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On Sunday I had coffee with The Kiddo, who had just finished trying out for the Gem City Roller Girls, our local Roller Derby team.  We had a great time talking about that and other things, and I enjoyed myself a lot laughing at the faces she made while trying to find a sitting position that didn’t press on her large butt-bruise from falling during try-outs.  We went to Mass together afterwards, and I enjoyed myself even more snickering at the faces she made while slowly carefully pulling herself to her feet for the Gospel, or lowering herself to her knees to pray.  It was awesome.  I’ve been a little interested in roller derby ever since a link for Coraline related knitting took me to Joan of Dark’s blog, which has lived in my Google reader ever since.  (No, I haven’t seen Whip It.  Yes, it’s now in my Netflix queue.)  One of the cool things about roller derby is the awesome names all the players choose, full of punny attitude, names like Abby Noxious, or Betty Ford Galaxy.  I asked The Kiddo what her name would be, and she said she didn’t know, that she would have to earn it by mastering certain skills, and then given it by the team.

This made me start thinking about what roller girl name I would want.  At first I thought some kind of pun on B or Bee (B is the only nickname I’ve ever gotten that has ever stuck).  Except I couldn’t think of anything appropriately feisty.  I thought of something to do with the one joke on my name I know (Q: What do you call a pyromaniac who owes money?  A: Bernadette – burn-a-debt.  Yes, I know it’s not very good.).  Or I could go with something like Mabel The Destroyer, after my character in the feature length movie we made (I would love to see that character done over as a derby girl), or maybe Sacralicious Sue.  There aren’t any Mabels or (Mables) on the list, but they already have a Sacralicious, to maybe that’s out.  Of course, in order to get a roller derby name, first I’d have to be a roller derby girl, which means I’d have to learn how to roller skate.  I don’t roller skate.  Not ever.  So I guess I’ll have to content myself with bringing my knitting to the home games and cheering The Kiddo on from the stands.

It was really a fun weekend.  Friday evening I drove down to Westchester (about halfway between here and Cincinnati) for a swing dance the young adult ministry at St. John the Evangelist was putting on.  Marilyn, a girl I know from our Wednesday night swing dances, had been promoting it.  She’s one of the few practicing Catholic swing dancers I know, and I thought it would be wonderful to know a few more.  Plus when I looked at the list of people who had said they were coming on facebook, I saw Sugarbowl, one of my favorite leads, on the list.  So I printed off the directions and headed down.  And, you know, it was fun.  It ended up being a pretty small dance, so I didn’t meet many other Catholics.  But there were some dancers from Cincinnati there, and a few other friends.  The Hat also drove down from Dayton, so we were represented.  The fun part was that there were more guys than girls, particularly among the swing dancers Marilyn had recruited, so I danced to my heart’s content.  I stayed until the end, picked up some flyers for the retreat St. John’s is putting on in January, and came home tired and happy.

Speaking of Sugarbowl, I don’t usually explain nicknames, but I think I kinda have to explain this one.  He and I always have a good time dancing together, particularly since we both have a very playful attitude towards dancing, always ready to be silly and ham things up.  One night when we were dancing, he kept leading me in the moves for “I’m a little teapot”, including pouring the tea out on various other couples on the floor.  It was awesome, and afterwards I tried to tell him about a silly thing I’d seen, where a guy sang the first two lines of I’m A Little Teapot, except instead of putting one arm out for the spout, he put both hands on his hips, then looked down at himself and exclaimed, “I’m a sugarbowl!” I was acting it out, and when I got to the punchline, Sugarbowl gave me a very appreciative grin and said, “Well, yeah you are!” So, um, yeah.  He’s Sugarbowl.

On Saturday, Mariah had her Autumn Dinner.  A while back when she took possession of Jacob’s fire pit, she decided that she wanted to have a small group of people over to hang out by the fire pit and enjoy cigars and port.  However, in order to lure the people over, she decided to have a dinner first.  It was myself, Rosie, Sweetness and Sweetness’s dairy farmer (apparently there are perks to moving way up north to farming country), Mr. Maker, the Thinker, and a few others who don’t have nicknames yet.  We had a great dinner, but although Rosie had a roaring fire going in the fire pit afterwards, the night was too cold to lure most of us out.  I had a great time, particularly getting to know Sweetness’s farmer a little better.  He said that one of these days he might actually bring me a duck to roast.  (Him: What condition would you like the duck to be in? Me: Dead.)  And then afterwards I got to go home and sleep a little longer than usual.  Very nice.

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