The venue where PSG is held is a campground adjacent to a farm. The property is, if I recall correctly, a cooperative or planned community. It was once a strip mine and was purchased by the owners with the intent to return the land to something resembling its natural state. Most of it is a wildlife sanctuary, with only a tiny portion open to visitors.
There are no flush toilets and only one place to shower - the shower house near the gate at the entrance to the site.
Thank goodness, they rebuilt the shower house in recent years, because it was starting to get truly horrible in the old one, and on more then one occasion I wondered of I really needed to wash with something other than baby wipes that week.
This year, I had a visitor with me in the shower house during one of my sojourns there - a kitty! He was hanging around the door, and we commenced to meowing at each other, and he decided I would do, for a human. He was fluffy, part Maine Coon, black and white. His name, I later learned, is Oreo, and he was a sweetie.
I had occasion to speak with one of the land owners, and she expressed concern about Oreo - seems he's such a darling that she's worried someone will take him home one day. He isn't collared or tagged, and he's very friendly. I figured he wasn't a stray because he was obviously well fed and combed often...and she seems reassured by that.
In contrast to the happy experience with Oreo, we had a rough day mid-week. Mum's last cat, Water, died while we were away. Water was boarded at the vet's, and she went into congestive heart failure. The vet called T, who called my phone...and the call actually made it through. There is almost no cell service at this site, so it was astonishing to hear the phone ring and carry on a conversation. Poor Mum - she had to come home and burry her cat, and while she was sad about the dear old thing's demise, she was also feeling a load of guilt because she was a little relieved - no more cats to worry about when she's away at the lapidary school or visiting friends and family. I understand all those feelings.
When I got home, my own three girls wouldn't let me out of their sight for several days, and are still prone to piling onto me if I sit still for more than a minute. I missed them, too.
Mum can always come get her kitty fix here - they love to nest with her, probably because she doesn't kick them into next week when she rolls over (I don't do it on purpose - and you'd think they'd learn not to go to sleep near my feet!).
Showing posts with label PSG. Show all posts
Showing posts with label PSG. Show all posts
Friday, July 11, 2008
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Hearth Fires
During the Ohio event (PSG) there are a number of spiritual events planned. I was asked to help with the Saturday evening ritual, the last of the event. My part was to call in the North in whatever way I wished, as long as it reflected the themes of the ritual and the event - the theme of both being "Bring the Spirit Home". This year's event focused on how people integrate their spiritual and mundane lives instead of separating them.
Of course, I sang in the North. I wrote a little piece just for the occasion (I plan to turn it into a song for next year's concert season, though).
I won't go into all the details here, but I want to share one part of the ritual that I found lovely and rather powerful.
Throughout the year, they've had people all over the country collecting fire for this ritual. That doesn't mena carrying live flame around with them - they lit candles or bits of wood in one fire, extinguished them, and kept them safe. The spirit of the fire remains, even when the flame has gone. The people them brought these fires to PSG for the ritual.
There was a smaller fire to one side of the main fire circle. Into this, various people cast their bits of fire from various places, explaining where it had come from. In this way, our fire was connected to those other fires, and communities. The final piece was presented by a gentleman who had traveled to Kildaire, Ireland - a place where fires have been lit for the gods for thousands of years. Archeologists have, it seems, dug down to the deepest layer, the bottom most fire. The gentleman had a piece of that charcoal, thousands of years old. It was perhaps the size of the first length of my pinkie finger, but it was huge in symbolism. As he cast it into the living flame, he connected our fire to one thousands of years old, and to every fire after it. His most prized possession, he cast into the fire, a gift to his community.
Those of us who called in the directions had another part to play - we carried large candles to the fire, lit them from this combined flame, and brought them back to our quarters. We had people helping us, and they handed out smaller tapers to everyone in the circle. The small tapers were lit, sharing the combined flame out to the whole circle. People then extinguished the flames so they could take the candles, take the combined fired of generations and communities, take the spirit home.
When the circle was opened and everyone scattered (a storm had been in the offing for the entire ritual, waiting only for us to finish before cracking open the sky), Mum and I lit perhaps a hundred or so more little tapers, extinguishing them by pinching out the flame, so that anyone not at the ritual could have one, or they could go back to the organizer's home for use there. We walked back to our camp in the light sprinkle, ducking under our canopies just as the heavens dumped their contents on our little patch of Earth.
I have two of the tapers here with me. I like the symbolism attached to the ritual, the idea that, in spirit, we are all connected by one of our most primal elements, most primal tools - fire. I like the idea that I can pass this connection on to others, a visible reminder of the spirit we all share.
How do you bring the spirit home?
Of course, I sang in the North. I wrote a little piece just for the occasion (I plan to turn it into a song for next year's concert season, though).
I won't go into all the details here, but I want to share one part of the ritual that I found lovely and rather powerful.
Throughout the year, they've had people all over the country collecting fire for this ritual. That doesn't mena carrying live flame around with them - they lit candles or bits of wood in one fire, extinguished them, and kept them safe. The spirit of the fire remains, even when the flame has gone. The people them brought these fires to PSG for the ritual.
There was a smaller fire to one side of the main fire circle. Into this, various people cast their bits of fire from various places, explaining where it had come from. In this way, our fire was connected to those other fires, and communities. The final piece was presented by a gentleman who had traveled to Kildaire, Ireland - a place where fires have been lit for the gods for thousands of years. Archeologists have, it seems, dug down to the deepest layer, the bottom most fire. The gentleman had a piece of that charcoal, thousands of years old. It was perhaps the size of the first length of my pinkie finger, but it was huge in symbolism. As he cast it into the living flame, he connected our fire to one thousands of years old, and to every fire after it. His most prized possession, he cast into the fire, a gift to his community.
Those of us who called in the directions had another part to play - we carried large candles to the fire, lit them from this combined flame, and brought them back to our quarters. We had people helping us, and they handed out smaller tapers to everyone in the circle. The small tapers were lit, sharing the combined flame out to the whole circle. People then extinguished the flames so they could take the candles, take the combined fired of generations and communities, take the spirit home.
When the circle was opened and everyone scattered (a storm had been in the offing for the entire ritual, waiting only for us to finish before cracking open the sky), Mum and I lit perhaps a hundred or so more little tapers, extinguishing them by pinching out the flame, so that anyone not at the ritual could have one, or they could go back to the organizer's home for use there. We walked back to our camp in the light sprinkle, ducking under our canopies just as the heavens dumped their contents on our little patch of Earth.
I have two of the tapers here with me. I like the symbolism attached to the ritual, the idea that, in spirit, we are all connected by one of our most primal elements, most primal tools - fire. I like the idea that I can pass this connection on to others, a visible reminder of the spirit we all share.
How do you bring the spirit home?
Sunday, June 29, 2008
The Natives Are...Partying
One of the first things I noticed at my first PSG was the drumming. It was constant - day or night, someone (usually several someones) was drumming. Djembes, dumbeks, ashikos, djun-djuns, tablas, bodhrans, and drums I don't have names for, all pounding away together and weaving intricate rhythms through the event.
In the past few years, the drummers haven't kept it up 'round the clock, but they do their best. This year, there was a camp behind us in the woods where a large group of young folks were settled in, and they would start in the evening and drum until the wee hours.
It's not always drums. Sometimes there's a flute, a whistle, a handful of percussion instruments, or even a voice. To be honest, I'm usually the voice when I sit in on the drumming, because my drum skills are...erm...only slightly better than non-existent. Sometimes I bring flute or whistle, but usually it's me and some shakers and my drum.
My drum is not huge, but it's heavy. I laughingly say that I bought the world's heaviest drum, that it feels like it weighs four-hundred pounds. She is solid, with a good head on her, and I named her Azuli. I have plans to dye her head blue one of these days. She has a deep voice (hmm, like a certain vocalist I know) and can be quite loud, if loud is wanted (again, like a certain vocalist I know).
There is a fire around which people are supposed to drum, giving the community a place to meet in rhythm and also offering the opposite end of the camp a hope of quieter sleeping if that's what they want. Sometimes the drums are frenzied, wild, on the brink of losing control; sometimes they are slow, sultry, inviting dancers to come take a few turns around the fire. Always, the sound carries through the woods, over hill and dale, reaching to the far edges of the vast camp.
There are a few folks at the event who don't like the constant drumming - but I'm not one of them. There's something deliciously primal about falling to sleep to the pounding of the skins, having that sound braided into one's dreams.
Heard while sleeping, they become a heartbeat.
In the past few years, the drummers haven't kept it up 'round the clock, but they do their best. This year, there was a camp behind us in the woods where a large group of young folks were settled in, and they would start in the evening and drum until the wee hours.
It's not always drums. Sometimes there's a flute, a whistle, a handful of percussion instruments, or even a voice. To be honest, I'm usually the voice when I sit in on the drumming, because my drum skills are...erm...only slightly better than non-existent. Sometimes I bring flute or whistle, but usually it's me and some shakers and my drum.
My drum is not huge, but it's heavy. I laughingly say that I bought the world's heaviest drum, that it feels like it weighs four-hundred pounds. She is solid, with a good head on her, and I named her Azuli. I have plans to dye her head blue one of these days. She has a deep voice (hmm, like a certain vocalist I know) and can be quite loud, if loud is wanted (again, like a certain vocalist I know).
There is a fire around which people are supposed to drum, giving the community a place to meet in rhythm and also offering the opposite end of the camp a hope of quieter sleeping if that's what they want. Sometimes the drums are frenzied, wild, on the brink of losing control; sometimes they are slow, sultry, inviting dancers to come take a few turns around the fire. Always, the sound carries through the woods, over hill and dale, reaching to the far edges of the vast camp.
There are a few folks at the event who don't like the constant drumming - but I'm not one of them. There's something deliciously primal about falling to sleep to the pounding of the skins, having that sound braided into one's dreams.
Heard while sleeping, they become a heartbeat.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
The Lady Floats
PSG is a spiritual event, but it's also a musical one. There are constantly bands performing, either at the cafe (yes, it's a primitive campsite, but not so primitive that you can't get a large mocha latte on demand), on the main stage, at the morning meeting, or in their various camps. Bands invited to perform give three concerts - a nooner at the cafe, a midnight at the cafe, and a main stage event.
Wednesday was our main stage concert, and it coincided with the full moon.
The site has done a lot of work on the stage, raising it up higher, replacing the floor so that petite, delicate flowers such as myself aren't fearful for their lives when they walk on it, adding a sturdy ramp to one side rather than shaky stairs, and installing new lights. It's a huge stage, more than capable of handling our small number with room left over for a Vienna Boy's Choir or two. They hadn't gotten the roof on it yet, so we sang under a massive tarp, but it was a clear night and it that was fine.
Our concert started at nine-thirty and rolled right along. Lots of folks were up dancing, getting into the groove, and generally enjoying themselves. We always tell them "The better the show you put on for us, the better the show we put on for you!", and they were flamboyant about their dancing. We are blessed with a fan base (is there a minimum number that one may call "fan base", or is even one person enough?) that is as enthusiastic as they are forgiving - we make mistakes, and then we point them out and laugh about them...terribly unprofessional behavior, according to the "rules" of performance...but we don't care. I was chuckling over the fact that sometimes the crowd knows the words better than we do!
We introduced several new songs which were met with cheers and some terrific foot stomping, and the crowd was thrilled with our other new addition - we have a dancer! She does belly dance, veil and scarf dance, and fire dancing - dancing with fire poi, wands, and fans ablaze. She's amazing, and the first time she performed with us we got lost in a song because we were distracted. Important note to band - don't watch your dancer!!! She also leads the crowd in a spiral dance during one piece, and it's beautiful. I'd wager that close to a hundred people (maybe more, it was dark and I couldn't see everyone) took part in that, and it was...awesome.
As our concert was coming to a close, we had the pleasure of watching the moon rise up over the trees. The stage is at the bottom of a hill, and the audience sits on the slope with their backs to the road, vendors, and more trees. The moon was inching up behind the trees, rather like a late concert goer who is trying unobtrusively to find their seat. While the crowd was watching us, we were watching them and the moon.
We made the decision to sing one more song after we were "done", because we just had to. It's called "The Moon is High", and it's about people gathering together on the night of the full moon and celebrating the return of their spiritual strength, community, selves. It's rich in harmony, and powerful.
Just as we reached the heart of the song, the moon caught her cue and broke free of the entangling trees.
Who needs stage lighting when we have the best spotlight of all?
Wednesday was our main stage concert, and it coincided with the full moon.
The site has done a lot of work on the stage, raising it up higher, replacing the floor so that petite, delicate flowers such as myself aren't fearful for their lives when they walk on it, adding a sturdy ramp to one side rather than shaky stairs, and installing new lights. It's a huge stage, more than capable of handling our small number with room left over for a Vienna Boy's Choir or two. They hadn't gotten the roof on it yet, so we sang under a massive tarp, but it was a clear night and it that was fine.
Our concert started at nine-thirty and rolled right along. Lots of folks were up dancing, getting into the groove, and generally enjoying themselves. We always tell them "The better the show you put on for us, the better the show we put on for you!", and they were flamboyant about their dancing. We are blessed with a fan base (is there a minimum number that one may call "fan base", or is even one person enough?) that is as enthusiastic as they are forgiving - we make mistakes, and then we point them out and laugh about them...terribly unprofessional behavior, according to the "rules" of performance...but we don't care. I was chuckling over the fact that sometimes the crowd knows the words better than we do!
We introduced several new songs which were met with cheers and some terrific foot stomping, and the crowd was thrilled with our other new addition - we have a dancer! She does belly dance, veil and scarf dance, and fire dancing - dancing with fire poi, wands, and fans ablaze. She's amazing, and the first time she performed with us we got lost in a song because we were distracted. Important note to band - don't watch your dancer!!! She also leads the crowd in a spiral dance during one piece, and it's beautiful. I'd wager that close to a hundred people (maybe more, it was dark and I couldn't see everyone) took part in that, and it was...awesome.
As our concert was coming to a close, we had the pleasure of watching the moon rise up over the trees. The stage is at the bottom of a hill, and the audience sits on the slope with their backs to the road, vendors, and more trees. The moon was inching up behind the trees, rather like a late concert goer who is trying unobtrusively to find their seat. While the crowd was watching us, we were watching them and the moon.
We made the decision to sing one more song after we were "done", because we just had to. It's called "The Moon is High", and it's about people gathering together on the night of the full moon and celebrating the return of their spiritual strength, community, selves. It's rich in harmony, and powerful.
Just as we reached the heart of the song, the moon caught her cue and broke free of the entangling trees.
Who needs stage lighting when we have the best spotlight of all?
Friday, June 27, 2008
Strobing Clouds
One night last week, several of us were sitting around my little portable fireplace, relaxing. It had been rainy off and on during the week, and cool, so the fire was a welcome change from the damp chill of nightfall.
Mum was absent - I don't remember if she'd gone to bed (likely) or was off doing something (less likely). There was plenty of foot traffic past our spot - I put the fireplace in front of our booth so we could sit and be warm or roast marshmallows with folks rather than be cut off from our temporary community.
Our neighbors (stained glass vendors who are some of the nicest folks, and we're neighbors every year at this event) were sitting with me, enjoying the flickering glow. It was the night of the Tea Dance, which is a tough thing to describe - picture people who are camping in a tent city, dressed up in feathers, rainbows, shiny lame fabrics of every hue, and/or lights, glow sticks, or simply body paint. You have half a picture, now. Add in a sort of Hunch Punch of Doom, a "No one under 21, no ID no entry" ID checking policy, and loud dance music and you get a little more of an idea. It is...erm...festive.
I don't go to the Tea Dance. I don't have the strength.
So J, D and I were sitting around the fire, enjoying the night and each other's company, when we noticed strobes. "Tea Dance" we thought. We wondered idly how they managed to get strobe lights working in a primitive campground.
Not until we looked towards the Southern sky did we realize what it was - lightning. A tremendous, billowing, cauliflower of a cloud had blossomed above the tree line and was illuminating itself with pale blue flashes of pent-up static.
Above us the sky was clear, that deep, perfect blue of night, flecked with stars. To the south, rising high, obscuring the bits of light that were kin to those above us, was the storm. With every flash, it lit itself from within. There was no thunder, just the silent flicker of electric wonder. The brief strobes gave us tiny glimpses of the shape of the clouds, gave them definition, glazed them blue, peach, cream, grey. They lit the sky around the clouds, too. Lovely.
As the night deepened, we kept watch, happy to feed the fire bits of charcoal and wood, content to murmur our conversation and just...be.
The recently full moon began her ascent to dominion in the sky, wrapped in the gauze gown of cloud and storm. She peeked from behind the storm, glancing through misty veils of cloud, winking coyly before ducking back behind her ephemeral cover. She gave a touch of silver to the clouds, her light shimmering and spreading out along them, liquid luminescence flowing across the sky, contained by the slender lip of the horizon.
The lightning had long stopped, relenting to the Moon's superior brilliance. She reached her zenith, the storm rolled on to the south, and we eventually gave way to the length of our days, our nights of not enough sleep, and the hypnotic crimson in the depths of the fire's embers - we said out goodnights to each other and to the night's wonders, crawled into our respective beds, and slept well past morning's glorious dawning.
Mum was absent - I don't remember if she'd gone to bed (likely) or was off doing something (less likely). There was plenty of foot traffic past our spot - I put the fireplace in front of our booth so we could sit and be warm or roast marshmallows with folks rather than be cut off from our temporary community.
Our neighbors (stained glass vendors who are some of the nicest folks, and we're neighbors every year at this event) were sitting with me, enjoying the flickering glow. It was the night of the Tea Dance, which is a tough thing to describe - picture people who are camping in a tent city, dressed up in feathers, rainbows, shiny lame fabrics of every hue, and/or lights, glow sticks, or simply body paint. You have half a picture, now. Add in a sort of Hunch Punch of Doom, a "No one under 21, no ID no entry" ID checking policy, and loud dance music and you get a little more of an idea. It is...erm...festive.
I don't go to the Tea Dance. I don't have the strength.
So J, D and I were sitting around the fire, enjoying the night and each other's company, when we noticed strobes. "Tea Dance" we thought. We wondered idly how they managed to get strobe lights working in a primitive campground.
Not until we looked towards the Southern sky did we realize what it was - lightning. A tremendous, billowing, cauliflower of a cloud had blossomed above the tree line and was illuminating itself with pale blue flashes of pent-up static.
Above us the sky was clear, that deep, perfect blue of night, flecked with stars. To the south, rising high, obscuring the bits of light that were kin to those above us, was the storm. With every flash, it lit itself from within. There was no thunder, just the silent flicker of electric wonder. The brief strobes gave us tiny glimpses of the shape of the clouds, gave them definition, glazed them blue, peach, cream, grey. They lit the sky around the clouds, too. Lovely.
As the night deepened, we kept watch, happy to feed the fire bits of charcoal and wood, content to murmur our conversation and just...be.
The recently full moon began her ascent to dominion in the sky, wrapped in the gauze gown of cloud and storm. She peeked from behind the storm, glancing through misty veils of cloud, winking coyly before ducking back behind her ephemeral cover. She gave a touch of silver to the clouds, her light shimmering and spreading out along them, liquid luminescence flowing across the sky, contained by the slender lip of the horizon.
The lightning had long stopped, relenting to the Moon's superior brilliance. She reached her zenith, the storm rolled on to the south, and we eventually gave way to the length of our days, our nights of not enough sleep, and the hypnotic crimson in the depths of the fire's embers - we said out goodnights to each other and to the night's wonders, crawled into our respective beds, and slept well past morning's glorious dawning.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Red Eft
While we were packing out (groan) from our Ohio trip, I had occasion to look down at the ground and discover a little friend in the grass. I was later informed it was a Red Eft, the terrestrial/juvenile stage of the Eastern Newt. I am not much for knowing about lizardy critters...I liked his spots, though, and he was friendly enough to hang out on my hand for a bit before I hauled his (tiny) butt over to the woods where he wouldn't get mooshed into oblivion by my big ol' feet (or Mum's, which may be smaller than mine but are still enormous to a Red Eft!). Sadly, I didn't get a photo of my little friend, as I was busy chatting with him about the dangers of scuttling through a camp in tear-down mode, but I found one on the Internet and "borrowed" it. Take a look:
Isn't that just the cutest little thing? The photo doesn't do it justice, either - those spots really pop! There are club kids who wish they could be that bright and 3-D!
Mum tried to coax the little fella onto her hand, but he (it could have been a she - I didn't ask and it's rude to look) was having none of it. He was maybe the length of my middle finger, if he'd straightened out at all...which he didn't, being a touch interested in scampering about my hands and occasionally leaping down to the ground and trying to get under foot again. After showing him to a few other interested folks, I set him in some leaf-litter and watched him hurry away - probably formulating the tale he would tell his fellow newts about the stinky, loud, obviously not very hungry giants out in the grassy place.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Grunt, Sweat, Groan, Ahhhh....
Today we pack out in earnest - bedding put away, clothing packed, coolers consolidated, emptied, drying in the sun or iced down for the trip home, canopies coming down, everything going into the trailer, go, go, go from wake-up until we haul out whenever we're done.
The A/C in the van is going to feel sooooo good.
Bird man, I'm coming home!!!! I love you, my best good thing.
The A/C in the van is going to feel sooooo good.
Bird man, I'm coming home!!!! I love you, my best good thing.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Button, Button
Pack-out begins today. We'll start this evening, packing up what's left (hopefully not much) of our merchandise and holing a potluck dinner with whatever food we have left - we really don't like bringing it home again, and even though we try not to bring more than we'll eat, we always seem to have many leftovers. The whole band will bring whatever we have, and we'll share a meal before getting back to the pack. By now, I am ready to get home - home to plenty of hot water for washing, actually being clean for more than two-point-seven seconds after I get out of the shower, and air-conditioning. Oh, and you guys, of course!
Bird, wait until I tell you about the mud people and the fairies!! I love you, little man.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Nooner
Our noon concert happens today. I like this one, because we sort of relax, hang out with the audience, and do everything by request. We sit on the edge of the stage and encourage everyone to bring drums, rattles, and other instruments so they can play and sing along...we call it "Be a member of the band for a day". It's always a blast.
Tonight is the candle labyrinth - the organizers of this event make a classic, seven pass labyrinth on a hillside, entirely of votives. They keep it lit all night so folks can walk it when they want. It's possibly one of the loveliest things I've ever seen, and I look forward to walking it every year. It's done in silence, only the sounds of the night and a few specially chosen musical instruments (flutes, hand drum, some small bells and a gone quietly played) at random intervals. There's a fire in the center where folks place offerings to burn - incense, bits of paper with hope, dreams, sorrows, songs, or poems written on them. It's deeply personal, and deeply beautiful. I like to walk it late, when most folks are asleep and I can contemplate the nature of life.
I always come away feeling refreshed, recharged, and very much loved by...well...the unnamed powers that are just beyond my ken - to call it God or Goddess would limit it to the label. It's a peaceful sort of feeling. I like to write my thoughts in a little book when I get back to camp - I have several years worth in one book, and I reread them when life feels too bloody chaotic.
I'll sleep very well tonight.
Hey, Bird, three more days 'til I'm home. I miss you, Evil Genius. You are my heart.
Tonight is the candle labyrinth - the organizers of this event make a classic, seven pass labyrinth on a hillside, entirely of votives. They keep it lit all night so folks can walk it when they want. It's possibly one of the loveliest things I've ever seen, and I look forward to walking it every year. It's done in silence, only the sounds of the night and a few specially chosen musical instruments (flutes, hand drum, some small bells and a gone quietly played) at random intervals. There's a fire in the center where folks place offerings to burn - incense, bits of paper with hope, dreams, sorrows, songs, or poems written on them. It's deeply personal, and deeply beautiful. I like to walk it late, when most folks are asleep and I can contemplate the nature of life.
I always come away feeling refreshed, recharged, and very much loved by...well...the unnamed powers that are just beyond my ken - to call it God or Goddess would limit it to the label. It's a peaceful sort of feeling. I like to write my thoughts in a little book when I get back to camp - I have several years worth in one book, and I reread them when life feels too bloody chaotic.
I'll sleep very well tonight.
Hey, Bird, three more days 'til I'm home. I miss you, Evil Genius. You are my heart.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Hump Day
Our main concert is tonight - hopefully it isn't raining and we don't suck. Hey, I'm a simple woman (hush) with simple needs - a dry venue and a good performance will do fine.
Meanwhile, have a little recipe:
Meanwhile, have a little recipe:
I shall call this fat bottom dip - I mean, look what it did to the cat. Come to think of it, that cat's ass reminds me of something...hmm...oh, right...my fifty acre bottom!!
This is a simple dip, and I am fond of it.
The cast:
Olive Oil (cold pressed, extra virgin, organic if you can get it)
Rosemary, fresh or dried, chopped
Sea Salt
Fresh Ground Black Pepper
Pour a generous amount of olive oil into a saucer or bowl. Chop your rosemary and drop it on in there. Grind sea salt and pepper over the lot. Warm some crusty bread (slices or hunks, your choice). Tear into bite sized pieces, dip, and enjoy.
Easy, no?
Want to get complicated? Add some red pepper flakes. Warm the oil in a pan before adding the other ingredients. If there's any of the dip left over (hah!), you can brush it on potatoes before oven-roasting them. Use basil infused olive oil for a twist. Your options are limited only by your culinary imagination.
Let Daddy sleep in a little, Birdling - he's all worn out after four days of relentless you!
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Button, Button
You know, I could get used to this pre-written post thing.
What day is it? Oh, yeah, Tuesday. I lose track, at this event. Here, have a button for the day:
What day is it? Oh, yeah, Tuesday. I lose track, at this event. Here, have a button for the day:
Mmm...chocolate...did I pack any chocolate??
Hey, Bird, take Daddy to the Nature Center - on the really long trail! Muah!! Don't forget, our hearts are always connected.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Midnight Revelry
Tonight at midnight we have the first of our three concerts at this event. We'll be performing at the little (freakin' huge!!) cafe they have on site. This'll be a nice warm-up for our main event later in the week.
I am hoping that it's hot as all get out right now, as I'm selling (among other things) Cool Ties, neck wraps full of little crystals that soak up water and help folks keep cool. I keep a cooler full of ice water handy for folks to soak them in - total sales ploy, but it works. It helps that Mum and I made these ourselves - our booth is all about the things people make, nothing bought and resold. We have friends who send their art along with us, which gives our booth a really full, kaleidoscopic look.
Aside from the concert tonight, the band has two more this week, and I'll be leading or assisting with four workshops. We may have a handfasting or some other ceremony to sing at, as well - sometimes folks ask us to take part in their rituals, ceremonies, and the like, and we try to oblige when we can.
Whew, I'm already hot and tired just thinking about it...but in a good way!
I love you, little man - sweet dreams!!
I am hoping that it's hot as all get out right now, as I'm selling (among other things) Cool Ties, neck wraps full of little crystals that soak up water and help folks keep cool. I keep a cooler full of ice water handy for folks to soak them in - total sales ploy, but it works. It helps that Mum and I made these ourselves - our booth is all about the things people make, nothing bought and resold. We have friends who send their art along with us, which gives our booth a really full, kaleidoscopic look.
Aside from the concert tonight, the band has two more this week, and I'll be leading or assisting with four workshops. We may have a handfasting or some other ceremony to sing at, as well - sometimes folks ask us to take part in their rituals, ceremonies, and the like, and we try to oblige when we can.
Whew, I'm already hot and tired just thinking about it...but in a good way!
I love you, little man - sweet dreams!!
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Here We Go
Today we will be setting up two ten by twenty canopies and setting up our booth and camp site. I could just come to this event and camp, hang out, and take care of band business, but I get bored. Also, the only level area to park the utility trailer I call home for the week is in the vending area - so it's all about me and my comfort.
I only come to the event if the band is playing - otherwise, I can't afford it. I love the people - the crowd is awesome, always getting into the music and dancing, laughing, and generally having a good time. George the Sound Guy is amazing, and he always manages to make us (me) sound better than we (I) really are (am). I couldn't afford the gate if I weren't performing, sadly. Lucky for me, they give performers free entry (hey, some places don't even do that, and you end up having to pay to play - that sucks!!), although we still pay full price for vend sites. Also, we don't get paid to perform - no one does - but we're working on that.
So today we arrive at the site, get set up, and fluff our vend/camp site. We live behind the booth so we can open early and stay open late.
I hope it isn't raining - it always rains at least one day during this event, and a wet setup is surpassed in suckiness only by a wet teardown. At least we are Evil Genius free, which makes it ever so much easier...
Which reminds me - I love you Bird, and I miss you. See you in eight days!! Try not to kill Daddy while I'm gone...
I only come to the event if the band is playing - otherwise, I can't afford it. I love the people - the crowd is awesome, always getting into the music and dancing, laughing, and generally having a good time. George the Sound Guy is amazing, and he always manages to make us (me) sound better than we (I) really are (am). I couldn't afford the gate if I weren't performing, sadly. Lucky for me, they give performers free entry (hey, some places don't even do that, and you end up having to pay to play - that sucks!!), although we still pay full price for vend sites. Also, we don't get paid to perform - no one does - but we're working on that.
So today we arrive at the site, get set up, and fluff our vend/camp site. We live behind the booth so we can open early and stay open late.
I hope it isn't raining - it always rains at least one day during this event, and a wet setup is surpassed in suckiness only by a wet teardown. At least we are Evil Genius free, which makes it ever so much easier...
Which reminds me - I love you Bird, and I miss you. See you in eight days!! Try not to kill Daddy while I'm gone...
Saturday, June 14, 2008
And We're Off!!
But you already knew that.
This morning we're headed to Ohio, Mum and I, for our week long event.
We go every year, usually bringing the Evil Genius along with us. He's not coming this time, as I need a bit of time for myself. Oh hells, yes, I am that selfish.
Also, umm...a lad ought to have some Daddy time, don't you think?
Anyhow, this post was generated last week, on the sixth...and if all goes well, other posts were generated as well and will post throughout the week while I'm gone - a sort of preemptive blogging, if you will. When I get home, we'll see how well this worked.
See y'all in nine days!
Be nice for Daddy, Bird - I love you!! Don't forget - no matter where I am, I'm still with you in my heart.
This morning we're headed to Ohio, Mum and I, for our week long event.
We go every year, usually bringing the Evil Genius along with us. He's not coming this time, as I need a bit of time for myself. Oh hells, yes, I am that selfish.
Also, umm...a lad ought to have some Daddy time, don't you think?
Anyhow, this post was generated last week, on the sixth...and if all goes well, other posts were generated as well and will post throughout the week while I'm gone - a sort of preemptive blogging, if you will. When I get home, we'll see how well this worked.
See y'all in nine days!
Be nice for Daddy, Bird - I love you!! Don't forget - no matter where I am, I'm still with you in my heart.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Mumble, grumble...
Was packing until two-o'clock (the morning one). Up before eight-o'clock (same morning). Think a nap is in my future? Hah! Have to go shopping for groceries and camp supplies, leaving tomorrow for a week. Ahhh...I can sleep in the van tomorrow...maybe...or not.
It's our annual trip to Ohio, and it's always like this the day before - tons to do, vans to rearrange, trailer to pack, secure, hitch up, food to buy, freeze, prepare for the drive. At least I don't have to pack for the Evil Genius, since he's staying home - that's a whole day in itself, excluding the time spent doing laundry! Why I bother packing clothes for him is beyond me, since he's usually nekkid before the sun's over the trees! Ah, well, this year it doesn't matter.
If all goes according to plan (and it will, or else!), Mum and I will be pulling out rather earlier than I want to be up in the morning. We'll stop in Charleston, W.V and finish the drive on Sunday morning. It's much nicer to make it a two-day drive instead of a one-day haul.
If I don't have time to log on again today, see y'all in ten days. Hopefully the auto-poster will do its job and there'll be something every day - I pre-wrote some posts for next week. Yeah, I know - I actually thought ahead about something! And I tested it earlier in the week, and it worked! The end in nigh!!
It's our annual trip to Ohio, and it's always like this the day before - tons to do, vans to rearrange, trailer to pack, secure, hitch up, food to buy, freeze, prepare for the drive. At least I don't have to pack for the Evil Genius, since he's staying home - that's a whole day in itself, excluding the time spent doing laundry! Why I bother packing clothes for him is beyond me, since he's usually nekkid before the sun's over the trees! Ah, well, this year it doesn't matter.
If all goes according to plan (and it will, or else!), Mum and I will be pulling out rather earlier than I want to be up in the morning. We'll stop in Charleston, W.V and finish the drive on Sunday morning. It's much nicer to make it a two-day drive instead of a one-day haul.
If I don't have time to log on again today, see y'all in ten days. Hopefully the auto-poster will do its job and there'll be something every day - I pre-wrote some posts for next week. Yeah, I know - I actually thought ahead about something! And I tested it earlier in the week, and it worked! The end in nigh!!
Monday, June 9, 2008
Once a Week is Enough, Right?
Going to the gym once a week should be fine, right?
Seriously, despite my hopes that we'd get to the gym every day, so far we've managed to go on Mondays, but that's it. Seems the remaining days of the week get eaten up and we don't get out there, dang it!
I am hoping we'll make it today, but it's looking grim. I need to start packing for my trip to Ohio - I'm leaving Saturday for a week-long event during which my band has three concerts and a number of workshops to perform. It's a blast.
At least I don't have to pack for the Evil Genius - he's staying home with Daddy this time, giving me a bit of a break. I enjoy having him with me, but it's tiring. When it's hot (at least half the week, and this year we're expecting several days in the hundreds) I worry about keeping him hydrated and out of the sun as much as possible. When it rains (at least once during the week, if not for the whole event), I worry about keeping him dry at least for a few minutes a day, and getting all the mud off him before bed time. Always I am concerned with making certain he is fed, clothed (or not, it's a clothing optional event and he usually opts out), and entertained. It makes for a long week.
This year, T is keeping him home, hurrah!! Mum and I are both looking forward to a PSG wherein we can go to bed when we like, rise when we like, and do as we like without concern for the child and his well being.
No, I'll just worry about what he's doing here at home while I'm away. He'll be OK subsisting on fast food and macaroni and cheese all week, right? Right?? Maybe he and T will get to the gym more than once while I'm gone...
Seriously, despite my hopes that we'd get to the gym every day, so far we've managed to go on Mondays, but that's it. Seems the remaining days of the week get eaten up and we don't get out there, dang it!
I am hoping we'll make it today, but it's looking grim. I need to start packing for my trip to Ohio - I'm leaving Saturday for a week-long event during which my band has three concerts and a number of workshops to perform. It's a blast.
At least I don't have to pack for the Evil Genius - he's staying home with Daddy this time, giving me a bit of a break. I enjoy having him with me, but it's tiring. When it's hot (at least half the week, and this year we're expecting several days in the hundreds) I worry about keeping him hydrated and out of the sun as much as possible. When it rains (at least once during the week, if not for the whole event), I worry about keeping him dry at least for a few minutes a day, and getting all the mud off him before bed time. Always I am concerned with making certain he is fed, clothed (or not, it's a clothing optional event and he usually opts out), and entertained. It makes for a long week.
This year, T is keeping him home, hurrah!! Mum and I are both looking forward to a PSG wherein we can go to bed when we like, rise when we like, and do as we like without concern for the child and his well being.
No, I'll just worry about what he's doing here at home while I'm away. He'll be OK subsisting on fast food and macaroni and cheese all week, right? Right?? Maybe he and T will get to the gym more than once while I'm gone...
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