Look at all of the sewing I did in that three crazy weeks of sewing.  4,365 inches.  Nearly 364 feet.  Noice.  And then I barely bothered to clothe anyone.  Because of the weather, and the lazy. 

I took terribly few pictures on vacation this year.  I blame the weather–first it was so hot that we couldn’t finish all of the big work as quickly as we usually do, and I don’t like to take pictures of the encampment with her slip showing, if you know what I mean.  We had a good time, despite the weather, but it was really subdued this year.  We were much smaller than usual and the extra work taking care of rain troubles made us sleepy and a touch cranky, as a group.  Though there were certainly bright spots, particularly involving Etaine, Ruadhan, Bran and I rewriting a Gilbert and Sullivan song for Scott the V’s benefit, and then singing it many, many times and slaying huge crowds of people with our wit.  Yay that. 

I did remember to photograph Scott’s new fighting del before we left though.

It’s much more swank on a person, of course, but Scott is nigh impossible to catch with a lens.  He’s agin’ it.  It’s all linen, and I’m very sad to think of what Scott and his brutish friends will do to it over the next couple of years.  Sigh.

Nuala came out for her first event, post birth

We saw her in utero at Beltaine.  Here, she’s sitting in Mora’s lap, being pretty darn cute.  Nuala was an impressive camper–very sweet tempered, she didn’t seem to mind either extreme of weather (soaked in rain or soaked in sweat–we had two settings this year).  And her folks seemed to have a good time too.  That’s a feat, in and of itself, when you’re living in mud and tending an infant.  Yay you three!

So, between storms, Otuell taught us a new historical game, called ha’penny prick.  Go ahead, make an asinine joke–we all did.  Ok, to play, you force a small stick into the ground, vertically-that’s the prick.  And then you balance a small coin on top–like, say, a ha’penny.  We used a coin Otuell made himself, of course.  And then you throw knives at the coin, and there’s a scoring system. 

Nice tunic on Otuell, eh?  I made him that as part of the payment for my wedding ring.  Because he made my wedding ring.  He’s that kind of friend, and that kind of awesome.  Also, I should point out that we’re up on the hill here.  It doesn’t look that high, but the main camp is off to the right, and we’re at least 100 feet higher than most of our friends up there on the crassy knoll, which means we provided a bit of a sanctuary.  I think Scott and I were some of the only ones to stay almost completely dry, and we set up on a platform.

Also, ignore the truck, and look what Otuell made:

Iron chains, copper exterior–it’s a really good repro of one dug up in . . . I would look it up but I’m feeling lazy right now.  Anyway, it’s gorgeous.  He also made a carnyx.  Which we played a bit too much to be, um, decent neighbors. 

Sorry neighbors.

Here, look at some mud.

Terrible picture, I know, but that water is over a foot high and I had to record it.  Guh.

What else, what else.  Fighting, of course, though I didn’t film any this year.  Scott’s camera decided to focus its efforts on making pink blobs, and only pink blobs, rather than useful pictures and films.  Grumble grumble.

Let’s not think about that.  Instead, let’s think about how cool it was that we all got to sit around one morning before the fighting while Richard made us waffles on his antique cast-iron stove-top waffle iron.  Yum.  We made sure everyone ate lots of fat so their coats would be glossy.

That’s basically it.

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