The Pilgrim Congress

Hey guess what?  I live in New England, which means there is a plethora of historical shit all over the place.  And guess what else?  I love it. 

So today, The Husband and I decided to enjoy the glorious New England weather (which quickly turned less than glorious because, well, we’re in New England) and go toStrawbery Banke Museum this afternoon.  If you’re not familiar with Strawbery Banke, its an area of Portsmouth, NH that has been restored to how it appeared at various points in time (late 17th to mid 20thcentury).  There are 32 buildings that you can tour through and acres and acres of gardens.  It takes about 2 hours for the entire tour, but its totally worth it. 

The best part?  HISTORICAL ACTORS!  Fuck yeah!  Oh man, I love historical actors.  I especially enjoy trying to talk back to them in their old timey speak (random note:  anyone else read Choke? because now when I see historical actors all I can think about is kinky sex games).  The Husband and I had an especially great interaction with one very awesome historical actor in the Victorian section of Strawbery Banke.  Here’s how it went down: 

I was standing all nice and proper, posing for a photo in front of a very pretty fountain:

When The Husband and I see what appear to be Victorian-era hula hoops in the yard of one particular home.  I was mildly interested, which is to say that I ran screaming toward the toys yelling, “HISTORICAL HULA HOOPS!”  The husband and I then proceeded to do this:

Yeah, so it turns out there were no hula hoops in the late 17th century.  Who knew?  The historical actor!  That’s who knew!  So, this woman comes over and SCHOOLS us.  She was all, “Dude, what the hell are you doing,  that is not how you play with that!  You’re getting your bathing suit areas all over it!”  Except she said it in 17th century speak so it was more like, “Miss!  Tis not how you play with that!  Lo, you vulgar wench!”  She then demonstrated how to properly play with this faux hula hoop:

The Husband caught on quickly and was rewarded with the praise and approval of the mistress of the house:

I couldn’t figure it out so I was sent to the gazebo for time out:

The hula-hoop-that-wasn’t-a-hula-hoop incident inspired me to really embrace my inner child.  So I found a tea set and a doll to play with:

Then The Husband was like, “WOMAN!  What do you think you’re doing?  Get in the kitchen and make me some bread!”  And I remembered that in addition to a lack of hula hoops in the 17th century, there was also a serious lack of women’s lib.  So, as my husband’s lady slave I got my ass in the kitchen and made my lord and master some bread:

And then he ate it:

Now that my husband’s belly was full he allowed me to venture into town to run errands at the country store:

Turns out the store was actually in the 20th century part of the town!  I had escaped the harsh rule of my 17th century husband!  I was free!  And he was in so much trouble.   I’m going to make him pleasure me with his body all night as punishment.  Who’s the slave now???

So, in closing, Strawbery Banke is totally rad.  And my husband owes me hours of ecstasy.  Hope that fake plastic bread was worth it.