So, pictures.

First, I have to show you what we hath wrought using the leftover batter from frying chicken (which is how Bob burnt his finger, as you will recall from this morning's post).  We didn't know what to do with the rest of the batter, not to mention the oil, since we don't have a garbage disposal in the sink, and I don't have a compost heap or food midden yet.  So, I dumped all the batter in the frying pan, to see if it would become funnel cake.  It did not:


However, it did solve the problem of what to do with the leftover oil - it absorbed it.  All two inches of it.  Eep.

We did not eat the horror that absorbed all our oil [TM]; we double bagged it (for safety) and put it in the trash.  Mysterious noises later that night and a trail of oil leading into one of the attic vents discovered in the morning had nothing to do with this, I'm sure. 

But the house smelt funny for a day or two.  Good chicken, though.  Very moist.

We also had some fun when cathgrace  and Isaac and Emmy came over - I have a few toys, and I pulled them out for the kids, but at one point, Isaac and Emmy came to me and very seriously told me they thought there was a ghost in the house.  It turned out the Laser-tag-type game that I had in the toy box had accidentally been turned on, and was beeping and speaking.  As soon as I pulled out the game, they seized on it, and in that way that children have, worked out how to play almost instantaneously.  I still can't work out how to make the damn thing work properly, but they had a ball:

Super-awesome crappy action shot, and Emmy goes DOWN!
(Don't worry; she got her revenge.  Multiple times.)

They spent the evening playing hide and seek while the adults chatted; I had not considered the possibilities of the house, but as long as they don't mind the dust bunnies, they can hide under my furniture any time.  Too bad the wardrobe was full; they could have hid in that (though the only place they would be magically transported would be a 1930s Woolworth's store).

Ah, good times.  We're going to bring the actual vintage toybox (that was holding Bob's ammo, but some Christmas ammo boxes have solved that) down so that the toys can live in something other than a boring cardboard box, and I can bring more toys from the studio (yes, I know.  I'm an adult.  I still like toys) to fill it.

Yule was fun, as I said, and we took the time before the evening started to take some photos.

I dressed lisettelaroux  up as Robert Bedingfield's niece, Elizabeth Bedingfield, on her first real trip to London:

 

Elizabeth was attended by her servant, Prudence Smith - and as seems to happen to all the ladies around Master Bedingfield, she was rather taken with him:


Robert has rather a time with the women in his life - his wife Isobel is a bit of a spendthrift, his favourite, Fanny (alewife of the Cat's Perch Tavern, whereabouts currently unknown)(The Tavern, not Fanny), and now Prudence.  Life is so hard, is it not?

There were other Elizabethan white trash fine ladies and gentlemen at the party:

Our hosts, Geoffrey and Grace Gamble:


Some manly lads, who were interested in the very single (and rich) Elizabeth Bedingfield:
 

The wise woman Anna Pickering and her husband, Ezekiel Studley:

Mrs. Pickering is wise in the ways of herbal tinctures, and ran the bar was dispensing for the evening.  Her excellent selection of liquor potions were just the thing needed to get the blood boiling, and some got a little too boiled, though all was made up in the end, and everyone looked splendid:

   

Even those that I caught en deshabille:


You're so cute, pinkleader.

And an awesome time was had by all.  Isn't my apprentice adorable?  She's working on a hand-sewn jacket of her own as we speak.


Sooper hawt.