener
2) Electric ice crusher
3) Push button TV remote control
4) Remote vehicle starter
5) Automatic garage door opener
6) Infrared burglar alarm
7) Home garbage compacter
8) Sink garbage disposal
9) Battery operated personal fan
10) Laser pointers
11) Robotic vacuum cleaner
12) Digital electronic equipment
13) Microwave ovens

Which one can't you live without? Any not listed here?

Daily Life: Moorish Hospitality in the Medieval World

By Lisa Yarde

Good food and good company were relished in the medieval Arab world, much the same as today. The roots of hospitality began in the early centuries with the migration of Arabs, who brought the culture of their desert dwellings refined by conversion to Islamic religious principles, to the West by the eighth century. The improvement of culinary arts and attention paid to the treatment of guests practiced in Moorish society evolved into an almost sacred duty.

In Moorish society, all guests were offered shelter and hospitality whether or not it was convenient for the host. Meals and entertainment were shared opportunities for interaction, though the social conventions requiring separations between the sexes where people were not closely related still held away. The extent of the hospitality remained closely related to the honor of the family - to show poor treatment to a guest impugned the reputation of the host.

Women ruled daily life in Moorish homes. Housewives in the noble or royal classes had servants to direct but even the poorest woman in the lowliest dwelling took pride of her home. Women burned incense and aloe wood in metal braziers, or perfumed candles to create a pleasing fragrance that drifted throughout the house. The scents they chose also possessed elements of purification. On arrival and departure, guests were offered braziers to perfume their clothes and hair; hotels around the Arabian Gulf still offer incense burners hefted by waiters even today. Women also hired the entertainment that followed the meal, whether a troupe of dancers or a singer. Most importantly, they supervised or directly participated in the creation of the meal.

To share in a meal in a Moorish home must have been a delight for the senses, with aromatic fragrances vying with the scents of spiced foods. Islamic tradition required that diners eat with the first three fingers of their right hand, and never to touch food with the left hand, which was considered unclean. Hosts signaled the start of the meal by offering their guests perfumed water, typically rosewater, in a ewer and basin set, to clean their hands. The basin had a perforated removable cover. When the diners had feasted, servants sprinkled rosewater on the guests' hands, signaling the end of the meal. One of inventions the Arab world brought to the West was the use of the toothpick.

The cuisine of Islamic societies varied by region, but Moorish society refined food preparation to an art form. The only meat not consumed was pork for religious reasons; beef, poultry and lamb were common staples of the Moorish diet. Foods were spiced with saffron, aniseed, cardamom, honey, cinnamon, turmeric, cumin and sumac, to name a few. Harisa, called the "Mother of Strengthening" (pictured), was a popular dish made into a paste. Meat, ground wheat, chicken joints, cumin, and cinnamon were combined and cooked in an oven, sprinkled with lemon juice when ready. Tharid was a traditional dish of crumbled bread, meat and barley thickened in a broth. The only meat not consumed was pork for religious reasons; beef, poultry and lamb were common staples of the Moorish diet. Dishes that originated in the Moorish period are still a part of modern day Arabian cuisine.

Daily Life: Shop Till You Drop

By Delia DeLeest

Making a quick trip to the grocery store is something we all do on a regular basis without much thought, but it wasn't that long ago when doing your weekly shopping was a bit more of a challenge.

Before Piggly Wiggly changed the way America shopped, a housewife made a trip to the dry goods store, the butcher, maybe a couple of fruit and vegetable vendors, among others before they had the food their families needed for the week. They would give their list to the person behind the counter, who would rush back and forth, filling their order. The new convenience foods of the twentieth century would change all that.

Piggly Wiggly opened in 1916 and became America's first true self-service grocery store. Customers were no longer at the mercy of less than ambitious store clerks or questionable products and weighing practices. Instead of waiting in line for their turn to have a clerk assist them, they could grab a basket, pick up everything they needed at their own pace, go through the new-fangled check-out lines and be back at home in no time.

In the past, the customer was at the mercy of the store owner. Dishonest practices such as adding chalk or other substances into flour, old milk or eggs and other types of food tampering were common. But with the development of Campbell's soup in 1897, Bird's Eye frozen foods in the 1920s, and various pre-packaged breakfast cereals during that same period, customers were assured of consistent quality and ease in preparation.

The time they saved in shopping and meal preparation, as well as other time-saving inventions like the vacuum cleaner and electric washing machines, gave the average women in the early 1900s free time known before to only the higher classes. In a roundabout way, these innovations brought about the emergence of such new activities as Mahjong and crossword puzzles.

A new, more efficient era had begun.

Thursday Thirteen: Polari, the Lost Gay Slang

By Erastes

Do you know your ogles from your luppers? Could you tell a naff from a dish? If you were a gay man in England from the 1930s to the '70s, using the gay slang Polari (also known as Palari, Palare, Parlaree) was often the only way, in public, that you could communicate the things you thought about other men without being overheard - and running the risk of blackmail or arrest.

Many words have filtered into English from this language, like cottaging (seeking sex in a public toilet) and mince (to walk affectedly). Polari began to decline in use as gay men became more accepted. Most famously with two very camp (from KAMP = Known as a Male Prostitute) characters in a radio show Round the Horne called Julian and Sandy who slipped Polari words into their dialogue. With that, however, the secret was "out," excuse the pun, and the language began to wane in popularity - leaving only a few remnants of itself here and there in our everyday speech.

1. ajax - near, nearby (from adjacent)
2. bona -Good
3. basket - the bulge of male genitals through clothes
4. charper - search; charpering omi - policeman
5. ecaf - face (backslang) eek - face (abbreviation of ecaf)
6. fantabulosa - wonderful
7. gelt - money
8. jarry - food, also mangarie
9. khazi - toilet, also spelt carsey
10. naff - not desirable, bad, drab (not available for f***ing)
11. omi-polone - effeminate man, or homosexual
12 palare pipe - telephone
13 troll - to walk about (esp. looking for trade)

Further information:
Lexicon of Polari
Bringing It Back

Daily Life: New Orlenas in the Summer

By Christine Koehler

I'm crazy, there's no two ways about it. I looked at the list and thought – "Oh, I should do an early date since I'm busy at the end of the month. The 2nd looks good." That gave me less than a week to come up with a blog about things I've been less-than-successfully researching for a year. I'll include links and book references for those interested in more.

How did the New Orleans inhabitants survive such stifling heat without electricity? No fans, no air-conditioning, food spoiled, they had to have their windows opened for what little breeze could be found, which led to the mosquito (and other bugs) problem. Plus the ever-present threat of a hurricane and the ensuing problems stagnate water caused. How'd they manage?

First, they built well. Not every house could face towards the gulf/river and any prevailing winds, but they used bousillage entre'pateaux (mud between the posts) to insulate their buildings. Made of clay, river sand and moss, it was then plastered and painted, and made a very effective insulation. Everything not made of brick was made of cypress, which rarely rotted.

Then they had a gallery, whose sole purpose was to keep the house shaded. It was used for sleeping when it was too hot, but otherwise for additional entertaining. Each house - plantation, townhouse, or Creole cottage - had very high ceilings to allow the hot air to rise. They also were built higher off the damp ground, and all had porches or galleries of some type for ventilation. The bedrooms were on the second floor, but if the house had a second floor, it had a second gallery.

There was the Cooling Room for the storage of food and wine. Made of brick with large archways (for the support of the above fireplaces), the walls were 18 inches thick. They couldn't have a cellar because of the water levels, but this room was placed under a bower of trees for as much shade as possible.

To catch the inevitable mosquito, along every windowsill the servants placed a bowl of blue water to tempt the pesky bug. The water was sugar water, which didn't necessarily kill the mosquito, but it did trap it for later disposal. I have a memory of seeing this water blue and want to say it was Indigo, but I'm not sure why that'd be so. Anyone?

Next was mosquito netting and rugs. The rugs were also used as an insulator, and the netting, well, as netting against the mosquitoes.

Sources: New Orleans History
Destrehan Plantation
A Young Person's Guide to New Orleans Houses by Lloyd Vogt
Old New Orleans, the Creole City: Its Role in American History 1718-1805 by Olga Hall-Quest
Louisiana: A Guide to the State by American Guide Series
The French Quarter: An Informal History of the New Orleans Underworld by Herbert Asbury
Beautiful Crescent: A History of New Orleans by Joan B. Garvey and Mary Lou Widmer