First, sorry about the low knitting content.  But there was no knitting in the Iron Age, and I am the crazy, like it says right up there.  So I didn’t knit while I was away, because it might have ruined someone’s dream.  Soon I will talk about knitting again.  I just got a lot of Mission Falls wool, and it’s one of my favorite yarns to knit with, and they’re apparently going to stop making it, so I have to have it all, at least the pretty colors, and I love run-on sentences today. 

Second, I was lazy with my camera there on vacation.  I did take some pictures.  I just haven’t downloaded them yet.  But Anubh has.  She is quick like bunny . . .er. . . mousy.  Whatever.

Let’s make a deal.  I will send you to some lov-er-lee photos of out trip to Celtic summer camp, and you will promise to believe me when I say that I normally look oh so much better than I do in one particular picture over there in the album.  Cuz I am not looking my best, no no.  Deal?  Deal. 

Oh, and I’m headless, but in one particular picture I am carrying an exquisite Swedish reproduction of a ridiculously intricate Iron-Age claw goblet . . . we call her "pimpy the cup."  Know what’s in it?  Pabst Blue Ribbon, my friend, PBR.  Many large dollars worth of glass work (since, um, well, kind of broken but still pretty on a shelf.  There was an incident involving placement on a southern pole and then a meeting with a wicker man and . . . nevermind ) filled with a few cents worth of cheap but delicious beer.  I was drinking that in honor of our Volsunga, all of whom have the audacity to exercise their darn free will, which I’m not sure they’re even supposed to have in the first place, and all of whom were not with us at summer camp.  Durn blasted free will.  So guys and dolls, Etaine, Keegan, Olis, and I drank your beer for you.  Because we are true friends, yes yes, and we are willing to take many for the team, and to defend the PBR from defamers, and to eat sausage. 

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