Swordpoint

 You have to know we are a theatrical family.

And live in a home decorated in ‘past-production’.

Stick horses from ‘As You Like It’ hang on the walls. 

Ditto crossed practice swords from ‘I Hate Hamet’, muskets from ‘Monstrous Regiment’ and straw brooms from ‘Weird Sisters’. 

If you look hard, you will see on our backyard pirate ship (yes we have a back yard pirate ship) the rigging, mast and ship’s wheel from ‘Peter Pan’. Nearby is the uber-sturdy table from ‘Seven Brides for Seven Brothers’ now pressed into service as Husby’s workbench...

and the enormous game show prop from ‘Pinocchio’ that is now used whenever our family needs to put up a billboard (surprisingly often…). 

In our front hall, is the table from “Arsenic and Old Lace’ also used in the ever-popular ‘You Can’t Take It with You’.

Downstairs, one entire room is filled with wardrobes full of regalia from over 40 years of Diane-will-make-the-costumes as well as bins (and bins) of hats and accessories.

Our front hall tree has spaces for umbrellas and canes. And yes, there are canes and at least one or two umbrellas.

But those ‘normal’ items have to be judiciously picked out from among the vast selection of swords.

Swords?

And now we get to our story…erm…stories…one from several years ago...

A few years ago, my eldest granddaughter (then 18 months old, now 19 years old) was staying with me for an afternoon. I remember it clearly. Little girl and Gramma playing. A ringing phone in the front entry, answered by Gramma because, let’s face it, 18 month-olds aren’t known for their phone communication skills. Little girl seeking her own entertainment as Gamma’s conversation lasts more than 30 seconds.

Our (then) three sheepdogs laying in that same front entry, awaiting permission to ‘leave the rug’.

Little girl toddling over to the sword (erm…umbrella) rack and pulling out a long, well-padded-but-realistic-looking sword. Then proceeding to bop the dogs on their heads with it.

The three dogs blinking and looking at me imploringly. (It didn’t occur to any of them that they could actually get up and…you know…leave.)

My conversation went something like this: “I’m sorry. I have to get off the phone. My granddaughter is beating my dogs with a sword.”

I don’t remember the response. Let’s just say the person on the other end was used to us and leave it at that.

And that brings us to today…

We had a wasp in the house. A not-unusual occurrence in Northern Alberta in the summer. Sigh.

I pointed it out to Husby while cowering somewhere as far away as I could get.

Me and wasps. We’re not friends.

Husby leaped into I-shall-protect-my-darling-wife mode and grabbed a sword. A Gladius. (Short. Roman. Plastic.)

He stabbed a time or two at the offending creature, but it just continued to buzz around oblivious to the mortal danger it was in.

Or maybe it just knew it was really in no danger whatsoever.

Ahem…

Husby eventually went for something a little more ‘modern’ in his battle against wasphood. An electric fly-swatter.

It proved effective and said darling wife was able to come out from under the table.

Whew.

But we learned something. Although Roman swords were truly effective in most hand-to-hand combat in days past, they are woefully inadequate when it comes to a modern battle with today’s modern wasp.

Maybe if he’d pulled the broadsword…

BTW, if you read yesterday's post (you can do it here!) this is what happened to the baseball: It flew through the window, hit the front of the stalls and bounced backward, landing right back on the windowsill!