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Recent News... Just for Pope Gregory... |
2002-02-24 - 11:00 p.m. Warm cupcakes at midnight We are, perhaps, overly wired. Friday afternoon, Byram and I are discussing 'if you were a Scooby character which one would you be' over IM. I am *not* Velma. Meanwhile, I'm also talking to my sweet Roland over IM, checking when he'll be home. He is uncertain, but he has to pick up my truck to get tourney fence from Daffyd for Ragnarr's event Saturday. (Our lives involve too many prepositional phrases) He thinks. What's Rags cell phone? ... Hang on, I'll ask Gen. So I call Gen at home. She doesn't know the number but she's very interested in the fact Byram thinks her Scooby totem is Scrappy. We persue that line of reasoning, me typing Gen's replies to Byram into IM I have no fear of Scrappy! .... Oh, he doesn't, does he? Hey, what's the name of the guy with the neck-kerchief? Cause that is Colin ... Fred, I reply. Anne feels Fred is a good Scooby totem - he did score the cute Daphne. Byram keeps calling me Thelma since he can't remember Velma's name. Finally, the tourney fence arrangements are made. Hey, Byram, follow this - Gen is on the phone with me, I'm on IM with Roland who's on Kyna's cell talking to Rags - the sum total of which is I have to sign off now and go pick up tourney fence from Alan then Daffyd. Yeah, I have to bring 8 extra spears tomorrow. I feel your pain. And I thought inverting Gen's cell next to the house portable so Rob De Rath could talk to Mel was going a little far. Since the tourney fence had to be in VA early, we went to crash with Rags & Kyna to save our sleep. Which was silly logic, because maybe we avoided getting up as early, but we also stayed up wayyyyy late, socializing with Anne, who'd arrived from SC. Dinner at the Olive Garden then chatting and chatting ... For Anne has two teenage girls and a lovable husband with a sarcastic sense of humor and they all say and do the most outrageous things... Cuan and Padraiga arrived very late and we all finally give in and go to bed. Our little caravan made site by 9:30ish and may I say brrrrrrrr - we had sixties on Friday, where was that for Saturday? Anne and I wound up sitting troll, which was outside because we weren't allowed in the upstairs portion of the hall until afternoon. Shiver, shiver, shiver - I didn't come dressed to sit in the cold - and now we're troll with minimal clue about the event schedule, layout, changing room location, etc. I hate that - people arriving at an event are harried and I like to give them good information and a smooth intro to their day. Maybe I'm just too Southern. But our real troll arrived shortly and rescued us - and I gratefully dived inside - cold makes my back very unhappy. Investiture was outside, but the sun came out and made it mostly better. Denise and Thomas had the most beautiful black and gold particolored outfits, with gold fleur-de-lys woven into the fabric. What a lovely event - I did very little useful, which is occasionally a very nice break. I actually got to sit down and talk to people. I sat by the field and sewed and chatted with Anne. It's been a long time since I did that. The tournament was a 'rose tournament' which is an aspecific term. The armored combat ran a challenge/bearpit. Challenge an opponent, fight, the winner was given a flower to award to someone who inspired them. And sweet Byram and Colin brought me flowers. I was all melty like - it was one of those sweet and unexpected moments, warm in the sunshine and suddenly presented lovely flowers. The rapier list ran a double elimination tournament, where the fighter had to give their flower to whomever defeated them. Which meant the flowers all accumulated in a bouquet for the winner of the tournament. So fewer people got flowers. I do not like this plan, I pouted to Marcellus, but Belephoebe helped liberate some flowers for me. Greed, vanity, they're all deadly sins. Thank you Dame Aislinn who spent part of the afternoon helping me with my hair. Her Laurel is in hairdressing and I usually do my hair in those 14th century loop braids. I use bobby pins with marginal success - sometimes they stay securely, sometimes I have to fuss with them all day. Since bobby pins are *definitely* not a medieval articifact, I knew their had to be a better way. So we picked a table at the back of the hall, set up my mirror box and her basket of goodies and started playing. The in-between stage was *not* attractive. We had one braid by my temple all twisted with pearls and another braid in progress, when spectators began to accumulate. The halfway look was *not* a good idea, and I kept looking over my shoulder for Meng, because she always turns up for bad hair moments. I'm told the "But I have a fluffy ponytail" statement will be one of those peer quotes that live forever. Feast was *fantastic*, mad props to Kevin. Yum, yum, yum. Garlic spread - I told you that would be a good idea. This event reminded me how much I enjoy the people in the SCA. I love the arts, but the people keep me coming back. I got to see Arielle for the first time since Scotland, listened to Cuan singing, spent a too brief time chatting with Colin and Andrew, though Sorcha escaped me again, the Lochmere musical group sang during dinner. I missed talking with Susie, who'd been hiding in the kitchen all day. So many wonderous people, so limited time. Non sequiter of the day: King Galmr in the kitchen wearing an 'Arrogant Bastard Ale' t-shirt and washing dishes. The carful of backless women (Kyna, Anne and I) went back to Rags and Kyna's cause we weren't terribly useful with cleanup. Into our jammies for pj party time. Padraiga, clever soul that she is, brought cupcake makings, and Rags picked up cheap wine and - Warm cupcakes at midnight. Keep the frosting, just give me the cupcake. A couple hours of slumber party giggling later, I notice the Kung-Fu rat on the kitchen counter. Kyna has a rat, about 6" dressed in a black gi, red belt, holding nun-chuks in his little paw. When you press his paw, he sings 'Everybody was Kung-fu fighting', while dancing around the table and twirling his nun-chuks. The rat must be seen to be believed. And it always produces, the shock/helpless laughter reaction. And Anne had never met the rat. So I put him on the coffee table, press his paw and he began to sing to Anne... and Anne had trouble breathing. Sunday brunch at IHOP, comics, and a round of 'if you were a muppet, which muppet would you be' (Cuan - Miss Piggy, Roland - Fozzie), before everyone had to depart for points south. Then, since Mel wasn't home to let us come over and play, we went home. Where I promptly took a long *yawn* nap. Still have a rough work-week coming up. I didn't get through the megs and megs of documents I wanted to have reviewed by tomorrow, so it'll be an early day to the office boning up for project#1 and and a late night reviewing the specs for project#3 so I can brief people on Tuesday. � � � 
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