Steven (unzeugmatic) wrote,

Braggin' 'bout the Braggarts

From the outside, dear readers, I fear my accounts of Morris practice may seem somewhat repetitive in nature. Certainly it is so, however, that each practice -- nay, more precisely, each figure of each dance -- is special unto itself, in a manner surely visible to other than the Sharpe-eyed expert. Furthermore, has there ever been a pizza consumed at Luce by Ramsey's Braggarts Morris Men for which these fine and ravenous gentlemen and their ladyfriends have not sought to request a unique combination of condiments?

We continue to refine our processional, Iglehart Roundabout, which utilizes a circular figure chorus that is rare in our tradition. We sidestep twice into the center, hook leg back out into a circle, then turn right into two double steps around the circle before re-forming into facing pairs. When we hook our legs out, we cannot see each other, which makes this difficult, but last night we attempted to project outward all at once, then turn cleanly all at once. Michael pointed out that we should not turn until our hankies reach their zenith. This means there is the briefest moment of team stillness, then a crisp clean big turn into a high-leaping syncopated double step. It was absolute bliss. Hooray! We fly!

We worked on our newer dances: the aforementioned Iglehart Roundabout, Peter and Sam (danced to a tune Bob wrote and named for me, "Squire Steven's Maggot"), and Libbie's Left Foot. Have we earned our pizza yet, asked Douglas? No, said I (who had sat out for the previous dance), let's dance Queen's Delight. If it delights the Queen, it delights me, that's what I say even at tautological risk. "Queen's Delight!" shouted Michael and we blocked up and I pretended that it was 1am at the Ale as I danced across the set from Michael. We banged our chests during the X-caper, which is how Morris dancers express their love.

Michael has been clamoring for one of the baked potato pizza choices at Luce for a couple of weeks, assuming that I, for one, would never agree to this. But last night I was in an easy mood and announced that anything was ok with me except barbecue sauce and pineapple. So we had the garlic mashed potato with goat cheese pizza. Which would have been a delicious dish of garlic mashed potato with goat cheese if it hadn't been spread on a pizza crust. Bob W. noted the redundancy of the carb loading, but I pointed out that I planned to run a marathon after I got home so this was just fine.

We're a smaller team this year, and I worry on a weekly basis about our longterm future or even the schedule we'll be able to fulfill this season, but Tuesday nights remain a joy.
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