Tomorrow afternoon we're heading up to Pittsburgh. I'd like to leave earlier, but there's that whole "school" thing for Sweet Daughter. Oh well. Plans include the Gunnie Prom, and yes! My face is breaking out! And in case you're wondering, I'll be the one wearing the werewolf shoes and the kindergartener. Unless she's hanging out with Breda, that is. Sweet Daughter thinks she's the best thing since chocolate. A gun chick that works as a librarian AND has cats -- in her world, it doesn't get any cooler than that.
We went to Battersea Plantation almost two weeks ago for a reenactment. It's not a large event, but the site treats us well (and feeds us on Saturday night), it's fairly close, it's kid friendly and it's one of our favorite events. Saturday started off okay, and I even made an apple raisin pie. In the afternoon, it rained. A lot.
The rain stopped, so we ran up to the house and grabbed some dinner, and then went back to to camp, and it rained some more.
Then, we got a rainbow! (Sorry, it wasn't a double, and nobody cried.) It was a full arc, and probably the brightest one I've ever seen. Sweet Daughter learned all about leprechauns in school for St. Patrick's Day, and warned us about how they'd trick us if we saw one.
This photo doesn't even begin to do it justice.
Once the rain stopped, a fire was built and it was time for the annual First Roasting of the Peeps. As you can see, we've been collecting them for a few months.
And the supporting cast was brought out as well. In addition to the bacon, we brought S'Mores supplies. Yes, those are Goldfish crackers.
Years of research have resulted in the best method: Wrap thin-sliced, pre-cooked bacon around a Peep, secure with toothpicks, then roast over an open fire.
Add graham crackers, chocolate, and prepare for your eyes to roll back in your head. It was enough for me to forget my wet shoes.
Yes, we (Shorter Half, Michael W. and I) drove 2+ hours (in the rain, uphill, against the wind) just to get to the DC Blogmeet last Friday. And then did it all again to get home. But it was well worth it. Besides being able to present my blogfather, JayG, with a small token of appreciation , I got to meet Alan Gura. I did my best not to squee in his presence, but I'm not sure I was successful. I got to meet lots of otherbloggers, too, including my "co-start" T-Bolt, from B&B Guns last year.
For some reason, JayG looked a little nervous when he was handed this.
Michael W. is visiting for the week, so he and I went to The Range and met up with CTone from Legions Fate this afternoon. CTone’s a heck of a pistol shot, especially considering he prefers rifles, and was very encouraging to this n00b. He generously let me shoot both his Walther PPK and his 1911.
Michael W. has been doing law enforcement firearms training for around 25 years and it’s always great having him stand behind me and give me advice. Michael let me shoot his Mark VI Webley .45 ACP and his Chief .38 special. I shot ALL four of them better than my own gun today.
I really liked the Walther. Hmmm … I do need a smaller carry piece.
The Second British Civil War, a.k.a. The American War for Independence began in April 19, 1775.
The NRA offers this print to certain Charter Class of Heritage Society Ambassadors.
"The Fight at Concord Bridge” by Harry Jaecks
There were three models used for this -- photographed several times in different poses. One was in drag. That would have been me. You can tell which ones I am by the leg length. And if you can't tell that way, I'm the guy that's broader in the beam than the rest.
And on slightly more relevant note, let me offer a replay from last year.
I acquired new shoes for the event. It all started when I paid to have Larry Corriea redshirt me in Monster Hunter Alpha and I get killed by a werewolf. So when I saw these shoes, I wanted an excuse to get them. A gunnie get-together seemed like just the thing. That, and to perpetuate the rumor that I'm 7' tall.
Sweet Daughter asked if she could do a guest post.
Fluffy Snuggles is the best cat in the whole wide world because she is never bad. She is always the best kitty at school. (She goes to cat school.) The fluffy tail of hers … she likes it when I pull it for some reason. When she wags it she is always happy, when she doesn’t she is mad. It’s always backwards for being a kitty, because kitties wag their tails when they’re mad. And it is Sweet Daughter’s cat. (Yes, SD refers to herself in the third person when "cat talk" is involved.)
(“What year did I get this?”
“You got Fluffy Snuggles in your Christmas stocking last year, so it was 2009. “)
I got this kitty in 2009.
And without further ado, let me present Fluffy Snuggles and friends.
Here is photograph of Fluffy Snuggles, Pumpkin Tumpkin Socks, and Diesel (named after the dog at her old daycare.)
And here is SD’s picture of the same, done last December.
Don’t put your 18th century clothes in the dryer. If you’re not comfortable spreading them in the grass to dry (which is great for whiter whites, BTW), hang them on the clothesline, or let them drip dry on hangers. Fluffy, softened linen is just one of those anachronisms that’s easy to avoid. And dryers eat inexpensive linen. If you can tear your $6 a yard linen, there’s a good chance it’s not going to stand up to even moderate use, even if you wash it on “gentle” and hang it to dry. Ask me how I know. If you’re going to spend all that time hand sewing, or even hand-finishing a linen garment, spend a little extra money and buy from a reputablemerchant.
And for the love of all that is good and holy, don’t wash your 18th century clothes with scented detergent or use fabric softener. If I can smell your “Blackberry and Hydrangea” self from 15 feet away, you’d better be bringing me fruit and flowers.
Posts from two other bloggers have been stuck in my head for days. The Neaderpundit, Og, has a series of posts going regarding faith, belief, truth, trust and more. I find them good reading, especially for attempting to get my thoughts somewhat in order for Lent.
Phlegm Fatale has a post up regarding the following song. I've been playing it pretty much non-stop since I read her post, so I thought I'd share. As she says, "music expresses what's best in us."
We tied for 3rd place out of 14 units, I believe it was, in the cooking contest. This was for all of the pre-Civil War groups. I have to seriously rethink our game plan for next year, but there is only so much you can do and present when you’re limited to 15 minutes with the judges. No, I don't have any pictures. I wasn't about to pull out the camera and lose points for authenticity. It's bad enough we got dinged because the woman around the campfire wasn't very friendly. (Gee, I wonder who that was?)
We also witnessed a freak accident where someone was leaning over the fire and a spark went down the front of his shirt inside his waistcoat. As a result, it wasn’t readily apparent what was happening at first – the guy just knew that something was burning, but he couldn’t figure out where it was coming from at first. There wasn’t any polyester involved so the shirt did not stick and shrink-wrap itself to the skin, but a not-insignificant part of the shirt will have to be repaired. Other than a little singed chest hair and a couple of red spots there wasn’t much damage to the guy. Yes, we had fire buckets handy (and a fire extinguisher, and a wool blanket) but we couldn’t really tell what the problem was at first. It’s not often something catches fire from the inside out. I ended up grabbing the skirts of my gown, reaching inside the guy’s shirt with them and smothering the smoldering shirt between his waistcoat and my skirts.
Lesson learned? We will now keep a dish towel-sized piece of linen in one of the fire buckets for this type of situation. And I get to remind him, quite dramatically, that I saved his life for at least the rest of the season.
'You know in the bell curve of bad-assness you are on the far edge. Maybe not as far as female helicopter door gunners but you are closer to her that to the soccer moms...' - someone who wishes to remain anonymous