One of the interesting things that happened this weekend was that my neighbors (actually their son and his girlfriend) decided to engage in sword fighting in the back yard. Not white trash, pruning-the-bushes talk-with-the-cops sword fighting (you have to talk to my friend DannyJo about how that works), fortunately, but stage-fighting practice. Here's a picture
Pooteewheet sneaked of them practising their craft - she's got a career ahead of her as paparazzi.
My father, who's currently in town, suggested I take my sword (a graduation present for my Master's degree from him) out and fight with them. At one point they left the swords sitting out there unattended, points first in the ground (and
Mean Mr. Mustard thinks a trampoline is an attractive nuisance). Pooteewheet suggested I stand out there between the unattended swords with my claymore screaming "there can be only one!"
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