We planned on riding this weekend, really we did. But when we woke up Saturday morning it was incredibly windy outside, and there went all our resolve for exercise. So we drove to Starbucks instead, and then I went off to the annual Ladies’ Tea held at the local church while Richard went and did other stuff (like mailing his first story out to a bunch of magazines, so cross your fingers and hope for the best, please!).

By the time I got back from the tea, the wind had not died down even remotely and biking was still out of the question. So instead of riding, we hopped in the car to go to the Scottish Games in Woodland, where we ate Scottish meat pies (because food eaten in the name of cultural enlightenment is Points-free. I’m sure it’s there in the small print of the Weight Watchers handbooks somewhere. Ahem) and walked all over the fair grounds and listened to bagpipes and fiddles and commented on how many men there were in kilts this year. And we also bought our next project – a build-it-yourself-out-of-paper crusader castle. As soon as we got home, we had to drag out scissors and pencils to mark all the pieces, and we started cutting. All those paper dragons we made a year or two back are still upstairs in a box, since we never got around to hanging them anywhere. So this means that once our castle is built, we’ll just have to pose the dragons around it, and set up a fierce siege. If anyone knows where we might find some build-them-out-of-paper little armored knights, let me know!

The downside to all this cutting is that I now have a bruise on my knuckle right where the scissors handle rests on my finger. It’s rather annoying, in an amusing sort of way. My finger hurts and I have to remind myself why (oh yeah, the scissors injury). There are also little bits of stiff paper all over the floor in two rooms because we kept switching from breakfast nook to living room (we did lots of cutting while watching reruns of Buffy). Eventually we’ll have to clean them up, but for now the cats are having a grand time with them. Even the grouchy old-lady tortoiseshell Rebecca has been caught actually *playing* with a scrap. Will wonders never cease?