What Crap I am Reading and Why I need to Write my own Books

It is November and that means NaNoWriMo! I have done this before, but never really stuck to it. This time I am working on a fantasy novel: young woman leaves a war torn land to go off in search of the man who is her father. Meets a dragon. Mayhem follows. (Bits will show up here.) 

Why do I want to write? I have these stories rolling around in my head. If I don't put them down on paper somewhere, they just keep me up at night. Also, I have read some crap books lately and I know I can do better. 

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So just yesterday I started and finished a book by Laurell K. Hamilton; her latest, Sucker Punch, is a bit of departure from her usual vampire f**k-fests. After the last few disasters I swore I would never read another Anita Blake novel, then the library went and offered this with no wait time and I thought: what the hell. The problem I have had with most recent Blake novels was the sheer volume of excessive and gratuitous sex, coupled with limited plots. While there were no real sex scenes in this one Just fondling and inappropriate PDA), there was a plot. At first it looked like a pretty good mystery, too. But it got buried under repetitious whingeing and way too much discussion of everyone's sexual wants and needs. It is like Hamilton went through sex and relationship therapy herself and wanted to talk it all out in this book.

The Olaf/Otto character is just plain stupid. "Hi, I'm a psychopath who usually tortures women before sex, but for you, Anita, I will be a good boy. Let's give each other pet names." Laurell, honey, you can't spend all your time making him out to be a horror show creep in the other books to suddenly make him dating material in this one!

Then there are the cops who are overtly stereotyped. Fat dumb belligerent sheriff, crooked pretty boy murderous deputy, horny lesbian female cop. They get in their own way more than not. There was a start to a decent mystery here, but even in bum-f**k rural Michigan I can't buy it that the cops are this blind and stupid.

I think the Anita character description is pure personal wish fulfillment on the part of the author. But it doesn't hold up. If she is still 30 something and so sexy, so very beautiful, and so very very well trained, why does she have to keep reminding the audience how awesome she is? About 40% of this novel is Anita's angst juxtaposed with her smarmy over confidence. And about one quarter of the way through the book I was already bored with the constant explanations and descriptions of the who's-who of Anita's polyamory chain. This book spent more time telling us about Anita's "awesomeness" than actually demonstrating any of it. She doesn't solve the mystery even with multiple suspects right under her nose. Then she ends up killing the guy who was framed for the murder! And now she's lining up to have sex with the constantly returning serial killer!

But you know what bothered me the most? Anita can raise the dead! Why did she not just raise the body in the morgue and ask him who sliced him up???

I don't know that I would have read this one if my library hadn't shoved it in my face. I know I won't look for any more of them. Sad. I used to look forward to Hamilton's work. 

Today was Yoga day

I got one item on my To-Dos started today! 

I took a Virtual Yoga class with Magically Mae (Jennie Mae Casillas) of Mae U Be Wellness in Phoenix Arizona. This was a class offered through a program I signed up for: Womxn on Purpose!

Things I noticed: I am far stiffer than I was the last time I did yoga. My belly gets in the way of my forward bends! And I also noticed that I loved it. Breathing exercises, stretches, twists, meditation. 

I especially loved the breath meditation during savasana, which made me think of all the things I want to breathe out of my life (jealousy, pain, worry, fear) and all the things I want to breathe in to my life (creativity, beauty, love). I need to do this more! Maybe Wednesday will be Yoga day from now on. 

Magically Mae is awesome. She meets with you in Zoom. has two cameras on her at all times so you can see both front and side, and gives wonderful feedback about what and how you should be feeling! While you would have to be in the WoP group to take this particular 90 minute session, she also offers group and individual classes by the month. 

Here is a taste of Magically Mae in video from the Spirit of Yoga page in Facebook!

My Task List and why I haven't written more, but need to!

 It has been four years since I posted here. In that time I:

• traveled to France, twice, 
• almost finished a master's degree in history (my fifth degree and my third master's degree) 
• had my number of grandkids increase to 7 (three in Ohio, two in Arizona, and two in Australia!)
• written twelve academic papers
• written fewer poems (only 10), but started one novel (fantasy)
• did a lot of gardening
• put on weight
• acquired some wrinkles
• retired from teaching
• dyed my hair red
• and lived (so far) through a pandemic.

My summer has consisted of sitting on my porch reading, enjoying my gardens, and drinking coffee (in the morning) or wine (afternoon to evening). I think it is now time for me to get back to more creative writing. I have one Tumblr, three Twitter feeds, and two Facebook accounts; all of which have seen more writing from me than my academic or creative work. I have seven blogs: one personal, two professional, three themed: none of which has received much attention of late. 

Ironic that with all the at home time from the pandemic I have not done very much this year, besides gardening and reading books. Year to date I have read 146 books. Everything from ancient Greek literature to Regency murder mysteries to vampire romances. I can lose myself for hours in a good book. 

So here is my challenge to myself and my to do list for fall and winter: 

1. Get rid of all the old paperwork: from classes, old handouts, exams, and household account stuff over 3 years old. Consolidate and eliminate some filing cabinets!
2. Clean out the closets. If I haven't worn it in the last 3 years, it needs to go. 
3. Clean out the kitchen cupboards. Why do I need 3 full sets of dinnerware and 2 full sets of silverware? 
4. Start either selling books on Amazon, or give them to good homes. I am doing most if not all my reading on my Kindle. The only books I need in print are my reference or favorite ones. 
5. Turn the 3rd floor library into a functional office. 
6. Get the basement shower room fixed and functional again. 
7. Get a plasterer in to fix the walls in the kitchen, upstairs bathroom, and staircase. (Oh, the joys of having a 100+ year old house!)
8. Exercise more: Take a yoga class, walk 15 minutes per day!

I think that is it. Stay tuned for results.

Pre-Christmas Crazy

Yesterday was a DAY.

Ran around and did errands. That whole you-waited-until-the-last-minute-to-shop thing that I do every year (even when I tell myself I won't). Someday I need to write a post about my procrastination habits. Like how today is December 23rd and I am just now addressing my Holiday Cards.

Hour long workout at the gym after errands. I love my trainer. I do. But I hadn't had a full workout since before the last week of school. And for the last two weeks I've been madly grading. While sitting on the couch. And it is the cookie time of the year. So yesterday I squatted and jumped and pulled up and slammed balls and lifted weights and at the end of an hour I was toast.

Then I went off to the Red Cross to donate platelets. Now, I donate blood all the time, but have never done the platelet thing before. How hard could it be? Sit in a comfy chair for two hours and don't move your arms. Blood out one arm into machine to be separated and red blood put back into other arm--easy, right? Apparently I do not sit still well. I kept setting off the machine's alarm. Sigh.

After 3 1/2 hours, exhausted, I go home to Best Beloved who (bless him!) made me dinner (new panini grill to play with!). Then I veg on the couch a bit, craving Bailey's but drinking eggnog (calcium and fluid, but no alcohol). Sore all over and, by the way don't lift anything heavy for 72 hours. But then Daughter and Granddaughter stopped by and who can resist lifting and hugging an adorable two-year-old? I did go early to bed. Today, however, I still feel like I've been beaten with a rubber hose. Arms sore as all heck, but is that from the donation or from the workout? (My trainer is a slave driver and he made me lift a lot!) 

Today more errands. Make cookies. Make pies. Precook dinner for Saturday. And then maybe to the zoo with Best Beloved for the lights at night.

Good news? I can now drink again.

At the Chinese Night Market

Crowds are thick at the Night Market.

Why I should not be allowed to Play with my Food

I got a connection request in LinkedIn today. I tend to connect with a lot of people in linked in; half of them are students I once had so even though I did not expect to be contacted by an engineer, it did not throw me off. After he messaged me, however, I looked closer and was amused at his profile.

Picture is of a thirty-something man in a nice suit standing in front of a a table loaded with lit candles (romantic moment?). The guy says he is a petroleum engineer in Houston, One degree (a BD!) in petroleum engineering (really? a Bachelor of Divinity in petroleum? wow!), which he received in 2003. But his work record starts as a "senior well control instructor" for Halliburton in 2000 (so he had an internship in a senior position?). For the last year he has been "self-employed" (warning bells get louder).

It has been happening for some time now, the false profile to pick up women. It is almost de rigueur on dating sites, and we ignore it as a matter of course in Facebook. But I never expected the fake profile move in LinkedIn. Here's what happened [name redacted to protect the guilty]:

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GD: It's a wonderful moment for me coming across your profile on here and i feel honored connected to you here while searching for my colleagues and believe me I've been caught up by your perfect smile and beauty and can't leave without sending my compliments across, believe me you look so beautiful and gorgeous and I would love to get to know more about you...What exactly keeps you this happy and beautiful? I do hope you would have a great and wonderful day as I do hope to hear from you soon. 

 Great Smile... G.

Me: Did you just hit on me in Linked In? WTW?

GD: Hello dear, Thanks so much for your responses regarding towards my message i really appreciate, i deeply apologize for writing this on your professional page as this is not a dating site. Well I think it was a great privilege to have met with such a wonderful woman like you,i have not come here to search for a woman but your smile and beauty has made me thought so many things.Am a single father, I've been caught up by your perfect smile and beauty,I just couldn't help but notice your charming, beauty and you look so gorgeous and amazingly sweet.with your beauty you have my complete and undivided attention,i like you JANA,and am so glad and proud to meet you,you are the kind of woman i want to spend the rest of my life with.if only you will give me your time and attentions,to get to know me more.you sounds so interesting and i will like to continue this conversation with you and see how it goes,pls feel free and ask me anything you need to know about me. 

 have a blissful day, G.

Me: You are right this is not a dating site. And people do not behave like that here. 

 I do have a question for you. Is this even a real profile? You have a poor grasp of the lexicon, as well as capitalization and punctuation issues--not what I would suspect of a professional person looking for contacts on LinkedIn.  

After a bit of close scrutiny I see that your degree comes from an Iranian university. You are "self-employed" (which is often code for either retired and consulting, or unemployed). A brief search tells me there is a G-- D-- in Houston who works in the petroleum industry, but he is 65+, married, and has a law degree as his first degree. If your picture is even close to accurate you are much younger than that. 

The speech patterns in your message are of someone to whom English is a second language but, although you list an Iranian university for your "BD," you do not list Farsi, Turkic, Arabic or any other languages besides English. This tells me you are being disingenuous (look the word up). 

Do you really think women are dumb enough to fall for the "you have a beautiful smile line" when you haven't met them and have only seen one picture? You come across as a scam. Get real, Dude.

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There may be desperate women out there, but for heaven's sake, even if you are desperate, do your research before falling for bullshit! And gentlemen (and I use the term loosely) you have to do better than this. Get the hell out of LinkedIn. 

Con Man

Just signed on to the Indiegogo Fundraiser for Alan Tudyk and Nathan Fillion's latest venture. Let's pray it lasts more than one season!

 

Hello 2015!

Here we are facing another year! As years go, 2014 kinda sucked. Too much chaos in my work situation. Too many complications in relationships. Too much left undone. But now in thinking about 2015, I think it can only go up from here. Amazing how each new year brings with it the idea of a clean slate and a chance to start fresh.

I always say I am not going to make resolutions and then each year I feel guilty for that. Not this year. This year I am making resolutions... but I refuse right now, up front, to feel any guilt if people or events or things don't turn out as I hope they will! I will take this year one day at a time. This year I will be me... just me. Take me or leave me, I don't need to live up to anyone else's expectations, just my own.

So here they are, My Resolutions, fifteen of them for the year--not in any particular order:

1. I will write one poem per week. More if I am so inspired. And I will send them out to be published weekly, too.
2. I will finish the second manuscript. 
3. I will lose 20 pounds. Seriously! I will visit the gym more!
4. I will Detox on occasion and eat healthier and mindfully.
5. I will clean my house better. At least one room per week; a very thorough cleaning.
6. I will paint two (maybe three) bedrooms upstairs and finish the copper work in the kitchen. 
7. I will get rid of clutter by selling off or giving away collectables and books I don't need. 
8. I will read at least 200 books.
9. I will spend (at least) one evening a week with my partner, having some quality time. 
10. I will do one cultural thing a month (museum, concert, galley opening).
11. I will do (or try to limit myself to) one alternate fun event a month (SCA, Steampunk, cosplay). 
12. I will finally get back to writing on the novel.
13. I will finish my freelance assignments before deadline!
14. I will blog more this year!
15. Last but hardly least, I will not worry about things I cannot control....

As I have been writing this, my 5 year old granddaughter has been dancing around the room singing the "Let it Go" song from Frozen, and I think this just might be my theme song for the coming year...


This will be a good year. I won't have it any other way! You have a good year, too!

A Bit of Fit?

I couldn't help it. It was new and shiny tech. And it was on sale.  

So now I am the proud owner of a Fitbit. You know how it works. You want to get more fit / lose weight / get out more, you buy the newest toy that will push you in the right direction, right? But like any hurried relationship it will probably not last. . . . Already it is nagging me to get off my ass and go walk around the block. Only 3000 steps so far today. Dammit. Time to run around the building at least twice?

As you get older fitness becomes more and more of an issue. I don't dance or do martial arts like I used to, Steve still fences and does sword work once or twice a week, but we also like eating well and lounging about watching the telly in the evening.

Several years ago the fitness bug bit and we were all about the stationery bike that Steve borrowed from his mom. We rode it in the living room while watching TV. (We would not allow ourselves to spend hours channel surfing unless one of us was pedaling like crazy, too.) It's a shame we never figured out how to run the TV off all that pedal power like Charleton Heston did in Soylent Green. But that old bike wasn't very comfortable anyway, so eventually we traded it in for a recumbent bike. Steve still rode it, and it was better for his knees, but it gave me a backache and it was huge a pain to change the setting from one for a 6' 2" man to one for a 5' 3" me.

Then couple years ago we broke down and bought memberships to the Rec Center at the University where I work. Great pool. Indoor track on which to walk. Tons of equipment to play with. Steve liked riding on their bikes (which also have television screens). I took the occasional Yoga Class and did lots of stretching. Until our evening schedules went wildly out-of-sync. It's no fun going to the gym without your gym buddy.

 Last summer we both got into bicycling. Spend money on some new, very good bikes. We rode the Towpath Trail that goes by only a few blocks from the house. Winter of 2013-14 put a crimp in everything. No more riding outdoors. Horrible cold days that make you just want to stay in bed. Heat system went out in the Rec Center and it was closed for several weeks. I put on weight.

My health coach also happens to be my wonderful daughter-in-law, Blue. I've been doing online cleanse events with her for the past two years. I've lost weight, felt good, and always come away with a renewed commitment to staying fit.  But somehow this spring, between a killer teaching load and a lot of family emotional or health issues, I find myself nibbling and into the junk food more than ever.

So I bought the Fitbit. Now I know there is no magic bullet to staying healthy. And I also know this fitness stuff gets harder the older we get. My left knee hates me ever since I broke it about 5 years ago. My urge each day when I get home is to curl up with a good book, play mindless Facebook games, or watch Castle reruns on TV. So Fitbit, you have your work cut out for you. While you are still the new shiny toy go ahead and nag me. And if any of you out there have a Fitbit, too, do friend me! I need all the encouragement I can get.

I wonder if the Fitbit will count my pedaling as steps when I can get out and ride again?

How to win a war?

Pennsic is a test of arms between the East Kingdom and the Middle Kingdom. As such there has to be some "keeping score" to determine who bests whom, right? Traditionally this has been through "war points." 37 war points to be exact. Traditionally SCA combat has been fought on an honor system. If you get hit hard enough you "die." If enough of your guys "kill" enough of their guys, you get the war point for that battle.

Over the 23 years I have been coming to war I have heard all sides complain about their opponents not taking blows, not dying even when a shot is "good." And when your opponent doesn't die there is a natural tendency to hit him and all his comrades harder. This, of course, makes everyone angry, and angry fighters hurt others and get hurt themselves.

A great deal of this is based in a desire to "win," but this year the king of the East has taken that factor out of the game. He ceded the War to the Middle at the opening ceremonies. Now some are saying that he did this in a fit of pique that the East had fewer fighters and allies than the Middle, and some are saying he did this in hopes that if the "win" isn't a factor everyone will play nicer. Some are saying that the East fighters are so angry about this that they will fight harder, and some others are saying that many East fighters will not bother to even take the field since there is nothing to fight for.

The first battles go off in about an hour. So we'll have to wait and see. As for me I think nothing much will change. Honorable fighters will still fight with honor for the joy of the test of arms. Assholes will still be assholes. The question each fighter has to ask him or herself is: which am I going to be?

Honor, courtesy, and chivalry are still hallmarks of living the dream.

Off to Pennsic . . . almost . . .

At 6 am I can tell already that the day here is going to be hot but beautiful. There is something about early mornings, though, before the heat. The sun and sky move slowly from grey to bright. The air is cool enough to make hot coffee a treat as much for the warmth of the cup as for the caffeine. I haven't finished my packing, however, and I find myself lollygagging.

No ordinary vacation, I am off to live in a ger (or yurt) among Mongols in the 12th century on the Steppes of Western Pennsylvania. Yes, it is once more time for The Pennsic War.

So my packing for Pennsic is still not done. Somewhat because I didn't get out of the office until late yesterday. Somewhat because I was still at the computer at home at 11 pm redoing some of the text in the reports that the boss needed today. And somewhat because I am at a point where Steve needs to do his bit before I can do more. I wonder sometimes if all this stuff is really worth it. Mind you, the yurt is stacked and ready to be loaded on the trailer. My trunks (way more clothing than I will need) are ready. It is the kitchen box and the coolers I need to pack. And Steve hasn't yet begun to pack his trunks. I am letting him sleep in this morning a bit longer while I putz on the computer. Neither of us seems highly motivated about Pennsic this year.

I suspect it will be late afternoon before we get on the road. Fortunately Pennsic is just across the border.

Sorry, Frog! I had hoped to make your planning meeting for next year, but it just ain't happening!

Pennsic Living

Someone I love said to me that his camping days are over, implying that this is roughing it. Pennsic is a different animal. This isn't ordinary camping. I have a yurt with oriental rugs and a queen sized bed piled with furs and pillows. Enough candles to light Versailles. A kitchen set-up as good as home.

In fact, the best thing about Pennsic is that I get to cook. I actually have time to cook. Last night's dinner was grilled teriyaki marinated pork loin, garlic butter rice, tossed salad with fresh tomatoes, olive oil and balsamic vinegar dressing.

Breakfast today was chocolate filled croissants, fresh strawberries, and Gevalia Stockholm Roast coffee. This is decadent-living-style camping.

Tonight, steaks on the campfire, fingerling potatoes with fresh rosemary, corn on the cob, baby watermelon for dessert.

And then there is the food court here. You can get anything from Middle Eastern delicacies to ice cream, from Medieval stews in bread bowls to killer burgers. Yesterday I found one of the beverage places can do iced mocha smoothies.

Oh, you could live on hotdogs and Gatorade if you wanted to, but what fun is that compared to Cornish game hens stuffed with pears and raisins, wrapped in bacon and tin foil and baked slowly over a campfire the served with a nice Chablis?

So many books, so little time

Well, the summer's half gone and I haven't accomplished one quarter of my goals.  The hallway wall paper is finished (thanks, Gillie!) although the staircase still needs doing.  The Pennsic A&S stuff is nearly finished--the book of classes went to press, but there are always additional classes left to schedule and the webpages need updating daily with changes as teachers cancel, add more classes, want to switch days/times.
 
On the other hand I have been able to do a lot of reading. . . .   
 
For you murder mystery fans I suggest checking out the Magdalene la Bâtarde series by Roberta Gellis.  there are three volumes which should be read in order: A Mortal Bane, A Personal Devil, and Bone of Contention.  Magdalene is the whoremistress of the Old Priory Guesthouse in Southwark--which is what first caught my attention when I read the publisher's blurb. 
 
I once took a remarkable walking tour of the high points of Shakespearean London (including a death-defying stroll along a not-really-public-access walkway on the Blackfriars bridge underpass) with William P. Williams; and when we reached Southwark, William told us the story of the Bishop's Geese. 
 
It seems that the Bishops of Winchester have always lived in Southwark (pronounced sooth-ark) in close proximity to the Cathedral there.  And because of the laws against theaters in London, the theaters (the Globe, the Rose, the Curtain) were built outside of the city walls--many in Southwark.  Well, theaters tend to attract crowds, and crowds tend to attract sellers of all sorts of merchandise.  One of the most popular things a theatergoer in Medieval times might be able to pick up in Southwark was a "lady of the evening." And since it made sense for such ladies to have "rooms" nearby, and since Medieval bishops tended to be wealthy and own properties, the bishops of Southwark became the landlords of many medieval to early modern brothels (note that I said landlords, not pimps, though I must point out that the distinction is rather unclear historically).  The upshot of the story is that the prostitutes of Southwark were many and often under the protection of the bishops, but you don't say things like that out loud--so the euphemism for prositutes soon became "the Bishop's Geese." 
  
Now you see why a murder mystery set in the 12th century where the mysteries are soved by a very uncommon lady who runs a very uncommon guest house under the protection of the bishop of Winchester sounds interesting to me?
 
Am I going to review this book; give you the 50 cent synopsis?  Nah.  You'll have to read it for yourself.  I'll just say that if you liked Brother Cadfael or Sister Fidelma or Dame Frevisse, you'll love Magdalene la Bâtarde!  Gellis has done her research on the period, and yet manages to push the feminist envelope with her treatment of the gender issues all the while telling a darn good story with characters you can care about.  I picked up the first book on Saturday, went back for the next two on Sunday--simply devoured them and can't wait for the next one in the series.  
 

Packing for Pennsic

Steve putting the final touches to the trailer. Take off time to Pennsic is now 6 pm. I think we set a new record for leisurely packing...12 hours!

Erin of Darkyard

So this morning I went to help at Waterbearer's Point. Despite the controversy over liabilities, there is still a need for water on the battlefield. Put several hundred guys in metal armor in the hot sun on a battlefield for hours on end and you, too, can see the need.

Over the years the service has evolved. There is a system for sanitizing the water jugs. The water is filtered and the jugs filled. And then volunteers transport filled water jugs to the field.

This morning I met a young lady named Erin over the tedious chore of filling water bottles. Pleasant surprise! She is from my own area. She is also an incredibly hard worker who deserves much praise for her contributions to Pennsic services! The picture here is of Erin standing in front of a few of the jugs she filled.

Guest Post: by Baroness Brise (aka: my friend Kendra) at Pennsic

Pale orange morning arrives on a golden drop of dew, the whir of golf carts going by. Last night's festivities on the battlefield have long since made way for hangovers. Bleary eyed travelers are still arriving as they have been through the night--minivans, pick-ups, school buses packed to the point of madness.

Shortly, what was once a big field will be a small medieval town with majestic gates, pavilions, yurts and towering camp walls of fabric, wood and extruded plastic (which doesn't have a poetic sound to it but it's a church with stained glass, a rhythm all its own). Soon there will be Lords and Ladies dressed in garb, nicer than their Sunday's best. Kings and Queens processing about, shimmering in the sun--crowns almost too bright. Knights making believe they are something a little better, a little more refined than they actually are--for no other reason than it sometimes feels good to be that guy just for a little while. Night will eventually nestle itself on a bed of wood smoke, lulled in by the beat of drums. Few fires are without dancers, barefoot in the dust. Painted faces, feet and fingers move like liquid. One by one the campfires will go out as Pennsic falls asleep in tents nicer than some homes--rugs, pillows four poster beds with tapestries all around.

Tomorrow the sun will rise again and we will do the same as we have all done for decades. Each a little better than before. I love this Pennsic town.

For now there are things to do. Territory to negotiate. Lines to draw in the dirt--the same lines we negotiate and draw every year with the same neighbors.

It's not all drunken assholes. It's not all risk and liability. There is beauty here you will never find anywhere else.

If it is Tuesday this must be AEthelmearc

Today has been rainy off and on. No thunderstorms (as were predicted), but hot and damp. I worked at Water Point all morning. So damp and even damper.

The bitching this war is all about the book. No day by day schedule. I told Frog, next years Pennsic Mayor, I'd do Cultural Affairs next war, and I promise a day by day hour by hour schedule. For PW 39 I am back to running Info Services. So any of you reading this... If you want a job... Email me!

Tonight is AEthelmearc court. Daedez, our much beloved Khan, will be getting her laurel for Mongolian research. Party afterwards. I have about 10 dozen Chinese dumplings in my cooler to fry for the party. And 4 dozen stuffed grape leaves as well. The Ansteorran brothers are doing the "big hunk of meat" on a grill thing. Much wine. Emma's made the infamous cheeseball. Good times will be had by all.

Stay tuned for pictures!

Last Friday at Pennsic

Last night was the typical "party at the gate." Pug had a keg of beer he wanted to empty, and what was left of the cyzer. We fed beer to passers by on the road, saved the cyzer for ourselves. Then there was the remainder of the Kahlua, the Baileys, some cherry liquor that Devon had which could easily remove paint, some St. Germaine that Irene brought. And a bottle of chai liquor that Corun gave me. (That of course engendered many jokes about "having a taste of Chai" which of course led to choices: a kiss from Chai or a pull on the bottle of chai?) The thing that is so hard to explain to non-scadians is the easy familiarity among SCAdians. The flirting, the hand-kissing, the hugging, the courtly-love behavior, the puppy piles.

There is a level of intimacy among SCAdians that doesn't even happen among some mundane families. We sit around campfires or gates and rub each other's backs or feet or hands, we snuggle and cuddle and enjoy the warmth of human contact with people we see only once or twice a year. We hold each other's hands through crises, confide intimate details of our lives, trust each other with steel, with our our wallets, with our children.

It is hard to put into words what these people on this hill mean to me. How much I love each and everyone of them. We call each other "brother" and we mean it in all senses of the word: family, comrade in arms, child of the same parent, of the Society and the Dream.

We come from Texas, Wisconsin, Illinois, Missouri, Maryland, New York, North Carolina, Louisiana, Kentucky, Ohio. And if you added all the real time hours or days I have spent with some of these people--somewhere between 2 and 4 weeks a year for somewhere between 2 and 20+ years--it comes to mere days and weeks. But I tell you, I know them all. Some of them I have known for lifetimes and will know for lifetimes to come. We are family, not by blood, but by choice. Even those who have left the household are still with us. Corun no longer rides this path, but he still is my anda, my bredu. Lance rides in Northsheild these days, but we still count him among our own and when he was Pelicaned this week we gave (okay, inflicted upon!) him the family medallion with its chainmail burden.

Through the years we have lost brothers. Some have returned--Bojei, Teg. Some we have been lucky enough to reconnect with fortuitously--Kashra most recently! Others will never return in this lifetime, but live still in our hearts. Christopher. Moriseqti. Chinua. Kit. Dwarf. Ulrich.

This afternoon after Kuraltai we strike the Mongol set. The Tugh comes down first, then the wall and the gate. Tonight we will burn a Viking longship for Ulrich. And there will be more partying, Moritu and Pennsic staff as well. More drinking, toasting laughing, hugging, loving, and some crying, too.

And then we go separate ways. This afternoon Bagshi leaves. After dinner so will Bryn. Tomorrow morning the Ansteorrans pull out. And Silver and I packup and head home then, too. By Sunday evening the rest will be gone. Monday there will be nothing but grass left on the hill. Like Brigadoon this will all fade into the mist, gone again until next August.

But Moritu continues. This is roleplay, yes, but it is more than just that. It is a lifestyle, a commitment, a family as well.

I love you all, Andanar.

in the wee hours

Long day today. Here it is nearly 2 am and I am still sitting here waiting for a class confirmation email before I shut down for the night and get some sleep. Been scheduling classes for Pennsic all day (807 now and counting) and I think my brain is simply overloaded. Cass and Zsof and Elizabeth were all here today to help work on and proofread the Pennsic book. . . and we get to start again at 9am tomorrow. I seem to be double booking my hours now as well as my days. So much to do--so little time. . . Haven't seen Silver half enough! Lisa and Michelle stopped by after dinner when I just couldn't get up the energy to work on the book any more--and we sat on the porch drinking wine coolers and listening to the rain. I need more of that in my life. But then don't we all.

Are We Still Sitting on the Backs of Our Sisters?

Yesterday, on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, the Internet became suddenly incensed over a photograph of a Russian fashion model gracefully sitting in a chair that seems to be made of the naked body of a black woman tied in a bondage pose. 


I saw Facebook posts. Twitter trends. Lots of outrage and people shouting in various forums. Headlines in online news papers like: 

"Russian oligarch's girlfriend sparks MLK day firestorm after posing on naked 'black woman' chair for fashion blog". 

I wondered: was the photograph meant to be making a political statement about hierarchies of exploitation, people as furniture? Fashion exploiting the naked? Wealth juxtaposed with the bondage of the consumer? A statement on what? Racism? Forniphilia? Hedonism? (Did no one else notice that the photo on the wall behind her looks like it is of a man in bed between two women?) 

I remember a coffee table book of photographs I have somewhere with a series of photographs by Judy Olausen called "Mother" from many years ago where the artist's intent (using her own mother as a model) was to see the way a mother becomes a background object in a sort of nightmare '50s suburban setting--pushing the imagery with an intent to depict the marginalization of woman as wife and mother by and within societal expectations. 

I wondered if there was a similar artistic intent here. I mean, really, does anyone chose to sit in a chair that is that ugly? (And I mean visually ugly as much as politically ugly!) What was the intent here? Who is Dasha Zhukova? Is this a chair she personally owns? If so why did she use that chair? Or is it a chair the photographer / interviewer placed her in? Was that purposeful? What is the take home message? 

So this made me go do some research on the "chair"--I wanted to know if it was intended as an artist's statement (albeit in bad taste) intended to encourage an understanding or at least a closer look at oppression. Apparently it is part of a series by a British artist, Alan Jones, circa the late 1960s. He made a series of pieces of furniture using naked or nearly naked mannequins (black and white) in bondage positions, "Strippers as Furniture." In the 1960s Jones' "furniture" outraged feminists, too. We may be able to give him some benefit of the doubt if his intent was to showcase the fact that women are demeaned by the porn industry, but I can't seem to find much of the artistic statement on this--just the outrage. 

In the case of Zhukova's chair all I can find is the outrage as well. No one has questioned whether she owns the chair, why she bought the chair, or what she was thinking by posing in that chair. Bear also in mind that this is a Russian woman--the same cultural baggage an American sees here vis a vis slavery and race may not be as evident to her. Mind you, her ethnicity and wealth (she dances with billionaires, afterall) doesn't excuse insensitivity; it just explains it. Zhukova,also posted the photograph on her own Instagram feed. Then when the firestorm hit,she and the magazine that interviewed her cropped the photo to take out all but the "boots" of the chair--a very mea culpa moment that tells me she never realized how ugly this photo could be. 

It really is doubly ironic that the picture was posted on MLK day and that a woman who made her fortune in the fashion industry is relaxing "on the back," so to speak, of a naked woman. I doubt that,in this case, that anyone actually intended the photograph as an artistic statement about the exploitation of women--especially of black women--since Zhaukov was simply posing for an interview about her new fashion/art magazine Garage. Yet in someways this photograph and its incarnations--the original and the cropped out chair--now become a part of the record of the process of cultural awareness and change. Just as Jones' chair in the 1960s made us think about women's issues, so the photo of Zhukova reminds us that times change and people forget. Do we blame her for being a part of a generation or that has not faced the struggle for equal rights? Or for being part of a priviledged class that doesn't see the implications to others in the iconography of oppression in the very art she wants to support? For ignorance or for nsensitivity? Maybe the very thing we need to remember is that we are all loaded with our own cultural baggage and that photos like this are the things that allow us to react, to express our anger and our fears and our positions. Maybe that is the take home message. That we need to rejoice that people do react with outrage at such things! And that in reacting to such things, we too need to be sensitive--this is a teachable moment, not a reason for a lynching.  

As exhausting as the dialog can be regarding race, gender, privilege, and exploitation, it will be when we stop being aware, stop talking, and stop making (or even just finding) the inadvertent artistic statements defining such issues that we will have lost the battle.