Faire Play

Someone's mother was sufficiently entertained, and I'm forgiven for the horrifying state of Casa de Crazy. It was a fun day.

Last Chance...

The Ren Fest is ending this weekend. No more lacing up a peplam (a sort of cross between a corset, a dress, and a vest) that I have had to continually re-lace because it's gotten too big (not that I'm complaining, because a shrinking me is a happy me), no more boots to wrestle on and off, no more British accent, no more meat on a stick...

Whew.

I'll miss the characters, truth be told, but I'm worn slap out and ready to have weeks where I am not packing, unpacking, doing laundry, and planning menus and travel.

After this, I have one more performance, in Ohio at an event from June 13 - 22, and then? Then I am home, blessed peace and quiet, home, unless I choose to travel for pleasure.

But before I look towards the future (and there's fodder for a few hundred posts), I am spending this last weekend at the Ren Fest, enjoying myself. I'm wearing a new costume, as long as it doesn't rain and get mucky, and I plan to have fun and be in the moment.

If I manage to get a photo or two that I don't entirely hate, I may do the previously unthinkable and post them. Or...you know...not...

Walking the Faire

Today I am walking the Faire with my family. I will, for the most part, simply be a witness to the Evil Genius and his delight, consternation, frustration, and joy. He will, for the most part, shape our experience. We will miss shows because he won't want to sit through them. We will pass shops we'd like to enter because he won't want to go in and is bored with shopping. Someone, likely me, will sit on a bench and watch him play in the children's area because that's where he will want to be most of the time.

I will try not to mind, and I will enjoy my Mum's presence during this escapade. It's another memory to place in the hoard for the empty days when Mum is gone and Bird has flown to his own life.

I will somehow manage to present Mum with the gift I made her, perhaps even cleverly.

In the end, I hope to manage some new garb, a few bags of henna powder, and a camera full of photographs, some of which I may even share.

Happy Mother's Day to all who bear the nurturing spirit of a mother or The Mother within them.

School Daze

Today and tomorrow I'll be schlepping to the Ren Fest for School Days, the only two weekdays the fair is open so that area schools can have field trips there.

Did your school ever have a cool field trip like that? Yeah, neither did mine.

Anyway, for five-and-one-half hours a day, we'll be hawking our wares to several thousand school-aged children and the four chaperones with them. I've been told it's Hell in a corset, and given the knowledge I have of the kids in our local educational system, well...lets just say I'm glad I'll be armed, if only with my teeny cheese knife. Heh...I must remember to photograph my teeny knives...they're the silliest things I ever saw, but they're wicked sharp and legal to carry.

I am going to try and find some new boots or shoes so T can have his back...although, I should just keep his since he lost mine. And they look good on me. Really good. I seldom say that.

So wish me luck as I spend two days dodging future terrorists, spree killers, and politicians while attempting to sell them glass-art jewelry they can't possibly appreciate...except for the home-schoolers, who will, of course, be awesome. Not that I'm biased or anything.

Do You Know the Kissing Wench, the Kissing Wench, the Kissing Wench...

...do you know the Kissing Wench, whose lips are scarlet red?

I don't know about your neck of the woods, but at the Georgia Renaissance Festival, we have Kissing Wenches - three of them, actually - who wander the fair planting big, lipstick-y kisses on likely targets, usually at the urging of the person's companions/family. Their lipstick is vivid, to say the least, and liberally applied, and you can spot their victims from a distance, either by the lovely shade of crimson they're still blushing or the nearly indelible lip marks on their...anatomy.


The Wenches will kiss anyone, man, woman, or child, just about anywhere, and they work for tips. They're sweet, bawdy, and hilarious, especially when they have to chase a victim down...which happens quite often. Those Wenches are relentless, and I've never seen anyone outrun them, though the ladies wear full Renny garb.


One of the Wenches at the fair works around the area where our booth is planted, and she's friendly, funny, and smart. She's learning how to say "kiss" in many languages - so far she has Portuguese, Spanish, French, Japanese, Russian, and a few more I can't recall. It's only one word, or maybe a phrase, but it's terrific that she puts so much into it. She has lips all over her - lips for earrings, lips pinned to her bosom, lips on her mug, lips for a pendant...they cover her from head to toe, a sort of lip-y pox.


I read once that the Wenches have a guild. If they do, I am delighted. I am usually anti-union/guild (please don't hate me for that - I was raised in a home full of strong opinions and some of them stuck), but a Kissing Wench Guild? That's something the world needs more of!


If you attend a Ren Fest somewhere and you see a loud, gaily dressed, over-lipsticked woman wandering about and puckering up, cough up a buck and present a cheek - it's all in good fun!

Sheep! Dogs! Sheep Dogs!

Behind our booth at the Ren Fest is the little grassy space where sheep-dog demonstrations are held three times a day. There are eight or nine sheep, and two fellows, one older, one younger, and they use voice, gesture, and whistle to tell the dogs what they want.

The dogs are border collies, and I adore them. They're so keen to go, they fairly vibrate with suppressed energy, and as soon as they're permitted to work the sheep, they snap into a focused state a Zen Master would envy.

The sheep are...well...sheep. Ruminants. They've eaten some of our silk ivy vines and they smell like...sheep. One of them is kinda cute, though - it's black and white, and I can't help wondering how its wool would spin up...grey? Variegated? I haven't had a chance to ask the shepherds, yet, but I plan to, if only because these are the questions that haunt me!

One of the dogs is fifteen years old. I don't know any human fifteen-year-olds who mind that well, do as they're asked with a grin (and a lolling tongue, but given the way kids these days pierce, maybe that's a good thing), and beg to be let to work more, more, c'mon, there's still some fight left in those sheep! You can tell he's an older dog when he runs - he favors one foot a little, but don't tell him you noticed, because he won't thank you for it - he wants to work! He's an old hand at this sheep business, and he radiates confidence in equal measure with his enthusiasm.

The second dog is, I think, seven or so...although I may be wrong. He's middle-aged, for a dog, anyway. He is still young enough to get up to a few tricks, but mostly he's steady on, intent on the job at hand. He doesn't just grin - I swear, he's laughing, although whether it's at us or the sheep I couldn't say. I suspect a bit of both. He knows what he's about, too, but he looks to his humans a bit more, making certain before he acts.

Then there's the puppy, a two-year-old that has better manners than most adults I know. He is sharp, anxious to please, and desperate to make those sheep mind their manners, sorry they ate your vines, ma'am, I won't let it happen again, mind the droppings there, thank you. He gets a little excited and forgets that there's a human in charge of things, but he's still a treat to watch.

I want to pet them all, frolic with them (but not in the sheep meadow, because I know what those sheep do in the meadow and I don't want to step in it, let alone frolic) and generally play with the beautiful dogs. I never had dogs when I had sheep because the sheep were largely penned and there were only four of them - not enough to qualify as a flock, really. I love dogs, and these fellows remind me of how much fun a canine can be.

Don't get excited, T, we're not getting a dog. Unless I can also have a dozen sheep or so...

An Artist's Dilemma

Good morrow, good gentles...hack...cough...wheeze...



Pardon me, I seem to have some Renny Gabble stuck in my throat.



Whew, what a weekend!



We woke quite early on Saturday, hoping to arrive at the Fair with time to spare for fluffing the booth. What we didn't count on was the Georgia DOT choosing the opening weekend of the event to close the highway and reroute all traffic through the exit we needed to get to the fair.



An aside - Dear Georgia DOT - what the HELL?????



Ahem.



While we were still early enough to get everything sorted out and slip into our garb..



Another Aside - did y'all know I'm a talented woman? Yep - I can get undressed and re-dressed in public without ever showing more skin than when I'm fully clothed. Mad skillz, yo.



Where was I? Oh, right...so we got dressed, shot a few clandestine photos of the booth setup (cameras and cell phones are forbidden to vendors and players during fair hours), and were ready to go.



Saturday was gorgeous, a perfect day for opening an eight week festival, despite the traffic issues that were the talk of the fair-goers.



Another aside - Really, Georgia DOT, who does that? On the day a long running event opens its gates to the usually enormous crowd and funnels tens of thousands of people through the site, often in one day, who decides it's a good idea to close a four lane highway and force the traffic into two lanes and an exit ramp??



Right, back to the show. So we had literally thousands of people passing by, pausing to look at the shiny, shiny glass.



Without fearing accusations of exaggeration, I believe I can say that K had a good day.

Sunday started out with little rain showers, just enough to moisten the ground and keep fair-goers away in droves. It was...quiet. We still had some good sales, but it wasn't even half what we did on Saturday. Still, I think it was a decent opening weekend, and we managed to come up with a rainy-day setup that would suit if the weather turned really foul. We were a little crowded when the rain was falling, but did alright once it cleared. We're hoping it's the only rainy day at the fair.

We didn't walk the fair much, just visited a few of the vendors nearby and one quick trip to the Pirate's Ship to purchase the cutest wee little knives because I forgot to bring anything with which I could butter bread or cut sausage. D'oh!

The most difficult part of the weekend came around closing time on Saturday. K had a tough choice to make. You see, she's been wearing this piece...

...for several months, ever since she created it. It's one of her favorites. The central image is her own art, the line drawing turned into colorful prints, a t-shirt, one of the images in one of her coloring books, and of course, dichroic glass pendants and earrings. She was quite proud of the CZ she embedded above the goddess.

To say she loves this piece is to understate.

So of course, one of the thousands of people passing through admired it on K's neck and wanted to know if it was for sale, and if so, how much?

Herein lies the artist's dilemma. If one love a piece of one's own art, but one is in the business of selling one's art, what is one to do? In K's case, she named a price that would probably ensure that no one would buy the piece. The woman said she'd think about it and walked away. K was fairly certain the patron wouldn't be back.

Except, she did come back. Now K had to decide - would she really part with her beloved pendant? Was the money worth knowing that her favorite piece was no longer hers? Honestly, I've never seen her think so long or so hard about parting with one of her pieces...but she finally took it off, kissed it goodbye (literally - she kissed it several times), and handed it over. She consoled herself with the thought that she was making a tremendous profit on the materials and she could always go home and make one, if not exactly like it, then at least similar.

Overall, it was a fine weekend, and I'm looking forward to next weekend. Between now and then I need to repair my costume (it suffered a modicum of wear and wants a few well placed stitches), re-lace the bodice/vest so it's smaller (I've shrunk a wee since I first bought it, and it is now too big), and possibly find the funds for some new shoes (the boots are grand, but they slouch and are an effort to get into/out of) and maybe a new shift to wear with my other costume, and maybe a new blouse to wear with my skirt. First, though, I'll have to win the lottery - the way they price their costume pieces, I'm thinking the clothiers suffer from the artist's dilemma, too.

Good Morrow or Some Junk

I am spending this weekend, and almost every weekend for the next two months, helping my friend K run her booth at the Ren Fest.

I'll be spouting gibberish like "Good morrow, m'lady, how fare thee today?" and "Zounds!" and "Prithee, my lord, remove thy tallywhacker from out my tankard" in a corny, false British or Irish or indeterminate Not American accent while selling her award-winning products that I don't want to name here in case the Ren Fest costume patrol happens to find this blog.

They are fierce about the costuming. I am worried I won't pass muster, but I am ready to argue my case if I must.

First, the Renaissance Festival is not a reflection of the Renaissance period, but more accurately a mixture of Dark Ages, Middle Ages, and a dash of Elizabethan/Regency Era romance novel thrown in for fun.

Second, the behavior, speech, and dress of participants is, at best, a characterization of the romanticized perception of these historical eras, and not at all an accurate reflection of the society, mores, and norms of the times.

Third, you may rightly argue that my blue hair is not "period" and so must be covered entirely lest some poor fair-goer be traumatized, demoralized, and jolted completely out of the illusion of having travelled back in time, but I will rightly argue right back that there was no such thing as polyester fabric, polyester thread, or most of the materials in your faux-period costume that you're so proud of, and if you want to more correctly reflect the eras of which you purport to be an expert, you might restrict your materials to wood, bone, wool, or linen - sorry, cotton wasn't really an option, back then. You could have silk or satin if you are nobility, but the ration of nobility to peasant at these fairs is already overblown. Also, you'll need more grease in your hair so it doesn't show under your wig, if you're lucky enough to have one, and you probably shouldn't bathe for the next six months or so, if you really want to be correct.

I could go on, but really? It's all in fun, and if they can remember that and keep off my back about the only head scarf I own that remotely matches my costume, and the slashed sleeves on my blouse don't do a very good job of covering my tattoos but I need time to fix that, and the knee-high leather boots that no woman would ever have worn, well...we'll get along fine.

Meanwhile, if you're going to the Georgia Renaissance Festival, come and find me - I'll buy you a fried pickle, because we know those just scream "Renaissance/Dark Ages/Middle Ages/Elizabethan/Regency" era.

Temporal Muddle

It's early, 'though not early enough - I should have written this last night before I went to bed, because I may be making myself late...but I seem to have gotten up before I went to bed, so perhaps it will be alright.

Have you ever done that?

Gotten up before you went to bed, I mean?

I should have gone to sleep much earlier than I did, knowing full well I'd be up much earlier than I was, but then I had things to do...just things...frittery things, tiny little time-gobblers that alone don't mean much but put together consume a feast of hours.

No gallery today - rather, I am headed for a long ride to a short (I hope) bit of work setting up K's Ren Fest booth. Over the next two months, I'll be spending the bulk of my weekend days there, helping run her booth and generally wreaking havoc in a (hopefully) musical, entertaining, happy sort of way. Or at least, a non-discordant, one shade better than boring, non-grumpy sort of way. It's good to have boundaries.

What time is it? Hmm...I'm still up before I've gone to sleep.

There is caffeine in my future. And a nap. Probably at the same time. Hey, if I can get up before I went to sleep, anything's possible.

Are My Feet Supposed to Look Like That??

No, really...should my feet look like giant potato dumplings?

Hmm...must be summer, finally. I always get a bit...er...puffy...when it's hot outside, especially when I go out into said heat, and more especially when I walk around in it for hours, spending most of the day on my feet.

I'll have to sit with my feet up for days to de-puff, but it was totally worth it. We had a lovely time at the Ren Faire. I'll tell you about it later - right now I am trying to clean off what used to be my dining room table, but has lately come to resemble a tragic mishap at the office supply store with a side of Toys 'R' Everywhere thrown in for fun, at the same time cooking a very later breakfast for the boys.

Yeah, I hit the ground hobbling today!

Hot and...well, mostly hot.

Not long ago I was conversing with a friend about the oddly cool weather we've been having. Usually, it's already well into the nineties during the day, and even the evenings are too warm for open windows - we'd usually be running the A/C full tilt by now.

Until three nights ago, we've had windows open to keep the house cool, and the A/C won't kick on unless I set it down to seventy...which I don't like doing. It's been cooler outside than in!

Today, that is supposed to change - the forecast is calling for temperatures in the mid-nineties. Of course. Because today, we are inflicting dropping of The Evil Genius with a friend and the adults are going to the Ren Fest again, this time to actually see some of the shows and maybe shop. Don't get me wrong, the kid's play area at our Faire is amazing...but it's not why I go.

So on what is shaping up to be our hottest day of the year so far, we're going to go walk around a huge, open, not very shaded site...and to make matters even more interesting, I'm wearing blue-jeans, because I refuse to wear shorts in public. Really, you'd thank me

Maybe I'll melt off thirty pounds or so!

Ent

Below are some pictures of the Ent at the Ren Faire yeasterday. They don't do the costume justice. At one point, he was standing very still and some kids were examining him - he suddenly moved his head and peered down at them, and they squealed and ran away. The adults in the area chuckled.

I let the Evil Genius put a dollar in the gourd - it's usual to tip the characters at the faire for providing entertainment, and this fellow certainly deserved it!

If you look carefully at the first picture, you'll see his face.

As a little side note - it's almost two-o'clock, and I started writing this around eleven-thirty. Betweem making breakfast for the household (bacon and pancakes, yay for clogged arteries!) and Blogger having a conniption about uploading pictures, it took this long to write this tiny post. Sigh. I'm going for a nap, now.