>Insert Myrrh holding her thinkpad's metaphorical decapitated head in her arms.
>Insert loud Luke Skywalker seeing Obiwan go Poof(!) squeal. (I'd say it was a Noooo!, but it was a squack)
>Insert somebody buying me a coffee and listening to me blubber about technology and the Loss of Photoshop.
>Insert Myrrh getting over it 20 minutes later and calling up Jordan to ask him for a copy of PS7.

[LOADING...]

Ahem! Yes! That was my experience after getting home from Egils. Which was awesome, by the way.

Waking up at 5:30 each morning to hear the cacaphonous sound of birds screaming murderously at one another like irked mothers who've discovered /somebody/ left the record player on all night long without lifting the needle was good.

Crawling out of the warm cuccoon of my bedroll to pull on a tunic and a pair of breeches along with sopping wet boots and miserably soggy socks was good too (in it's own perverse way, I enjoyed that bit a great deal. My dad really did a number on my machoism drive).

Walking about the sucking mud paths with a drinking horn of hell-hot coffee in one hand some time after the Hour of the Birds (Thankyou, Ursulav. You coined it perfectly!) and bellowing at the top of my Bardly lungs for people to "Pray Attend" was absolutely badass and worth every minute. That was probably one of my favourite parts, really. Being Early Herald is truly entertaining..... If anyone throws anything at me for sauntering past their tents with a ringing cry, I can keep it. ((Not official policy, but there's something deeply entertaining to my mile-wide vindictive streak about keeping some poor sap's left shoe and dooming them to hop around for the rest of the event like a hung-over Mufflepud.))


ANYHOW! I have, for a while at least, no way of putting anything up. This is travesty, in my opinion... not that you guys need to see my crap on a regular basis, but DA has become my primary way of storing my doodles so that my poor computer doesn't become overloaded with JPEGs.

Hopefully Jordan will be able to get a copy of Photoshop 7 for me. It's old and hoary, but I loved the cranky old bastard. CS was cool, but 7 had that settled-in feeling, like an old woman who's sat in the same chair every evening for the past 30 years, and isn't about to let somebody get rid of her lime-green snooze-seat. After all, it's given it's final, strained sigh, and given into conforming to her individual shape -- It may be hard to get out of, but damn if it isn't the most comfortable thing ever to have worn a hole in the paisly carpet.