Arnoff Ragnarsson - Revision history

Arnoff: /* More Information */

2013-04-04T19:39:19Z

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	<H2>STORIES</H2>		<H2>STORIES</H2>

-	<H3>[Jaella of Armida] and the Chirurgeonate</H3>	+	<H3>Jaella of Armida and the Chirurgeonate</H3>
	It was 1983, and I was at my first Pennsic War. I had been in the SCA since 1977, but simply had never made it to Pennsic before '83. At the War I discovered there was such a thing as the Chirurgeonate and, since I was an EMT mundanely, I decided to volunteer. (In the SCA I was a Marshall, an Autocrat, and an arts type, and I'd never heard about the Chirurgeonate.) Well, one thing led to another and I wound up spending a huge amount of time at the Chirurgeon's Point. In fact, after a while, that was almost all I did at the War. I'd get up in the morning as soon as I was coherent enough to put on my garb, drag myself out of my tent, and immediately stagger down the hill to the		It was 1983, and I was at my first Pennsic War. I had been in the SCA since 1977, but simply had never made it to Pennsic before '83. At the War I discovered there was such a thing as the Chirurgeonate and, since I was an EMT mundanely, I decided to volunteer. (In the SCA I was a Marshall, an Autocrat, and an arts type, and I'd never heard about the Chirurgeonate.) Well, one thing led to another and I wound up spending a huge amount of time at the Chirurgeon's Point. In fact, after a while, that was almost all I did at the War. I'd get up in the morning as soon as I was coherent enough to put on my garb, drag myself out of my tent, and immediately stagger down the hill to the
	Point. The second day I did this I realized I could cut through some campsites to make the journey shorter. One of these campsites was Jaelle's - I think I mumbled a salutation as I went by. The third day that I staggered down the hill something hit me in the chest as I passed through Jaelle's campsite. I reflexively clutched it and, since it hadn't killed me, kept staggering. At the point I discovered it was a large wooden bowl full of breakfast. And not just any breakfast: An omelet and other yummy and nutritious things. I ate it while I was briefed on what had occurred while I was sleeping. A charming young lady came by later in the day to pick up the bowl. The next morning the same thing happened (stagger, stagger, thump!). And the next. And the next. And so on. On the seventh morning I stopped, looked at Jaelle, and said something along the lines of: "Why are you doing this?" She smiled. She said she'd been watching me work at the Point day and night and the way she figured it, if she fed me breakfast she was doing her bit to support the Society. She then said it like it was an equation: Support the Chirurgeon so the Chirurgeon can support the Society. She also said it was pretty predictable when I'd emerge - when the sun rose high enough so my tent got too hot - so I was easy to cook for. Now there's a woman who had her head in a good place, and knew something about cooking too. Those breakfasts were tasty!		Point. The second day I did this I realized I could cut through some campsites to make the journey shorter. One of these campsites was Jaelle's - I think I mumbled a salutation as I went by. The third day that I staggered down the hill something hit me in the chest as I passed through Jaelle's campsite. I reflexively clutched it and, since it hadn't killed me, kept staggering. At the point I discovered it was a large wooden bowl full of breakfast. And not just any breakfast: An omelet and other yummy and nutritious things. I ate it while I was briefed on what had occurred while I was sleeping. A charming young lady came by later in the day to pick up the bowl. The next morning the same thing happened (stagger, stagger, thump!). And the next. And the next. And so on. On the seventh morning I stopped, looked at Jaelle, and said something along the lines of: "Why are you doing this?" She smiled. She said she'd been watching me work at the Point day and night and the way she figured it, if she fed me breakfast she was doing her bit to support the Society. She then said it like it was an equation: Support the Chirurgeon so the Chirurgeon can support the Society. She also said it was pretty predictable when I'd emerge - when the sun rose high enough so my tent got too hot - so I was easy to cook for. Now there's a woman who had her head in a good place, and knew something about cooking too. Those breakfasts were tasty!

Arnoff: /* More Information */

2013-04-04T19:39:00Z

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←Older revision		Revision as of 19:39, 4 April 2013
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	<H2>STORIES</H2>		<H2>STORIES</H2>

-	<H3>Jaella of Armida and the Chirurgeonate</H3>	+	<H3>[Jaella of Armida] and the Chirurgeonate</H3>
-	It was 1983, and I was at my first Pennsic War. I had been in the SCA since 1977, but simply had never made it to Pennsic before '83. At the War I discovered there was such a thing as the Chirurgeonate and, since I was an EMT mundanely, I decided to volunteer. (In the SCA I was a Marshall, an Autocrat, and an arts type, and I'd never heard about the Chirurgeonate.) Well, one thing led to another and I wound up spending a huge amount of time at the Chirurgeon's ~~point~~. In fact, after a while, that was almost all I did at the War. I'd get up in the morning as soon as I was coherent enough to put on my garb, drag myself out of my tent, and immediately stagger down the hill to the ~~point~~. The second day I did this I realized I could cut through some campsites to make the journey shorter. One of these campsites was Jaelle's - I think I mumbled a salutation as I went by. The third day that I staggered down the hill something hit me in the chest as I passed through Jaelle's campsite. I reflexively clutched it and, since it hadn't killed me, kept staggering. At the point I discovered it was a large wooden bowl full of breakfast. And not just any breakfast: An omelet and other yummy and nutritious things. I ate it while I was briefed on what had occurred while I was sleeping. A charming young lady came by later in the day to pick up the bowl. The next morning the same thing happened (stagger, stagger, thump!). And the next. And the next. And so on. On the seventh morning I stopped, looked at Jaelle, and said something along the lines of: "Why are you doing this?" She smiled. She said she'd been watching me work at the ~~point~~ day and night and the way she figured it, if she fed me breakfast she was doing her bit to support the Society. She then said it like it was an equation: Support the Chirurgeon so the Chirurgeon can support the Society. She also said it was pretty predictable when I'd emerge - when the sun rose high enough so my tent got too hot - so I was easy to cook for. Now there's a woman who had her head in a good place, and knew something about cooking too. Those breakfasts were tasty!	+	It was 1983, and I was at my first Pennsic War. I had been in the SCA since 1977, but simply had never made it to Pennsic before '83. At the War I discovered there was such a thing as the Chirurgeonate and, since I was an EMT mundanely, I decided to volunteer. (In the SCA I was a Marshall, an Autocrat, and an arts type, and I'd never heard about the Chirurgeonate.) Well, one thing led to another and I wound up spending a huge amount of time at the Chirurgeon's Point. In fact, after a while, that was almost all I did at the War. I'd get up in the morning as soon as I was coherent enough to put on my garb, drag myself out of my tent, and immediately stagger down the hill to the
		+	Point. The second day I did this I realized I could cut through some campsites to make the journey shorter. One of these campsites was Jaelle's - I think I mumbled a salutation as I went by. The third day that I staggered down the hill something hit me in the chest as I passed through Jaelle's campsite. I reflexively clutched it and, since it hadn't killed me, kept staggering. At the point I discovered it was a large wooden bowl full of breakfast. And not just any breakfast: An omelet and other yummy and nutritious things. I ate it while I was briefed on what had occurred while I was sleeping. A charming young lady came by later in the day to pick up the bowl. The next morning the same thing happened (stagger, stagger, thump!). And the next. And the next. And so on. On the seventh morning I stopped, looked at Jaelle, and said something along the lines of: "Why are you doing this?" She smiled. She said she'd been watching me work at the Point day and night and the way she figured it, if she fed me breakfast she was doing her bit to support the Society. She then said it like it was an equation: Support the Chirurgeon so the Chirurgeon can support the Society. She also said it was pretty predictable when I'd emerge - when the sun rose high enough so my tent got too hot - so I was easy to cook for. Now there's a woman who had her head in a good place, and knew something about cooking too. Those breakfasts were tasty!
	<p>		<p>
	With gratitude and a long memory, RIP Mistress Jaelle, and thank you for supporting the Society.		With gratitude and a long memory, RIP Mistress Jaelle, and thank you for supporting the Society.

Arnoff: /* More Information */

2013-04-04T19:35:52Z

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←Older revision		Revision as of 19:35, 4 April 2013
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	<H3>Jaella of Armida and the Chirurgeonate</H3>		<H3>Jaella of Armida and the Chirurgeonate</H3>
-	It was 1983, and I was at my first Pennsic War. I had been in the SCA since 1977, but simply had never made it to Pennsic before '83. At the War I discovered there was such a thing as the Chirurgeonate and, since I was an EMT mundanely, I decided to volunteer. (In the SCA I was a Marshall, an Autocrat, and an arts type, and I'd never heard about the Chirurgeonate.) Well, one thing led to another and I wound up spending a huge amount of time at the Chirurgeon's point. In fact, after a while, that was almost all I did at the War. I'd get up in the morning as soon as I was coherent enough to put on my garb, drag myself out of my tent, and immediately stagger down the hill to the point. The second day I did this I realized I could cut through some campsites to make the journey shorter. One of these campsites was Jaelle's - I think I mumbled a salutation as I went by. The third day that I staggered down the hill something hit me in the chest as I passed through Jaelle's campsite. I reflexively clutched it and, since it hadn't killed me, kept staggering. At the point I discovered it was a large wooden bowl full of breakfast. And not just any breakfast: An omelet and other yummy and nutritious things. I ate it while I was briefed on what had occurred while I was sleeping. A charming young lady came by later in the day to pick up the bowl. The next morning the same thing happened (stagger, stagger, thump!). And the next. And the next. And so on. On the seventh morning I stopped, looked at Jaelle, and said something along the lines of: "Why are you doing this?" She smiled. She said she'd been watching me work at the point day and night and the way she figured it, if she fed me breakfast she was doing her bit to support the Society. She then said it like it was an equation: Support the Chirurgeon so the Chirurgeon can support the Society. She also said it was pretty predictable when I'd emerge - when the sun ~~got~~ high enough to my tent got too hot - so I was easy to cook for. Now there's a woman who had her head in a good place, and knew something about cooking too. Those breakfasts were tasty!	+	It was 1983, and I was at my first Pennsic War. I had been in the SCA since 1977, but simply had never made it to Pennsic before '83. At the War I discovered there was such a thing as the Chirurgeonate and, since I was an EMT mundanely, I decided to volunteer. (In the SCA I was a Marshall, an Autocrat, and an arts type, and I'd never heard about the Chirurgeonate.) Well, one thing led to another and I wound up spending a huge amount of time at the Chirurgeon's point. In fact, after a while, that was almost all I did at the War. I'd get up in the morning as soon as I was coherent enough to put on my garb, drag myself out of my tent, and immediately stagger down the hill to the point. The second day I did this I realized I could cut through some campsites to make the journey shorter. One of these campsites was Jaelle's - I think I mumbled a salutation as I went by. The third day that I staggered down the hill something hit me in the chest as I passed through Jaelle's campsite. I reflexively clutched it and, since it hadn't killed me, kept staggering. At the point I discovered it was a large wooden bowl full of breakfast. And not just any breakfast: An omelet and other yummy and nutritious things. I ate it while I was briefed on what had occurred while I was sleeping. A charming young lady came by later in the day to pick up the bowl. The next morning the same thing happened (stagger, stagger, thump!). And the next. And the next. And so on. On the seventh morning I stopped, looked at Jaelle, and said something along the lines of: "Why are you doing this?" She smiled. She said she'd been watching me work at the point day and night and the way she figured it, if she fed me breakfast she was doing her bit to support the Society. She then said it like it was an equation: Support the Chirurgeon so the Chirurgeon can support the Society. She also said it was pretty predictable when I'd emerge - when the sun rose high enough so my tent got too hot - so I was easy to cook for. Now there's a woman who had her head in a good place, and knew something about cooking too. Those breakfasts were tasty!
	<p>		<p>
	With gratitude and a long memory, RIP Mistress Jaelle, and thank you for supporting the Society.		With gratitude and a long memory, RIP Mistress Jaelle, and thank you for supporting the Society.

Arnoff: /* More Information */

2013-04-04T19:33:21Z

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←Older revision		Revision as of 19:33, 4 April 2013
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	First award: AoA. Second award: Pelican. Figure <i>that</i> one out.		First award: AoA. Second award: Pelican. Figure <i>that</i> one out.
		+
		+	<H2>STORIES</H2>
		+
		+	<H3>Jaella of Armida and the Chirurgeonate</H3>
		+	It was 1983, and I was at my first Pennsic War. I had been in the SCA since 1977, but simply had never made it to Pennsic before '83. At the War I discovered there was such a thing as the Chirurgeonate and, since I was an EMT mundanely, I decided to volunteer. (In the SCA I was a Marshall, an Autocrat, and an arts type, and I'd never heard about the Chirurgeonate.) Well, one thing led to another and I wound up spending a huge amount of time at the Chirurgeon's point. In fact, after a while, that was almost all I did at the War. I'd get up in the morning as soon as I was coherent enough to put on my garb, drag myself out of my tent, and immediately stagger down the hill to the point. The second day I did this I realized I could cut through some campsites to make the journey shorter. One of these campsites was Jaelle's - I think I mumbled a salutation as I went by. The third day that I staggered down the hill something hit me in the chest as I passed through Jaelle's campsite. I reflexively clutched it and, since it hadn't killed me, kept staggering. At the point I discovered it was a large wooden bowl full of breakfast. And not just any breakfast: An omelet and other yummy and nutritious things. I ate it while I was briefed on what had occurred while I was sleeping. A charming young lady came by later in the day to pick up the bowl. The next morning the same thing happened (stagger, stagger, thump!). And the next. And the next. And so on. On the seventh morning I stopped, looked at Jaelle, and said something along the lines of: "Why are you doing this?" She smiled. She said she'd been watching me work at the point day and night and the way she figured it, if she fed me breakfast she was doing her bit to support the Society. She then said it like it was an equation: Support the Chirurgeon so the Chirurgeon can support the Society. She also said it was pretty predictable when I'd emerge - when the sun got high enough to my tent got too hot - so I was easy to cook for. Now there's a woman who had her head in a good place, and knew something about cooking too. Those breakfasts were tasty!
		+	<p>
		+	With gratitude and a long memory, RIP Mistress Jaelle, and thank you for supporting the Society.
		+	<blockquote>
		+	Master Arnoff Ragnarsson, Former Chirurgeon General of the SCA, OP, QoC, etc.
		+	</blockquote>

	{{EKchirurgeons}}		{{EKchirurgeons}}

Arnoff: /* More Information */

2012-10-08T13:39:39Z

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←Older revision		Revision as of 13:39, 8 October 2012
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	The people who helped me start in the SCA were Adrian of Huntington and Andreas de Vulpas. Great folks. In 1978 Andreas had the idea of making 12 gauge helms for local fighters. He asked if I could use the equipment at my High School's metal shop to roll the helms into cylinders. I did the first twelve (or was it more?) and then moved to Atenveldt. I found our years later that he'd made loads of them and the fighters who wore them were called the Clone Army. I still have mine - one of the first.		The people who helped me start in the SCA were Adrian of Huntington and Andreas de Vulpas. Great folks. In 1978 Andreas had the idea of making 12 gauge helms for local fighters. He asked if I could use the equipment at my High School's metal shop to roll the helms into cylinders. I did the first twelve (or was it more?) and then moved to Atenveldt. I found our years later that he'd made loads of them and the fighters who wore them were called the Clone Army. I still have mine - one of the first.

-	~~Regarding the photo (above): I don't have any~~ SCA ~~photos, so~~ here's a ~~mundane one from a long time ago~~. I've been a long-range wilderness canoeist since I was a kid, and before I'd even heard of the SCA. Used to travel through the Hudson's Bay region of the Canadian sub-arctic during summers on forty day trips back when there weren't any roads up there. I did four trips like that before and around the time I joined the SCA. That, and many smaller trips (generally a week or so long) where I was wielding a paddle all day is one of the reasons I took to pole arms like a duck to water. Aikido was another reason, but that's a different story. When Pennsic got hit by a tropical storm and everything and everyone was wet and hypothermic, tents were down and flooded, and it was dark and nobody had a clue, I knew what to do, and did it using Chirurgeon's Point as a base. It all looked normal to me because it was. Cold, wet, hypothermic? Sounds like a standard day during a northern Canadian summer. No problem.	+	Mundane background affects SCA career in my experience; here's a little about mine. I've been a long-range wilderness canoeist since I was a kid, and before I'd even heard of the SCA. Used to travel through the Hudson's Bay region of the Canadian sub-arctic during summers on forty day trips back when there weren't any roads up there. I did four trips like that before and around the time I joined the SCA. That, and many smaller trips (generally a week or so long) where I was wielding a paddle all day is one of the reasons I took to pole arms like a duck to water. Aikido was another reason, but that's a different story. When Pennsic got hit by a tropical storm and everything and everyone was wet and hypothermic, tents were down and flooded, and it was dark and nobody had a clue, I knew what to do, and did it using Chirurgeon's Point as a base. It all looked normal to me because it was. Cold, wet, hypothermic? Sounds like a standard day during a northern Canadian summer. No problem.

	First award: AoA. Second award: Pelican. Figure <i>that</i> one out.		First award: AoA. Second award: Pelican. Figure <i>that</i> one out.

	{{EKchirurgeons}}		{{EKchirurgeons}}

Arnoff at 13:38, 8 October 2012

2012-10-08T13:38:38Z

←Older revision		Revision as of 13:38, 8 October 2012
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	{{Populace		{{Populace
-	\|photo = [[Image:Arnoff Ragnarsson Mundane.png~~\|200px~~]]	+	\|photo = [[Image:Arnoff Ragnarsson Mundane.png]]
	\|photocaption = None.		\|photocaption = None.
	\|location = Barony of [[Stonemarche]]		\|location = Barony of [[Stonemarche]]

Arnoff at 13:38, 8 October 2012

2012-10-08T13:38:15Z

←Older revision		Revision as of 13:38, 8 October 2012
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	{{Populace		{{Populace
	\|photo = [[Image:Arnoff Ragnarsson Mundane.png\|200px]]		\|photo = [[Image:Arnoff Ragnarsson Mundane.png\|200px]]
-	\|photocaption = ~~Arnoff Ragnarsson<br>I don't have any SCA photos, here's a mundane one~~.	+	\|photocaption = None.
	\|location = Barony of [[Stonemarche]]		\|location = Barony of [[Stonemarche]]
	\|status = You're kidding... Status? We don't need no stinking status.		\|status = You're kidding... Status? We don't need no stinking status.

Arnoff: /* More Information */

2012-10-08T07:25:07Z

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←Older revision		Revision as of 07:25, 8 October 2012
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	The people who helped me start in the SCA were Adrian of Huntington and Andreas de Vulpas. Great folks. In 1978 Andreas had the idea of making 12 gauge helms for local fighters. He asked if I could use the equipment at my High School's metal shop to roll the helms into cylinders. I did the first twelve (or was it more?) and then moved to Atenveldt. I found our years later that he'd made loads of them and the fighters who wore them were called the Clone Army. I still have mine - one of the first.		The people who helped me start in the SCA were Adrian of Huntington and Andreas de Vulpas. Great folks. In 1978 Andreas had the idea of making 12 gauge helms for local fighters. He asked if I could use the equipment at my High School's metal shop to roll the helms into cylinders. I did the first twelve (or was it more?) and then moved to Atenveldt. I found our years later that he'd made loads of them and the fighters who wore them were called the Clone Army. I still have mine - one of the first.

-	Regarding the photo (above): I don't have any SCA photos, so here's a mundane one from a long time ago. I've been a long-range wilderness canoeist since I was a kid, and before I'd even heard of the SCA. Used to travel through the Hudson's Bay region of the Canadian sub-arctic during summers on forty day trips back when there weren't any roads up there. I did four trips like that before and around the time I joined the SCA. That, and many smaller trips (generally a week or so long) where I was wielding a paddle all day is one of the reasons I took to pole arms like a duck to water. Aikido was another reason, but that's a different story. When Pennsic got hit by a tropical storm and everything and everyone was wet and hypothermic, tents were down and flooded, and it was dark and nobody had a clue, I knew what to do, and did it using Chirurgeon's ~~point~~ as a base. It all looked normal to me because it was. Cold, wet, hypothermic? Sounds like a standard day during a northern Canadian summer. No problem.	+	Regarding the photo (above): I don't have any SCA photos, so here's a mundane one from a long time ago. I've been a long-range wilderness canoeist since I was a kid, and before I'd even heard of the SCA. Used to travel through the Hudson's Bay region of the Canadian sub-arctic during summers on forty day trips back when there weren't any roads up there. I did four trips like that before and around the time I joined the SCA. That, and many smaller trips (generally a week or so long) where I was wielding a paddle all day is one of the reasons I took to pole arms like a duck to water. Aikido was another reason, but that's a different story. When Pennsic got hit by a tropical storm and everything and everyone was wet and hypothermic, tents were down and flooded, and it was dark and nobody had a clue, I knew what to do, and did it using Chirurgeon's Point as a base. It all looked normal to me because it was. Cold, wet, hypothermic? Sounds like a standard day during a northern Canadian summer. No problem.

	First award: AoA. Second award: Pelican. Figure <i>that</i> one out.		First award: AoA. Second award: Pelican. Figure <i>that</i> one out.

	{{EKchirurgeons}}		{{EKchirurgeons}}

Arnoff at 07:23, 8 October 2012

2012-10-08T07:23:59Z

←Older revision		Revision as of 07:23, 8 October 2012
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	\|badgecaption = Argent, a fleam gules.<br>Argent, upon a winged foot, bendwise and sinister facing, gules, a cross couped argent.		\|badgecaption = Argent, a fleam gules.<br>Argent, upon a winged foot, bendwise and sinister facing, gules, a cross couped argent.
	\|awards = {{Pelican}} {{QOC}} {{OBT}}		\|awards = {{Pelican}} {{QOC}} {{OBT}}
-	\|offices = {{ktMarshal}} {{Herald}} ~~{{Chirurgeon}}~~	+	\|offices = {{ktMarshal}} {{Herald}} [[image:Master_Chirurgeon.gif\|50px]]
	}}		}}

Arnoff: /* Projects & Publications */

2012-10-08T07:11:41Z

Projects & Publications

←Older revision		Revision as of 07:11, 8 October 2012
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	<b>General Projects</b>		<b>General Projects</b>

-	Again, I can't remember 'em all. I like to write and draw, spin and weave, design looms and build them, do calligraphy and sew. I've kept a flock of sheep from which I get my own wool since 1989. I've drawn so much knotwork I just do it freehand at this point. I embroider it freehand too. I like to do my embroidery on cloth that I've woven myself - that way you have control of the entire product. If you have a very bumpy wool piece of cloth you've woven then it can be almost impossible to draw on it, so freehand knotwork embroidery is an important skill. I'm a big believer in muscle memory for these types of artistic skills. I research and tie knots. I've been storytelling for decades. I'm interested in ancient astronomy and have done academic work in Mayan astronomy (unpublished, tho Master El has been on my ass for years about publishing some of it in TI.) I love to muck about with astrolabes. I showed up at my first event in a felt tunic I'd made since that's what Teutonic Tribesmen wore according to the books I found in my local library. In the era of polyester T-tunics this made people look at me funny. It was authentic AFAICT, but also too hot for a winter, indoor SCA event. I didn't actually make my own felt, but give me a break, it was my first event and I was only 15.	+	Again, I can't remember 'em all. I like to write and draw, spin and weave, design looms and build them, do calligraphy and sew. I've kept a flock of sheep from which I get my own wool since 1989. I've drawn so much knotwork I just do it freehand at this point. I embroider it freehand too. I like to do my embroidery on cloth that I've woven myself - that way you have control of the entire product. If you have a very bumpy wool piece of cloth you've woven then it can be almost impossible to draw on it, so freehand knotwork embroidery is an important skill. I'm a big believer in muscle memory for these types of artistic skills. I research and tie knots. I've been storytelling for decades, including a decade attending Brother Blue's weekly storytelling classes. I'm interested in ancient astronomy and have done academic work in Mayan astronomy (unpublished, tho Master El has been on my ass for years about publishing some of it in TI.) I love to muck about with astrolabes. I showed up at my first event in a felt tunic I'd made since that's what Teutonic Tribesmen wore according to the books I found in my local library. In the era of polyester T-tunics this made people look at me funny. It was authentic AFAICT, but also too hot for a winter, indoor SCA event. I didn't actually make my own felt, but give me a break, it was my first event and I was only 15.

	<b>Major Publications</b>		<b>Major Publications</b>