Not all days are meant to be work-yourself-to-death days. Today…is a day to play hooky, enjoy the glorious sunrise, and do something for myself – even if it means cleaning out my closet so I have room to reach my bed, which at present, I can’t do without acrobatic skills. You try being acrobatic at 4am in the dark, and you’ll understand my predicament. So the field thinks I’m at the office; the office thinks I’m at the field. And if you haven’t figured this out yet, I’m neither. I’m home, writing to you good people, about my redirection of work ethic and how I don’t feel the least bit guilty, since my employer is trying to kill me and pay me as little as possible while doing so.
The weekend was far too short but very entertaining nonetheless. We went to the Renaissance Festival on Saturday, the coldest day of the season so far. There was a huge line to get in with half the people bundled in jackets and hoodies, the other half blissfully unaware of the cold (or pretending not to notice) while wearing very little for the sake of period garb accuracy. Security didn’t check our backpack hardly at all – we probably could have smuggled anything we wanted under the bottled water. Recognized a fair number of regulars: the Village Blacksmith, War Horse Productions, the Parrot Pirate show, even a couple vendors: the ear cuff guy (who wears his own stuff and is a little strange), the portly jewelry maker who has very nice Celtic stuff but doesn’t hand out business cards on the premise that if you don’t buy it now, you won’t buy it later, and of course, Sir Rodney’s Legs, who still has excellent turkey legs but is getting more expensive each year. There was a new place, which, I am now addicted to called Drizzler. They sell cheesecake or strawberries with marshmallows on a stick all drizzled with white and dark chocolate right before your eyes. And it’s cheap, so you know it appeals to me on all levels. Also there was the man who offers to flog your friend for a dollar; he’s quite a character. Honey said he didn’t have a dollar; I said Honey wasn’t my friend at which point he offered to flog my enemy for a dollar. The barbarian horde was out in full force this year. We got some good pics of a gentleman wearing a loincloth and a buffalo skin and not much else (he had very nice legs, too), as well as two of the biggest barbarians I’ve ever seen. I told them to show me their “Arr!” faces for one of the photos. We also caught the fire show put on by the Hand of Fatima belly dancers. This year they were working in conjunction with the Romans, who had a miniature coliseum erected, the ringmaster of which proclaimed himself Obnoxious Maximus. It was a good time but by the end we were frozen solid. Honey dropped his camera with numb fingers but caught it before it hit anything, thank God.
Sunday was planned to be a chill-out day, but it didn’t really happen. I imagine chilling as lounging in my pajamas, not combing my hair, watching movies, ordering in, and sleeping should the urge possess me. Instead, we did a Wal-Mart run, got gas, and took our friend, Terrell to the movies with us. We watched Miracle at St. Anna, which I liked very much. It’s based on a true story – I think the true stuff is always stranger than what our minds come up with. I smuggled a ridiculous amount of candy in my purse after hitting the Halloween sale and we picked up pizza afterwards. It was a good day. I think we all needed to forget our troubles for a little while.
As a last note, I’d like to mention that I’m back on my beanie-making kick, so if anyone wants to send me $15 bucks and color choices, I’ll make you a hand-knit beanie. I’m working on setting it up thru the blog, so any generous hearts can donate money to help support our fishing-, photography-, and beanie-making habits. That’s coming soon. Remember what I said about tithing!!