by Roseanna White | Sep 13, 2013 | Uncategorized
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by Roseanna White | Sep 12, 2013 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
I was a kid. I don’t even remember how old, probably about ten. My parents were in charge of the youth at our church, which meant I spent a lot of time there. My favorite thing to do? Slip into the quiet sanctuary and just be there. With no milling congregation, no dozens of conversations, no laughter, no music, no mothers calling for the little ones to come to their pew.
Just me. And that certain feeling that this was holy ground.
I grew up in church, I said my prayer for salvation along with the other kids in a children’s church service was I was, oh, five or six. And I meant it. Sure, it took me a lot of years to figure out what it was I had meant, ha ha, but there was never doubt. There was never turning away. There was never backsliding.
There were, instead, these quiet little moments when I brushed up against the divine and realized how much He loved me, in all the wackiest little things.
On this day, I’d meandered to the front of the sanctuary, where the much-disputed red velvet curtain hung on the back wall, a subject of heated debate among the board. My parents were also on the board, so I was aware of this debate. I found it so trivial that I just laughed over it. Take the curtain down, leave it up, what did it matter? Adults, I thought, got hung up on the weirdest things.
Me, I thought about more important things, ahem. Like the next story I would write, whether my mom would let me have Brittney over that weekend, and if my teacher would rearrange our desks soon because I was so tired of sitting beside those stupid boys who thought it was funny to mock everything everyone said. I made it a point never to laugh at them. Eventually they noticed and asked why. My answer? “Because you’re not funny.” Oh yes, brutal honesty from the tweener Roseanna, LOL.
The church was washed with the golden light of a summer evening. Kinda stuffy, as the air was turned off, but not too bad. It was only Sunday night, after all, it hadn’t had a chance to get really hot yet. I meandered to the front of the sanctuary, past the alter railings. Maybe I’d intended to go to the piano, who knew—I was known to trill out Für Elise any time I could.
But a buzzing of a fly disturbed my quiet. Have you ever noticed how loud one little fly sounds in a room with no other noise? So annoying. So there. And my first instinct, when it comes to a fly, is to swat at it.
That afternoon, though, I had a thought of, “No, I’m not going to kill a fly in church.” (Let it be noted I’ve never felt that particular conviction since, LOL.) Instead, I watched it buzz around the vaulted ceilings and land, eventually, on the alter table.
I remember creeping closer, wondering how close I could get before it saw my movement and took off. One step nearer, two. At some point, I recall a strange series of thoughts running through my head. Something that mixed wonder with prayer. Something that made me stretch out in faith. Something that wasn’t exactly Peter walking on water, but which was stepping out nonetheless. I determined that God would hold the fly still, and I could touch it. Pet it. Stroke its wing.
And so I walked up to the table. I reached out. And I stroked its wing.
It’s a small thing. A simple thing. A silly thing. And yet as greater struggles of faith arise in my life, I sometimes think back on that fly. On a child who acted on faith, and who proved that her God heard the smallest, silliest thoughts in her head. And who didn’t mind touching His finger to a pesky little fly so that she could touch hers to it too.
Life is full of flies as well as hurricanes. Bumps as well as canyons. And oh, how nice it is to know that the God who cares about the one also cares about the other. That no matter my words, He listens.
Thank you, Lord.
by Roseanna White | Sep 11, 2013 | Ancient World, Remember When Wednesdays
Occasionally people say to me something along the lines of “I could never write historical fiction. It requires too much research!”
Well, it does, but a lot of it is small. And seemingly random, LOL. I thought it might be fun today to just share some of the crazy-ish Google searches that have come up for me recently as I work on A Soft Breath of Wind. Let’s see if you can figure out what’s going on in the story. 😉
- Latin for no
- History of rivets
- Mediterranean sharks
- Latin for dove
- Money in the New Testament
- Ancient Roman names
- Behind the Name: Hadrian
- Romans 15
- “Foot” measurement history
- Ancient Rome witch
- Legal age in Ancient Rome
- How old was John Mark when he wrote the Gospel of Mark?
- Apostle Paul timeline
- New Testament marriage customs
- The armor of God
- Are there wolves in Italy?
- Trees native to Rome
- History of the caesarean section
Just a few. I could spend longer sifting through my search history, but it’s taking a surprisingly long time, LOL. So that’s it for today. 😉
What are some random things you’ve looked up recently?
by Roseanna White | Sep 9, 2013 | Word of the Week
One of my historical writer friends asked about canteens a little while ago (namely, what they would have called them before they were canteens), which inspired me to look up the word.
Canteen is from the French cantine, which means “sutler’s shop.” Which I had to look up, LOL. Turns out a sutler is a person who maintains a store for the army, either by following them with provisions or having a shop within a camp. In this sense, the word entered English in 1710. There’s speculation that it’s a sense of the Latin canto, which means “corner”–that it’s a corner for storage.
The familiar sense of “container to carry water” evolved by 1744, also from a sense in the French, and used mainly by the military still, or campers. People on the move. The extended-from-the-first-definition sense of it being a “refreshment room on a campus or base” is from 1870.
Somewhat appropriate word choice today, as we’ll be traveling to Johns Hopkins for the last (hopefully) follow-up appointment for the elbow my little girl broke back in May. Prayers appreciated!
by Roseanna White | Sep 4, 2013 | 17th-19th Centuries, Remember When Wednesdays
In preparation for my “Spies in Early America” class I’m teaching my home school group, I decided to get some quills. After all, if one is pretending to be a Revolutionary-era spy and will be writing secret messages in homemade invisible ink, obviously one ought to use a quill pen to do it! Right? Right. =)
The only problem is that, well, finished quill pens are a bit pricey. And since I listed my classes as “free,” I wanted to keep costs to a minimum. As I perused the quill options online, something soon became clear–if I was going to provide quills to 12 students, I needed to buy them uncut, hence cheaply.
Sure. No problem. I could learn to cut quills. I mean, every person who knew how to write for centuries trimmed their own quills. This isn’t a big deal. I’m a smart girl. I can figure it out. Right? Right?? LOL
So I ordered my nice set of a dozen black quills. And as I waited for them to arrive, I read up on the process online, visiting several sites to get the full scope of my project. And the more I read…the more I realized that 12 quills ordered for 12 students gave me absolutely no margin of error. Insert Roseanna taking a trip to Jo-Ann Fabrics.
I ended up with 6 colored quills for $2, the 12 black ones for $7, and a precision knife made by Fiskars. (Colonial folks would have used a pen knife. I, however, have not a pen knife. So I went with a sharp blade that still allowed for control.)
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| My Fiskars Precision Knife |
Then I set up my area. I was working on my old wooden desk, which I didn’t want to score with my blade, so I put a cutting board down. Then I got to work preparing the quills. The first step is to shave off excess feathers, as you can see from the mound of colored fluff in the above picture. The idea is to make sure it sits comfortably in your hand without the barbs annoying you. I have tiny hands, so I didn’t have much to worry about. But men would have to shave off more, for sure. And most people from days bygone would have stripped the quill entirely. For ascetics, I didn’t do that here.
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| See how the feathers hit my hand at first? |
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| After trimming, the feathers don’t start until after my hand. |
You’ll also want to shave the feathers from the middle section of the quill, where they’re really fluffy. I actually found that with the feathers I was using, if I took off all the fluffy looking ones from middle and sides, that was a good rule for how far to shave.
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| Shaving fluffy feathers from inside the rib |
I then cut off all the tips of the feathers. This has to be done at some point, and one of the articles I read said to do it before tempering. Others said after. I see no big difference when you do it, so…whenever, LOL.
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| Quill with tip removed |
Then comes the tempering–this is when you harden your quill. The quill wears away with use, so if you start with a harder shaft, it’ll last longer. You can soak them overnight in water to really help the process, but since these are for recreational use, I went straight to the heat tempering.
For this part of the process, you fill a can with sand and pop it in a 350-degree oven for about 15 minutes. Since I was doing so many quills at once, I used a cake pan. Once the sand is heated, pull it out of the oven and bury your quills in as far as they’ll go.
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| Quills getting their heat treatment in 350-degree sand |
Leave them in there until the sand has cooled. I did this part in the evening and left them until morning when I was ready to start working on them again.
Next comes the part I feared messing up royally–cutting. Getting out my handy-dandy precision knife again, I studied the diagrams and descriptions on the various websites and distilled it down to a few main steps.
1. Make a slice at an angle to take away about half the diameter of the quill.
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| The first slice. |
2. Once you’ve opened the shaft, you can see that inside is a series of circular membranes. Get those out with the tip of your blade and, in the section beyond your cut, some little pokey thing. I used a cuticle shaper from a pedicure set, LOL.
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| Removing the membrane |
3. Then you do the slices to form your nib. Start by making a slit parallel to the shaft and centered, from the tip up about 1/4 inch. This helps the ink flow to the point
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| Making the slit |
4. Then you start shaping the point into a nib. Here are some pictures from various angles.
5. The final step is to work the point. I just pressed my blade to the tip, perpendicular to the shaft, to square it off. Then took it at an angle from both top and bottom to get the best edge.
As I practiced using them, I trimmed a bit here and there until I found the shape that made the ink flow best. And of course…