My posts for the next few weeks are likely to be shorter than usual, as I’m handicapped by a hand cast.
And that’s just one of my injuries.
It was a memorable weekend.
First there was Story City, IA, and its annual Scandinavian celebration. I didn’t take any pictures down there, because they would have been pretty much the same as the previous years’. Good food, nice people, gracious hosts. Sam was there with his Viking boat. Consistency is nice.
It was windy though. As Denny and I were setting up our Viking tent (a rather old one belonging to the club), a gust caught it, and we lost our grip. It fell and sort of exploded. The ridge pole broke, the frames split, and part of it fell on my head. The result was a trip to the local clinic, and three stitches.
(By the way, my brother once found a record that our grandmother, who was born in Story City, had her appendix removed in the hospital there, about a century ago. I’m confident it was a different building, but I felt a bond.)
I left a couple hours early on Saturday, to participate in a distant relative’s 100th birthday party, about 20 miles away. I walked in on them in full Viking garb, and managed to get away unscathed.
Sunday was Danish Day in Minneapolis, pictured above. Good weather, good crowd. At the very beginning of my very first fight, I got clouted on the right hand, breaking my index finger. The pain hasn’t been too bad, but this one-handed keyboarding is a nuisance.
Yeouch! Feel better soon, Lars.
Too bad a dictation device which would translate into text for any computer application is either expensive or non-existent. I suppose it does exist. You’d just have to have it dictate the text, then copy and paste it into whatever application, like the blog post. In such a manner Paradise Lost could be blogged.
Ouch, may you feel better soon.
Wait a minute. Your claim of sobriety just struck me as peculiar. Do you vikings lift a horn of mead before you beat each other senseless? I mean, that’s what the Irish do, and I thought we got it from Norse invaders.
This is where reenactment is different from real life. If I knew somebody was getting tanked before our combats, I’d do my best to get him banned.