I had a fantastic time at the SCA's Septentrian Twelfth Night event outside of Toronto! I got to see a lot of old friends (one or two that I hadn't seen since the closing of the much-lamented Ontario Renaissance Festival) and made a few new ones. I spent a lot of time hanging out with my very good friends Tim and Truly, at whose house I'm staying for a few more days, which always makes for a great time.

The fact that I'm only nine days away from Italy is starting to get intimidatingly thrilling. I worry that I was a one-note flute yesterday because the trip loomed large in pretty much every conversation I had. I tend to worry about becoming a boor about the whole thing, not to mention the possibility of crossing the line from excited to self-satisfied egotism. I have a lot to do in the next few days (taxes being high on the list) but not so much that I'm actually worried. Just a little anxious.

On a total tangent, I was just editing the above paragraph and I noticed I use "worry", or some form of it, three times in five sentences, which is pretty horrific writing. I was recently talking to a high school friend who had moved to Taiwan, and we discussed the fact that when you operate in a foreign language your mother tongue's usage tends to shrink to match your daily language. Her situation is exacerbated by having a one-year old at home, of course, but it's been interesting (and depressing) to see the way my writing has deteriorated compared to a year ago. It's not that I don't know the words; my vocabulary is as large as ever (or possibly larger, due to the injection of more Latinate cognates), I just don't think to use them. When I get to Rome one of my first purchases will be an Italian thesaurus...