“Termagant” is one of my new favorite words. From the Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary “termagant” is a noun and defined as “an overbearing or nagging woman.” If you follow the Facebook page then you’ll know my children, if they knew of the word, would define me as a “termagant.” But let’s be honest, just about every woman could be defined as such at some point in their lives, such is our burden.
If you were accused of being a termagant up through the 19th century you faced the risk of being sentenced to the ducking stool, a very primitive way of dealing with us hysterical women. In the picture below you can see what a sentence by ducking meant and to be perfectly honest if I wasn’t a little crazy before I would certainly be after. The Historic Fredericksburg Foundation, Inc. (HFFI) wrote a recent blog post about ducking stools and their history in Fredericksburg which is what led to our discovery that there is a loose connection between John Ferneyhough Jr. and termagants.
I don’t know about you but I think if strapped to this thing I would become more of a shrew…
As we know, John Ferneyhough Jr. was a prominent carriage maker in the city of Fredericksburg. It turns out he was a handy guy because he was also very likely the last person commissioned by the city to construct a ducking stool. It’s very worth clicking on the HFFI blog post above because I am not one to plagiarize and they did a very nice job pulling up old articles relating to one termagant in particular, why it was deemed that women should not be nags (hint: it hurts the men’s feefees) and the method of using a ducking stool, plus evidence of John Ferneyhough Jr. making one.
The exterior work is really moving along and one of the biggest changes has been with the wraparound porch. The columns have been repaired, the banisters have been leveled, and everything is getting a fresh coat of paint. I have learned that tradition dictates for the the porch floor to be painted grey and the porch ceiling painted blue. And it is the blue ceiling that I am here to write about because I learned a little something Southern that I had never known before (yes, I’m a Virginia girl don’t judge, there are just a few too many Southern traditions and I can’t keep up with all of them…plus this one originates just a little farther south).
The ceiling of our porch has been painted Benjamin Moore’s Harbor Haze which is a beautiful shade of pale blue that is so pale it almost looks as if the blue of the siding is reflecting onto the ceiling. I have tried to capture it in a photo but it is so hard to do it justice with a cell phone (I’ll still share it but wanted to make sure you all understand I am not a photographer). Take my word for it, it’s beautiful but so understated that when you finally do notice it, you point it out to everyone walking by even though they know fully well that the porch ceiling is blue because they were there when it was painted in the first place.
So, now, on to the “why” the porch ceiling is painted blue. Some of you may know this answer already so bear with me because I find it fascinating and I think some of our relatives in the North and Midwest will think so as well. There are actually a few reasons it is said porch ceilings are painted blue. One is that it keeps the bugs away because they think it is the sky. That’s cool but kind of boring and I have yet to discover if that’s true or not.
The second reason porch ceilings are painted blue comes from the Gullah-Geechee people in the Lowcountry of the South. The Gullah would paint the ceilings of their quarters blue (along with doors, windows, and shutters) in order to ward off ghosts. The Gullah believed that the blue would confuse the ghosts into thinking it was water which they could not pass through. The word “ghost” in the Gullah language is “haint” which is where the term “haint blue” comes from. Eventually, white Southerners adopted the tradition and while it has since lost much of it’s spiritual significance the influence is still there.
Oh gosh, now that I see this on a computer screen it’s hardly clear at all that the ceiling is blue. If you look closely, you can see the blue over-spray on the white trim…that may help. Otherwise, you’ll just have to stop by and take a look for yourself.
Since work is progressing on the house but nothing really exciting is going on I thought I would write about the ICEE Machine acquisition of 2017 as alluded to in my last post. I’ve known Marcus for 13 years and sometimes when I write about him I forget that many people haven’t known him as long and haven’t been privy to his shenanigans. So, to sum up Marcus: If it’s free, not matter what “it” is, Marcus is going to take it. Anything more than free and you (as in I) will hear some grief.
So, on to the ICEE Machine. In Williamsburg there was a convenience store at the front of the neighborhood which went by the name of “Kwik Out.” There were many times we would ride bikes up to the store and the girls would go in with their little wallets and then walk out with a lollipop that the man gave them for free I think mostly to keep the line moving because they weren’t very good at counting out their money and also because they’re cute, little blondies. I would usually go back in to make sure it was OK that they had a free lollipop and something wasn’t lost in translation between two little girls who barely knew their left from their right and an elderly, Middle Eastern man.
Anyway, this all to say that at some point Marcus struck up a rapport with the Kwik Out guys and one day he noticed an ICEE Machine sitting outside of the store, near the dumpster. For a week it sat out there and, I swear to God, I didn’t even have to be in the car to know Marcus was eye balling it every time he came in and out of the neighborhood. Finally, one day, he said “I wonder what they’re planning on doing with that ICEE Machine?” “It doesn’t really matter, does it,” I replied, “because no matter what it’s their problem.” He feigned indignation as if he was not the one who had already brought home a broken arcade game, numerous TVs, and a couple of jet skis. (In fairness, I should add that many of the broken things he has brought home have been fixed but at that particular time in our lives we were still in the process of renovating our Williamsburg home which left very little time for tinkering)
After what I believed to be a hard”no” (although I’m now realizing my “hard no” needs a little more work because we now own a 130 year old home) I thought the subject had been dropped. So, about a week goes by and I’ve been out of the house for an hour when I get a text message from Marcus. I look down and I see a picture of an ICEE Machine sitting in our driveway with the words “How much do you love me” and an obnoxious amount of smiley emojis. “What. The. Fuck?” I say. I text it, too, and not the cute “WTF?” It was the full text.
Needless to say, I was not amused. Granted, he was able to haggle a half-broken ICEE Machine for free but what in the actual hell were we going to do with it?! Obviously, and I say this as I roll my eyes, most everyone else thought it was great which kind of fits the theme for just about everything Marcus does but which brings me great consternation. “Oh, you got a broken ICEE Machine?! It’s gonna be great!” “You found a broken, old-school, Ivan Stewart Off Road arcade game?! It’s gonna be great!” “You bought a 130 year old, derelict home?! It’s gonna be great!”
So, super long story short, for nearly one year, the ICEE Machine sat in the garage, moving from one corner to the other, still partially filled with ICEE liquid and smelling of a Kwik Out (which one might be wondering how the smell of grease can permeate metal and I’m here to tell you it can). Finally, as it became clear that we were moving and the ICEE Machine could not move with us, Marcus put it on Craigslist and someone, probably some other husband with an equally weary wife, picked it up and is hopefully making better use of it than we ever did.
ICEE Machine in our driveway.
A few facts about us: Marcus is a penny pincher (which is strange given he bought a giant house needing hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of renovations but I’m trying hard not to beat that dead horse anymore). I, on the other hand, like pretty things (as I’m typing this I’m watching a documentary about Tiffany & Co and this is going to take a lot longer to write than I anticipated…). I’m going to assume most couples have the same dynamic though sometimes Marcus can take things a little further than most (does the ICEE Machine acquisition of 2017 ring a bell? No? That will have to be a post for another time).
This is all to set-up the story which is a recent conversation we had about furnishing the house. First of all, I would guesstimate that about 75% of our furnishings are second-hand, either handed down or purchased through Craigslist, yard sales, and consignment stores. I’m not knocking it, I’m just stating the facts here. And while I have often dreamt of a house filled with Pottery Barn I have come to accept that some things will just never happen.
I feel, though, as if I have found a common ground for my love of pretty things and Marcus’s love for savings and that’s at one of my most favorite stores in Fredericksburg by the name of Seven Nine Designs. They have some of the most beautiful and unique pieces that have been restored by folks who have way more business restoring furniture than I do (believe me, I’ve tried and it ain’t pretty). The other thing I love about Seven Nine Designs is that the prices are reasonable, not Pottery Barn prices.
Anyway, it was on a rainy day of Facebook browsing when I saw their latest offerings and the most amazing hall tree that I had ever seen (which is saying a lot). Marcus has a weird hall tree fetish and I’m very well aware that he would love to put one in the hall of Sligo. Honestly, I can take or leave a hall tree but I saw the one for sale at Seven Nine Designs and immediately had to share it with Marcus. As much as he hates to spend money he would have to admit that this piece was perfect for Sligo and maybe, just maybe, he would tell me to go ahead and get it.
That’s not quite the reaction I got. Instead I received an email response about waiting until we have somewhere to actually put the hall tree and that we need to “…ensure we appropriately curate house furnishings…” I shit you not. This coming from the master of Craigslist. I wrote him back, wondering if someone had just taught him the word “curate” and if they challenged him to use it in a sentence. When the answer was “no” I then wondered if he considered purchasing someone’s used furniture as “curating” because the word, to me, implies actually spending money not just looking for the cheapest thing that will do. He laughed at that and I’m still waiting for an honest answer on how he plans to furnish Sligo.
Bringing Back Sligo 