Lessons on Hunting and Living: Volume I

   When I was little, all I wanted to do was play "school".  I, of course, would always pose as the teacher and make my brother do spelling tests, which I would harshly grade with my red pencil.  The whole family believed I would be the teacher of the clan, that is of course until I got into college, saw how ridiculous the Education program was at Niagara University, and switched my major to English.  This decision was borne from my inherent nature of disallowing myself to dumb-down my learning.  Hence, when I was placed in a second grade classroom and found that all the little creepy crawly creatures had no concept of verbs, nouns, or even predicates, I was a little put-off.  I had always envisioned my future consisting of teaching the young minds of America the importance of Shakespeare, the creepiness of Petrarch (he was in obsessed with a woman he only met twice, who was married and had 6 kids.  He wrote poems to her in life and in death.  His extremely uncomfortable writing of undying, unyielding, unrequited love acted as the base for many a Shakespearean "hero") and the beauty of W.B Yeats.  I would assign the drooling mouths, their attached eyes glazing over after a weekend filled with memories best left in the drunk tank at the local police station, assignment after assignment of thought-provoking inquires, earth-jarring enlightenment.  I would be the professor that everyone loved but who created the hardest, most involved assignments during Freshmen year.  Like Chuck Norris, I would be feared because of my roundhouse kicks but respected as well.

   I still yearn to reach the level of professorship, but combine the fact that our nearest college is a joke with the amount of insane debt I would accrue and never pay back, it is a lofty goal as of yet.  However, I cannot ignore the small voice in my head which instructs me to TEACH! TEACH! TEACH! So, without further adieu, I give you lessons on hunting and living from The Writing Huntress.

Lesson One: How to Properly Apply Camo Face Paint. 

This video was a long time coming, as I love the gunky stuff more than I do hunting or breathing. 

My Twitterbuddy, Britney, had some difficulty applying her face paint.  She, of course, thought of me immediately when stating that she needed some pointers on the fine art of face paint adherence.

   Lesson Two: A Nifty Slew of Sayings 

If there is anything I love more than the history of phrases, I'm unaware of it. 

The best part about reading Shakespeare or Marlowe in their pure form is picking out the commonly used phrases of yore.  One can then translate them into modern speak and use the combination of words to insult their friends!

I came across this little gem today when the patriarch of the HLYH clan forwarded an ancient scroll via gmail.

The following text has been re-written by my own ink quill but the research is entirely someone else's.

Hence, if there is anything that is incorrect in the following list, it isn't my fault. 

The superb writing, however, is.  

Where did "Piss Poor" come from?

An Interesting History Of Commonly Used Terms.

   Ancient individuals used to use urine to tan animal skins, so families used to collectively (not at the same time, mind you) relieve themselves in a pot.  Once said pot had reached its fill, it was taken and sold to the tannery. If it was your job to made the pots or if your professional title read "Collector of Chamber Pots" you were referred to as "Piss Poor".   The extremely poor folk who couldn't even afford to buy a pot were worse off yet.  Since they had no receptacle for their waste, their fellows would taunt that the family "didn't have a pot to piss in" and were the lowest of the low.

    Stories such as the ones above put things in perspective, especially concerning water.  The next time you are washing your hands and your skin begins to turn blue because the hot water refuses to comply, mull over for a smidgen of a second how things used to be.

Fun Facts About the 1500's:

Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May.

By medieval standards, by June, your stench was not too overpowering but still, a rankness began to seep in, especially for that poor bride in all that burlap.

Fortunately, God invented flowers. 

Flowers smell lovely. So lovely that in order to mask her body odor, she carries a banquet of flowers when advancing towards her groom.

Sound familiar?

Back when Shakespeare ruled supreme, bath time was a family affair.

The whole clan shared a large pot of boiling water.

The man of the house had the privilege of being a man, and the eldest so he bathed first.

Men being men and of a dirty sort, those in the house washed themselves after, eldest to youngest. 

The women, less dirty, by nature, would wash after the boys. 

Last but not least, the babies, those most prone to infection and sickness, would be washed in the dirty water of those who came before him or her.

By then the water was so dirty you could quite easily lose someone in it.

It become commonplace to misplace your child on bath days which assisted in coining the phrase, "Don't throw the baby out with the Bath water!"

Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood underneath.

Since hot air rises, the only warm place for animals was the roof, hence all the cats and other small creatures lived in above the clan's collective noggins.

When the rain came tumbling from the sky, the roof would become slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof.

The family then would be privy to the source of the platitude, "It's raining cats and dogs."

The floor, as we already covered, was dirt. 

Only the wealthy Barons of the land plodded their royal little feet upon slate floors, lest a portion of their toe be dirtied by the surrounding earth.

The hierarchy would now be tickled, that then, they were not what we would call, "dirt poor".

Meat was a delicacy that the common man would be hard pressed to enjoy frequently.

However, when meat was in plentiful supply, a family would be eager to show off to visitors.

Neighbors would come to call to visit the house with the newly slaughtered pig.  

The meat acted as a sign of wealth, all the jealous wives would crowd around the man would could "bring home the bacon."

The group would cut off a little of the porcine aftermath to share with guests.  

They then would all sit around and chew the fat.

Drinking whiskey back before Jack or Jim began their practice could have been fatal.

It was common practice to employ a lead cup to keep your beer or whiskey chilled.

The combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days, making family and friends  believe the individual dead. 

It only took a couple of Lazarus-eque disrupted funerals for the medieval folks to see a pattern. 

Drunkards, as well as anyone else who passed into God's hands began to be laid out on a table in the family's kitchen.  The family would gather, eat and drink until the person either woke up or remained in a lifeless state.  

 The practice continues today, sans awaiting the individual to "wake" from their slumber.

If the person was truly lifeless and not just sleeping off a good night, the family would take it upon themselves to see the body of the departed buried within mother earth. 

However, this was a problem in 1500s England as the space one could be buried in was shrinking by the minute. 

Swarthy undertakers began re-using graves and coffins. This plan would have worked if it hadn't been for the discovery of disconcerting scratch marks on the interior of the lid.  

It had seemed that not only was there no place to bury those who had passed, but there was also no room for those buried alive.

Yarn bracelets began being in vouge for those buried around the time of Shakespeare.  The yarn would be attached to a bell above ground, a perfect "I'm AWAKE!" alarm for those caught six-foot-under unawares.

The first "graveyard" shift occurred around this time as well, when someone was paid to wait through the night for ringing bells, atoning for those either

“saved by the bell” or "considered a dead ringer”.