So, a little while back, someone made a smart remark about authors and personal posts on their journals, and I thought I’d shrugged it off but somehow I never get around to cross posting my LJ posts here any more.

So, here’s some cool stuff about Pennsic, then I’ll post something else, a good proper post. 🙂 If you read my LJ, ignore this, you’ve seen it.


1.  I was not as wise and sensible about my footwear as I usually am and so got some killer blisters on my feet.  It was partly because the weather at Pennsic started out very wet…and my camp was very squishy, so of the two shoes I brought, the one pair got soaked through (and probably ruined) because I refused to wear and ruin my beaded pair, and I think that started things.  All the shoes and boots I took were well worn down, so I didn’t think I would be in trouble as long as I wore socks.  When I decided that I was sick of hobbling slowly around Pennsic, and last night I woke up freezing, my knees and ankle throbbing because I decided not to take my celebrex after consuming alcohol, that I could not bear to sleep one more night outside.

That’s why I am home early, and that’s the bad news over with.

Everything else was splendid.  I ended up fencing Saturday, and decided then that I would fence every day at war.  I did so, and tried to fence new people constantly.  One of my favorites was Jack…who is my cousin, because my fencing teacher taught *his* teacher.  It was neat to see what moves we had that were recognizable or similar.  We also decided that we would have to celebrate our cousin-ship by doing something else, but I can’t say more because, well, Ivan reads this journal, I say, grinning in a mischievous fashion.

There were a few parties…the only one I liked was Lost Boys, because I like a lot of the people there and they have a great attitude.  I didn’t really shop, because by the time midnight madness rolled around, I was too foot-sore to enjoy it, I bought some soap, some cabochons to attempt making period jewelry with (re: flat, oval marbles), and today, before I left, I bought a hand painted silk veil in hues of green that reminded me of a sunlight dappled forest…the texture is sheer elegance, and it’s so floaty.  I didn’t find any tea that I wanted…they stopped making the Russian Caravan that I adore, and mostly the stores didn’t catch my interest.

Beautiful moments.  There is always a memorial service — a tiny viking boat built and burned in memoriam of the SCA members who passed in the year previous.  I attended, but I couldn’t hear what was going on and I was in agony, so I snuck away and sat on the bank of the lake.  The moon was high and full, a mist rising off the water, across the way fires from torches and tikis and camp fires flickered, reflecting on the water.  It was sheer peace, and I began by praying for those that died.  Then I prayed for help in the complicated mess that my heart has been for a bit, prayed for good things for those I love, and for forgiveness.  It was very calming.

Another moment, lit by moonlight — standing by a wooded stream with two girls, listening to one of them sing in her beautiful voice.

Getting complimented by no less than two laurels on, of all things, the pirate coat I made.  I’m telling you, the fabric makes the garb.

Learning some medieval dances…there is something very cool about dancing.  I doubt I’ll really pursue it, but if it’s there, I’ll probably do more.

My favorite moments are on the fencing field, doing pick ups, generally, or taking walks at night.  I find night peaceful…the distant drums, the ringing of bells from costumes, the distant voices mixing with the not too distant highway and the night insects, the fire light.  I got confused a couple of times, and spoke to a friend, and he turned me inside out for a moment, shook the contents of my head onto a table, and left me to put them back right.  The best talks with friends…the ones that are the hardest to have…should make you think, and I did, and I made one realization that I hated, then decided that I didn’t after all because it could be another piece of freedom.

Currently I have 600 emails…no, 599, because I had to admire a picture of a friend with one of her new admirations, 99 facebook thingies…bah.  Tomorrow is soon enough.

I’m clean, and sitting on a bed…and now, I’m going to turn everything off and go to wonderful, lovely, luxurious, warm, comfy, sleep.

2.  I saved my greatest bit of happiness for its own post, because I wanted a picture to go along with it.

Before the first battle, Don Lodovic asked if he could see me for a moment.  He told me how Dona Illadore had, three years ago, given him a dagger before the battle of LaRochelle, telling him that it had been given to her by someone else because she inspired them…and since he inspired her through his courage and valor, she wanted to give it to him.  Then he told me that my courtesy and pleasant nature came from the heart, and that it inspired him…and he gave me the dagger.  Then he told me to tell everyone. 

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Isn’t it lovely?  Someday, I will give it to someone who inspires me.  It’s not going to be easy…I am inspired by sp many of the people around me.  But I think that there will be a moment when I see someone, and I’ll go, “Yes.  That’s who this dagger belongs to now.”  And I will send it to its next home.

It was a proud moment for me.  I feel like these people are a family of s sorts…I just look at my fellow Aethelmearc fencers and feel so pleased to know them.  I made a comment about feeling like I was home, and someone thought I meant Pennsic, because people make the comment that when you come to Pennsic you’ve come home…but no, I don’t feel that way.  I felt anticipatory when it started and people were there and I wasn’t…I longed to be there because of all the possibilities, all my hopes and dreams.  But when I got there I just lived…and when I left I wasn’t nostalgic or sad.  I think it’s because I carry home with me.  I’ll see these people again, or email them, or comment on their Facebook pictures.  I am always home, and I always carry memories…some silly (like being Joseph’s armchair or having my nose tweaked by Fergus) some great (like Donnan’s vigil where I got to spend time with some truly wonderful people – and I got to hear a really funny story from Donnan himself, or being told that I’m improving by leaps and bounds, or walking around with Vincent until all hours of the morning, solving the world’s problems…) with me every where I go.  That is where the magic of life is, I think, and it never leaves you, no matter how far or how long the town run seems to be.

3.  There were a couple of God is Good moments this week.  Yesterday my mum drove down to the tire place so she could pick me up (I decided to give up and have the engine mount replaced on my car, as well as have the tire fixed and such.) and when we got into the car to go again it wouldn’t start.  It turns out that the battery just up and died right there…which was the absolute best place for it to die.  Better, especially, than at Coopers Lake or somewhere far away.

Also, when I went to the car the other day to take it to work, I put my can of soda on the roof…right next to a pair of scissors.  Now, I don’t usually keep scissors on the roof of cars…it was on the roof from two weeks ago, when I bought a bunch of drywall, had it cut, and tied down to the roof.  I’d put the scissors there absent mindedly, meaning to pick them up and take them to the house.  Now, these scissors stayed on the roof where I put them through an hour and a half drive up a major highway, going sometimes close to 80 miles per hour (I timed it going back…when I told one of my friends that it was close to a three hour drive I thought…no, that doesn’t sound right…) stayed on the roof while parked on a hill for several days, and stayed on the roof as I roared down the highway back home.  The thought of what those scissors could have done makes my blood run cold, and I’m so, so thankful they stayed put.



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