kethrai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- More details from the faire. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. Well, some more details about the ren faire 2nd week. Weather predictions were good, and so we drove out the three hours on Friday in no time. It was gorgeous. We arrived and set up camp with no problems, and hung out with our friends from the previous weekends. The poor kids-- in a borrowed car, no less, and it DIED after they pulled in. After much franticness on Saturday morning (all cars have to be off the faire site by 9am) one of our friends fetched a truck and chains, we made a hook for the chain out of jewelry supplies (6 guage copper is going into my emergency trunk kit after this...who says jewelry isn't useful?), and the kids' car was at least out of the park. Saturday was doomed. We made $25. All...damn....day... The weather was fine. There was more traffic--lots of people--but they were hanging on to their wallets with BOTH hands. I couldn't understand it at ALL. I still don't. And the sun shone, and it was beautiful, and everyone was enjoying the faire, and I wanted to scream "WHAT?????" at every person who wandered out of my tent without buying something. The organizers were hugely kind, said very nice things, and moved us to a more well-trafficked area for Sunday, but basically, unless we sell out of everything next weekend (rain predicted...yeah, right....) we'll be a little in the hole for this fair. Not living in a cardboard box hole, but tight. Considering that we went with crazy high hopes, I suspect that Lady Fate is snickering at us rather solidly at this point. The high points were watching everyone and I do mean everyone pitch in to help the kids get towed; the mob that convened again to move our camp and display site; to wander around and chat and have lunch with my buddy Annie.....such fun. And the Darling Husband bought me a movable puppet to cheer me up. His name is Fitzpatrick--the puppet, that is. The Saturday night party was fun. I tried to emulate a very lovely belly dancer, and decided that hip shimmies are not happening when you have the latitude of hip that I do. Annie and I signed a pact that in the morning, we would remind each other that we were not nineteen anymore, and we were having fun at the time.... And then on Sunday morning I fell off the edge of the lean-to, onto the cement step, and bruised myself a humdinger. I should have known. Sales improved on Sunday. How could they not? But mostly I wanted to sit and cry myself a puddle. I still feel vaguely like I want to sit and cry myself a puddle. But good things are sneaking in the back door while the wind is blowing my high hopes out the front--several commissions this week, a gift from a friend (not nearly as important as the lovely note she sent with it. Made me ten feet taller, and weepy again, dammit) and other nice bits and pieces of good fortune. It makes it seem selfish that I am unhappy--all of these little pieces of good fortune together make up a hefty crumb-pile, and if it wasn't the big ol' solid slab of cake I was hoping for, well, you can wish for the moon to turn green too, and that's the end of it. One more week to go, Dear Non-Scheduled Reader..... and then onwards. 6:28 p.m. - 2002-06-12 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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