Cwblhau [cwbl- &hau] , cyfannu [cyfann- &1, cyfan- &2+], cyflawni [cyflawn-], gorffen [gorffenn- &1, gorffen- &2+; 3.s. & 2.s.imp. gorffen] : Welsh for "complete"

That’s enough crazy moon language for now.  I lived at Morven from 9:00 a.m. on Friday to 11:30 p.m. on Sunday, and then I returned to the site Monday at 9:00 a.m. because I really wanted to pick up some trash and move some stuff into storage.  Ok, I really wanted to drive a golf cart around really fast without getting yelled at.  But I cleaned and lugged heavy stuff about too. 

I performed original pieces with my bard-y gal-pals for the fine folks at the festival–including friends from work and from the festival who had no idea about our bardi-ness–and got wonderful responses.  Including my new favorite question: "Where can I buy your books and CDs?" 
Where indeed?  Well, ok, you can’t.  But I like the idea.  As does everyone’s favorite bronze-smith, who apparently has a recording studio set up in his house.  Who knew?  We also did a fair bit of singing around the candle (too hot for a fire) for our nearest and dearest and some new friends–including CJ, the Connecticut Celt who has the chops to stand up in our encampment and deliver a scorcher of a tale.  Them’s some rare chops, let me tell you.  And he’s going to be a dad soon, so that talent could be compounded in the expected tyke. 

One of my bags sold long before I worked up the gumption to sneak over to Tuatha to photograph it.  Cindy loved the Uffington bag I made.  Dark Mary managed yet again to refuse to sell something I made to my own Mom–that’s some strong will.  And, ultimately, I’ll just be conned into making Mom one as a present.  Virginia made me some loom weights and some wonderfully confusing linen-spinning bowls. 

What else . . . Anna-Marie got her hat back, and it is even better than it was last week.  The second felt made everyone fall more deeply in love with that hysterical object.  Oh, the cackling.  I started needle-felting the egg onto the leeetle brownie hat for Anubh, and it should be done in time to hand it back to her this weekend at the lovely cabin in lovely St. Mary’s County Maryland.  We gals are heading for water again, and we cannot be stopped. 

There’s more to tell, and I’ll get to it sometime.  In the meantime, see: I’m not the only one.  He agrees, oh yes he does.  Oh, and see this too: certainly some sense in the scribbler’s head.

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