It’s A Real Thing!

Today is Monday, November 2nd, which means . . . it’s National Plan Your Epitaph Day! Say what? I know, right? It’s a real thing. An entire day set aside to plan your own epitaph. Kind of morbid but I guess it makes sense if you think about it. I mean, you never know what a relative or friend might put on your tombstone once you’re gone, right? Or, worse yet, they put nothing there!  Egads! The horrors!!!

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Toto, We’re Not In Kansas Anymore

I’ve lived in Mississippi for almost 4 years now and there are still some things that I just can’t comprehend. Mostly I love the laid back way of life and southern hospitality. I love the charming small town feel of a lot of places in this great state. Other things, I don’t get. At all.

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Horn Blowing 101

I don’t know about you, but I rarely use my car horn. I mean, seriously, hardly ever. And usually when I do, I have to press around on the steering wheel a bit to get the exact spot for sound to come out. I just don’t have an up-close and personal relationship with my car horn.

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The Baer House Guide of What Not To Do At A Wedding

The Baer-Williams House was the scene of a very lovely afternoon garden wedding a couple of weeks ago. Bride and groom wanted to keep things low-key and stress-free. We were expecting about 30 guests for a 4:00 ceremony on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon.

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Santa’s Report Card

So, the holidays are officially over and 2017 is underway. I’d like to say thank you to all my readers for continuing to follow me into the new year. I hope I continue to bring a smile to your Mondays.

Let’s reflect back a couple of weeks and see how this Christmas stacked up. Because there are so many aspects to consider, I’m going to narrow my focus to one thing – Santa Claus.

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A Peek At My Rare 2-Story, 4-Hole Outhouse

Most of you know about outhouses. Some of you have probably even used one at one point in your life. I’m not talking about the port-a-potty johns at the county fair either, I’m talking about the real life wooden structures with a bench seat inside.

Photo courtesy Google Images

I’m sure you’re familiar with how these contraptions work; you dig a hole and place your little house over the hole. When said hole is full, you dig another one someplace else, move the house and throw dirt over the almost full former sewage hole. That is why outhouses were portable.

Well folks, the lady who designed my house (Leona Baer), had a different idea for her privvies. You see, she did not want her elite socialite friends and distinguished guests to have to trapise out into the elements to use the outhouse. Oh no, that would be a disgrace. She insisted that her privvies be attached to the house and under a covered walkway (aka porch). And, of course, there had to be a mens and a ladies facility. No co-ed for Ms. Leona Baer. No sirree.

Photo by P. Rickrode. November 2015.

Women’s side of outhouse at Baer House Inn. Photo by P. Rickrode. November 2015.

Men’s side of outhouse at Baer House Inn. Photo by P. Rickrode. November 2015.

Notice that the ladies side is much bigger than the mens? That’s because ladies wore hoop skirts and needed more room to negotiate around and get everything settled into place. Imagine trying to use the facilities shown above wearing this:

Photo courtesy Google Images.

Now, having your outhouse attached to your house is certainly convenient, but it created a huge problem: what to do when the holes got full. Well, obviously, you clean them out. Say what? Shovel s$%@? I know. Right? Who is God’s name wants that job? But, shovel s$%@ someone did. You see, Leona had workers dig a pit, a cistern if you will, and covered it with a permanent structure that sat very close to the house (not completely attached) but connected by an extension of the porch. She really created a very primative septic system, minus the leach lines.

Here’s a picture of the downstairs portion of this structure. This shot is taken from the farthest end of the porch where the men’s privy was (the door on the left) looking back toward the back door of the house on the first floor.

Photo by P. Rickrode. November 2015.

But, wait, there’s more.

If you will remember, the title of this blog mentioned a 2-story, 4-hole outhouse. Two stories? Yes, my friends – two stories. One hole on the ground level and one hole above it on the second story. Here’s how my second story porch looks. The privvies are through that little doorway at the end of the porch.

Upstairs porch and walkway to privy. Photo by P. Rickrode. November 2015.

Notice the white lattice work at the end of the porch? Well, that would be the enclosure. You can see the 2 doorways at the very end of the hallway.

2nd story outhouse at Baer House Inn. Photo by P. Rickrode. November 2015.

Here’s what it looks like from afar. The privvies are enclosed by that white lattice on both floors.

Baer House Inn 2-story outhouse. Photo by P. Rickrode. November 2015.

How do these things work you ask? Well, on level one of the house, a person walks in about 2 feet and encounters the hole. On the second level, a person walks in about 4 feet before encountering the hole. Now, mind you, there is a wall directly behind the hole on the ground level so nothing falls down upon you from above, but you can hear everything directly behind your head that falls from above. I know . . . how pleasant.

Why two stories? Well, thank you for asking. You see, Ms. Baer felt that her family should not mix and mingle with her esteemed guests, so much so that the children and servants were relegated to the second floor. But not just during parties or social events. Oh no. No, no, no. Children had to remain upstairs ALL THE TIME. They were never allowed downstairs. They even have their own set of outside stairs in the event they needed to leave the house. They were not allowed to enter or exit the home through the first floor. There had to have been a lot of this going on:

Photo courtesy Google Images.

Not being allowed downstairs created a problem when little Sarah, or little Samuel had to use the facilities. So, Leona fixed the problem by creating their very own privvies on the second floor. The added bonus? If Leona needed to use the bathroom during the middle of the night, she did not have to go all the way downstairs and outside, she simply walked along the upstairs porch to her own private penthouse privy.

Now this structure, that is original to the home, is still standing and part of our house. Of course we don’t use it, but it’s here for everyone to see and admire. The downstairs portion has been repurposed into a very nice, very modern bathroom as part of room number 8, but the original outside doors are still in place. The privy doors are on the left in this picture and the door into room number 8 is on the right.

Room 8, Baer House Inn. Photo by P. Rickrode. November 2015.

 

Room 8 bathroom (former 1st floor outhouse). Photo by P. Rickrode. November 2015.

So tell me dear readers, have you ever seen a 2-story outhouse? Would you have wanted to have the job of cleaning out the poop cistern? Somebody had to do it. Yuck.

Word of the Day: Odurate

Fun fact about me: My uncle had a cabin in upstate Minnesota with no indoor plumbing and we had to use the outhouse whenever we visited. Good times.

Original post by Jansen Schmidt, November 2015. Original photos by P. Rickrode. Stock photos courtesy Google Images.

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Stupid Dad Words

Image courtesy Google Images

We all know our parents are a little nutty but we love them despite their weirdness. I’ve often wondered how I could have turned out so perfectly normal when I have such goofball parents. Fortunately, I have no children to dispute my normalness, so you’re just going to have to take my word for it.

Anyhoo, so my dad has always mixed up words and smushed words together into one stupid new word; more so when he’s trying to sound really smart. Most days I just smile inwardly and say “uh huh,” and just let the conversation continue as though what he said was exactly right.

Photo courtesy Google Images

Other times I grit my teeth to keep from screaming at him, especialy if I’ve already corrected him on the exact same word.

Some of my dad’s favorite wrong phrases include hi fi and interstate. A conversation he had on the phone the other day went something like this: “I can’t get on the interstate because I don’t have hi fi for my computer.” I rolled my eyes and continued to listen to my dad try to explain to the person on the receiving end of the call, what they heck he was trying to say.

Another favorite of his is “flusterated.” I guess he doesn’t know the difference between flustered and frustrated so he simply squishes them together and hopes people know what he’s trying to say. This look I’m sure has appeared on my face many times.

Photo courtesy Google Images

Yeah, he’s got a special language, all his own. And, on a side note, one not involving an incorrect word, but very similar, the other day he told me he needed help setting up his cassette recorder so he could watch his movies. I asked if he meant his VCR for his video tapes and he said, “No for my little records.” Little records?

Photo courtesy Google Images

Turns out “little records” are cd’s and what he was needing help with was his DVD player.

Photo courtesy Google Images

Yup, my dad needs a cassette recorder for his little records.

What crazy dad words get your all fired up? Do your parents have words or expressions that make you cringe? Do your parents have hi fi on their interstates?

Word of the Day: Gourmand

Fun fact about me: I’ve experienced both hi fi and wi fi in my lifetime.

Original post by Jansen Schmidt, October 2015. Photos courtesy Google Images.

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Witchore and Other Southern Words

I’m a word snob; I admit it. But, I have to be. I’m a writer, it comes with the territory. If’n I didn’t talk good nobody’d buy my books. But here in the south, folks, even well educated folks, look at you funny if you speak proper English.

Image courtesy Google Images

Here, people like to run words together. I find it amusing to listen to the locals talk. I know what they’re saying, but it’s ain’t said right. Here, they use words like “witchore,” and “atchu.” I’ve started a mental dictionary because I hear repeated piggybacked words all run together a lot. Here’s a partial list:

Photo courtesy Google Images

Witchore – “What kind of dressing you want witchore salad?”

Tars – “Yesterday I had two flat tars on my car.”

Atchu – “I’m looking atchu.”

Deygohn – “Are the Rickrodes still in California?” “No. Deygohn.”

Andem – “Who’s coming for dinner?” “Patricia andem.”

Ohl – “You put a little ohl on that and it’ll slide easier.”

Gwan – “Gwan down the Frontage road to Wal-Mart.”

Sumpin – “You want sumpin to drink?”

I’m trying my darndest not to laugh at these colloquialisms but sometimes a smile still creeps onto my face. So far I haven’t had to explain myself, but I’m sure one of these days, someone will ask me what I find amusing.

What about you dear readers, what expressions make you smile? What wrong words drive you crazy? The one I find the most annoying is using “axe” for “ask.” Drives. Me. Nuts. Don’t axe me why.

Word of the Day: Bonbonniere

Fun Fact About Me: I secretly enjoy silently making fun of the way people talk. Hey, I’m a self-admitted word snob.

Original post by Jansen Schmidt, August 2015. Photos courtesy Google Images

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Turning the Tables Country Style

Let’s face it, when it comes to country music, women are still expected to fit a certain image. Basically, we are exploited. Well not me exactly because I don’t look like the girls in those videos, but you know what I mean. Country music tells a story and it’s often one of redneck adventures by not so charming cavemen. Songs like, I’m Gonna Miss Her, by Brad Paisley about a guy who chooses fishing all day over losing his wife; What Was I Thinking by Dierks Bentley, about a guy whose sole motivation for doing stupid stuff is a well-endowed woman wearing a skimpy tank top. I’m not proud of it, but the songs and the videos speak for themselves. Don’t believe me? Look it up. Watch the videos.

Photo courtesy Google Images

Well, the time has come to switch things up a little bit. Here’s a look at how two gorgeous young gals turned the tables on the country bumpkins who disrespect beautiful country women. Check it out. (Warning: You won’t be able to unsee this.)

So what do you think dear readers? Did you like the video? Do you like country music? Should we have more Maddie & Tae’s in this world? Inquiring minds want to know.

Word of the Day:  Blitzkrieg

Fun Face About Me: I love me some country music (despite the backward redneck nature of the beast).

Original post by Jansen Schmidt, August 2014. Video courtesy YouTube.

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My Dad’s Four Favorite Words

We all have at least one quirky relative. Some of us have more than one.  In my case, it’s my dad.

Photo courtesy Google Images

Let me begin by saying that I love my dad very much, warts and all. He’s far from perfect, but he’s the person God entrusted my care with so I owe him my deepest gratitude for not killing me as a child. And everyone knows that it’s okay for us to poke fun or our own family, but no one else is allowed to – right? That’s just an unspoken rule.

So now that that’s all established, I want to share with you my Dad’s four favorite words: “I’m throwing that away.”

I know – weird. But my dad has a fascination with junk. He’s a crap hoarder. His house is not cluttered to the rafters, but his sheds, or as he calls them collectively, his “shop,” is a different story. There is not one square inch of uncluttered space in his “shop.”

Photo courtesy Google Images

If anyone knows my dad, you can get an immediate visual of this “shop,” but for those of you who haven’t had that . . . ah . . . privilege, let me just say that the “shop” is a series of crudely-constructed sheds, attached together by staples, bailing wire and duct tape, in a row, much like box cars on a train track. When one fills up, he constructs and attaches another, sometimes cutting a hole in the adjoining walls – for walk-through purposes – sometimes not. Collectively this row of mind-blowing dilapidation is known as “the shop.”

My dad will drag home anything. He often does yard work or minor brush clearing for older folks or single ladies and he brings home whatever he uncovers. If someone is moving and cleaning out a garage, my dad is the first one to volunteer to help. He’ll haul home anything left behind, including stuff intended for the dump. Recently my husband and I started cleaning out the ravine below our house. We unearthed a dented hula hoop, a deflated basketball, a plastic oar with a broken handle, and a three-wheeled wagon with a broken axle. My dad’s eyes lit up with pure joy when he saw these treasures in the refuse pile.

Photo courtesy Google Images

“What’re you doing with that stuff?” inquires my dad.

“We’re throwing it away,” I reply.

“Oh, don’t do that,” says my dad with barely contained excitement. “I’ll take it home.”

What in God’s name my father is going to do with a dented hula hoop and a deflated basketball is anyone’s guess, but I let him load that crap up and cart it home. I didn’t even want to ask his intentions.  I’ve just learned that shit like that is to my dad like manna was to the Israelites in the Desert of Sin. It delights and nourishes him in indescribable ways. (Is it sacrilege to use a swear word in a biblical metaphor?)

That’s my dad – gotta love him. Or as they say in the south, “Bless his heart.”

Photo courtesy Google Images

What weird-o family traits are kept in your closet? Come on, spill it. I’d love to hear about your quirky relatives.

Word of the Day: Quandong (it sounds dirty, but it’s not)

Fun fact about me: I like to scrapbook.

Original post by Jansen Schmidt, June 2014. Photos courtesy Google Images.

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