SCA Life

King and Queen of Trimaris: Thorstenn the Wronghand and Zephyrine de la Mairge

There are still a few events left this month, so you’ve got a chance to make some Monday Memories of your own. Here they are, in reverse alphabetical order, broken down by kingdom, date, event and locality. Four more kingdoms to appear tomorrow.

WEST
29 – Darkwood A&S – Darkwood
29 – Warlord Tourney – St. Katherine’s
29 – Champion – Rivenoak
29-30 – Fall Equestrian Event – West

TRIMARIS
28-30 – Harvest Festival — Oldenfeld

OUTLANDS
28-30 – Nock on Wood – Barony of al-Barran
28-30 – War of the Staked Plains XIII – Shire of Blackwater Keep
29 – Estrella War Treaty Negotiations – Kingdom of Atenveldt
29 – Newcomer’s Revel – Barony of Unser Hafen

NORTHSHIELD
29 - 30th Baronial Birthday Celebration – Windhaven
29 - Event cancelled. – Rockhaven

Oh, and if you’re headed to the Estrella War Treaty Negotiations, here’s a glimpse of what war can be like… when viewed through womens’ eyes. O_O

For more information on why I have not been posting regularly, read this. Happily, you can once more expect consistent posting.

Rockhaven, Trimaris, Blackwater, events, SCA, Society for Creative Anachronism, renaissance, medieval, middle ages, history, reenactment, Atenveldt, Shire, Windhaven, Estrella, Odenfeld, Darkwood, Championship

Apparently this is a picture of sheep at a 2002 SCA event. What the event is, I know not. And, here’s the catch, SCA does not stand for Society for Creative Anachronism in this instance. Does anyone out there in my audience know of a sheep organization that calls itself the SCA???

Anyway, when I saw this, I just had to share it. Too bad I didn’t see it before I posted my own sheep story. J

SCA, Society for Creative Anachronism, medieval, middle ages, renaissance, sheep, herding

Sometimes, one can be too careful…

Once upon a time, long, long ago, I worked as a newspaper reporter. The paper I wrote for was a small town biweekly. I made very little money, and that meant that I had to be very careful about how much money I spent on the SCA. Garb, in particular was limited. I bought the cheapest broadcloth at wholesale or closeout stores and made the best of it. But I seriously wanted something nicer to wear to Fettburg’s midwinter feast.

Now, as a fairly poor member of the SCA, I haunted thrift stores watching for useable items. One day, at the local Catholic thrift store, I ran across a bolt of rust colored velvet. I immediately saw that fabric’s potential. That dusty bolt of velvet meant that there was a feast gown in my future. It was great! Except for two little problems…

Firstly, I am an indifferent seamstress. Sewing with velvet was way beyond my ability and still is. Secondly, I was going through a time period when my weight was fluctuating a great deal. The result? I lived in fear that the dress, which I would have to pay to have made would quickly become too small for, possibly even before the midwinter feast had arrived.

Then good news came. Rebecca, a friend of mine in the SCA was willing to make the dress for me. Naturally, I expressed my paranoia about the fit to her. She said she could make the dress a little loose. I was thrilled.

When the first fitting came, using a cheap broadcloth mock-up, I pestered my friendly seamstress to make the dress looser and looser. She told me I was making a mistake, but she did as I wished. And so, a few days later, I was the proud owner of a rust velvet bog dress, similar to teh dress in the picture above. And I wore it to the next feast!

But all was not well.

The end result was predictable, if pitiable. The dress was big enough to hold three of me! More than ten years later, I still have the dress. And it’s still big enough to hold at least two of me. When I wear it, I look like a child playing dress up, specifically a flat chested little girl. What was I thinking?????

Society for Creative Anachronism, SCA, medieval, renaissance, middle ages, reenactment, history, bog dress, chiton, scottish dress, irish dress, celtic dress

This may very well be my strangest SCA memory of all time.

At a Kingdom of the West June Crown Tournament, I once watched a woman shear a sheep. Yes, you heard me right. A sheep. A real sheep. As in, do androids dream of…

This woman actually brought one of her sheep to the event, and I still can’t figure out how she has any as she lives in a city apartment. Anyway, she grabbed the sheep, flipped it on its back, grabbed a set of recreated medieval period scissory things and sheared that sheep right there at the edge of the tourney field. I can still see the resigned look on that sheep’s face.

What do you folks think? Is this taking authenticity just a little too far?

SCA, Society for Creative Anachronism, medieval, middle ages, renaissance, sheep, shear, shearing, scissors, tourney, June Crown

Frequent readers have already read about my first trip to Pennsic, a few Mondays ago.

The year I graduated from high school, I had a little money of my own and an intense desire to return to Pennsic. I had made a desultory attempt at getting involved with the local groups in Sacramento, but as a teenager whose parents were not playing, things were a little more complicated than I had expected. Besides, I already had quite a few obligations. Between Girl Scouts, children’s theater, church activities, not to mention the ongoing attempt to finish high school, I didn’t have much space for another activity.

Thus, at 18, I boarded a plane to New Jersey, to visit my aunt again and go with her to Pennsic. This trip was an entirely different experience. The first time, it was just me, my aunt and my uncle. This time, there were two younger people along with us, close to my age, Robi and Tova, and the years between 15 and 18 make quite a number of changes in outlook and understanding. Also in the meantime, my aunt had become qualified as a fighter, which guaranteed my attendance at the battles I could watch.

Again, I worked at Medieval Miscellanea, and again, I left with less money than I’d started with, but my clearest memory of Pennsic XVIII was of the battles. My aunt is a member of the Great Dark Horde, and that year the Horde fought with the East because, according to my understanding, the Midrealm failed to provide payment for their aid in a previous year. In fact, we marched with the warriors to the Field Battle singing “Oh, the Midrealm will not pay, oh, the Midrealm will not pay. We’re fighting for the East because the Midrealm will not pay.”

Imagine, if you will, an enormous open field with hundreds fighters lined up along either side. My aunt and the force from the Horde were about two thirds of the way down the East’s front line. Non-combatants stood about twenty or thirty feet behind the lines, on a hill, carrying banners and watching. One of the banners on that occasion was an enormous Chiquita banana.

The order came for the battle to begin, and before the first pause (because they pause, of course, for the dead to get up and out of the way of the living), thirteen of the Horde’s seventeen fighters were down. It was like watching a magnet attract iron filings. Almost the entire Midrealmer line converged on the Horde’s position, so for the Horde, the Field Battle was very short. Apparently, the Midrealm fighters were not pleased with our marching song.

Then there was the Bridge Battle. Imagine the same field, now with dozens of hay bales piled to form the shape of a bridge. Within the hay bales, you’re on solid ground. Outside them, and you’re attempting to swim in armor. In other words, you’re out of the battle.

My aunt and her close compatriots, Clothilde and Magda, wound up close to the back of the battle lines, so the only folks in front of them were on their side. To win the battle, though, the East had to cross the bridge, and the easiest way to get rid of the enemies opposite them was to push right through them, knocking them off on either side into the water. To encourage this effort, these three lady fighters placed their shields on the backs of the fighters in front of them, shoved hard and yelled, “Puuuuush!!” They called it the Lamaze method of warfare.

I came home with fewer weapons that time, but with just as many crazy stories. It was still another two years before I got actively involved in the Society, though. That took an act of serendipity.

Pennsic, Lamaze, warfare, SCA, Society for Creative Anachronism, anachronist, Midrealm, Horde, Great Dark Horde, field battle, bridge battle, Girl Scouts

Hello Everyone!

So, I have been telling you the tale of how I finally got dragged into the SCA to stay. Last time I described to you the way the Coffee House Group operated. Now to introduce some of the members. To understand our membership, you first need to realize that there were literally dozens and dozens of people in our little club thingy. What’s more, the “membership” was constantly in flux. Many of the group had the same or similar first and/or last names. To avoid confusion, the CHG pseudonyms were born! As a result, some unusual names were born!

The Matts!
There were at least two Matts in the CHG. So they became known as Long Hair Matt (sometimes known heretically as Jesus Matt) and Curly Hair Matt. Now, to their faces, they were both addressed as Matt, but for the point of reference at other times, their pseudonyms were used.

The Elisas!
Now, I never thought that the name Elisa was all that common, but apparently I was wrong because there were three of them in the CHG. The first became known as Elisa. The second came to be known by her last name, Wilma. Finally, the third Elisa wound up going by the name Calliope. That name stuck so firmly that to this day she is still called Calliope by many of her friends. Why did she pick the name Calliope in the first place? I have noooooo idea.

The Teds!
The Teds were known as Curly Hair Ted and Big Nose Ted. Now, the problem is that both Teds had big noses and both Teds had curly hair. As a result, talking about the Teds could get a little confusing.

The Johns!
I hate to admit it, but the only John name I can remember is Army John. I must be getting old and senile because I know there were more of them.

The Loris!
Well, first and most importantly, I was one of the Loris. J Unfortunately, there was already a Lori in the CHG when I joined. As such, I should have had to assume a pseudonym. However, I was lucky. The Lori who came before me preferred to be known by her Society for Creative Anachronism name, Morgan. So I got to stay Lori.

The Daves!
Supposedly, there were multiple Daves. However, I only ever saw one Dave and he went by the name Dog. Yes, that’s right, Dog. Frankly, I think that the other Daves are apocryphal. Like Big Foot.

Finally, there was Ruth. Now, there was only one Ruth, but I mention her because she was the source of an ongoing joke. Since she was seldom in the Coffee House, our poor band was RUTHLESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

See you next time for The Coffee House Part IV!

Society for Creative Anachronism, SCA, medieval, middle ages, history, names, pseudonyms, UCD, UC Davis, University of California at Davis, Coffee House, Big Foot

Yesterday I had the pleasure of attending a performance of MacBeth put on by the Sacramento Shakespeare Festival, more commonly known as Sacramento’s Shakespeare in the Park.

Right now the festival is putting on performances of Comedy of Errors as well as MacBeth and both shows are being staged at the open air theater in William Land Park. I attend the festival every year and try to see both shows, as there are always two. This year was an extra special treat as one of my close friends, Anne Marie Justman, is playing a part in MacBeth. She gets to yell a lot and wave around a staff as she is playing a soldier as well as the doctor. The show has been staged with a Japanese theme based on traditional Kabuki theater. One stunning example of this can be seen in the three weird sisters. The witches are wearing kimonos, masks and genuine Kabuki wigs. Shakespeare’s witches have always been a kind of chorus, but now that effect is amplified by the Japanese Kabuki theme. It was terrific!

Brian Rivera, the fellow playing MacBeth, was truly amazing. I’ve seen a number of MacBeth shows over the years, but his performance of the lead role left all of the others in the dust. His face is wonderfully expressive and he portrays MacBeth’s raging emotions with great emotional sincerity. It is a highly nuanced performance and well worth seeing.

Go early if you want to spread a blanket out on the green before the stage. Otherwise you’ll be sitting on the benches and that’s less fun. I recommend arriving at 5:30 at the latest. The gates open roughly around 6:30 and the play begins at 8:00. Though some minor snacks are available at the Hospitality Booth, you should bring a meal or at least snacks and drinks for your party. Alcohol is allowed but you’d better not be rowdy during the show! If you intend to sit on the green, don’t take chairs as they block other people’s view and are theoretically not allowed in the theater. The weather may be hot, but bring a blanket or coat to wrap up in as it gets very cold once darkness falls and there is an especially cool breeze off of the nearby duck pond.

I intend to see Comedy of Errors some time in the next two or three weeks and will give you a report on that as well.

Tickets for either show cost $15.00. Tickets can be purchased at the gate or online here. However, if you want to attend closing night you’d better but tickets ahead of time. The remaining show dates are:

MacBeth – July 27, Aug. 2, 4
Comedy of Errors – July 26, 29, Aug. 3, 5

P.S. The curse of The Scottish Play continues. It took me five tries to get this post to work!

(Today’s guest blogger is Eideann. I will return tomorrow. Meanwhile, enjoy Eideann’s Monday Memories.)

Catslyn is still sick. You should see her . . . the pathetic child mopes around the house coughing and asking if I think she still has a fever. Thus, you will have to wait another week for the Coffee House Part 3. In the meantime, here are some of my memories. (Be afraid, be very afraid.)

My first event was the Pennsic War. Whenever I tell that to people who are familiar with SCA events, I get very strong reactions. Some declare their undying jealousy, some just gape in astonishment. One particularly enthusiastic young man, whom I met during a weeklong church conference, jumped up from the table where we were eating breakfast, bounced around the cafeteria hooting and hollering, and then came back to sit down. Then I tell them that my second event was the Pennsic War and their astonishment knows no bounds.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Pennsic War, let me give you a little info. It is a yearly conflict between the East Kingdom and the Middle, and it first took place in 1971. The winner of the war gets bragging rights, the loser keeps Pittsburgh, thus the city of Pittsburgh may not be in the same kingdom from year to year. It’s held at Cooper’s Lake Campground in western Pennsylvania. When I first went, there were 10,000 attendees. Just imagine a camping event the size of a small town. The battles are huge, the Merchants Row is enormous, and people come from all over the country – all over the world.

The year was 1986, I was fifteen years old, and I knew nothing whatsoever about the SCA. I went to Pennsic with pieces of costumes from various shows I’d been in, like Fiddler on the Roof, a Renaissance Fair outfit, and my one piece of genuine garb, a Kinsale cloak that my grandmother had made me with Pennsic in mind. I had no idea what I was getting into.

It was glorious. Everyone called everyone else “my lord” and “my lady,” and all the guys, even the ones my age, were polite and well behaved. People wore the most amazing and beautiful clothes and sang songs and held dances. Many tents were the standard variety you can buy at outdoor stores, but quite a number were gorgeous pavilions done in medieval style. Most people camped in groups, households or even larger regional communities, so walking through the camping areas feels like moving from one neighborhood into another. There are signposts, group banners, and a great many people, all of whom are happy to help a lost traveler.

I knew there was fighting . . . somewhere. There was the Woods battle, which didn’t get much of an audience. It was, after all, in the woods, which made it difficult to watch. All those trees kind of blocked the action. I was vaguely aware, too, of the Field and Bridge battles, but I managed to attend my first War without seeing any of the battles at all. My lasting impression of Pennsic War XV was of a vast medieval mall.

So I could earn some spending money (and – I suspect – to keep me out from under foot), my aunt suggested that I work in the booth belonging to a friend of hers, Medieval Miscellanea. I agreed with alacrity, and sold goblets, t-shirts and various other items with a will. I doubt it will surprise you to discover that I left my job there with slightly less money than I started with.

My chief discovery at Pennsic, however, was a deep appreciation for blades. One day, as I wandered Merchants Row with my aunt, we paused at a booth where there were many axes for sale. I was entranced, and while my aunt and the merchant talked, I gazed raptly at the weapons. Then the merchant caught sight of me attempting to lift a battle axe that was half my height. I’m told I had a look of glee on my face, and he was pleased to make an alternative suggestion. He turned around, opened a box and pulled out the most beautiful object I’d seen in my life. A single bitted axe, approximately 14” in length, with a cherry wood handle. He handed it to me and I held it in my hands for a moment, drinking in the sight of it, then turned to my aunt. According to her my expression had shifted from mere glee to unholy glee, and she could not resist the pleading in my eyes. In later years I named her Brunhilde (the axe, not the aunt), and she has a place of honor in my home. Also on that trip, I bought my very own dagger of Solingen steel.

My mother was, needless to say, quite nonplused by my armed state upon my return home. My classmates didn’t quite know what to make of me, either. I took great joy in startling them.

Classmate: What did you do last summer?
Me: I went on a Girl Scout trip, and then I went to the War.
Classmate: Girl Scouts, huh . . . wait, did you say ‘the War’?

I was known as a goody-two-shoes, a girl who was probably more boring than English class. The Girl Scout trip came as no surprise to anyone. The War on the other hand – it gave me great pleasure to explain my summer vacation, and the booty I brought back from it.

Three years later I attended Pennsic XVIII, but that is a story for another day.

FYI, Pennsic XXXVI is upcoming. Just click the link for more information about that event.

The Coffee House Group…
How in the world am I to describe such an amorphous entity as the CHG? Methinks this cries out for bullet points.

1 – We were a completely unofficial group. No dues, no membership applications, no secret handshakes. (And I’m sure we would have enjoyed a secret handshake.)

2 – All you had to do to become a member was be friends with a pre-existing member and hang out at the UC Davis Coffee House.

3 – I have no idea how many people were part of the CHG. The “membership” was constantly in a state of flux as people dropped in and out, graduated or just plain drifted away.

4 – The group ALWAYS sat in the same place in the Coffee House. You see, the Coffee House is L-shaped, and the CHG always sat in the wing of the L that connected directly to the Student Union. Incidentally, the spot we hung out was also next to the espresso and pizza bars. This may have had some small influence on our positioning. Anyway, the CHG would sit here even if that meant waiting to for other students to vacate “our” tables.

5 – The tables in this area were these tiny little round café style tables, completely unsuitable for large group gatherings. So, whoever was already sitting down would watch, vulture like, for nearby tables to empty. Then, crying, “Annex!” they would grab the empty table and drag it over to join the current group. I believe I once saw the CHG sitting around a collection of ten or more tables, and we were still crowded.

6 – What did the CHG do when we all sat together. Well we played cards (rarely), argued (daily), told jokes and stories (god help us), debated everything from religion and history to the death penalty (daily), ate pizza (hourly) and generally had a good time.

7 – Were we all friends and did we all like each other? Uh… no. Some of us were arch enemies!

8 – What did we do away from the coffee house? Hung out at each other’s house and apartments (sometimes), went to class (rarely), ate more pizza (always), allegedly painted street signs to look like the Bat Signal (hearsay?), partied (whenever possible), worked (alas), and went to SCA meetings and events (UH OH!).

There’s that darned SCA again. I just couldn’t escape! Read more when I publish The Coffee House Pt 3 next Monday!

UCD, UC Davis, University of California at Davis, Davis, SCA, Society for Creative Anachronism, history, medieval, middle ages, reenactment, Coffee House, UCD Coffee House, UC Davis Coffee House, Batman, Bat Signal, pizza

My Second SCA meeting was very different from my first. But to tell you that story, first I have to tell you this story.

Introducing… The Coffee House Groupies!

In my last Monday Memories, I described how I met a girl named Eideann in my Introduction to Medieval Literature class. Well, Eideann tended to hang out in the UC Davis Coffee House. Attached to the student union and closing off one end of the campus quad, words fail to accurately describe just how enormous and splendid the Coffee House really was and still is. So check out these pictures.

Interior shot opposite the bagel bar, all dressed up for a formal gathering.

Exterior shot showing a small portion of the outdoor dining.

During my days at UCD, the current Coffee House was brand spanking new. It opened in the spring of 1991, my freshman year, and replaced a tiny old building that was hardly bigger than an elevator.

When the new building opened, it featured a pizza bar, salad bar, bagel bar, organic snacks and drinks section, hot food bar, expresso bar, bakery, basic snack shop and much, much, more. It was amazing!

It was a great place to work, too. I was a student employee there for almost two years, and my salary helped to pay my tuition.

Yet, despite the importance of that money, The Coffee House provided me with much more than food and a job. It provided me with a real home away from home: The Coffee House Group!

tbc…

And incidentally, check out my other blog, Housework Hater. You can guess the topic.

University of California at Davis, UC Davis, UCD, UC Davis Coffee House, Coffee House, Society for Creative Anachronism, SCA, medieval, middle ages, renaissance, Davis, UCD Quad, bagel bar, expresso, Medieval Literature, student union, outdoor dining, housework, chores, cleaning

The Shining

After more than eighteen months during which I happily forgot the very existence of the SCA, my life had moved along its usual course. I went to class, hit the local movie theater and the occasional campus flick in Chem 194. I saw “The Shining” there one Halloween, and it was truly awesomely hysterical. Imagine an auditorium full of sugar-ed up teenagers, mostly boys. Now imagine those boys hooting and whistling when Shelly Duval appears as if she were the hottest babe to hit the screen since Raquel Welch wore a prehistoric bikini.

Mostly I did the whole sorority scene. I was, and am, an AOPi. That’s an Alpha Omicron Pi for all the sorority-challenged out there. And it was tremendous fun. I went to formals, sang and danced for Greek Week, spent a year living in our sorority house (haunted naturally) and generally lived the good life. We had the best house at the university since ours was a two story Victorian directly across the street from the UC Davis quad. I could walk to any class or school event in under five minutes. Plus, everyone who was anyone walked by our place at least once a day. But I digress.

As with all good things, the sorority life came to a crashing end. My sorority big sister, who I’d been planning to get an apartment with my junior year, changed her major and transferred to another university. I mentioned that before. I reiterate because it had a significant impact on my gradual disillusionment with the Greek life. The year after I lived in the Sorority house things got very political and ugly. Worse, two girls I’d known in high school pledged AOPi. I hadn’t even known they attended UCD. And I’d gone to Davis to get away from narrow-minded brainless bubble heads like them. It sucked big time.

So, skipping out on sorority functions, I found myself with a lot of time on my hands. Then, in March of 1993, I took the Introduction to Medieval Literature class by Jane Osborn. The class was a hoot for someone who loved history as much as I did. For one thing, Osborn had a tendency to put a slight feminist spin on the curriculum, and that drove the guys in the class crazy. It was amusing the say the least. We read epics like Beowulf and discussed the Arthurian tales. Then, one fatal day, while discussing why all women in the Camelot capers were evil, stupid, dead or helpless, I made a reference to The Mists of Avalon. The class was immediately polarized into pro-Morgan le Fey vs. anti-Morgan groups. Have I mentioned that I love to argue? I had a fine time.

But immediately following class, I was accosted by a strange young woman who wanted to talk about The Mists of Avalon. So we talked. And talked. And talked. And she missed five bus rides. By the time we were winding down, we’d discussed everything from reading and writing to TV and our families. She’d mentioned the SCA, but I didn’t give it much thought. After all, how was I to know that she’d been a member since she was fifteen? Far more importantly, we’d talked so long that she’d missed the last bus. Since she lived in another city, I felt obligated to drive her home. I, spoiled scion of the house of Scott, drove a brand new Volkswagen Cabriolet. I miss that car.

Anyway, the acquaintanceship might have ended there were it not for the evilness of our professor. Osborn told the whole class to pick an event in Beowulf and write a song about it. We were graciously permitted to work in groups. Eideann, the girl who’d accosted me after the last class, asked if I wanted to work with her. I said sure. So we grabbed one of the Coffee House’s teeny, tiny tables and immediately got to work. Less than two hours later, we were done. Our song, entitled “There Was a Place Called Heorot,” was 44 verses long and told almost the entire Beowulf epic. It was also to the tune of “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” No one’s perfect. Would you believe that we got a “C”? We did! Apparently, Osborn didn’t approve of over-achievers who don’t follow the exact directions. Who knew? LOL!

Little did I know that, while writing that horrendous song, we were laying the groundwork for a friendship that would last for years and drag me right back into the SCA.

If you missed some of the earlier portions of this story and would like to catch up, try these links.

Monday Memories - Kilty Pleasures

Monday Memories - My First Meeting

SCA, Society for Creative Anachronism, The Mists of Avalon, Mists of Avalon, Avalon, medieval, literature, UCD, UC Davis, Davis, chem 194, Jane Osborn, Osborn, Beowulf, Heorot, Mary Had a Little Lamb, sorority, haunted, ghost, AOPi, AOP, Morgan le Fey, The Shining, Stephen King