Easily Distracted by Shiny Things

Back from Quad War. The last time we went to Quad, I was disappointed in the event overall, though I liked the people. This time, much better. There was more archery outside the populace shoot, the bardic circle didn't devolve into Burning Biffy jokes (Although the original story of the real burning biffy was retold - and much mroe polished. It is still funny.) We hung out with a number of familiar people, met a few new ones. I bought a new piece of garb (Which only makes part of an outfit in itself, but is very nice. And wintery (Velveteen), so I don't expect to try and feature it until Twelfth Night, anyhow. Unlike the piece of garb waiting to be finished at home, for which I have two and a half weeks until Schutzenfest to set in sleeves and hem.) We metup successfully with the woman we were driving abck with (Who ahd left a week earlier than us to go to Dragonslayer as well.) And it sounds like plans to go to Dragonslayer next year are well udnerway (Gee, an event that almost wholly features archery and bardic over all else? Why on earth would I want to go?)

The trip was long, but time passed well; we listened to two of the Narnia books, and when that wasn't on, I wrote a lot on two stories. Soldier got a lot of progress made on it, but the last day, I started writing a moderately strange thing - based on a dream - which will ultimately feature a plot involving an attempt by a bride-who-is-not-what-she-seems to bomb her own celebrity wedding. I'm already debating turning my male protagonist into a girl just to get away from the excess of males (especially gay/bi males, as he's the latter) who crop up in my brain. Or not; the character dynamics as they are are interesting, and they fall apart with a gender switch.

Still too wiped from WW to really say what it deserves.

Question one: was it worth missing the folk fest to go to what happens to be the biggest SCA event I've personally been to?

Answer is...

Not sure, really. It was a lot of fun, and not all in ways easy to describe. We travelled down as seven people in a convoy of two cars (Colin and I were in B's car), and joined more Winnipeggers once there, and re-met a number of out of town friends. I liked having so much archery happening that it seemed hard to fit in all the shoots you actually want and have time to eat, take classes, shop, etc. (Okay, the one with the problem about eating was because the archery lunch break was *when* the class happened, not because they failed to include a lunch break). Much shooting was done, and much of it was fun. i stopped when the serving (a part of the bowstring) broke, though a wonderful lady on site fixed it and I could have continued soon after. (Reminder to self; bring her money at Schutzenfest. I was lacking change at the right time.)

The bardic circles had enough new and varied blood to be worthwhile, and talent ranging from the professional to the painfully earnest (and off-key) newcomer. I remember being that newcomer. But it still sometimes hurts to listen. (Although the worst one for managing to be determinedly off-key also had fairly interesting lyrics he'd written for a university project.)

SCA filk circles include two genres rarely seen in other folk or SF filk circles: the occasional well researched, authentically medieval or renaissance song that isn't Greensleeves or its ilk (Which i think is the coolest to hear, and have occasionally dipped into the borders of, though quasi-historical is more my usual skill), and the ongoing "Hail {SCA kingdom of your preference}" genre, which includes some fabulous tunes but can be wearing in aggregate (How many people do you know who listen to fifteen ****heavily**** patriotic songs in a row - for fun?) The rest is the quasi-historic, and the original quasi-medieval songs on other subjects, and the filk parody, usually but not necessarily to a modern tune. Also usually the most easily abused song style, since we all think we can do that. Fortunately, one of the guys there this time was a past master at the parody filk, so the bar was higher than usual on that one.

(My favourite of the filk parodies at WW was not his, though. It was "Shakespearean Pie", which is Hamlet to American Pie, and actually Clever. Rather than have the identical chorus each time as AP does, it progressed through new and different snippets of the "To be or Not to Be" soliloquy).

I was mildly saddened that said person, whom I have met before and found memorable, had no memory of me; the other Bardic person i remembered from before (Unforgettable, really, if you pay attention to the authenticity side of music) seemed to have some inkling of me.

I saw little of the fighting, but it looked big and impressive. The shopping was actually worth scoping out, even if all I bought was a small pretty necklace and two modern shirts. (I was looking for quivers, which no leatherworker actually seemed to have, and a little tempted by medieval shoes and a handsome fencing buckler, and cut myself on a pair of bracers that were lovely but didn't have their grommets hammered in right - odd, as all the other pairs were properly finished.

Court was preceded by a concert by the Northshield choir, which Abacchus and Iulianna had joined for the event. It came across very well indeed; some period peices and one SCA piece adapted for chorus. Smooth enough to sound polished; since the Northshield choir meets intermittently, and takes in people from everywhere to rehearse at event and perform with the core, it was impressive. (I hadn't joined in because I was favouring archery at the time the two practices happened). Court was like court but more of all of it. More big impressive awards given to people who dearly deserved it, more smaller awards given to people I didn't know, longer, boring in stretches but *Really* interesting when it got interesting.

And it included a bit of a surprise, as one of the former Kings and Queens (Aesa and Raito: with Aesa also being one of the event autocrats, usually REQUIRED at a court) vanishing partway through, though for the best of all reasons: the announcement at bardic circle, once received via the highly medieval network of cell phones and text messages, was "It's a girl!"

The site was pretty good, being in reach of workable showers, in the middle of a town and thus close to things like grocery stores (When you can't take meat, veggies and fruit over the border, and want to cook some of your own meals, this is IMPORTANT.) and hardware stores (One of the tents in our encampment proved to have been packed without stakes), but large enough and hilly enough that such modern things were reasonably out of sight when you wanted to be in the mood. (And the far end of the park from the range - and nearest the area where we put our tents -- also sported a pool if you wanted to pay for the chance to cool off.)

Alas, it was also horribly infested with bugs one of our camp-mates identified as wigs of some kind (Not earwigs, but kin). They decidedly liked all the dark snug corners they could find. This meant that we had to knock them out of the sleeves for the tent poles on EVERY tent, and from under flaps, and out of the hollow metal ring on the fire pit, when we were packing up. (They also infested Abacchus and Iulianna's tent. They'd been flooded out Thursday Night/Friday morning by the sole serious rain, and left it open to dry all day Friday. Friday night, they slept in the car.)

The stop the night before the event at Tarrach and Fina's house in Fargo was nice for having beds, and it was good to see Fina that morning, as we hardly saw either at the event proper. The stop after at TE's Anne and Geoffrey's in Minneapolis was LOVELY, because we had hours to unwind and relax that evening, a pizza party, lots of time to visit them properly, and a leisurely start in the morning before we spun about, and did some shopping in Minneapolis.

Most of the driving was good, as much as driving can be (I got more done on Soldier of the Road, read a fair bit of a pregnancy book, and heard most of the radio play of Douglas Adams' Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul, though I drifted off for a good bit of the climactic scene and thus got a lot of denouement and problem solving missing some context.)

The last stretch, from Minneapolis home, was the only one to go sour, and it did it in a big way. First we lost our fellow convoy car (Armonn, Iulianna, and Tomaas) leaving Minneapolis (construction detour...), then Colin braked hard to avoid a duck and ducklings crossing the highway (Not wholly successfully; mom and three of the five ducklings made it to the curb safely.) and the soft thump I had thought was ducklings... wasn't. B's car would not shift into park when we stopped for supper (Which also meant the keys would not leave the ignition), and nothing B or Colin did could get it to actually shift. Granted, B had an auto-lock he could remove from the keychain, so we could lock it behind us, but he's currently low on employment and did not need a repair.

And THAT distracted us enough that we left town without filling up. And there was some doubt we would actually make it to one of the suddenly sparse small towns that was big enough for a gas station before we ran out. We did make it, and by more than we feared, but the problem with a car full past the gills is not being quite sure how much less efficient the fuel is.

Between the slightly longer than intended supper break and the turn off the main highway to race for gas, our former convoy car got ahead of us, and once they were in Canada and free of cellular roaming charges, called to check how we were doing. (Which we'd been planning to do when we crossed the roaming charge border, too, so we were glad to hear.)

We got to Winnipeg later than desired, but seem to have all survived, and when I talked to B today, his car damage was minor enough they fixed it for free when he got his oil changed. (One thing in the shifter had slipped out of alignment, and the mechanic had happened to see it before and knew how little it took. Which was good; if it had been what we feared on the way, the part cost alone would have been $400.

So. Camping similar to folk fest, with related attendant risks (rain and wind, getting boiled out of your tent if not under enough trees, bugs). Fewer drums. A similar quality level of Music circle around the fire at night, if different subject, and there was one circle for the whole place, not twenty or thirty scattered. A swimming pool rather than a potentially-chiggery lake. Different merchants. Archery and fighting and dance and classes (Yes, I did some of the latter two, though not *much* dancing; I skipped the post-court mini-ball.) instead of dozens and dozens of professional live musicians. (Normally, I'd mention the great deal more booze, but not this year for me.) The food wasn't as good; but there I'm spoiled by Folk Fest volunteering, where we're fed free lunch and dinner and a lot of water and drinks that didn't have an old-hose aftertaste. (The tapwater direct at WW was actually pretty good, when we filled our own, but either the water-bearer jugs or the thing they filled them from gave a pretty foul aftertaste.) For WW, we had to cook ourselves or go into town for most meals.

Still, glad to have gone. Glad to have tried a couple of classes and sung a few songs (And screwed up one on the mandolin, as you do) and shot arrows at odd, inventive targets.

Back from Moorish Tavern. I am so glad I am not working tomorrow. i feel far more baked than I should from the drive (Short as road trips go; Lake Metigoshe State park in western North Dakota - about four hours) and the bad sleep.

(Joke told at the event: You can tell whether a person is British, Canadian, or American by their answer when you ask them the distance to a place. An American will answer in miles, a Brit in kilometres, and a Canadian in how many hours it takes to drive.)

Friday - from what i understand, Winnipeg got rained out, and the people who might ahve come from western North Dakota were told not to travel the highways due to storms and tornadoes (One person who left Grand Forks without checking a weather warning *did* have to pull over, by his description, to let a tornado pass; he didn't see it, but he stopped for howling winds, and the weather station confirmed...

However, Lake Metigoshe got about an hour's rain int he afternoon. Apparently the Turtle Mountains (Hills) are known for funnelling the weather around them. So, aside from sitting out udner a rain shelter at the archery range because we didn't want to risk abandoning the equipment, we spent most of the day in comfort. I started the morning with a mandolin practice, which drew someone (I think with the SCA name Robert) who also played. We made tentative plans to play together later in the weekend, which didn't pan out, as no bardic happened (Berwyn also mentioned he had his drum, but again, no actual music happened). We made more tentative plans to seek each other out at WW in two weeks. He remembers Abacchus, too, from when abacchus was just starting out, so this could be a pile-up of mandos at at least one bardic circle. Then I spent the rest of the day arching, except for a break around three for lunch at a restaurant just out of the park; perfectly tasty straightforward fare. The evening was stew for dinner, and sometime around an indoor campfire that was less than ideally successful; there were three logs in the cabin, and one was too big for the fireplace size, and thus smoked it up right well.

Saturday was archery until the threatening rain drove us to pack u equipment and carry it preemptively to safety. This proved wise; the rain went much longer, and included some hail. Colin did go back and spend much of the time under the rain shade at the archery range, talking to the man, HE Thomas, who was running it. A good man, as far as I could tell, and much fun to talk to. I puttered in the hall, watching card weaving, getting roped into tossing a ball to distract the small children, and various conversations. (And spending the majority of the tiem desperately wishing for a backrub. I'd picked a bunk that I discovered that night, in a brief test of Colin's, was in fact broken, not just worn. the hollow it kept rolling me into was *probably* a few snapped links.)

Then feast (Good; even the chicken, though slightly dry, was tasty). Avoiding alcohol is far from easy around these people, they keep producing bottles that *smell* wonderful.)

On both the drives there and back, I got a fair bit of writing done (Soldier of the Road, not the Serpent Prince, but at least it's the right character.) and some reading (Not that much, though; still in the midst of Whiskey and Water) and some talking.

All in all, worthwhile. Although I could *still* use the backrub. and once again, I napped in the afternoon, which is a definite sign of sleep deprivation.

And once I got back, I actually won the game of phone tag I was having with my dad (I called him for Father's Day, he called me for my birthday...) and got to talk to him for the first time in a while. it was still a fairly short conversation, but a good one.

Book reviews next time.

Some days, there are things happening in one's life that are big enough to really want talking about, but which just aren't appropriate for a public journal. Or, sometimes, just can't be easily discussed at this time.

This has been one of those weeks.

(All is well with me and Colin. I might have a very slight cold.)

So I'll talk about gardening.

I bought plants. Some I have even planted, mostly in pots. Others I can't because Colin needs to dig out a chunk of my usual garden area, and others I can't because I only just raked out the area I mean to use to make a new garden patch tonight. Digging it out and all that is for tomorrow. (The part of tomorrow where I don't drop off my passport application, that is.)

Nominally, this is late. But the hanging basket mom gave us suffered badly for being hung out at what was the appropriate time (Just after Victoria Day) as it got hit by one more frost. And most of the plants I've bought, while larger than they would be if bought in a more timely fashion, aren't quite at the point of suffering for being trapped in 4" pots.

Feeling kind of apathetic about doing things like writing and pottery and mandolin. (Goes with the not-talking-about-it thing, I suspect). But got some of the first done anyhow, and have things set up to do the second. I haven't been practicing the third as much as usual, but that's next on the agenda for tonight (And, not incidentally, last before bedtime.)

I get to go see Ruthie Foster and Blind Boys of Alabama on Wednesday! Mom and I, that is. I know Ruthie does a good show, And I've heard nothing short of enthusiasm about the Blind Boys from anyone who likes their style of gospel at all.

And Friday, I miss Heather Dale as it's the archery competition for our June SCA event. I hope she gets a good turnout. This is another Shakespearean event, complete with permission to go Midsummer Night's Dream and fairy - so I can use my old Rags, Tags, and Velvet fairy outfit. If it fits enough (Which it should, but...)

And now Truepenny has reminded me of its existence (Unwittingly, by posting a lovely cover of the same song), i am sad: the copy of James Keelaghan's Cold Missouri Waters I thought I had on a compilation is actually in mom's collection. Alas! I do have the limp studio version, but....

James Keelaghan is someone I need to periodically be reminded exists, or rather, that he wrote more good songs than "Who Dies? (Everyone Dies!)". Part of it is that I listened to a lot of his music via the library, and so don't own it (Except the couple of things I snuck onto mixed tapes. And the one on my MP3 player, see above.) Or live, since he's a very regular visitor to the folk festival. I tend to shrug off his other appearances in town because, well, seen him at the festival, and of course he'll be back. And I don't get his albums, because they just seem lower priority than harder-to-get-things. (Like the Vitas cd/dvd set I just got from McNally Robinson for $5.00 less than Amazon listed it.) Also, it's generic singer songwriter folk. Which isn't an insult, it just means I can't point to its unique attributes and say, "This. This is WHY he's good." I forget that isn't the same thing as him not being good at what he does. (Also, Compadres, with Oscar Lopez, isn't generic. But I have exactly one song of theirs, and that's an almost straight cover of Follow me up to Carlow.)

The other is that one of the two I do own is on vinyl. Which puts him right there with Sandy Denny, most of Early Clannad, Early June Tabor, Pink Floyd (Inherited from Jeff), Stan Rogers, Early Steeleye Span, Spirit of The West, Men Without Hats (Yes. And?) and the Audio version of the Muppet Frog Prince as things I dearly wish I could listen to on a moderately regular basis. (And the only reason Boiled In Lead's best pre-Silver Album, ORB, isn't on that list is because I got Colin a copy before I knew we'd be living together, much less married.)

Sigh.

I've currently got: A record player which still has not had its good speakers attached. A cd player compact enough to live on my desk that no longer plays cassettes. Another portable player, which I loved dearly because it sounded great, recorded cd and cassette onto cassette very well, and could act as a morning alarm, but whose cd player stopped working, though the cassette players do.

I've already told Colin that I'd really like a three-in-one system. Which apparently they don't make anymore as one system. We do have a sort of line on a record player that can record analog-to-digital and thus I could not only hear my old albums but put the good ones on my MP3 player. But there's ONE, and it's either $100 now or risk losing it before the price drops (As it will not be reordered.)

Right now, $100 is a little rich for my blood.

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Trying to decide what order to list people for the Baronial poll is tricky (We're doing it by preferential, or Australian voting, not by straight vote.) And truth be told, exactly one of the Baronial speeches has changed my opinion about the candidates in question in even an insignificant way. (We're none of us newbies. Actually, there's one candidate who's only been around four years, but she's both got other relevant experience, and is paired with the only candidate who's ever been Baron of anywhere previously.)

Short version, there's nobody I wouldn't accept, though I see strengths and weaknesses in all slates (Sadly, after how well Colin did on his speech, I suspect I might be the weak spot in our slate, being more brash, more mouthy, etc. Even though I think my one strength - the fact that I get along across groups better than many - is significant, so does Colin have that strength. And at least one other set.)

Still, it was nice to at least see/hear the official statements lay things out plainly.

Some days, you just can't keep up with the world.

Short version of this last week and weekend:

The event went well. Colin's feast got everything from praise to raves, with the minor exception that some of the duck didn't get all the way around the tables. The servers were fabulous.

Court was much fun - certain local powers that be decided to give Evil Erec an inauguration into the Order of the Sith as a combination tease and tribute, followed by a more serious gift from our Baron, as he's leaving for Afghanistan next month.

The floors were not perfectly swept for the post-revel - I did a super-fast job even after people had already arrived. Nobody particularly noticed. i think our house had about 40 people in it at peak, and things seemed to go well. One of the other out-of-town guests, Hrodir, was probably the life of the late part of the party. Scary man. But a good guy. I think. :)

Our guests were all wonderful, as guests and as people -- this included the four royalty/retainers and one extra friend who biked over the day before the event.

Anybody want a cabbage? I think we have three left (And a bit over a half - I misjudged earlier and thought it a bit less.)

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I am making teapots. I am having fun. I wish the prof had not included an absolute requirement that we do casting, especially as my next project will involve same, and frankly, even the silly parts I was thinking about casting, I could more-than-probably do better just making by hand. Also, making casting slip out of already extant clay is apparently less than easy - unless the clay is dried out entirely first. no time now, thanks.

I understand that she at least half wants to evaluate what we already know how to do. But I'm Doing casting in the next project. Can't she just *wait*?

I need about two more lidded buckets.

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I wish people would remember these things about online interactions:
- a lot of tone is absent. We say this over and over, but it's amazing how easy it is to see only the words on the page as the whole story, and never realise how *different* a person comes across talking, when you can see body language, pitch, volume, inflection, etc. Even with close to identical wording. We do forgive more foot in mouth turns of phrase when we can see the person is trying.
- Reading generously and assuming best motives, is better. Sometimes the best motives possible are still those of an asshole, but if you try and see past foot-in-mouth, you may see there is neither malice nor denial.
- Things happen faster than in real time. What this means, mainly, is that online, it's too easy NOT to step back and cool down when it's urgently necessary to do so. (And this is not saying people have no right to be angry. People have every damn right in the world to be angry, and to express that anger, and I sure as hell don't have any right to give or deny permission. But there are two types of anger. The long-term "Here's a problem that pisses me off" anger, and the immediate fury that comes when someone is provoking, intentionally or not. In the real world, when I'm at my most immediate-furious, I usually can't react coherently enough to express my real grievance. It's BETTER, not for my opponent, but for me, to pause, and breathe, and do something else, and come back to say, "I'm still angry, but now I can explain WHY."
- Having a good cause or a legitimate comment does not prevent you from expressing yourself badly; either by classic foot-in-mouth inability to say it right, or by sheer nastiness. Being abusive while trying to make an otherwise good point is a classic case of the road to hell.
- The circumstances under which it is okay to snub an apology are few, and never when the apology is sincere. Demanding more penitence is a form of snubbing an apology.
- In group collisions, there can be individuals on both "sides" who are either stirring up the pot with malice, or being reasonable every time they talk. There are also people in the middle trying to point out the good in both or the legitimate complaints in both. Lumping all who aren't with you together is a blunder which leads to even more of a mess than otherwise.
- The perfect is the enemy of the good.
- References to the fact that humans have variable levels of intelligence are invariably easier ways to devolve the conversation into incoherent fury and insults than actual curse words. They are never useful.
- All of these are general advice, and though derived from recent debate, are not meant to apply to a single individual or side in any recent activity. Even those that people might guess are inspired by one person are not; they're inspired by two or three at minimum, even if there are instances recently that have been cited more than others.

This whole last week our house has smelled, at various times, of roasted beef, of garlic (Together and separately), of bacon, and of lemons. We have had enthusiastic hordes (Well, little hordes) of help in making these and other foods ready.

I have mostly been cleaning house around the fringes and getting ready to host four people (Two are here already, two due anon.) (And continuign to grate my hands off making teapots, but that's not related.)

Tomorrow, Colin cooks for eighty people. Tomorrow, we have an event with much fun and royalty. After which, we host a revel. Which emans running home fast for one last spate of cleaning.

Tonight, I crash. Sunday morning, I crash. Sunday afternoon, I skate badly, possibly attempting to simultaneously dance to medieval music.

Needless to say, i think i'm cancelling the mandolin lesson on Tuesday. I've touched it for all of fifteen minutes the last few days.

Tonight I had a mandolin lesson; and everyone else in the house (which included my mandolin teacher's wife and their houseguest, and two other charming newer members of the Barony) stuffed Raviolis for the event. Then I came downstairs and socialised, and ended up peeling much garlic so someone else could grate it.

Colin has indicated that he doesn't think tomorrow night that he'll need me, so i may well be at dance practice anyhow. Thursday, he's suggested he will, and I already told my choir director that I won't be there, so no big sweat.

OTOH, still much housecleaning to do; my study needs to be ready to accept a queen-sized air mattress, and while the stair-climber is going away (I prefer almost every other form of exercise available in this house, and someone else sees a use for it) that still leaves some storage boxes to shift. (I also made a conscious decision not to put together the filing cabinet yet, mainly because it takes up less space in the box.) So... maybe no dance. Undecided. Cleaning isn't as much exercise, but.

The tree won't go down until Sunday, though.

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I must admit, while I accept the necessity of classes where we talk rather than work, I'd rather work. The new prof is much more theory and planning oriented, and... I'm not. Not for pottery. (I can be for writing, if you catch me on the right day). I like looking at pictures, and I get strong visual ideas sometimes based thereon, but I also tend to jump in faster than she wants to. And sometimes those strong visual ideas do not translate to "turn in drawings by tomorrow", but to "Put me on the wheel. If I produce the shape I want, I'll show you."

As it is, though, i did try to exfoliate my hands the hard way last week. The difference between clay meant for handbuilding and clay meant for throwing is the presence or absence of grog, which is already fired grounds of clay of varied fine-ness. Which, on a swiftly spinning wheel, equates to fast moving sandpaper. Whee.

Still, I have the first parts of a teapot. Alas, I forgot some of my intentions while trimming, so it has a traditional bottom, not one suitable for building legs onto. (Animal legs. I want to be silly on this project, and I'm obligated to cast something; they seemed the obvious choice.)

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Finished Ink and Steel and Hell and Earth yesterday. I'm... I'm not sure I could recommend these books to Everyone. They're complex, contain a fair bit of sex (non-gratuitous, also not-concealed or fade-to-black), and some scenes which I know would disturb some of my more strongly Christian friends (Though I also think they would be rewarded for reading to the end, getting through to that point might be more endurance than enjoyment.) Not for everyone, I repeat. But....

I am loffing them so avidly I can't write a more coherent review. Very good stuff. I am again admirous of Bear's use of language, body language, and implication. (And having to invent words to most accurately say so. So much for my capacity for the language.) And of course, much Elizabethan theatre, and a faerie court as dark and odd and trapped in stories as ever.

Wow. I wish I wish I could do that with words. I'm eternally glad Bear can.

And for something completely the other end of the fantasy spectrum; on every scale except enjoyment, anyhow.

I made a stop at the university bookstore today, with intent to see if they had the Stepsister Scheme (No, they didn't. But their SF/F collection is eclectic and unpredictable at best.)

I did however, see, to my great startlement, a copy of Sherwood Smith's Wren's Quest, a short time after mentioning my mourning of a lack of a copy. So far it's enjoyable, clearly written fairly traditional fantasy, not complex but also not condescending to the reader.

What confuses me is that it was in with the bargain books; which since the university bookstore is not affiliated with other bookstores in the city, I thought, should imply that it was on the shelves before. And since I would have snapped it up for full price if it were and the non-textbook fiction sections aren't so large I would have missed it even if it weren't shelved in YA or children's, I am left bemused.

At any rate, I has a book that makes me happy to own. Mom, want to borrow when I'm done?