The worst paper I ever wrote.

Ok, I've mentioned it in a number of places, so I am offering it up here, so others may view it's full horror. And sorry, but the footnotes can't be copied. I don't know why.

***

Bite Me:

Female mystics, Eucharistic Devotion, and the Corporeal Christ

Woman is to man as body is to soul- in one phrase the sum of much of the philosophy and theology of the Middle Ages. Men were largely seen as linked to the mind and spirit, able to transcend the physical and think creatively or meditate; to worship and interact with God on purely spiritual level. Women on the other hand, not only inhabit but are imprisoned by their bodily nature. They are only a little above the animals, having souls but mostly unable to reach beyond the body, and so trapped in the bodies they inhabit, are by their very nature unable to grasp the supernatural. The divine is invisible, ineffable, ephemeral, and cannot be touched in the bodily sense; so a creature with such a thoroughly grounded bodily nature, with its corresponding desire and need for the physical connection will be denied the desired interaction: for the un-bodied God cannot be reached, be touched, or be connected with by a bodied female.
Given that impasse, with the gulf between the world of the body and of the spirit, visions of God and interactions with Him would then remain in the realm of the symbolic, containing something of the unknowable. However, with some of the female mystics it is their bodily nature, the very thing that holds them back from the realm of the spiritual and therefore from complete union with God, i.e., the body, becomes the vehicle by which they can attain it. In the same way that one who cannot climb up a tree with an armload of lumber, could build a ladder with the lumber, so to scale the tree and reach its branches, so that very nature which distanced them from God became their means of communing with Him.
In the Genesis account, God walked in the garden in the cool of the evening, with the man and woman that he had created. They could commune easily and experience pleasure from this time because there was yet no gulf, no breach in the relationship of spirit and body. When Eve ate of the forbidden fruit, it was a reach for knowledge, which is in the realm of the spirit. Eve's attempt to grasp something of the spiritual through an act of the physical severed the two worlds, and created the division between them.
The phrase "Woman is to man as body is to soul" can also be read as "Woman is to man as humanity is to God". This separation of body and soul and of humanity and God was created by a bodily act, the physical act of Eve. Thus, the act of reparation must of necessity be a bodily one, an extrinsic act of salvation.
The person of Christ , by his very nature and existence, is the bridge between the two worlds, a curious inhabitant of both the liminal and the substantial. While fully God, he is given a body and takes on a cloak of humanity through the woman Mary; through her female body he is given a part of Mary's femaleness, and deep connection with the bodily nature. Thus , as the female body provided the agent of separation of body and soul, or of humanity and God, it is a female body that is the agent through which is provided the means of salvation.
A female mystic might see Christ as that ladder- as the tangible body used to bridge the gap between God and humanity, and indeed the Church saw him in that capacity. From his conception, which moved his existence from solely in the spiritual into one where he fully inhabited both spiritual and physical worlds at once; to the Passion, where he hung between those two worlds until the weight of them pulled him asunder and separated again the spirit from the body; he is that sole link and only connection between the earthly and the holy. Because it is particularly the bodily nature of this link that makes it efficacious, the body itself becomes particularly important. Every member is a rung on that ladder, and every wound or drop of blood imbued with meaning.
In the world of the medieval mystic, the corporeal presence of the risen Christ was embodied in the Holy Eucharist, that small wafer given to the communicant at Communion. The wafer was not just a physical representation of Christ's body, but it was Christ's body; and because Christ was not just a link to God but was also fully God, the eucharist was doubly important. It was sustenance, both physical and spiritual; it could feed the body while it nourished the soul.
Many of the female mystics of the medieval era showed great devotion to the eucharist, and quite a few reached a point in their devotion where they abstained from all other foods. Some reported it melting and tasting like honey in their mouths, others that it turned to blood or to meat that they needed to chew. Others, denied communion for any number of reasons, found that communion was given to them through miraculous means. Still others found their mouths suddenly filling up with the desired wafer, so that they were given their communion without the hand of the priest bestowing it.
The act of communion- that blend of communication and union (it is by no mistake that the recipient is known as the communicant) is central to the mystical experience. In the receiving of the eucharist, that link is established that crosses that liminal space between the earthly and the divine. The physical body of Christ is present in the wafer as is the divine presence, so that when the recipient eats the eucharist, her body and Christ's body become one; she has achieved a brief moment of true union of the corporeal and the spiritual. That the incorporation of Christ into self and self into Christ could be repeated was a mystery, but because of that it was sought repeatedly. The obvious metaphor of sexual union is however only workable on one level- that of the physical, of the wafer mixing with the communicant's body. The total union of the body to the spiritual belongs to the realm of the ineffable.
The bodily nature of the female was in the medieval view of a double nature: more than simply partaking of nourishment and excreting the excess, it could also excrete food. A woman producing breast milk became both eater and the eaten- taking in food and then becoming it herself. Breast milk was also thought to be made of blood, some sort of distillation or by-product of it. Perhaps in part because of this, the close associations of women's bodies with blood via menstruation, and of the production of milk, women were seen as intrinsically linked through their bodily natures to food, to milk, and to blood. It is then not surprising to find so many female mystics to be preoccupied with Christ's bodily nature, or that their preoccupation would be with his body as food, his blood as drink, and the wound in his side as like a breast to nurse from. Indeed as women were linked to the bodily by their excretory and reproductive functions, Christ is linked to the bodily through its salvific function.
It is not only Christ's body that they are preoccupied with, however. Frequently we see the female mystic not only appropriating Christ's body as that connector or touch-point to reach a union with God, but we see her using her own body as an extension; in her own devotional experience, or as part of another woman's devotion, as an adjunct to Christ, an intercessory link to yet another body. Catherine of Siena is well known not only for abstaining from food and sustaining herself only on the eucharist as part of her devotion to Christ, but also for licking the open wounds and sucking the pus from lepers, and sucking at the infected breast of one afflicted woman. In this she becomes not an agent of the bodily, reaching towards the spiritual; but the spiritual reaches through her, using her as an agent to connect with the bodily, much in the way that Christ provides that bridge. This is one expression of the imitatio Christi; not simply in the imitation of his sufferings, or of his life, but of his very existence as agent of reconciliation.
These women are also seen as becoming instruments of their own salvation, as intercessory agents for themselves. This is seen in instances where the particular sin to be expiated was particularly identified in or with a portion of the body, the penitent would administer punishment to that member, such as fasting to remedy the sin of gluttony, or self-administered beatings or mutilations to erase former pleasures. Through this sort of purchase, the mystic is again extending her body towards God, using the same body that sinned as the agent of the remission of that sin.
Whatever body it is that reaches across to bridge that space between the physical and the spiritual, the greatest emphasis remains on the point of contact. Like Michelangelo's hand of God touching man, it is that contact that makes the connection, that allows the communication. Both portions, the physical and the spiritual, are needed for a successful connection to be made between the two worlds. As an electrical current needs a contact to complete a circuit, so the heavenly needs the bodily to contact: hand to hand, mouth to mouth, mouth to breast, flesh to spirit. Through the bodily nature of Christ, the ineffable nature of God can be known to humanity. Humanity, through that union with Christ gained by the eating of the eucharist, can communicate with and be known to God.
***

And this pile of bovine exhaust... got an A.

I lost a great deal of respect for academia after that.

Am I still on planet Earth?

These have got to be the strangest flowers I've ever seen. Thick, waxy magenta petals, and a hard teal ball in the center. They grow on a tree that is a few blocks down from me, on 26th, and I'm told that it is a 'clerodendrum'. Very strange looking plant. Pretty, in it's own strange way, but it is the sort of thing that you have to stop and look at, because it looks so unreal!

I've been walking regularly, which is why I've seen these flowers. I found that from here to the T at Dekum, and back, is one mile. So I've been walking a mile. If I pop a tape into my Walkman (old-school, I know) and walk to music, I can keep going and not think so much about what hurts while I'm doing it. I have been ahving some problems with shin splints off and on, and the bad knee, but at least I'm out of the house for a half hour or so, and moving about.

Life continues to be unreal. I'm still feeling lousy. The sleeping thing is off and on better- the new sleeping pills help some. I'm having problems again with the twitching thing, so I'm upping the gabapentin for a bit to see if it calms down. (But no levo-dopa. I have no desire to puke on a duke again!) My doctor says that considering the stress I'm under, I'm doing pretty well. Well, that's an awfully big 'considering'...

The situation down south is still not resolved and the babies are still not home where they belong. I have made some careful contacts that may result in some movement on this, but we don't know what may or may not happen. In the meantime the kids are having problems with Support Enforcement. That I can't help with. The whole mess is just so frustrating and makes me so angry, and all I can do is sit up here and worry. And pray. It's frustrating, because I'm still so very angry about it, especially towards one person, and I'm still having a hard time dealing with it. Someone suggested that i pray for that person. And I just can't. And I feel guilty for being so angry, and I find myself sitting in church, during the Prayers for the People, and the general Confession, and the tears slop over... How do you forgive someone who continues to hurt you, and deliberately so? How do you pray for someone you've come to hate? I haven't found anything in Alcuin that can direct me, and Aquinas is like wading through waist-deep mud lookig for a lost tricycle- I might stumble across something, or I may simply have to wait until the mud ebbs away...but I need some resolution before the mud ebbs.

In the meantime, I bought a rocking horse for the girls, and hope to have it done for their birthday. It's currently on my work table upstairs. The room smells of stripper and paint, but I can run the fan. It's kind of nice to do something different for a bit.

I'm working on a tunic for James, and embroidering the yoke and cuffs, in a style similar to the pattern on Queen Arnegunde's gown. The tunic is a lovely teal blue, and the embroidery is in a dull mustard gold, a cranberry, and some warm sage green. It's looking really nice so far. I've mostly been working on it on Tuesdays, at the ladies group at church. I love going- it's informal, I can chat and get to know people, and it is just a nice time. We're also holding Evening Prayer on Thursdays, and I've been going to that too- a nice break mid-week. Last week a bunch of us went out to dinner at an Ethiopian restaurant afterwards, and that was a lot of fun.

Still working my way through a bunch of Carolingian theology (pre-destination!) and more modern stuff in The New Yorker. Sometimes I'm reading because I can't sleep, and sometimes I fall asleep reading! Wish my body could make up it's mind!

Oh Sleeper, where art thou?

So this has pretty much become my sleep: I sleep for three or four hours, then I wake up and can't get back to sleep. I'm not quite among the living, but I'm not asleep either. Eventually I wake up a bit and can do stuff, but after a few hours, maybe three or four or five, I crash. Bang. I fell asleep sitting at the table at an event the other day- during court, including the hurrahs. I can fall asleep sitting here at the computer. I suddenly nod off in odd places (no, I am very careful to not be driving when this is happening). But not in my own bed, when I want to.

Obviously I have become a house cat.

Boring reading sometimes help, though it doesn't help with staying awake- just with drifting off. Sometimes I can put on my headphones and put in a tape and go to sleep (Sting's 'Soul Cages' seems to do the trick lately), but there's a click when the tape ends and sometimes that wakes me up.

I've tried staying up all night to try to 'reset'. Well, I fall over at about 6 pm, sleep for four hours, and then wake up in a daze, not sure where I am or when I am. A couple of weeks ago I woke up about 6, and couldn't figure out if it was am or pm. I had to bump the little day/time thing on the computer to find out. It's really disorienting.

I'm drinking very little caffeine these days, only Saturday and Sunday morning, so that isn't the problem. I'm not up watching violent or stimulating tv, because I don't watch tv.

I do have plenty to worry about though. Worried about David and Lydia with the the babies. Worried for Annie and her job situation. Worried about Stephen and school (or not) and his overall life frustrations. Worried about James and his job and finances and finishing school. Worried about Wanda's health. Worried about Fjorlief's health. Worried about my own health. Worried about politics and the economy...

My doctor's solution of course is sleeping pills, and the suggestion of a support group. Support for what? Is there a support group for worried grandmothers of children in foster care? Or for people who want to find funding for a loved one's schooling? Or for frustrated Democrats who don't see anything good at the end of this tunnel?

Disrupted sleep is a common hallmark of Fibromyalgia, so I'm trying to reassure myself that this is not uncommon, and that others have felt this way. Doesn't help me sleep though.

Camomile? No. And it tastes like weeds. Lavender? Nope- I'm allergic, and the headache and nausea is not likely to help. Valerian? Nope, not a good combo with my meds. Ball peen hammer? Hmmm... there's s a thought. Well, probably would give me a headache.

But talking about it makes me want to nap...

My computer ate my life.

Yeah. Between email and Facebook, my hours have sort of been sucked away. Working on revamping my habits, but it's a lot harder than one would think, especially since so much on my research and such is online. It's way too easy to think "I'd better check my Facebook while I'm here", and six hours later I'm hungry and haven't showered and other things I needed to do (phone calls and such) have slipped off. On the other hand, there's quite a few people I've gotten to know better because of it. Like everything in life, it's a trade-off.

In the meantime, stuff happens. I was sick and missed most of Sport of Kings. I managed to get there Saturday night, saw Eleanor de Sackville's Pelican elevation, and got to seen Korwyn, which was really nice. (I don't get to see him but every year or two.) Caught up with Raph and Kerie-je (a lot of 'organ recital'!) and schmoozed with Amalric, who is cute as ever. :-)

September Crown was kind of fun, even though it was way too bloody hot. I went out for the Laurel meeting on Sunday and stayed for court. We elevated Keeva (the correct spelling for her name I'm not even sort of going to attempt- it's Gaelic-something), put someone on vigil whose name escapes me at the moment, and put Khalja on vigil, with one of the best deer-in-headlights response I've seen yet. She's going to be elevated at Summits Eleventh Night, which I was planning to go to. Should be cool.

Getting home from Crown was a challenge, as Wanda and I both forgot that she had a new locking gas cap. So I found myself in beautiful downtown Kalama, Washington, with cash in hand and no key to the gas tank. I tried the payphone, with my debit card- don't EVER EVER EVER do that- they charged me $29 and some change for the call, and it didn't actually go through- I could hear Wanda, she could not hear me. In full panic, I walked over to the Chinese restaurant next door, explained my situation, and the lady there pulled out her own cell phone and let me call home. (If you're even in Kalama, eat at the Lucky Dragon! They have nice staff, and according to the online review, outstanding food!) Wanda and Dan came up to rescue me, and Wanda and I drove home feeling rather silly. There is now a key to the gas cap on the ring of spare keys.

The guy who won Summits Coronet is from Corvaria and I don't know him at all. Not royal garb to make! Yay! I am taking some time off from other people's stuff (except the last of Gabriel and Sumayya's) and doing some for James and myself. I made myself a new Frankish gown in black and sort of an olive-y gold, and I'm really happy with it. Just finished an olive tunic for James with a subtle black and gold trim. Have more to finish for us, and then I think I'll make some clothes for Teh Babieez.

Teh Babieez are still with David's mother. This has gone on way too long, and I am mulling steps to affect this. Carefully, as I don't want it to look like a pissing war between Cindi and I. But she recently apparently (I've had no actual notification, just word from the kids) that my visitation has been restricted. If she thinks she can push me out of the picture, she is wrong.

The BIG NEWS in life lately is that Phil and Annie have decided to get married! I am very excited about this as I like Phil. They are planning to have a simple civil ceremony in New York, then come out here to Oregon for a BIG party/reception. No date set yet, but probably Summerish next year. Good, because we need time to make a pretty dress. :-) I told her she could have some of my silk. :-) And maybe I'll have time to make a proper Mother of the Bride dress this time.

Things at church are still wonderful, with one exception- Father Lin accepted an interim position in San Francisco. It has been a bit hard for me, as I had finally come to trust him, and I have a hard time with that. Our new rector is Carolyn Litzenberger. James says she's cool, and he had pretty good judgement about that sort of thing. She's a History Professor in her day job, and does Church history and Early Modern. We had a delightful talk Sunday after service and I think I'm going to like her.

Tuesday morning knitting circle at church was bordering on the absurd. Most everyone was missing, partly because one of the ladies passed away Tuesday morning and some of the others were helping with the family stuff. So Elinor and Marla and I went downstairs and poked through some of the little rooms and closets and such. We hit paydirt when we found the closet full of weird craft stuff. More beads and sequins than you can imagine. After that we had a little potluck. There was leftovers from Sunday, and I'd made a mushroom tart, and Gary cut up a bunch of melons and we had just sat down when this... guy, came to the door. Tallest black man I've seen outside of a basketball game (I'm guessing 6'5", 6'6"). Now things veer off into the Twilight Zone: He had a shofar and he wanted to come blow it for us. (Marla says he wandered in about this time last year- seems he fancies he's preparing us for Rosh Hashanah.) So he loped down to the front of the pews, where the sound is sweetest, and blew the horn. It was actually kind of cool. He sang some stuff in Hebrew. He stayed for lunch, and said the very strangest things... and even funnier, he was sitting next to Bill See who is mostly deaf and not necessarily all there, and the complete misses in cross-talk was hysterical. I was laughing so hard I got coughing and had to get up and stagger off for a bit. I ducked out not long after that, because I was feeling pretty crummy and needed meds. But all day long I was like What the hell was that?

I guess it was Life telling me to have fun and enjoy the unexpected. :-)

On the beach!

Annie and Phil were out for a few days' vacation on the west coast, so last Wednesday I left the house at 6:15 am (really!) and drove to Eugene, were I filled the car with Minnicks (all three of them!) and one Cohen. Then we drove out to Florence, to the Oregon Dunes.

This isn't one of the pictures they took (because they haven't uploaded them yet) but this is were we were, and that is what it looked like. The sky was clear blue, and it was GORGEOUS.

We spent most of the day there, mostly laying around and playing in the sand, grilling sausages and eating chips, and drinking IBC root beer, and some hard cider. Was a good day.

Only bad part for me was getting up and down the dunes from the car, and the sunburn. I shouldn't have gotten burnt, as I was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt and a big straw hat. But I fell asleep , and the rolled-up hem of my jeans pulled up while I was sleeping, and I got burned on the ankles, left one worse than the right. (More on this later...)

We eventually went back to Eugene, dropped off Stephen and Lydia, picked up the rest of Phil and Annie's luggage, and headed north. We got to Albany just in time to get burgers and onion rings and shakes at Burgerville. Then we went to Portland and took our sunburnt and sandy selves to bed.

The next couple of days we did the whirlwind tour of Portland- mostly eating our way through. We went to the Cameo for breakfast, then to Powell's, where Phil seemed nonplussed that they had a map to get around in the store. (Really, you need one the first few times.) Then we went to Voodoo Donuts and got bacon maple bars. Then we did some thrift shopping, and went home for a bit. That evening we went to McMenamin's Kennedy School for dinner with Karl and Linda (AKA Malcolm and Morwyn) which was yummy yummy. Friday we went to the Cup & Saucer for brunch, more thrift shopping, a trip to the Powell's on Hawthorne, and then back to pack up. I was not happy to have to take them to the airport (they even less so, because the weather was nice here but 102 degrees in NYC) but was very glad to have seen them. (And Phil is a peach, BTW. Teh Girleez were right. :-) He's cute, too.)

However, the sunburn on my left ankle didn't get better. In fact, it got worse. It got darker, almost fuschia, and was really, really sore. Tuesday it suddenly blistered up (I could practically watch the blisters forming), and the blebs were looking really nasty. I called the doctor and went in Wednesday, a full week after I got the burn.

Well, it wasn't just a sunburn. Apparently some opportunistic bacteria saw its chance, and now I have a lovely case of cellulitis. The area is pretty big, too. So we're throwing big antibiotics at it, keeping it propped up as much as possible, and watching it carefully.

Like I needed another thing, right?

I did manage to pass on a rush costume job. It was an area I'm not familiar with, and doing a short-notice job on something I don't know isn't a good idea. And I need a break. I have a couple of things left to do for Gabriel and Sumayya, and some stuff for James and I, and a couple of small things on the list, but nothing pressing. So I'm going to take some time off and just do... mostly nothing for a bit. I can't sew with my foot in the air anyway.

A few notes on the 'recent unpleasantness'-

Otherwise known as AN TIR-WEST WAR!

(psst- the title is a joke. I could have called it the 'War of Southern Aggression'!)

I got down there Thursday evening, after a six-hour drive, most of it in the Coast Range. The drive is lovely, but Zippy doesn't like it much, and ate a lot more fuel than she should have. In her defense, she was heavily loaded.

It was actually still light when I got there, but it took awhile to get Amalric to make a decision (bwahahahahahahaaa!!!), so it was pretty dark by the time the worst of the set-up was done. I did have help (thankyouthankyouthankyou Tristan!) getting set up, which was a very good thing, as my back was still very unhappy at that point.

James got in later Friday than I'd anticipated, but we managed to break all speed records and got the bath up and running quickly. It actually fell together beautifully. Tadhg served as Gabriel's herald/narrator, music was provided by Galeran and Rhi, and Karyn helped with the roses/rosewater and a bunch of the fetching and toting. I'm not sure who all carried water, but it got done.

I really wish I'd had the presence of mind to ask someone to take pictures, but I was busy, you know? So picture in your heads- the pavilion, lit with candles, the curtained bath enclosure inside, and in there, a small table with candles and a statue of the Virgin, a small chair, and the tub, which is draped inside with white cloths, and strewn with rose petals and herbs. Inhale deeply- rosemary, sage, lemon balm, mint, and rose water. Mmm... on the other side of the pavilion from the bath enclosure is a small altar, with a crucifix and candles, and a small pre-dieu (kneeling bench).

The site had been mowed, but not raked, and I don't know how many times I went through with the whisk broom, trying to keep things neat. (There's still hay all over inside my car!)

When Gabriel and his friends arrived, they stopped outside the pavilion, and I passed out the ceremony handouts. They had the ceremony itself, as well as the Latin parts written out for those who don't know them. Tadhg led us in the recitation of the Nicene Creed (in Latin), and then read:

"Before you is the Bath of Courtesy and Bounty. As you enter and dwell therein, reflect on your need to cleanse your body henceforth, from impurities of sin, and any dishonorable ways of life~ you shall leave any such impurities in the water, and as recalling the baptism of infants, you will come out of the water with clean conscience, emerging clean and pure as an infant from the font."

Then Gabriel came inside, knelt and recited/read the Pater Noster, then stepped inside the enclosure, knelt and recited/read the Ave Maria. Then he undressed and got into the bath, with the help of a friend who was his attendant.

While he bathed, Tadhg read:

"Think on these things as you ready yourself for the vigil before you.

As a Peer of the realm, you must be freed from wickedness, so to win a place in Paradise.
You must be willing to shed your blood in defense of God, and of the Crown you serve.
You must often contemplate your own death, and thereby avoid pride.
You must keep your body pure and avoid liscentiousness.
You must hasten to action with the love of God and the honor of the Crown in your heart.
You must preserve this inseperable pair of virtues~ Justice and loyalty.
And always be ready to return your soul to God, rendering fair account for your deeds."

(The mention of liscentiousness evoked giggles from the rabble waiting outside. And guys- I will GET YOU for that! :-P)

Then we read a Psalm- 61, to be exact. Then while Gabriel was dressing, Tadhg read:

"Hold close these virtues: hardinesse or courage, loyalty, and prowess. Be always courteous and generous; be of fair speech. Ferocious shall you be against evil, while frank and debonair to friends."

Closely followed by: "And now remember this: Every new peer should make a good beginning. Remember these words here tonight, and Godspeed you to your new life."

When Gabriel was dressed and ready to leave, he knelt for the last Pater Noster, and while I don't have a photograph, I remember it the rest of my life: a handsome young man, dressed in his layers of white tunics, with the black hose and brown shoes, and red mantle (as is specified in the texts), kneeling with his chaplet in his hands, reciting the Pater Noster. My knees went wobbly. Awesome in the fullest sense of the word.

(The ceremony is crafted from portions of Geoffery de Charnay, Le Livre de Chevalerie; the anonymous Ordene de Chevalerie; and portions of Ouevres de Froissart and Li Romans de Durmant le Galois. It was not easy to put together something that was meaningful but acceptable for SCA- albeit very unofficial- use. Every time I come away with something to tweak for the next...)

After he left to go to the rest of his vigil (all the way across the street!) and try to stay up all night, those of us left then emptied the bathtub and put the bed back up so James and I could get some sleep!

The next afternoon was the court that Gabriel was knighted in. Here's some photos of the proceedings:

Coming in to court-

Poor kid looked like death warmed over (he actually was ill, not just tired). There was a bit of sniffling when he said good-bye to his knight:

He received his chain, and then the white belt and spurs. And then swore his oath- and to his surprise, our King bade the other Kings present to witness by laying their swords on him also. It was an epic moment, very epic:



Gabriel said that made him shake all over, and not just because there was that much live steel at his neck!

Of course the last thing...


I of course had to high-tail it out of court as soon as that was done, because we had to do the prep for Mathilde's bath! Having just done one, the process went even quicker. Well, not the heating of the water- that depends on physics. But moving stuff around and the other prep went quickly. The script was the same, Mathilde's friend Rhi, who actually has some training in liturgical chant, did the readings, and chanted the Psalm instead of reading it. It was pretty spiffy!

Court the next day was pretty special. I was asked to speak for her during the ceremony, which is quite an honor. There's a picture of me talking:

The only picture I have of her (sorry Mathilde! Blame your friends who didn't take pictures!) is this one, which is lovely nonetheless:


After that was done I hopped out quickly (actually James was waiting to help me up the hill, because he's a sweetie that way) and went back to camp, because it was Sunday night and there was company coming for dinner! I was worried about how much time court was going to take, so I left Kelly with detailed notes and she cooked while I was gone. When I got back, it was nearly done! (Kelly is TEH AWESOME!!!) We ate dinner and I tormented Amalric some more (tip: he won't doze off at the table if he's worried that you'll stick something in his ear ;-).

Monday of course meant breaking camp (just when I was getting comfortable!) and packing it all up and hauling it back out. James and I went in to Gold Beach and got a late lunch (food that I didn't have to make or clean up after! Woo-hoo!) before we left. We seriously considered going down to play on the beach but it was already getting fairly late and we both had a long drive ahead of us.

On the way home I passed the Paul Bunyan statue at the Logging Museum in Myrtle Point, midway through the mountains:

And then it was pull in the coolers, throw the laundry downstairs, and fall over. Done.

Until Sport of Kings, of course. :-D

Three Things!

1. I has a new desk chair! Well, new to me. And mostly new. Found it at Goodwill- it had been a return at Target, why it was at Goodwill, I don't know. But it is mine now! Fairly stripped down, no padding, VERY low back. I have to sit up- can't lean back. I figure this is actually likely to be good for my back. It was a little more than I wanted to pay, but it was still in the box, unassembled, basically brand new.

The box said it was *koff* orange, and I will admit that was a selling point. Turns out to be more of a Chinese Red than orange, but I like that too, so we're cool. :-)

And if it helps my back, we're waaaaay ahead of the game...

2. I also found a pitcher- pumpkin orange, of course, and it caught my eye. But I stopped dead in my tracks when I realized the pattern on the side was A Laurel Wreath. O.M.G. And then I picked it up and saw that inside the Laurel wreath was- Thea will like this- a Bee. One was Nifty, the second was Oh Yes!, and the third... FATE! It went home with me. ;-)

3. Today was Father Lin's last Sunday- he is leaving to take an interim position in San Francisco. Apparently this sort of dropped in his lap and the timing and everything was just right. I however... he and Marla are the first clerics I've trusted in years. Decades even. (Father Augustine doesn't count- he was my Professor, not my pastor.) It takes a long time for me to feel comfortable and supported, and now I have to get used to someone else. Mother Alcena will be filling in for a bit, and I'm getting to know her a bit, but still, this is really hard. I cried my way through the service and then cried some in the parking lot before I left for brunch.

So I expect to feel a bit discombobulated for a bit. I hate change, and this one is going to be hard.

I have stuff about the War, which I will write up later, maybe after I've had something to eat...