Yesterday was my wedding anniversary, and since my husband forgot (that is another whole journal entry-this is two years in a row he has forgotten) I decided to celebrate with the kids. We drove down to Historic St. Mary's City--this a is large archaeology site in Southern Maryland of a colonial village and they have rebuit most of the town to it's original form. It is a working farm, as you walk through they have people in costume conducting their daily routines, it really gives you the sense what life was like.
Last night, to kick off their Indian festival days, the had a large campfire with a Native American Storyteller. It was very up close and personal, probably only 50 or so people. They had the trail to the campfire all lit with paper bag lanterns and mosquito torches, it was beautiful.
The Storyteller, Dovie Thomason Sickles, an Kiowa-Apache Lakota Person, http://www.ulali.com/frames/merchandise/dovie/dovie.htm- was fabulous. She ended the night with two very scary ghost stories, which thrilled the kids. Retta almost crawled back inside of me. It made the dark, lantern lit, trail back to the car very cool and scary.
We spent the ride home giving each other Native American names. Musa was laughing so hard he almost wet his pants. Some of the highlights: For Mom, She Who Eats Ice Cream and Has Fat Butt; One Who Yells Loud--For Musa: He Who Fears His Own Closet: He Who Speaks Softly and Farts Loudly, Loretta sat in the backseat screaming with laughter and shouting, "One Who Is A Butthead Bob."
Can you tell that we seems to have a fart, butt, sort of theme going on this week. It seems to come in waves. (sigh)
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