A New Pen

I approve!

At War Practice, this year, I managed to make it to the scribal pavilion. A lady, who also attended, showed off her new glass dip pen. I never heard of such a thing. The lady, whose name I forgot four seconds after I was introduced (no disrespect to her, I'm just bad at names), let me try out her pen. I liked it. And I bought my own.

I found one on Amazon for about $10, and it showed up today. I was a bit worried because it is a glass pen, but it came in a really nice box.

This coffin is where my new pen is going to live. Like the lady's at War Practice, this pen was comfortable to hold. And pens are rarely comfortable for me: I've been dealing with RA for most of my life and gripping pens normally cause pain within a minute. This guy, no pain while I was farting around with it.

Now, the reason why the nice lady showed me her pen was because I had said that I do "kalligrafy" because my handwriting is so bad and that the finer the pen, the neater I can write. I had said that I would use a crow quill pen more if they could hold more ink. (I hate the fact that I have to dip the pen every 3rd or 4th letter). She then handed over her glass pen for me to try and told me that it hold a lot of ink.

So, here is the tip. The grooves spiral around the tip and holds a lot of ink and, get this, it doesn't drip and it's easy to clean.

Speaking of easy to clean, here's Deckster not helping me test my new pen.

I wasn't using all of that paper.

Currently he's chasing a twist-tie around my feet while I type this.

Here is my test of a single dip. This pen hold more ink than any of my calligraphy nibs and all of my crow quill nibs, combined. And, there was still ink left on the pen. I could get it to splatter if I whipped the pen, but normal shaking and moving did not cause any messes.

The pen also came with a glass rest to hold the pen up away from the paper. $10 well spent. I can't wait until my next assignment.

Same Planet, Different Language

What we have here is failure to communicate. 

So, I have a minor issue with Deskster. He's a good boy and I love having him around, but, we don't speak the same language. See Deckster spent a few years living with the late Joe the Just and they had their own language. Honestly, I don't remember Deckster saying much of anything when visiting or cat sitting for Joe. Julian was the chatty-Cathy. I was not prepared for sheer amount of talking when I took Deckster in.

Again, I'm not complaining. I was too young to remember Hershel. Max was very direct in what he said. Spica would sit for hours talking, actually having a conversation with my family (she spent the first year of her life at the Vet's office and had plenty of people to talk to). The kittens I had with Andrea (we fostered them for a couple of months, she didn't literally have kittens) were just beginning to have personalities and did kitten meows. And Marmalade rarely made noise.

Deckster has a lot to say and I don't understand most of it, and I can tell that he gets frustrated. Check out this video for an explanation of why cats meow to people and the language they develop.

Deskster speaks Joe-cat pidgin. With a bit of Dani-cat pidgin thrown in. When he speaks to me, he might as well be speaking Greek.

Now, I understand his, "You're talking too long to put food in the dish! Use both of your thumbs!" meow. And I understand his, "I'm starving! I haven't eaten in years!" meow. Those two I figured out. They have a certain cadence and volume to them and he uses one when I'm opening up a can of gooshy food and the other only when I'm walking the dish over to his place-mat. But the other meows are a mystery.

Last night, he was sitting on the back of the couch, looking out of the window at something. He told me something. "mEOoow!"

"What is it? Is it a squirrel?"

"mEOoow!"

"Are you looking at a bird?

"mEOoow!"

"Are you looking at a rabbit?

"mEOoow!"

"Is it another cat? The mailman? A car?"

"mEOoow!"

"Is Timmy stuck down the well and needs his insulin?"

It was at that point that he pulled his head away from the curtains and gave me a look. If you own a cat, you know what look I'm talking about. I may not be able to understand Deckster, but he certainly can understand my sarcasm.

He's settled in and trusts me. When he's happy he stops meowing and starts making happy buzzing and chirping noises. He thinks I'm a big cat, at least sometimes.

Paint By Numbers

Because I'm the Scribe. That's Why.

This is another version of Martin Bodmer, MS 127; the second I've done this year. Here is the other version.

While I was working on this version, I had a thought. Now, bear with me, but what if Stacy's mom was Jessie's girl?

Then I had another thought. The image is of a scribe painting an inhabited initial from inside of the initial, what if I were to do this exact same image only as a paint by numbers scroll?

Obviously, I'm going to keep this blank until I receive an assignment for a fellow scribe.

Deckster kept me company while I was working. He didn't try to help; he just curled up next to me and napped. Occasionally making noises that sounded like he wasn't impressed with my using both hands with painting and using zero hands petting him. But, he did get some belly rubs.

Cats notwithstanding, the point of this post is to show that as a scribe, I can do almost anything I wish. I am the scribe. If I want to change the colors of a medieval design; I am the scribe. If I want to use only part of an image; I am the scribe. I am not completely bound by the original image. Most of what I do is inspired by medieval images, but if I want to make changes, I am only constrained by my limited talent and good taste.

A well behaved cat

Look, he's not helping.

Meet Deckster. My new housemate. I've had him for the last week, and this evening I sat down to work on some scrolls. Deckster didn't try to help. He sat next to me and napped. He didn't stick his nose into the paint. He didn't go after the brush. He didn't sit on the paper. He just kept me company. 

What a nice cat. I didn't do scribal when I last lived with a cat and I've heard of "horror" stories from my friends relating to their cats and their scribal work (paw prints, spilled water, fur). Mistress Ekat told me that one of her cats ruined my peerage scroll that she (Ekat) was working on. Deckster doesn't appear to be interested in anything other than company and my body heat; as long as I sit still.