In which Melanie finds a label that is worth applying

Really, I don't like labels. But I do like customer service. So when I go into a store looking for clothing, I like to be able to say, "I'm looking for business formal or casual clothes, 1x tops, 2x bottoms, that I would like to wear." The first two search criteria are pretty easy to communicate. But I've been struggling with describing what I like without having to recite a litany of style, fabric, and embellishment.

So, I've got this nice steak and wine for dinner one night in Myrtle Beach, and I flip on the TV. I'm not a fan of the entertainment rags that every station carries in prime access, but they do make them quite a bit of cash, so there you are. They happen to air in the eastern time zone between 7 and 8, about the time I usually get "home" with supper. I suppose it was curiosity slowing that made me stop on a teaser that promised that Steven Cojocaru (I confess that I'm fascinated with how someone who dresses like he does can be considered a fashion mavin) would reveal what's hot and what's not for the spring fashion season. Besides being much shorter and less informative than the teaser would have one believe (surprise, surprise) he did opine that BoHo was definitely out.

Gee, what's BoHo? I'm not a fashionista, I'm an achronista. I'm out of the loop, and happily. But some times, just knowing would make things simpler, like when looking for a new wardrobe. In an unusual move, I had plugged in my laptop for the evening. Google revealed that BoHo is short for "Bohemian" (wonder who spelled *that*??) and further research confirmed that my style seems to be Bohemian. "Bohemian' is defined in The American College Dictionary as "a person with artistic or intellectual tendencies, who lives and acts with no regard for conventional rules of behavior." [1] Interestingly enough, most modern Goths could be described as Bohemian and seem to be drawn to the ninteenth-century Bohemian aesthetic.

A decidely romantic style, Bohemian is both ethnic and vintage. Shirts are a staple, and beading, embroidery, and similar details prediminate. Conventional styles show Victorian, Indian and African influences, but also Oriental forms and embellishments. Clothing is made of natural fibers, and styles are not necessarily "matching". Clothing forms are both flowing and restrictive to show off the body, but with a Victorian wink to modesty.

Thanks to "Cojo" I am finally able to define in two words what style I like to wear for the benefit of sales girls and journaling. Now if I go into a store and say "Gothique Bohemian" perhaps the meaning will be communicated - Bohemian forms, luxe fabrics (lace, velvet), beading, embroidery, saturated colors. But only if the salesperson is more style-savvy than I am.

[1] From Wikipedia, "bohemianism"

In which a the SCA BoD's proposed mission statement is cause for thought

Two things happened at once last week. A proposal for a SCA mission statement was posted by the SCA's board of directors, and Mistress Aindrea began posting philosophy questions to the Caerthen list.

The BoD's proposed mission statement for the SCA reads as follows:

The Society for Creative Anachronism provides a structure for enthusiasts of the Middle Ages and Renaissance to explore various aspects of the period in Europe to 1600 AD. As accurately as possible, the SCA’s members strive to adopt the lifestyle, culture, technology, clothing and accoutrements common to those living during the time under study. The SCA encourages members to learn by doing, to research period arts, sciences and activities, to share their knowledge with others, and to behave in a chivalrous manner in all their interactions.

I can't really say that the two events are linked in some fashion, but I'd be surprised if they aren't. What the BoD proposes is a slight change in the game, changes that seem to focus our attentions on a more authentic purpose, rather than the "attempt" required to date. There is a significant percentage of the Society -although not a majority by any estimation - which is interested in doing things more authentically. I suspect a couple of major factors are driving this change.

It might be because the SCA is getting older, both in anno societatis, and in demographic. The older, more mature members tend to shed the part-teee mentality for something more personally fulfilling. We are at a point where being more authentic is easier than ever, because we've got forty years of research (and the Internet) to depend upon. The longer-term members tend to become Peers, and as such take on a responsibility to lead and to present an exemplary countenance.

It might be that there are outside pressures to turn toward the authenticity side. The living history movement has significantly higher standards for appearance and performance than does the SCA. My conversations with LH folks underscore the contempt in which the SCA is held. "Isn't the SCA where people play if they cant hack it anywhere else?" one Mexican War-era historian asked me. I did maintain that there is a significant - if smallish - percentage of people in the SCA who are dedicated to getting it "right". In addition, our rep among academics is completely abysmal. Much of our research comes from the academic community; it would behoove us to cultivate those relationships, rather than to cast away the potential for new information through the perceived disregard for "serious" research and those who do it.

There has always been a division between the authenticists and those only here for the beer. The authenticists think that the partiers are frivolous and unlettered; the parties think that the authenticists are stuffy and overbearing. However, the percentages seem to be changing - the ratio of authenticists is increasing. More and more people think it's important to make this experiment meaningful beyond the social club aspect.

There is a very justifiable concern that implementing the mission statement as it is written carries the potential for a loss of members. We must evaluate how detrimental that loss would be. How valuable to the stated goals of the SCA is someone who is only here for the beer? Or those who insist upon including non-period things or activities in the name of diversity? Aren't there better venues for poker, barbeque, belly dance, potatoes, and wheels of Jell-O than the SCA?

We permit these things to continue because we perceive the SCA as a "big tent", an organization that prides itself upon inclusion, and in sharp contrast to the living history community that is quite the opposite - excluding distractions that the SCA allows. We must disabuse ourselves of the notion that there is room for everyone under the big tent. If 25% of the membership were to suddenly fade away, would there be a noticable negative impact to the SCA? Revenue probably wouldn't be adversely effected, since I'd wager that a smaller than average fraction of the partiers pay for memberships anyway. Yes, event revenues might drop, but the sizes of the sites should be scaled back. Those who remain just might get more value for their membership dollars.

Aindrea asked for people on the Caerthe list to write why they participate in, and why they do what they do in the SCA. I was initially interested in the form the conversation took - no one really discussed or challenged any one else's SCA world-view. Is this because we are so sensitive to the diversity of "games" being played in the SCA that to questions someone's motivation would seem to be rude? Are we politically correct? In my experience, controversial subjects in the SCA tend to be dealt with somewhat passively-aggressively; we tend to continue on our own path - partier or authenticist - because in the SCA we can.

The responses provided a great deal of insight into the shades of experience in the SCA. Of those responders whom I know, the responses were pretty much what I expected, both the good and the bad. For the authenticists on the mix, the motivation was in learning about the Medieval/Renaissance milieu in an environment where they could participate with others. For the rest, the primary motivation seemed to be the people in the organization, although some did say that the opportunity to learn new things was a good thing. One person even said he did silly things to share the "fun side of the dream", again placing "fun" and "work" at opposite ends of the spectrum of human experience.

Perhaps the most remarkable thing underscored by Aindrea's questions was that the SCA is already pretty fractured. In a gross sense, people are divided by how they perceive the purpose of the SCA, for fun or for personal enrichment. Within those two divisions, there are as many reasons to be here as there are members. Because the SCA, Inc. has to date declined to enforce the focus established in the governing documents, the size of the "big tent" continues to grow. At some point the SCA will have to decide whom and what belongs and what doesn't, before it becomes so dilute as to loose it's meaning. The proposed mission statement takes a step in that direction.

In which journaling and creating come into conflict

I've been so busy creating that I can't write.

The new curtain rod is finally up on the bedroom, but I can't seem to got the curtains finished. Besides that, I requisitioned an idea from a place where we ate dinner in Myrtle Beach last week, which adds one more "project" for the bedroom. And pillow forms were half-price last night at JoAnn's, so, there is one more.

The curtains are getting slowly closer to complete. I have one sheer panel finished, and one that only awaits buttonholes. The solid panels will require some more time, since they will have to be finished on all sides, and have buttonholes. The swag is cut out, but remains laid out on the cutting table awaiting somnolent felines.

My non-sewing projects have had to share space on the cutting table, since the jewlery benches have largely been horizontal storage space for months. I sent Chris off to Lowe's the other day to fetch another shelf unit, and did a bit of a cleaning frenzy on the south east corner of the basement. The result is that I now have space just for jewelry. And I am re-stringing a necklace, so that space is heavily utilized right now.

And then there's Chriatmas to put away. *sigh* We did get the tree out of the TV room two weeks ago, but the growing pile of boxes in the "hall" have created an effective barrier - real or imagined - to getting the big tree down. If I could just get it put away, there'd be room in the corner for the boxes....

Of course, this all keeps me from blogging or working on anachronista.net, which desperately needs to have the medieval pages added. As hard as it is to do both at the same time, it's just as difficult to divorce journaling from making - I can't record what I haven't done, and if I don't journal, I obsess about forgetting something important. I think that if I didn't want to journal, I'd get projects done faster, and could move on. Because as much creative energy as I'm putting in and getting out (in many ways, the creative process contributes as much as - or more than - it consumes), there are other projects that I want to work on. Getting a period cooking demo scheduled, two or three Gothic hoods, or period furniture just for starters. Facing the majority of the spring in Kansas and Nevada makes me think about whatever I can get done for the garden in what little time I have at home.

At least I'm at home for the next four weeks.

In which moonlight is a perfect sweet

Days as a lead implemetation specialist are frantic; yesterday was no exception. When one of my co-workers mentioned that we should go out on the town last night, I was less than enthusiastic. I agreed, on the condition that wine was involved, and that no one tried to drag me anywhere that dancing would be required.

After a three-way change into jeans, my two co-workers and I left the hotel for dinner. We drove south for some distance, from North Myrtle Beach into Myrtle Beach proper. Not having any idea where to go or what's good, we decided on character. The resturant is called SoHo, and they seem to specialize in Japanese. The music on the patio was good, so we went in.

Dinner was good, but the company was better. We had a great time. We all agreed that the waiter was very desirable; his Baltic accent was especially attractive. We did not hesitate to require him at our table as frequently as seemed civilized. I was introduced to a Godiva chocolate martini, and Pearl sake, both of which I will seek out again. Dinner was preceeded by a huge plate of sushi, which to me tasted fresher than I am used to. I had a "mixed grill" of veggies, beef steak, chicken and shrimp, and was thouroughly satisfied. Dessert was a chocolate mousse, part of which remained on the table after we left - it was just too good.

As an added benefit, I found a ceiling dressing at SoHo that I intend to incorporate into my new bedroom decor.

After a stop at the Kroger near the hotel, we headed back to the hotel. It was after 10:00, but I was determined that I would get out on that beach - the beach behind the hotel.

The room's balcony overlooks a section of the beach. I sleep with the sliding glass door open, so I can hear the surf all night, as well as have cool fresh air in the hotel room. I've been watching the tides every morning and evening, but watching is as far as I've gotten since I arise at daybreak, and return to the hotel after nightfall every evening. Last night was warmer than it had been, and so I decided that inspite of the late hour, I would try to go down there.

I didn't bring a jacket, nor did I pack anything that was very warm. Since I anticipated temperatures in the 60s and 70s, I pretty much packed for spring. I wasn't counting on ocean breezes. I put a sweatshirt on over my tank top, added my black linen blazer, and I was off on foot.

The moon is just short of full, and so the beach was pretty well illuminated. The light cloud cover did reduce the light, but it was bright enough. The hotel has built wooden boardwalks over the dunes, limiting the damage that many tourists might do to that delicate ecosystem. I noticed that this beach had a much more gentle slope than the one in Gulf Shores, and that there were a lot fewer seashells. The ocean was quiet, with low waves rolling in. In the moonlight, the breaking waves almost seemd to appear out of nothing. The beach was very wide at it's low tide, and I walked a little way both north and south along the beach. I did a little wading, but as the water was shockingly cold, that didn't last very long.

I could see far off ships on the water to the east, but no other people were abroad at this late hour. I returned to the hotel after 11.

Another domestic delight provided by the hotel is the Jaccuzzi tub in the bathroom. After a long hot bubbly soak, I poured myself in bed. It was very late, and I regretted the late hour this morning. But it was fun while it lasted.

In which things are better than I would have imagined

The wind must have died down, because the take-off of this little jet was remarkably wobble-free, despite my experiences coming down into Cinci. Although this flight looked to be totally full from my perspective in Denver this morning, there are enough empty seats that I have the row to myself. The iPod is charged, and so I have about an hour to enjoy some music and solitude.

I can't get ahold of Morris, my co-worker. I have packed my notebook - with the phone list - in my checked baggage, and so have no backup mumber for him. I do hope he plans to come get me at the airport. I seem to recall that he was going to meet me there, but if not, I can always call a cab.

In which Melanie finds herself in Cincinnati

Cincinnati. An airport designed by a four-year-old.

I arrived late in the afternoon. The pilot had advised the passengers that 27 mph winds would present a problem, although he quickly clarified that the said "problem" would involve those leaving the airport. Didn't fool any of us. Probably not as bad as the landing in Portland ME last winter, in a snowstorm with 20mph crosswinds, but likely number two. I don't recall ever feeling the plane skootch sideways during the approach. Not a good feeling. Imagine the anticipation with which I view the flight out of here.

I know that this airport was designed by a pre-schooler, because the designers could neither say their alphabet (the main concourse is "B"), nor could they assemble the airport in a cohesive manner. A map shows that the concourses are scattered across the property in no particularly logical formation - it looks like Evan placed the buildings on his train table. In addition, the concourse in which I sit seems to have adopted the self-service fast food, or the Model T assembly-line model. Obvious designed for modern efficiency, the result is confusion.

The gates are virtually inaccessible. Instead all passengers congregate in a very large common room. Facing the passengers are ten "boarding doors", each labeled with a letter of the alphabet. After following the sign, which directed passengers to gates with numbers like C-47, "E", "F", "G", and "H" just don't seem to scan. After passing through door “G”, passenger then walk down the hallway (which would be the length of the concourse in most airports), and then exits the building to board the plane from the tarmac.

This part isn’t too odd – most of my assignments require travel on small regional jets. This certainly wasn’t the smallest – the award for the smallest would have to go to the De Havilland Dash 8 turboprop that I took from Buffalo to Pittsburg (seating just 18 passengers) last winter. I decided that I really didn’t like turboprops very much after that flight. However, seating in tonight’s jet was just 44, which is quite small enough, thanks. Too bad I missed the Outback in concourse B – I could have really used a Wallaby Darned to gird my resolve for the next flight.

In which the bedroom décor progresses, but there's still no cigar

I prevailed upon Chris to puh-leeze help me make some headway on the bedroom today. After a quick trip out to Southwest Plaza to pick up his suit coat and pants, I promised him that I would not insist upon working on some project all evening, if he would just help me out this afternoon. Having already hauled the drapery hardware up to the bedroom, I was ready to finally get the stuff hung.

It was pretty obvious that a 12’ pole was not going to voluntarily bend around a 90º turn in the upstairs hallway. The alternative was to take it indoors (painting having been done outdoors, of course) via the bedroom window. We got in inside, laid it on the bedroom floor, and turned our attention to the brackets.

We cleverly purchased a BullsEye laser level, which made the alignment of the brackets pretty easy. I held the level up over the headboard, and Chris marked the placement. Once my part was over, I hurried downstairs to the studio, where the four panels had been laid out on the cutting table, ready for pinning.

The moleskin is pretty heavy, and although I had one of the headers pinned, I decided that they would really need to have some interfacing, and so I had draped them over the ironing board. I’ll have to wait until I get back home week-after-next to get the interfacing, but the sheers would be finished in the meantime. I was pretty sure that we would have curtains before nightfall.

I had one panel pinned, and was running out of pins when I heard Chris coming downstairs. I could tell by his step that the news was not good. The 12’ pole is about 14” too short. Not only that, but the window on the left side of the bed is too close to the wall to accommodate bracket and finial. Furthermore, the brackets that I purchased (and painted) to support the middle of an extremely long pole are too long – the cups are not in line with the holes in the decorative brackets.

Back to the drawing board, as it were.

I abandoned the sheer panels, rationalizing that it would do little good to rush a job that had no chance of achieving any level of completion before I have to leave in the morning. “Annie” is on the TV, and we have both pretty much shut down until Griffin shows up for bowling and dinner.

In which JoAnn's has a sale

After x-mas sales are for stocking up.

A couple of nights ago, I was cutting out the curtains for our new bedroom. When I was ready to sit down to sew them together, I discovered that my humongous roll of black thread that I know I own has disappeared. In my studio, it's not really a surprise. Since the sewing machine frequently goes on the road with me, I suppose it could be in a suitcase somewhere. This of course meant that I had to go to JoAnn's. (Picture the dramatic pose.)

Right now, my local JoAnn's superstore is having a sale. :-) Up to 70% off of a great deal of their stock. 40% off beads, suplies, and accessories. I stocked up. Unfortunately, trims were not on sale, but the thread was 30% off, which is three bucks on the size of black and white that I buy. I got a bead storage container that will travel, and I should have gotten two. Picked up some findings for hair things.

So, I'm half-stocked with beads. I still can't make anything except perhaps some hair bobs, since I still need some basic things like black beading cord and silver wire. I have a Fire Mountain order ready to go, but at $175, it'll have to wait until payday.

I'm pretty focused on the bedroom right now, since I'd like to finish it before I leave this weekend. Speaking of which, while the sun's shining and it's not too windy, I should go outside and finish painting the curtain rod.

In which your supposition about Melanie being too busy to blog is confirmed

Yes, too busy to blog.

I'll try to upload (and back-date) some of the things that I've been writing over the past week or so - bits and pieces of text that could be more readable.

Suffice it to say that I am currently back from Opelika AL, and darned happy to be here. While in Opelika, I have to admit that the workload was frequently too little to keep me busy. Idle hands, and all that. I hatched a plan, which is currently occupying my New Year's holiday. It's not up yet, but in a few days open a browser and type http://anachronista.net . I'm moving all the SCA clothing web pages there, as well as creating pages for the other clothing that I've been doing. I suppose as (if?) I get into 19th-century clothing, there will be an expansion.

Until then, peace, prosperity, and health to you and yours in the New Year!