Um...hi!

Well, I've been informed by my niece that I need to write a blog to tell you all that I've been sick. Oh, let me back up a bit. First we were at our first Civil War re-enactment of the year (Letchworth), and THEN I got sick. For about a week. Ugh.

The official Letchworth report, then, is as follows: We arrived on Thursday morning -- normally at these events we set up on Friday, but Friday at this event is devoted to Education Day. The setup went very smoothly even though we didn't have as many people to help as we thought we would. An annoying fellow kept stopping by the tent to observe us and make nonsensical remarks as we worked. My mother said, "I think he's hanging round to try to choose one of you two girls [Jess 2 and I] to take to the ball." Hadn't entered my mind, so I'm glad she warned me.

Bunny Trail Alert! I really hate the phrase "take you to the ball." It gives me a mental image of someone picking me up bodily, sticking me under his arm like a folded-up newspaper, and carrying me over to the ball. Not advisable (unless one happens to be Clint Walker or someone equally as strong). One time some fellow escorted me to the ball and his ding-dong-headed friend came over to ask, "Uh, can I pick you up and ring you like a bell?" (I didn't really understand at the time that he said "bell" because of the shape of my hoopskirt.) My raised-hackles response: "I wouldn't." He backed away, palms raised.

OK, back to my topic. Thursday was cold, only in the fifties, and at night it must have been close to freezing. When we woke up Friday morning and went to retrieve our dresses from the horse trailer, we discovered ice on our cars. Brrr! It was cold all day Friday, too; for Education Day (otherwise known as the Day the Little Darlings Descended upon Us like Ravening Wolves), we shivered all day in a stiff breeze. Poor Lorena, though she was wrapped in a new silk-lined wool cape, shook as she detailed how she wrote letters for the soldiers through the Christian Commission. And Laura's feet were nearly frozen in her boots! "I'm so cold. My feet are freezing," she said all day. Finally I had an idea and warmed the little circular griddle on the fire, then stuck it in front of her and told her to take her boots off and rest her feet on the warm metal. Heh. I love being brilliant.

We wore ALL our underpinnings, not even neglecting the petticoats as we sometimes do at Mumford (shh, don't tell!). My mother and I put on our muffatees we got at the 225th anniversary of the Battle of Yorktown last year; they're like long knitted wool fingerless mitts. They were distinctly uncomfortable, though, because they happened to both be the right-handed mitts. I think my mother had the left-handed ones. And no, we really weren't anachronistic; they just looked like coarsely knitted mitts.

Saturday and Sunday were warmer, thank the Dear. I felt slightly ill on Saturday night just before the ball, and everyone seemed to think it was an awfully convenient illness.

"I DON'T FEEL WELL!" I insisted, glaring at everyone. "I'm NOT faking it!"

Their giggles turned to sympathy, though, since I really and truly didn't feel well at all. With some Tums in my tummy and my glasses back on again, I soon felt better; I actually went to the ball, and actually danced a few times! It was fun, but dancing's not really my thing. I always feel like an elephant or a hippo or something equally ponderous. Oh well. Laura and Lorena had a good time, at any rate. They whirled and twirled and ducked and turned and sashayed and smiled and laughed and generally looked like the belles of the ball.

Sunday was good too -- I played music and the girls (Clair, Laura, and Lorena) sang with the rest of our similarly-aged compatriots at the church service. They're a great group of kids, but their numbers are dwindling every year due to job obligations -- or to the fact that they're all getting married at an alarming rate! I was worried that I'd have to play the violin all by myself for the church service, but God was good -- three of them showed up with their instruments, and in spite of the fact that we hadn't played together since last August, everything went well and smoothly. And people said the singing sounded good too. Praise his name!

Anyway, long story short? On Tuesday night I was quite ill, for real this time -- no passing nausea, this. It lasted almost a week. We thought it was food poisoning or something from the water, but it was just a virus. Horrible, nasty, frightful, ghastly swab of a virus. *spits defiantly and resentfully at it -- metaphorically speaking, of course*

OK, that's enough adverbs for one day.


Humm, where was I? Oh yes, I thought of one thing I've been wanting to mention. It is very interesting how many books are getting published today that are similar to fan fiction. Fan fiction, otherwise called fanfic, fan fic, ff, or just plain fic, is a story written by a fan of a particular movie, book, TV show, or what have you that continues the story the way the writer wants it to go. If, for instance, fans of 24 (no, I don't watch it; can't stand Kiefer Sutherland) didn't want President Palmer to die, they can rewrite the series the way they would like to see it happen and post it online or just keep it for their own pleasure. Or if fans of Prison Break want to see Sara like Linc instead of Michael, they rewrite it that way. And on and on it goes. There's fanfic out there for almost any show or movie you can come up with (and yes, I know I ended that sentence with a preposition). It's very cathartic for people who are heavily involved in their alternate realities.

Believe me, I know. *cheshire cat grin*

Anyway, several books that have come to my attention lately are Romeo's Ex, which I have not read but have heard is a rewrite of (duh) Romeo and Juliet, Nancy Springer's Rowan Hood series (guess what that one's about!) and the Enola Holmes series, which adds an OC (other character) to the canon (already written) Sherlock Holmes stories. Those I have read, and they're very good; not for everyone, but well written.

And that is quite enough sets of parentheses for one day.

What else was I going to mention? Ah, yes, now I remember. The other day when I was riding my horse, it was extremely hot -- around 90 degrees. That's extremely hot for me, anyway. It was probably more than that in the sun. In fact, it was so hot that my Maxcy left tracks in the asphalt smeared on the road.

I was riding along, thinking that it wasn't quite so hot when the wind was blowing, then happened to look in back of me to check for cars and noticed horsey prints in the black tarry stuff! Some of it stuck to his hooves, but good job for me the farrier was headed over anyway to trim his feet, so it wasn't on there for very long.

I feel the need to end this post before it gets delayed any longer. Don't give up on the blog, my commenters, I beg of you! I am still alive!

Next post: the Tale of the Flip-flop. Anticipate, my friends!