Week 6 - Buckle Down

I got my first bruises today! Is it odd to be excited about that? Oh cripes, I hurt.

I ended up being late to practice. I'd been sitting at a stoplight waiting to get on the highway when I noticed the car next to me was slowly moving backwards. The driver was older but looked alert and was staring straight ahead, so I kept thinking "surely he's going to stop?" "Doesn't he notice the stoplight getting further away?" He's going to stop." "He'd better stop now..." He did not stop. Ended up plowing into the guy behind him with a loud crunchy sound. The fellow had a new car and so was extra grouchy about being hit. I stopped to be sure the driver guy was ok and ended up giving a report, because grouchy guy insisted on police intervention. That's when I also discovered that some folk look at you a bit weirdly when they see a sword sitting on the seat next to you. Or maybe it's just that there were half a dozen children's books and a stuffed red panda backpack sitting on the seat with it. Either way, I got raised eyebrows from the cop. And cranky guy backed away from my truck.

But it was a gorgeous day, so at least the waiting around wasn't too bad. And the rest of the drive out to practice was lovely too, which helps to make up for the obscenely long drive. I'm keeping a running wildlife count of critters that I see on the way up and the way back. I'm up to two foxes, two groundhogs, a 'possum, eighteen deer, a rabbit, countless squirrels (though usually just in my neighborhood), and what I'm pretty sure was a coyote, though I didn't think they were this far out. That's just live critters. If I count dead ones too, add in at least a dozen more deer, half a dozen raccoons, another fox, a cat, some squirrels and two 'possums.

I got to practice late. I was halfway there when I realized that the bag with my mask and gloves was still sitting on the dining room table. The cat had climbed in it while I was loading up the car and I remember thinking I'd go back for it and lure her out. Ya, that didn't happen. And now there is cat hair in my mask. Regardless, I didn't have it, so there wasn't much to unload when I got to practice. I set my sword on the table and wandered over to join the program already in progress. Jake told me to warm up, and that's when I realized I had a big problem...

So I mentioned my 'penance' yesterday. Well apparently, according to the Professor, the reason my wrists hurt was I'd been doing my zwerchaus all wrong. Actually, I had started off doing them correctly, using my whole arms, but after 313 or 584 or 723 or something, I started getting lazy and my form slipped so I just ended up flipping my wrists. Bad Bunny! Since I found out I'd done them wrong though, I decided I'd fix it, go back and do them the right way. So really, I ended up doing 2,000 stupid zwerchaus, all to the tune "It's a Small World," because it's the most heinous ear-worm ever and takes days to get that horrid song out of your head. "It's..." whoosh "a small world..." whoosh "after all..." whoosh. At least the little sword winds sounded cool. It helped to imagine lopping the heads off all the creepy little dolls in that "Small World" ride at Disney too. *shudder* I hate dolls.

Anyway, so when I tried to warm up, I realized that I couldn't raise my arms above my chest. Well, I could, but it hurt. Kind of a lot. I think I must've let out a few whimpers, because as I was trying to stretch out my arms, one of the guys (I have to see about getting permission to use names) kept asking if I was ok. NO. I definitely was not ok. Like I could admit that though. So I was all, "I'm good. Just sore." I'm not a good actor though. I then proceeded to hug myself for the next ten minutes, stretching my upper arms, poking at my puny, protesting muscles, trying to get them to unknot themselves enough that I could lift a sword without wincing or whimpering again. ZwerchOWs indeed.

But we got to play a new game today! Sword and buckler. Lots of fun, but I totally sucked at it. Only part of it I could attribute to having to do it with the wrong hand. Aside from the fact that holding a new, smaller sword in my off hand felt awkward (why couldn't I use my left hand again?), something about the angle or my aching wrists made it extra complicated. I kept mixing up my hands and having to stop and translate moves in my head. It was bad. Anyway, I get the idea of hiding the sword behind the puny flying saucer (sorry, that's what those bucklers look like- if I ever have my own, I'm totally painting it up like a spaceship), but keeping the wrists together really threw me off when I was trying to figure out how where the heck my sword was supposed to go. And my footwork is abysmal I know, though at least this time I didn't get cited so much for having 'fairy feet'. Yay! I'm getting better! Or maybe Jake's just tired of pointing out how bad my footwork is. Tossup. On the up side, in free sparring, I actually scored points! And landed at least one shot that I knew why I got them!

As nearly as I can tell though, the buckler isn't to shield you so much as to swat the other guy's sword away so you can slice him up. I think it's supposed to protect your hand too, though not holding mine right got me my very first sword bruise! Probably it's weird to be excited about it, but I don't care. My first partner got in a good shot and I didn't move my buckler hand fast enough, and I got cracked across the thumb. It aches when I bend it now, and has a faint purplish tinge. Matched my shirt at least. I was supposed to strike back with a bunch of absetzens. It was at that point that I realized that all my practice made me pretty good at absetzens- when they're at doorknob height. I poked my poor partner in the belly more than a few times, when I was supposed to be aiming at his throat. Jake adjusted my stance and I guess it improved, though I was grumbling under my breath the whole time "They're just perfect at doorknob height, Professor!" My second bruise came with the sword and buckler too, with partner #3 this time. He caught me with a clean thrust to the chest. I've got a fair amount of padding there, but still ended up with a little purple welt that stands out great on my pale skin.

My first battle wounds! Lame ones maybe, but still. Can't wait for the next set.

Week Almost 6 - ZwerchOW

I'll try not to whimper, but it hurts to type. It's also no longer the least bit fun to say zwerchau, and I really could use a cruller. But at least I'm done. Well, half done. The rest will come tomorrow when my arms don't feel like jelly and my wrists don't feel like they're about to snap off. And for those to whom the following makes sense, no, I did not wear a battle thong. It is way too chilly for that nonsense. Plus... totally not comfortable.

Anyway, I started off enthusiastically enough. But after I completed my first triumphant ZWERCHAU! in the living room, I realized two things: a. cats are fascinated by shiny things, even when they're moving quickly, and b. my ceilings are quite low. Rather than risk slicing off whiskers or putting another gouge in the ceiling to match the source of my epiphany, I moved outside and did my penance there. I tried the sidewalk first, but decided to relocate after a few swings of my gorgeous new sword. (She's been named Bacio di Acciaio, by the way- Steel's Kiss in Italian, unless my translator fibbed). I don't think the weeping cherry tree out front properly appreciated being kissed though, and after I lopped off a few weepy branches accidentally, I figured moving would be wise. Honestly, I'm not usually such a ditz, but I definitely have not mastered the ability to gauge my reach with a 36" steel extension. The puppy stared forlornly at me through the glass storm door, his accusing stare burning into my shoulders as I ventured further out into the yard.

Ow. Ow. Ow. ZwerchOW.

Hah! I know why it's called that now. After the first few hundred, your wrists really start to ache. If I get carpal tunnel from this, I'm totally blaming my instructor. But the nice thing about repetitive tasks? You don't have to concentrate. Much. Except that I kept losing track, and backtracking to the last number I remembered saying. And my memory stinks, so I couldn't remember what I said, so had to start over three times. Around the 300 mark, I decided I needed theme music. The next 200 swings were a fruitless attempt to kill "It's a Small World," which thanks to storytime at school yesterday, was the only song that came to mind. I debated letting the sword fall on my head, but figured that probably wouldn't get me out of the krumphaus.

Ow. Ow. Ow. KrumpOW.

See? Works for that one too. OW. The reason I'm doing this is that my tongue got me in trouble again. The first time was in 6th grade, when Mrs. Dutrow (Deathrow) the art teacher gave me a bunch of demerits for talking sarcastically in class. I had to write a big apology letter, which ended up being the first and, up until now, only time I ever got in trouble for being a smart aleck. These days, I'm usually a lot more subtle. Usually. This time I ended up with my "punishment," having to do 1,000 zwerchauws and 500 krumphauws for... I don't even know now. Something I said in chat. I'm sure it was terribly clever. Or is zwerchau a verb? I had to zwerchau 1,000 times? Beats me. Either way, if I never see a helicopter or a bus again, I'll be good.

The puppy meanwhile, apparently decided my moving twenty feet further into the yard meant that I had obviously abandoned him, even though I was still in plain sight. I heard him jostling the door handle, a little trick that he learned at school would usually grant him freedom from my office. Luckily, he forgets that I know his tricks, and I'd locked the storm door behind me. After he realized that escape was not imminent, he sprawled morosely in the entryway, smushed his face up against the glass door, and began to make a weird, high-pitched keening sound. I turned and yelled back to him in exasperation, something like "Cripes, I'm right here!" Apparently he took this as an invitation to up the ante, and gave a huge sigh that fogged up the glass. Then he began to bark.

Now in order to properly appreciate the true horror of my darling fuzzy boy's voice, imagine the most piercing, high-pitched, obnoxious bark you can think of, add an echo and an amplifier, then multiply that by the sound of pain and the color 3. It's awful, incredibly loud, and utterly incomprehensible. He's a decent sized pup, a husky/shar-pei mutt weighing about 60 pounds. He does have a big-boy voice, and it actually sounds a bit scary, but it only ever seems to come out when repairmen visit the house. But his normal voice, his hideously loud, ear-piercing shriek of a bark, can irritate like no other. So my darling pup began barking, and I went back to my zwerchauwing, trying to ignore the barking like the trainer had told me to. But horrendously loud yipping barks can play havoc with your concentration, and I had lost count again. I glared at the dog through the door, but he wasn't even looking at me any more. What had begun with an attempt to induce guilt in me for abandoning him had apparently turned into a noise-making frenzy of ecstasy as he bounced around the entryway, enthusiastically barking his fool head off, rubbing nose-prints all over the glass, and pouncing and chasing his tail while emitting the high-pitched shrieks... until he saw that I was looking at him from twenty feet away. He then stopped mid-bark, lifted his head, and began to howl.

Because shouting at a noisy dog always works, I stomped over to the door, yelling at him to be quiet. Apparently this just gave him the notion that I wanted to participate in a duet, and he leaped up to put his paws on the door as if we were dancing. I was yelling, he was still howling, and his tail was wagging with glee- we were noise-making buddies singing the best duet ever. Just like that, the absurdity of the situation hit me. The dog was on one side of the door, howling like he was being tortured. I was on the other, with a sword in my hand, yelling through the glass at the fluffy idiot. The storm door was locked between us... and my keys were inside the house.

Week 5-1 - Whetting the Appetite

A smile crosses my lips as I glance down to see it for the first time, lying peaceful and relaxed on my bed. It's like Christmas here. I lick my lips in anticipation, an impish grin lighting my face as I reach for the opening. My fingertips slip inside, gently brushing against it as I try and figure out how to extract my prize. I tease it open a little further, wiggling my fingers into the space. I catch a glimpse and my eyes go wide, greedy for the sight of more. I slide my hand into the gap, sighing as my palm slides over the hard smoothness. Fingers twitching, I curl my hand around it, my lashes sweeping down at the sudden feeling of "rightness" that fills me. It feels a little cold, but I suspect it will warm up quickly in my hand. I picture the smile on your face as I gently begin to tug, slipping it free from its gentle prison. With one long, smooth motion I pull it free, loving the feel of it filling my hand, admiring the length as it's revealed before my wondering gaze. A viscous liquid coats the tip, glistening in the half light of my room. I shiver a bit as I stroke a finger across it, spreading the moisture along its gentle curves. I can't help but stare. It's so tempting, so striking, and much wider than I thought it would be. Absolutely gorgeous. With a reluctant sigh, I decide I've teased myself enough. I don't have time to play right now, much to my dismay. Wrapping my hand firmly around it one more time, I can't help but whimper as I fit the tip to the opening and slide it home. I rub my palm across it once more, thinking that I can't wait until I can show you my new sword.

What? You were thinking something else? Pervy :-p

So yay! My first sword is here, and she really is lovely. She needs a name. I want to test her out, but it's raining, which means practice tomorrow is cancelled, and I can't play outside and I've too many critters wandering around my house to play inside, so all I get to do is sit here and look at her. Such a tease.

My New Toy

Week 4 - Krumphau: The Wheels on the Bus...

The wheels on the bus go round and round… 

It’s become the theme of our practice combat, and my sparring partner and I break into the stupid song at random while we practice. It's like we’re caught in some weird, violent ritual inspired by preschool nightmares: "The wheels on the bus go THWACK krumphau..." We're learning the Krumphau today, which has nothing at all to do with crullers, I’m sorry to say. I can't even keep track of whether I'm the one krumping or hau I'm supposed to know which position to return to. I know I'm I’m not moving my hands right though, and Jake keeps telling me to “Drive the bus!” Riiight. I grind my teeth and mutter softly under my breath, "yes, Professor."

I think this man needs a glimpse into my day. I hate that stupid bus song. Preschool is on the same hallway as my library, and I hear it all day long. I have never been behind the wheel of the bus. I have never wanted to drive a bus. I actively try to avoid getting near the school buses at dismissal time. That is way too much responsibility for me, and frankly, I’m not that good a driver. In fact, I should be like the pigeon, and nobody should ever allow me behind the wheel of a bus. My bus would probably just crash, which seems to be what my sword is doing. Ever patient, Jake walks from one side to the other, having me follow him with my sword until I get the idea. What he doesn't realize is that I'm wondering if I could actually poke him with my sword and get out of reach before he could get in an afterblow. But he calmly continues pacing around behind me, back and forth, until I catch on and get my krumphau down. While he’s there. The minute he leaves, I swear everything falls out of my head and my sword starts crashing my bus again. My sparring partner is too nice to comment, but I’d swear I heard him start humming under his breath- “the wheels on the bus go round and round…”

Oh, and bonus! Apparently on your birthday, you get to engage in one fight for every year you've been alive! Woohoo! And the last is with the professor himself. Lucky girl today had 18 matches to fight. Come November, I will have... many, many more than that. So... in the event that I manage to keep writing for another month or so and then these little postings suddenly stop, you'll know why. 

Just in case, I like daisies. They'll look nice for my funeral.

Mid-week 3 - Ruler of my domain

Ok, so today was incredibly boring at work. Half my classes were done already and the library assistant was out, so it was just me. I was getting snoozy, so at lunchtime I grabbed a yardstick, cranked up my music, and started doing flow drills in the middle of my office. I had cranky oxes underhau-ing fools, fool peasants smacking poor oxes in the head all over the place all day long, and I was listening to the swish of my mighty yardstick cutting through the air when I suddenly heard a giggle. I stopped mid swing and looked around... to see two of my girliest little first graders peeking over the circulation desk, watching me.

"What ARE you doing, Ms. G?"

I stopped, blew my bangs out of my eyes, and smiled. "You did remember to bring your library books back, right?"

Eyes went huge as one nodded solemnly and pointed to the princess book she just laid on the counter. The other glanced at her friend, saw the yardstick resting on my shoulder, then dissolved in giggles. Then she saw the empty cardboard box in front of my desk and said "I think that box would make good armor."

Best part? As I was helping them pick out books before shooing the girls back to class, they both said they wanted books about girl knights. Must be doing something right! 

Week 3 + 1 day - Shop 'til you drop

I have decided that I need my own sword. I have entirely too many expensive hobbies already, so why not add another? Jake the ever-patient spends a few hours with me as we look at pretty, sharp, pointy sticks of all kinds and discuss the merits and weaknesses of each. I get a whole interactive history lesson on Oakeshott blades and why they’re shaped the way they are, about sword construction, about foibles and quillions  and points of balance and scent-stoppers, all of it pulsing to the center of percussion echoing rhythmically in my brain… and it’s all weirdly fascinating. I hate shopping under most circumstances, but don’t seem to mind poring over armory webpages, looking for the perfect sword for a nooblet like me, all the while trying to convince myself that I don't really need an Albion for my first sword. But I do reeeeeally like the Baron. And the Agincourt. And the Earl... 

I confess to being a smidge disappointed that none seem to come in purple.

Week 3 - A thousand apologies

THWACK. The sword tip bounces off my mask. Again. Actually, I guess technically it's the foible. “Stop apologizing when you hit him!” THWACK.

Under my breath I hiss, “Yes professor.” I’m pretty sure the mask hides my actions, so I stick my tongue out at Jake as he moves away. I know this. I know it doesn’t hurt, but I can’t help it. I’m the one who rescues the spiders at school when the kids shriek and want to squish them. I save mice from my cats and release them in the neighbor’s yard. I even feed squirrels from my bird feeders. I just can’t get used to the idea that it’s ok to be hitting people intentionally. THWACK. I clock my opponent again, adding a small “sorry” under my breath. I’m pretty sure I see him grin beneath his mask.

I keep practicing, sparring with the other nooblet who seems less lost than I feel. Grumbling to myself, I wince and whisper apologies every time I smack the poor guy in the head. But after ten rounds of this… secretly, slightly ashamedly, I finally admit it to myself… this is kind of awesome. THWACK. I finally have a move I can do right. THWACK. ZwerCHAU! The word even sounds awesome. If this were a comic, I’d have little spiky bubbles surrounding the word as I whacked him again. It’s my new favorite word, maybe even better than defenestrate. Zwerchau!