Excuse me while I change into something more comfortable...

When I was in first grade, I got the starring role in the Christmas play: The Christmas Fairy. Never heard of the Christmas Fairy? Didn't you see her standing by Baby Jesus and the cow? I don't remember much of the production except for two things: I was glorious in pink, and knew everyone else's lines. My stage whisper prompting had much to be desired, and pretty soon the entire audience also knew everyone else's lines, too.

The following spring, it was time for the Easter play. In the classroom, I was busy working on a tempera-paint primary color masterpiece at the art easel, when a teacher tapped me to go be the lead for that play, too. I told her I would be there as soon as I was finished with my painting. She misunderstood me, and thought I was declining (a diva never declines! only defers!!!!) and gave the part to someone else. I realized what happened later, and tried to correct the situation, but somehow my six-year-old self could not articulate and I was placed in the chorus. The chorus!! You would never know this trauma from the snapshots of me and my best friend (the PhD in Women's Medieval Lit one) in our matching pearly-soft white sweaters and yellow dresses. Okay, so I wasn't the lead. But I did look darling.

Now-- why did I remember this story this afternoon? Am I up for another juicy part in an Easter production? I suspect it's because I didn't make it to Round III of the Mog Madness rounds, and the vendor who sells sour grapes in Dalaran is fresh out. And sh*t, not only did I not make it, but was dead last! Did they not see how perfectly my helmet matched the polearm? Haanta-pysche is PISSED.

Bones of Transformation smell like old fish.

And the thing is -- the show must go on. Congratulations to all the winners, moving on to Round III (I suspect the competition is going to be fierce!) While I was perusing some of the blogs, honestly, all all the outfits for that polearm, Effy's were superb. She really does know her stuff. Hell, I can't even get two matching socks most mornings. Triumph if there are no holes!

So, I didn't really think this other thing through, either, but Tome was noticing. I really wanted to hear people's weapon stories. I have one in the mental-mill, and will put pixel to paper soon. Thanks to Tome, with much love, for paying attention. I may need to extend the 'deadline.' It's not that I want to have a competition, I just want to read stories, too. 

Anyway, if you feel like playing/writing, I'd love to share your weapons-grade stories. Anytime is fine. Going to chill, dig up some stuff, and get my hands dirty again. And remember, you're dealing with a CHRISTMAS FAIRY. How many of you can claim that !? 






The Boon Writing Challenge

And this is one of the funniest "Christmas Stories" I have ever read: http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/12/year-kenny-loggins-ruined-christmas.html

Postscript: I'll say it here and everywhere: thank you to you three for putting this together - I know this is no small feat!