Girl Baby Found

Does that headline make anyone else think of the jungle book? Man child, girl baby. . . Okay, maybe it's just me. Anyway, I finally cracked the Daily Enquirer. The secret is to just look yourself and not use the advanced search options. That dang technology getting in the way again. Enjoy the fruits of my labors! (Sorry I'm too lazy to give you a transcript today, you get to enjoy the 1890 newsprint/justification in its original appearance).

My favorite part?

Mrs. Singleton had some little trouble in understanding the mechanism on the bottle, but some of the married gentlemen on board kindly explained how the bottle was to be used.

Very nice of them. I also like how the baby is referred to as an "it" and "the little lady" in the same paragraph.

It seems as though our* grand-dame Hagar was quite the newspaper fixture. You can also read a complete account of her rather shocking divorce trial in an 1896 issue of Provo's Daily Enquirer. I bet she loved that the whole town could read and debate on whether or not she was actually married to her second husband, plural wife or no, or whether their children were illegitimate. At least she got the $35 alimony in the end (sorry for the spoiler, but its in the headline anyway). Oh, and our favorite train baby makes a brief appearance as well.

*By our I mean my (as well as those of my blood who read this here blog), sorry friends. You'll either have to marry into the family or find your own cool great-great-great grandmother

Take that Oscar Wilde

I was doing some research today and found the following article. Who said the internet was useless? (Oh yeah, that was probably me. Seriously, nobody wants to post online what University Avenue in Provo was called before the University?)

The Journal, Vol. XI, Logan City, Utah, Wednesday Morning August 31, 1892, No 70.

Disposing of a Babe
A Four-Day Old Infant Left on a Train From Logan

Yesterday morning as the Union Pacific train which reaches here at 9:10 a.m. arrived in Logan a small boy was seen to get aboard, having in his hand a box which he placed under a seat in the smoking compartment of the car. The lad was shortly afterwards seen to jump down from the rear of the train and leave the depot. Nothing was thought of the matter until Ogden was reached, when the lusty cry of a child was heard. Mrs. Hagar Singleton of Provo was a passenger on the train and had heard low sounds as of a child crying several times before, but thought the mother must be there and did not take much notice. Upon again hearing the sounds the lady went into the smoking room and found it empty, but happening to glance under the seat she espied a box. Just as she made the discovery the infant again began to wail and uncovering the box Mrs. Singleton found, wrapped in a pinning blanket and a Logan Journal, a four day old female babe, a nursing bottle and a bundle of clothes. There were no letters or anything to identify the child and Mrs. Singleton at once decided to adopt it. The lady left at ll:30 for her home at Provo.

The baby has fallen into the best of hands and its mother, whosoever she may be, can thank her Maker that her innocent offspring has found a home where it will be loved and receive a mother's care--Standard

***

The only clue to the perpetrator of this heartless deed that has been yet discovered, is the fact that a man and a little boy drove up to the depot on Saturday morning, and that they had a small box between them on the spring seat. The boy was observed to take the box and enter the train, returning shortly afterward empty handed.

This clue, slight as it is, may yet lead to the discovery of the woman who so basely deserted her offspring, and the paternity of the infant may also be discovered.

Anyway, here's proof at long last that my family hasn't been lying to me all these years. At least not about my great-grandmother being found on the train (there could be other things . . . )

What I love about this article, though are the word choices. A lusty cry, really? Espied? I'm telling you staff writer, no one espies. Not even Oscar Wilde espied, and he was gutsy. In any case, I'm glad I found this before I finished my story. I've got some details I've got to change!

(Subsequent to writing this post I found the original article which was posted in the Ogden Standard on Sunday August 28, 1892, meaning that Miss Startup was found on the train on Saturday August 27, 1892 (a mere two days after her birthday as it is listed on new.familysearch.org)

Fascinated

I can't not watch this video. I find it so mesmerizing. Is he really eating gold grapes (I mean no, he's not really eating gold, I know that). Did the writers purposefully have him use the wrong pronoun? Could you train a giraffe to give you kisses? Where can I get a mini giraffe?

So many questions. Enjoy.


I'm really going to go work on chapter nine now.

Peer Pressure

The blank walls in my room have been judging me ever since I moved in. Approximately one year ago. Today they broke through the barrier in my brain that has hitherto successfully kept them on the way, way, way, way back burner. So, sitting here at work in my still-rain-soaked pants, I started to browse Amazon, then Etsy for things I could buy and hang on my wall.

At first I thought I wanted England things, because, you know, I love England and technically I am sort of English. And then I thought maybe I want to go a literary route. I found some interesting woodblocks by an artist who seems to do some sort of decoupage using significant pages from classic works of literature (including some from Anne of Green Gables, Little Women, and Pride Prejudice. Favorite stories all.) and thought those might be interesting. Then for a wild moment I thought, hey I could make some of those. But then, just then, I searched under "children's literature" because that is what I'm studying after all and . . .

I fell in love with some work from illustrator Kate Slater. She's from England and she had some neat posters/prints.

(a P&P poster after all)

http://www.kateslaterillustration.com/
http://www.etsy.com/shop/KateFete?ref=top_trail

But then I remembered how much I loved Emma Block's illustrations. You know, the ones that I may or may not have "borrowed" for my Publishing project a couple months ago. Aren't they fantastic? (She's also British).

http://snugglemuffin.vox.com/
http://www.emmablock.co.uk/
http://www.etsy.com/shop/SnuggleMuffin

So here we have the best of both worlds, right? Children's literature + England. And I love the look of these pieces. So fun, so fresh, so colorful. Perfect for my judgmental walls. The problem is though that neither artist was really selling precisely the perfect things in their Etsy shops, but both have options for maybe commissioning work.

So, I thought to myself, mayhaps I'll give me a nice Birthday & Christmas present and see if I can get them to make me the absolutely perfect print(s) to hang in my room. But if I'm going for a commissioned work, what should I commission and who should I commission it from? What do you think?



Yes, I should still be writing.

She'll be wet through when she returns*

Dear Weather,

Today I'm wearing my winter coat. It's August.

I know the Romans monkeyed around with the calendar and messed everything up and, consequently, things can get confusing for some one/thing who has been around for thousands of years. But 50 degree rainy weather is not appropriate in the summer. That kind of thing belongs in October. Sure August and October have both been the eighth month of the year, but the similarities end there.

So, could you do me a favor and bring the sun back for at least another few weeks? I don't like to squelch around until I can wear double layers. Then at least part of me might be dry.

Sincerely,

Me

* * *

Dear New England,

Did you notice I used the word wicked as an adverb tonight? Twice? Aren't you proud? Yeah, I thought so.

Me

* * *

Dear Reader,

Why yes, yes I do need to be writing chapters of my novel. How can you tell?

Me

* Quote Points. The picture's a hint, but really this should be easy.

This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship

Dear Amazon,

If I hadn't been a fan of yours already, your uncanny ability to place Mockingjay in my hands as I walked out the door this morning would have won you my unswerving devotion. As it is, I look forward to a long and happy life together.

Me

* * *

Dear Gym,

You won't be upset if I end up on the elliptical reading Mockingjay for several hours this afternoon, will you?

Yours Truly.

Spectator Sports

Last week I decided it was high time I did as the Romans did--or, in my case, the New Englanders.

To that end, I bought tickets to a Red Sox game. What? you say. That doesn't sound like Lindsay. Too true, sports fan is not generally a characteristic associated with yours truly. Being a spectator, however, is something I very much enjoy. (I will and have spectated a good many things, Parliament sessions, awkward church dances, munch and mingle flirting . . . ).

So, to Fenway I ventured with my Mexican friend and her sister in tow.
And while as soon as the game began I realized the vast majority of my baseball knowledge comes from movies (no crying, check), we had a very enjoyable time. It helped that the Sox pulled out a bottom of the ninth triple play for the win over the Detroit Tigers. Thanks for that, Big Papi.

Now a Sox game is hard to beat both in terms of New England-ness and spectatorship. So it was a real challenge to think up with something to do this Saturday. Luckily, my roommate came up with the perfect solution: whale watching-->even bigger spectating (cue an onslaught of pictures because I actually had my camera with me this week).

My stunning viewing companions aboard the Voyager 3

Firefly or Firefly's calf. Or maybe it was Midnight. Or Midnight's calf. It's kind of hard to tell just from the whale's back.

Interesting sidenote, some whales, like Firefly, have nannies. I'm pretty sure its because they live off of Cape Cod.

A whale of a tail. Though don't ask me which whale's.

Sailboats in Massachusetts Bay. Very New England.

Back home in good Ole Boston.


Thanks for spectating my spectatorship!

Real Life

The questions you may be asked if your roommate is a Forensic Anthropologist-in-training:

"Can I have your skull when you're dead?"

The jury is still out.