Well, happy Halloween. I don't have candy, but we never seem to get trick-or-treaters at the apartment complex. I might helppinkleaderhand out candy at her place, but we'll see - she mentioned it last night, but I left fighter practice last night rather precipitously after realizing that pain =/= good time. Sorry.
It's frustrating; and since Bob wasn't there to make me feel better, I booked before I started crying and being a total buzzkill. In addition to the hurt, I'm so slow - which I could deal with if trying to be faster didn't hurt so much.
Gah. Depressing. But I miss fighting rather badly. I may try again next week, but perhaps I'll fight people who don't parry so hard (until I can get my disengages back up to speed).
But enough about that. I prefer to write about random stuff that hits my mind, because then I don't have to think about pain.
Especially in the fast lane.
#2: You know that commercial (it plays on the radio and TV) for Geico that features the Gecko telling you that choosing between your Geico options is like being asked to dinner by the Queen and choosing between the castle or the palace? He ends with "...either way, you're getting filet mignon". I always think "...yeah. Boiled".
The English penchant for ruining food is quite legendary. While we do have many fine culinary delights (roast beef and Yorkshire pudding with redcurrant sauce comes to mind, yum!), there is a certain truth to the idea that boiling food into inedibility is a national pastime. Which leads me to random thing...
...#3: One of the reasons we have this reputation is that when WWII came along, there was great demand for factory workers, and many servants quit their jobs in the households of the middle and upper classes and went to work for the government producing armaments for the war. My Grandmother lost her cook, which was a bit of a blow because until then, she had never had to cook a meal in her life. While she could make a very nice raspberry sorbet, the finer points of vegetable cooking eluded her until the end of her days. After the war, many former servants decided that working in a factory paid better and was pleasanter than domestic servitude, and an entire generation of women had to learn how to cook and clean without domestic help. While my mother is a fantastic cook, my grandmother could turn any vegetable into grey mush with consummate skill.
#4: My Grandmother could, however, sew rather well (needlework being a skill all gentlewomen were still expected to learn well). She got me started on embroidery and sewing, and made rather lovely needlepoint cushions (I have a great liking for embroidered cushions, but have to search long and hard to find ones that are affordable and reasonably soft). My mother eschewed most forms of domestic womanhood in favour of, reasonably enough, financial independence and a job that paid well, and I remember feeling extremely useful every time she needed a hem fixed or a button sewn on because she had no idea how to do it herself. She is quite impressed by my embroidery skills, and was sweet enough in her most recent letter to snort that she didn't see why Plimoth needed so many people to make an embroidered jacket when I had made one all by myself. :)
#5: I have my twill to start the bed cover - it arrived yesterday. The wool has not arrived yet, since the quantities I ordered needed to be special ordered (or something), but I have been working on a test piece on a random scrap of linen with similarly coloured wool I had in my stash. I will probably finish that today, and I'll have photos tomorrow.
And that's that. Enjoy your Halloween (if you celebrate such things), don't make yourself sick on candy, and try not to run over any children, even if they are egging your car. As far as I know, that's still not considered a justifiable reason for vehicular assault. Except maybe in Texas.