At work I am analyzing the ceramics from my last excavation. We dug eight outhouse pits in 8-inch-thick levels, bagging the artifacts from each level separately. The artifacts were then washed, dried, labeled, and rebagged, boxed by material type and feature.

I start by laying all of the ceramics for each level on their bag. I fit all the conjoining pieces together and masking tape them. I label the masking tape with the bag number, and then check for matches between the levels. As noted in an earlier post, items can be found up to two feet apart because things sink in the soupy outhouse fill.

Feature 170 reconstructible vessels (click picture for closer view).

I am able to reconstruct many vessels, and this helps me understand the socio-economic status of the household (the more highly decorated, the more expensive) and the date when the outhouse was filled, using the maker's marks on the back and various collector's guides.

Green transferprinted chamber pot and blue transferprinted wash basin.

This particular outhouse contains about half inexpensive whiteware dishes, including a few thick "restaurant" type dishes. The rest are decorated in a variety of patterns.

Unusual Chinese teapot.

There are six dishes from a matching blue transferprint pattern of flowers and foliage, and another three dishes from a separate pattern, with red flowers overpainted in blue, yellow, and green.

Matching pattern.

I enter the data into a computer database and I am making a table listing all of the reconstructible vessels and maker's marks. I then remove the masking tape and put the pieces back in the bags. A few of the more interesting pieces will be photographed for the report.

An unidentified family, photographed at J. P. Rhodes studio in Phoenix.

The father is really handsome (click on photo for a closer view).

On the 1900 census, James P. Rhodes was the 17-year-old son of Albert Rhodes. James was born in May 1883 in New York, and worked as a laborer. He probably took over his father's business, and this suggests the photo was taken after 1900.

I'm donating it to the Arizona Historical Society. When I go, I'll check the Photographers in Arizona, 1850-1920 book to see what else I can find out about the studio.

We drove south to Bisbee. I made the wrong left turn and we did not stop at the San Pedro House on the way there, and I wished I hadn't had that Diet Coke because I felt as if I was going to explode. My mother helpfully told me that they make Depends for men now.

After eating picnic lunch in the car instead of at the delightful San Pedro House, we wandered up the Main Street in Bisbee, stopping at various antique stores.

I told Evan to pray that my mother didn't break anything.

I purchased a photograph taken in Phoenix about 100 years ago. A handsome man, his wife, and two children. I am going to give it to the historical society.

I should have bought these.

I abstained from other purchases because I had to pay annoying bills and that means no play money for a couple of weeks. I whined to Evan about how expensive gluten-free products are. He comforted me.

Mummy and Evan at Bisbee.

When we got home I discovered a strangely super high water bill and then the washing machine is acting broken on the "Easy" cycle. Again, Evan comforted me. He is a very good boyfriend.

We celebrated Thanksgiving today, on Friday, instead of yesterday. But first we went on a walk at Sweetwater Wetlands.

Evan, Mummy, and I.

There were lots of mallards and Northern shovelers, as well as widgeons and buffleheads.

Ducks.

Mummy is already walking better after being here for a couple of weeks.

Evan and Mummy.

As we were leaving we saw an enormous hawk land on the top of a power pole. It was HUGE.

Big hawk. Or as Mel pointed out, it is actually a Golden Eagle.


At home it was time to cook. For Thanksgiving lunch I made:

- mashed parsnips-potatoes
- gluten free cornbread stuffing (with onion, apple, fresh sage and rosemary)
- cranberry-mango-walnut relish
- spicy green beans (Evan and I canned these)
- gluten-free Bisquick biscuits

Mummy and Evan at the table.

I put on the Thanksgiving tablecloth and the 1909 wedding china.

It was very pretty.

Everything was really good, and I did not over-eat and I am not feeling gross afterward.

So Maggie Gallagher, one of the con artists behind the National Organization for Marriage, made a video in which she shakes her jowls while blathering on about how you tell your friends and family members that homo marriage is evil, rudely making Thanksgiving dinner a hellish event. You can watch it on YouTube, especially useful as an appetite suppressant before the big holiday meal.

Personally, I didn't bother to watch because I can't stand her voice. I did run through it with the sound off, mainly because I was transfixed by her hairdont.

















What. The. Fuck. Happened.

Did her hair stylist kill themselves halfway through the hair cut? The asymetrical look is just ugly with a capital U.G.L.Y. I guess that sorta matches her soul.

Here's another screen shot from a video in which she whines that Herman Cain isn't a good man because he doesn't hate gay people enough.

Not a MILF.

Maybe she cut off her ear and is covering it up? Maybe a horn is pushing out the left side of her skull? Or maybe she doesn't dare go to a gay stylist because you never know what they would do with a pair of scissors. If I cared enough about this former slut I might send her an email telling her to drag her diabetic butt to a different stylist, but then, their is only so much you do with what her god gave her.

Anyhows, I won't be lecturing my friends and families about gay marriage at Thanksgiving. Mainly because I will be too busy eating mashed taters.

Back in late September we found a mysterious feature out at the dig site. An almost complete circle of bricks with a brickedopening. There was evidence for intense heat. I thought it might have been a small bread oven. Dan thought it had been used to melt lead to make bullets.

Mystery feature.

Last week I laid out all of the ceramics from one of the two oldest outhouse pits, one that was depicted on the 1883 fire insurance map. I put the pieces out by level, use masking tape to put together the broken pieces from the level, label these pieces, and then make mends across the levels. Because outhouse waste is pretty liquified, it is common to find matching pieces up to two feet apart.

As I was mending the pieces of a small, hand-painted dish, I noticed that it had a date, 1883, on its back. I realized that it also had the initials NG (or GN) on it. And then I realized that the next small dish had the same thing, as did several others, some with the year 1884.

Signed piece.

Eureka, this explained the presence of a piece of kiln furniture in another outhouse. The little brick feature was being used to fire these hand-painted dishes.

Back in the Victorian era, especially between 1875 and 1900, there was a china painting craze in the United States and Europe. Women could purchase blank pieces of ceramics and paint flowers, scenes, people, basically whatever they wanted.

Illustration from China Painting book, 1880s.

Middle and upper class women had more leisure time in the late 19th century. Servants did a lot of the hard work and labor saving devices, such as cook stoves, freed up time for women to do other things. China painting was touted as an educational, artistic, time-consuming, and potentially money making pursuit.

The dishes.

NG (or GN) painted at least six dishes in 1883 and 1884, and somehow they broke and ended up in the outhouse. Whoever she was (china painting was a mostly female hobby), was a pretty good painter, able to handle a number of different subjects.




















White flowers on red background.

It is rare to find artifacts that you can conclusively say were made by the same person. Occasionally, workshops of artisans are excavated (usually out east at Colonial sites). This may be the first example in Arizona.






















Reeds and flying birds.

I like finding artifacts that tell a story, and these dishes do just that.

Blue flowers on white background.

Sometimes I think I am the luckiest person in the world, digging up interesting things, learning about them, and then sharing the information with the world.

In Flagstaff, Evan took me twice to go see elk.

Evan as a 1970s cop.

We looked everywhere.

I even looked inside a tree.

And of course, we didn't find any.

I did see some elk poop.

We came across a few prehistoric sites in the middle of nowheres.

We carefully put the sherds back after looking at them.

It was a very lovely weekend, even though I didn't see a single elk.