Week 18 - Bound For Trouble

I finally decided! Well, really the Professor just handed her to me after practice, but I got the Pavel Moc! She's beautiful, and has taken up residence in an umbrella stand in the antique hall tree that used to be my grandmother's. Yes, she needs a more suitable and dignified home. And a name. But she's mine. And she sings too! We did some light sparring with the two blunts at practice, and when the swords clashed, the PM rang out with a lovely clear sound. The sword didn't sound anything like Frank Sinatra (brownie points if you get that rabbity reference), but she does have a beautiful 'voice'. I'm sure the Albion had one too, but it was a bit quieter. Plus the PM is a bigger, curvier gal like me :)

Sunday practice was mostly spent reviewing. Abnehmen, duplieren, mutieren, durchwechseln... The words at least sound familiar. The durchwechselns I know, that's the changing through one where you can circle the blade around a target to stab it from the other side. I've been practicing it with my evil cat, Circe. I'm working on my speed- poke her in the paw, then circle around and poke from the other side before she lashes out and rakes my hand to ribbons. 

For the others, I know bits of them. I think. If I remember it right, when you're in a hard bind, no- a strong bind, with full extension, you ought to duplieren around and wind to the inside, attacking again from the same side, but coming from a different angle. Is duplieren even German? It doesn't sound like it ought to be. Anyway. Now if I can just figure out what makes a bind strong, I'll be all set.

For mutieren, which also doesn't sound like it ought to be German, you change up the strike. If you're caught in soft bindings, you ought to lay back against the pillows and try not to squirm or blush too... er, rather you ought to wind up and around to the outside, changing the line of your attack to the opposite side. If you do it right, and quickly enough, the Professor says it looks as if your sword has teleported through your partner's. Ours didn't quite look like that during practice. Well, mine didn't. I ended up with the Professor as a practice partner, and his teleporter worked just fine. Apparently I need to watch Dr. Who to figure it out.

The abnehmen is problematic. Firstly, because all I could hear at first was ablaven, which in my head translated into to blave," which we all know means "to bluff." Then I just get lost in Princess Bride quotes. Abnehmen though, which apparently means either "slimming" or "removing," depending on your translator, seems like it ought to go with that melon baller scoop, that händedrücken thing. I'm still needing to shave a little off the sides, actually. Bypassing the melon ballers and bluffing though, I seem to remember it having something to do with slipping around a parry to attack on the opposite side. Professor said it's like the second step of the zorn ort play, which I'll pretend I remember in its entirety. Is it all in the wrists when you wind around, or are you supposed to use your entire upper body? I'm thinking it's wrists, but wouldn't bet much on it. 

It was a short practice though, so about the time I think I finally got it, we quit. I played a bit more later at home, trying to get the manouvers memorized rightly, but have no idea if it worked. So I went back to practice drills with my new sword. She's so lovely, and handles like a dream- though she sits heavier than my sharp, and flows much nicer than the cane I'd been using. The weather is too weird to go out and play, so my practices have been inside. It wasn't long before I realized that the ceilings in old houses are much lower than in newer structures, and that the PM is a bit longer than the sharp or the cane- my living room is now host to a number of gouges striping the plaster overhead. But my zwerches sound lovely and don't knock anything over. The fluffy cat now comes running when she hears the sound, and bounces up on top of the piano to listen. At least, I hope that's all she's planning. If she tries to catch the light reflections like she tends to do, we may have a bit of a problem.

While hunting for something to read one day this week, I stumbled across a Meyer translation. For being one of Lichtenauer's ilk he sure seems to have his own... interpretations. If I'm reading it right, he advocates never binding except in exceptional cases... how do you do that? Seems like when we practice we're always binding somehow. All his directions seem to be given for right-handed folk too. I could get behind him a lot more without all of that- transposing everything is a pain. When I asked the Professor about it, he said that Meyer is theoretically part of Lichtenauer's lineage, but he's 200 years removed, and a bit of the ugly cousin who lives under the stairs. Also that it stains, so I shouldn't get too close. Maybe I can find a large-print edition so I can pick out the differences from across the room. No book can be all bad, right?

Indes - Getting Handsy

Book fair was this week, with my Family Night event after school. It's not really worth it to drive all the way home and back, so I just stay through. It makes for a really long day, but it's our biggest fundraiser. Anyway, I cleaned up after the teachers and got everything ready for the customers, only to find that I still had an hour to kill, even after harassing the Professor for a bit. My volunteers weren't back yet, so I thought I could sort of get in some practice while I had the place to myself. The week's been insanely busy so I haven't had time to practice with the new sword, but we have these giant hand pointer things- they were a little longer than the yardstick I'd used before, so figured it'd be fine. I did find out quite quickly though that mariachi music (book fair has a fiesta theme) just isn't quite right for practicing drills.

There's a decent sized bit of open space right in front of the checkout table, so I started playing around with my flow drills, wielding my handy pointer-sword, slicing four cuts along one axis, doing the pretty ribbon cuts otherJake had us practice, zwerching my way around the library. Then I reviewed my durchwechselns, trying to get the pointy finger tip to circle the little stuffed "Pete the Cat" toys we're selling, then poking him in the nose and changing through to punch a hole in his chest. I stuck him on a pile of books and practiced thrusts, trying to knock him off his perch. I set him back on a shelf and scheitelhau-ed him several times. (I really can't stand Pete the Cat.) The point control on the pointy finger stick actually wasn't too bad, and I managed to pop Pete in the eye half a dozen times. Flush with success, I tossed Pete onto a nearby table and figured I'd practice my footwork too, since mine still rots. I tossed my cute strappy pumps behind the desk and started trying to triangle step out with each move, being sure to have good position when I finished the strike. After about ten minutes of what felt like waltzing around the library, I was finally starting to get it. I think. 

I'd been throwing myself into a series of krumphaus punctuated with an occasional zwerch and the twitchy underhanded strike that I suddenly can't remember the name of but probably sounds like a sneeze, when an extremely loud "whoa, awesome!" sounded from behind me. One of my little darlings had wandered in with his dad, and they caught me playing. Apparently to a six year old, it looked impressive enough. It would've been fine normally, but in the complete silence of the library and on the upswing of the twitchy shot, it proved to be quite startling. Startling enough, in fact, to allow the smooth purple handle of my pointing stick to fly from my grasp and sail across two book cases, only to smack into one of the beautiful picture books on display on the table. I'd been so pleased with that display; the books all positioned just so to display their colorful covers, lined up perfectly... rather like dominoes. I watched in horror as the book teetered, fell off the box it had been sitting on and bumped into another book, which keeled over backwards and crashed into the next, prompting that one to careen into the one after, which pushed the next one down, to knock into the one after that... all the way down the entire length of two cafeteria tables. After what seemed like ages watching my beautiful display crumbling before my eyes, finally the last book fell- only to land right at the feet... of Pete the Cat. 

Like Choosing Chocolate OR Ice Cream

I am awful at making decisions. Actually, I'm great at it with little things, but when something's important, it takes me forever to decide. I carefully have to weigh the options, thinking over every angle, pondering all the possibilities, all the choices.

The Professor is sweet, but entirely wicked. That's the only explanation for it. Someone was selling swords, a lovely pair of blunts. One's a Pavel Moc, a Lichtenauer, I think. The other is an Albion. They're both gorgeous. Both functional. Both in great shape. Both were priced well. So we bought them. Each paid half. But he's making me choose. It's wonderful, but it's horrible. Like choosing chocolate OR ice cream.

The Pavel Moc feels heavier in the hand, but it cuts through the air like a dream. It doesn't seem like it ought to balance, but it does, just barely above the crossguard. The waisted grip I didn't think I'd care for, but it's really comfy in the hand. It's longer than the Albion too, but the additional length is nearly all in the grip.It's curvier than the Albion, which I like a lot. The curves are why I opted for the Italian cold steel over the hand and a half. I'm a curvy girl, so of course it appeals.  The pommel is heavy and shaped kind of like a hot air balloon- pear shaped I think is the correct term. The Professor says this one would be great for point control, because of the way it's weighted. It's heavy and dense, like the very best dark chocolate.

The Albion is lovely though too. It's slim and fluid, everything a sword ought to be. It seems lighter, though the Professor tells me it's just the weight distribution. It sings in the air- he says it's "lively," and it certainly feels... bouncier. Easier to direct. It's got a fuller down the center, which isn't my favorite thing, but it's such a beautiful sword you can overlook that. The quillions are kind of square at the ends, which gives it a neat look. It has a scent-stopper pommel, which I know the Professor likes. It feels, I don't know, flexible in the hands. It's glorious, and handles like a wish. Smooth and light, but rich-feeling all at once. The Ben & Jerry's of swords.

How is anyone supposed to choose? This is just nuts. And now I want a sundae.

Week 17 - Only a Fool Uses a Melon Baller to Fight Vampires

More reviews of zorn orts this week. I can do them just fine when we practice, but any time we actually get to free spar, I swear everything I’ve learned just falls right out of my head. I’m hoping the idea is just to get so used to the motions that they start slipping in when you’re not expecting them- kind of like I used to hope that if I slept on my organic chemistry book the info would somehow seep into my head through the process of diffusion. Loving to learn and working with kids, I’m totally familiar with the ‘CLICK!’ that kicks in sometimes when sudden understanding hits… but I haven’t clicked just yet with the swords. So mostly I just try and be all nonchalant and watch what everyone else does to jog my memory, then pick it back up. My practice partner seemed to be in the same boat for a bit, so that was comforting.

Oh! Random aside... I can't watch movies any more with sword fighting in them! It's ridiculous... I don't entirely know what I'm doing half the time, but I find myself snorting at some of the sword play in these films. I was trying to watch the "Hobbit" with my ex-sister in law, "Robin Hood: Men in Tights" with mom, "Once Upon a Time", whatever, and I find myself becoming the peanut gallery, laughing and pointing out stuff and having people look at me like I'm a loon. I'm becoming a sword snob!

Anyway, after the zorns we moved on to learn something new. First was a counter to alber- scheitelhau. Bring your sword down to part your opponent's hair, or his head if he doesn't block fast enough. Then was Kron! It just sounds cool. Not as cool as zwerchau of course, but still. Kron: ward off the vampires by raising your sword so the crossguard is in front of your face, and high enough so you don't get bonked when someone tries to part your hair. If I remember, kron would get you into a bind if you didn't shove it off to the side, and is most likely to lead to grappling. After that, we tried händedrücken - the melon ball cut. Pressing the hands, really, but melon ballers are more fun. After a bind, wind around half a dozen times and try and hold on to your sword, and if you do it right it'll feel really weird and you'll scoop a chunk off the side of your opponent. Or, you know, just wind to the inside, then back out again. I'm thinking I need to get someone with a sharp to try that on me, but only if I get to pick the places to be scooped. I could do to lose a little off the sides... Anyway, we were having some trouble with that one, but apparently it was just because we were going so slowly. The Professor assured us that at speed it'd work. I'm sure we'll try it again next week, so I guess we'll find out.

Feet feet feet! Maybe I need to start wearing shoes with spurs so that they make noise when I hit the ground correctly. I’m still getting nailed for the fairy-feet, even when I’m specifically trying not to- so I’m thinking I really don’t understand the whole footwork thing. At Shortpoint, Mr. Montante had said something about growling while I stomp down with my forward step. I need to try that more I guess. I know the Professor's always going on about activating your hips when you swing. I try and remember that stuff, but I’m apparently afraid of squishing bugs or something. Or it might work to tape some bubble wrap to the porch so I can practice stomping properly.

Actually though, for sparring this week, for the first time I actually truly thought about a maneuver and managed to execute it without pausing and stop-thinking my way through it. We were playing King of the Mountain with our free sparring, where the first to score 3 good shots on the other got to stay in the ring, and fought the next opponent, then the next, until only one was left. Usually my free sparring is anything but… either it’s purely reaction-based: I see a sword coming at my head, have an “EEEK!” moment, throw up some sort of block and forget all about attacking, or I pause after every step, trying to remember how I’m supposed to react to ‘x’, what I’m supposed to follow it up with, where my feet are supposed to be, etc. This time though, my playmate seemed to be focusing mostly on thrusts, probably because I never seem to know quite how to handle them. Anyway, I thought I might have an opening above where I might not get clocked with an afterblow. And it worked! ZWERCHAU! I love them! I can’t cut worth beans with that strike, but still. So I got to be Queen of the Mountain! Ok, so ya, I went last. And I only beat one person. And I laughed myself stupid while Professor Deadpool danced for me, then beat me soundly. But still, I was the sword-wielding Bunny Queen for like a whole five minutes! All right, closer to two. Badger me not with details.

I'm sure there's a bunch I'm missing, but it's late and I've spent over ten hours driving today, so that's all I can remember. Well, mostly I just can't think any more. It's been quite a week, between the melon ballers and vampires, then the fridge dying, the wiring in the house having to be replaced, the nasty cold I caught from the little plague monkeys at school, three days spent with 30 crazy but sweet and funny (and dirty!) older ladies at a quilt retreat, seven hours driving, a little break for fun and games, then three more hours driving through a snowstorm with 15 ft. visibility at 20 miles an hour, only to finally get home to find that the new fridge leaked water all over the floor and ruined a cabinet... oh! And I got a new sword! But I forgot to pick it up. *cries*

This day can be over now?

Stocking Up On Steel - Sock It To Me

Ok, I have a theory. I’m fairly certain that there is a black hole in the back of my dryer. I have an entire basket full of socks that have no matches, and no two are even close enough to the same color to fake it. There are argyle socks and sports socks, socks with ruffles and socks with glitter, holiday socks and socks with bows. There are socks with bunnies and socks with watermelons, popcorn socks and socks with devils. There are great big socks that wandering trolls must’ve stashed in my basket, and socks too tiny to belong to human feet. There’s even half a sock, and I’ve no idea how it got that way.

What do I do with them all?

I suppose I could take all these lone survivors and create an army of sock puppets with them. With a vast force of technicolored sock warriors at my command, we could invade the laundromats and sock drawers of the world, recruiting other lost and lonely souls, stocking the ranks with minions of every shape and size. Then we shall march across the globe, leaving nothing but destruction and static cling in our wake as we quest to destroy all creepy sock monkeys everywhere. I hate sock monkeys. Monkeys in general aren’t high on my list, actually.

Or maybe I could cut them up like that lonely half sock I found, then stitch them together to make blankets for the poor. Lovely knit blankets in every color imaginable, covered with bold polka dots and ponies, Pink Panthers and Pooh Bears… surely they’d be appreciated for their artistic value as much as for their warming qualities. I could donate them to charity, get my kids at school to help sew them together, to donate all their lonely socks as well. 750 kids must have a lot of missing socks.

Darn it. Either of those would be a full time job, unfortunately. And I kind of like my job. Usually. I think instead maybe I’ll make all those socks into a cozy bed for my sword. Soon to be swords! The collection has begun. Mwahahahaha. Ya, really, that’s not good. I already have too many pricey hobbies. But all these soft, lonely socks would make a great cushion for a new sword. Swords! I have enough in this basket to cushion several in multicolor knitted comfort, protecting them from all hostile elements. I could lovingly wrap my blades in softness, keeping them free of cat hair and the puppy-slobber that seems to get everywhere.

And as a bonus, I could wear them at events! I could change between matches, never wearing the same pair twice. Probably I could get away never wearing even the same sock twice. Even with all the variation in pattern and design, I have nothing nearly as fun as the snazzy Maryland-flag patterned or rainbow-y ones I saw at Shortpoint, and bizarrely, nothing as plain as a single colored one in the bunch. Oh! And I could use them to clean the swords too! No chance of scratching a blade or anything with the cushiony comfort of zebra stripes or ladybug socks. Maybe I could even set up a table next time- spare socks for when your elastic’s blown, or for when you need to wipe down a blade. I know! Bring all your own singles- maybe we can make a match!

If nothing else, we can get a head start on that sock puppet global domination thing.