love. Or if he is, I don't want to be in love like that. Things are
horrible when Blondzilla's here, horrible before she comes, too.
Gertie
gets tense and Uncle Nick turns into a crab. Not that he's much fun to begin
with. That's why I can't understand it. I don't know why he invited her
up."
“Invited?”
Carter crammed the tools into the duffle with more force than necessary.
“Last
night, apparently. At least that's what I overheard Gertie saying to
Ivan.”
Carter
stared at the kid blankly as her mind seized up. It was hard to face the fact
that the first thing Nick had done after their kiss was go call his woman. That
what had kept her up all night was of such little consequence to him. That she
was just one more pair of lips.
Although,
as she thought about it, she figured she must be the most naive person on the
planet. The man had been linked with some of the most beautiful women in the
world. The whole kiss at sunset thing probably happened to him all the time.
“So
are we going to head over to the site?” Cort prompted.
“Yeah,
sure.”
“Carter?”
She shook
herself., “Sorry. Let's get the stuff we'll need together.”
Even
though she'd been doing digs for almost a decade, she had to think about what
they were going to need to chart the site. She retrieved four balls of white
twine, three dozen wooden stakes, and a measuring tape. In a backpack, she put
a camera, scissors, mapping paper and pencils, rulers, and some bottled water.
"What
are all the stakes for? We hunting vampires?” Cort started shadowboxing again
and then mimicking stabbing motions in the air.
Smiling
and shaking her head at the kid, she resolved to push the subject of Nick
Farrell from her mind. Feeling a little stronger for the decision, Carter
slipped the backpack on and straightened her spine.
It was
simply mind over matter.
Make that
mind over man.
As she
and Cort headed into the woods, each holding one handle of the duffle, she told
him what they were in for. “We're going to create a grid pattern over the
site.”
“Why?”
“When
we excavate a site, we ruin it. The artifacts are significant in and of
themselves but equally important is their relationship to each other. A
well-mapped site and conscientious documenting mean that any archaeologist can
re-create the dig from the records and come to their own conclusions.”
They
stepped inside the ring of stones and she took out her camera, offering Cort
the job of photographer. He began to shoot, the sound of the shutter clicking
away.
“Give
me more,” he vamped at the rocks. “I need to feel the emotion. That's
it. A little more pout.”
After ten
minutes, she called out, “Hey, take it easy on the film there, Helmut
Lang. We don't want to run out on the first day. How about trading in that lens
for a hammer?”
“For
you, anything.”
Flamboyantly,
he sashayed over to her and accepted the duffle bag of stakes.
“Put
one of these every three feet around the interior, as close to the rock walls
as possible.”
While he
went to work, she sketched the outlines of the site and then began to string
twine between opposite stakes so that a grid pattern was formed about a foot
and a half above the ground. In the middle where it sagged, they reinforced it
with more wooden pickets.
“It
looks like a checkerboard,” Cort commented when the job was done.
He
watched as she drew the grid on the map she'd sketched and then ran numbers
down the left margin and letters across the bottom.
“Now,
whenever someone finds an artifact, it gets entered on the site map. I’ll
create another map which will measure depth. On that, we'll record how deep the
finds are underground. In addition, everyone who digs will keep a daily log of
what area they excavated and what they found. These daily logs will be
extrapolated into the excavation log that encompasses all the diggers' work and
also details what the condition of the weather was, what the soil was like, in
what order
horrible when Blondzilla's here, horrible before she comes, too.
Gertie
gets tense and Uncle Nick turns into a crab. Not that he's much fun to begin
with. That's why I can't understand it. I don't know why he invited her
up."
“Invited?”
Carter crammed the tools into the duffle with more force than necessary.
“Last
night, apparently. At least that's what I overheard Gertie saying to
Ivan.”
Carter
stared at the kid blankly as her mind seized up. It was hard to face the fact
that the first thing Nick had done after their kiss was go call his woman. That
what had kept her up all night was of such little consequence to him. That she
was just one more pair of lips.
Although,
as she thought about it, she figured she must be the most naive person on the
planet. The man had been linked with some of the most beautiful women in the
world. The whole kiss at sunset thing probably happened to him all the time.
“So
are we going to head over to the site?” Cort prompted.
“Yeah,
sure.”
“Carter?”
She shook
herself., “Sorry. Let's get the stuff we'll need together.”
Even
though she'd been doing digs for almost a decade, she had to think about what
they were going to need to chart the site. She retrieved four balls of white
twine, three dozen wooden stakes, and a measuring tape. In a backpack, she put
a camera, scissors, mapping paper and pencils, rulers, and some bottled water.
"What
are all the stakes for? We hunting vampires?” Cort started shadowboxing again
and then mimicking stabbing motions in the air.
Smiling
and shaking her head at the kid, she resolved to push the subject of Nick
Farrell from her mind. Feeling a little stronger for the decision, Carter
slipped the backpack on and straightened her spine.
It was
simply mind over matter.
Make that
mind over man.
As she
and Cort headed into the woods, each holding one handle of the duffle, she told
him what they were in for. “We're going to create a grid pattern over the
site.”
“Why?”
“When
we excavate a site, we ruin it. The artifacts are significant in and of
themselves but equally important is their relationship to each other. A
well-mapped site and conscientious documenting mean that any archaeologist can
re-create the dig from the records and come to their own conclusions.”
They
stepped inside the ring of stones and she took out her camera, offering Cort
the job of photographer. He began to shoot, the sound of the shutter clicking
away.
“Give
me more,” he vamped at the rocks. “I need to feel the emotion. That's
it. A little more pout.”
After ten
minutes, she called out, “Hey, take it easy on the film there, Helmut
Lang. We don't want to run out on the first day. How about trading in that lens
for a hammer?”
“For
you, anything.”
Flamboyantly,
he sashayed over to her and accepted the duffle bag of stakes.
“Put
one of these every three feet around the interior, as close to the rock walls
as possible.”
While he
went to work, she sketched the outlines of the site and then began to string
twine between opposite stakes so that a grid pattern was formed about a foot
and a half above the ground. In the middle where it sagged, they reinforced it
with more wooden pickets.
“It
looks like a checkerboard,” Cort commented when the job was done.
He
watched as she drew the grid on the map she'd sketched and then ran numbers
down the left margin and letters across the bottom.
“Now,
whenever someone finds an artifact, it gets entered on the site map. I’ll
create another map which will measure depth. On that, we'll record how deep the
finds are underground. In addition, everyone who digs will keep a daily log of
what area they excavated and what they found. These daily logs will be
extrapolated into the excavation log that encompasses all the diggers' work and
also details what the condition of the weather was, what the soil was like, in
what order
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