![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysobelleI'm so screwed. And there's photographic evidence. Which is, actually, why I'm screwed. But in a good way. No, not in THAT good way. But if I ever decide to run for public office, I have a lot of digital media to search and destroy. WOOT!
Faire yesterday was exquisite-- mainly because we were only open two hours. Just as the rain began to let up, Shakespeare came screaming through, kicking people out. No wonder I love The Bard. I'd had enough time to meet the marvelous Robin and Barry, and Sandy and Jim. They, along with Karen and Dave (none of whom seem to have LiveJournals) and I and a crew of extras all sauntered to The Diner, which has changed names yet again. I stood up in the middle of the restaurant, frozen in bewilderment for a moment. "It's September. It's Saturday. It's the middle of the afternoon. I'm not at faire. What the hell?" I soothed myself with cake, and all was well.
Today was a glorious day. In addition to the above, Artemisia was in attendance with her husband, whose name I have scandalously forgotten. She also had a video-capable digital camera, and used it to great effect as I measured Robin for a corset. She got the particularly interesting moment when, as Barry stood behind his bodiceless wife, serving as a bio-bra, I leaned face-first into her cleavage to get a measuring tape in between the two giggling Rennies. News at eleven.
On a slightly more serious but equally lovely note, I got orders today. I got payments. I can make my car insurance payment now. There are still a few things wrong in life, but much more that's so gloriously right. The sunset this evening was spectacular, I spend my weekends surrounded by great people, the weather rocked, and my boots fit. I mean, really, what else do you need?
Oh, okay there is one thing, apparently: a supply of Benadryl in the booth.
Faire yesterday was exquisite-- mainly because we were only open two hours. Just as the rain began to let up, Shakespeare came screaming through, kicking people out. No wonder I love The Bard. I'd had enough time to meet the marvelous Robin and Barry, and Sandy and Jim. They, along with Karen and Dave (none of whom seem to have LiveJournals) and I and a crew of extras all sauntered to The Diner, which has changed names yet again. I stood up in the middle of the restaurant, frozen in bewilderment for a moment. "It's September. It's Saturday. It's the middle of the afternoon. I'm not at faire. What the hell?" I soothed myself with cake, and all was well.
Today was a glorious day. In addition to the above, Artemisia was in attendance with her husband, whose name I have scandalously forgotten. She also had a video-capable digital camera, and used it to great effect as I measured Robin for a corset. She got the particularly interesting moment when, as Barry stood behind his bodiceless wife, serving as a bio-bra, I leaned face-first into her cleavage to get a measuring tape in between the two giggling Rennies. News at eleven.
On a slightly more serious but equally lovely note, I got orders today. I got payments. I can make my car insurance payment now. There are still a few things wrong in life, but much more that's so gloriously right. The sunset this evening was spectacular, I spend my weekends surrounded by great people, the weather rocked, and my boots fit. I mean, really, what else do you need?
Oh, okay there is one thing, apparently: a supply of Benadryl in the booth.