|Wasn't it just Halloween?
||[Nov. 28th, 2006|09:46 am]
Of course, the severed hand is hanging from the beak of Mama Vulture since she and the babies are also still in my closet, having been dragged in from the roof and no further. Here I am, rooting through my closet desperately looking for something warm to wear...since I still haven't made the great short-sleeve/long-sleeve closet switchout yet. And I think to myself "you've got a severed hand hanging in your closet" |
And yes, there's a door in my closet that leads out onto the roof. I don't know why. It's been handy, although did lead to a bit of a fight between me and the STBX who wanted to put a deck out there. Not just a little let's have breakfast and read the paper, but a full sized party deck. Because I want guests to traipse through the house, into the bedroom and through my closet to get to the party.
So, had the party for my STBX after Halloween. That was weird. No, wait, sitting with my boyfriend on one side of the living room, with Tim and his girlfriend sitting on the other side, Percy cradling his head in Tim's lap...my weird bar is so high at this point that THAT actually felt normal. It was when, my eyes drooping, and knowing that I had to get up at the crack of dawn to do laundry and pack for the next great adventure -- and I had to tell him to go "home"...THAT was weird. Thankfully I was too tired to really dwell.
Anyway, he shipped back to the desert and I packed for the Carolina RenFaire, which was fun, but busy -- splitting my time between Houndwench and Pyratewench duties. Didn't help that I had a painful heel issue and the Hounds were located all the way at the very butt, dead end of the the site and it was a loooong walk in every day with stuff. I should've done lots of Christmas shopping there -- but time, my heel and my mood didn't cooperate. Heck, I thought, I'll have nothing but time to shop at next weekend's Pirate Faire, I'll do it then. Heh-heh....
A reasonably easy trip down to Florida at the end of CRF -- thankfully was able to hit the Georgia Pig for lunch, the highlight of any trip south. If you are going to be in Georgia on Rt95, anywhere near a mealtime, do ask me for directions. It's right off the interstate and is some serious BBQ. Serious.
It was chilly in Florida, for Florida, but made for good days to tour the sponge docks in Tarpon Springs, get some Greek food (why, yes, it IS all about the food, for me. Duh.). A day at Busch Gardens, which was once again packed with Brits. This is the second time in a row I've gone and it's been more Brits than Americans. What's up with that? Did a lot of people watching while Brad did roller coasters. Got to see a certain rat catcher in the 3-D movie, which, appropriately enough for us, was the Pirate one. And lots of critter watching, which ranks right up there with food, in terms of a successful outing for me.
Another day at the Aquarium and Ybor City (critter watching, Cuban food -- I'm nothing if not predictable). And lots of good evening restaurants, and some bundled up dock time. Not a lot of exciting marine activity -- a mama dolphin and a young one cruising around the dock and plenty of schools of small fish. Brad saw a shark one night. But the water was too roiled and rough to get in a lot of underwater sight-seeing. But alcohol was spilled most evenings, so the tradition was kept alive.
Then the Clearwater Pirate Fair began. Wow. What a cluster-you-know-what. (The more I do other events, the less inadequate I feel about my own. Don't get me wrong, we can use some work...but it doesn't help being located next to one of the best in the country. Compared to our brethren events nationwide...we really are in pretty good shape.)
Lots of talented and wonderful people, cool ideas...but totally hamstrung by lack of management. Brad spent the weekend holding my shoulder in a firm grip and telling me to relax, it wasn't my problem to solve. Which didn't quite stop me from taking charge of the front gate on opening day, bringing in toilet paper for the bathrooms, and otherwise throwing the starfish one at a time back into the sea...
(A man on the the beach sees a small boy picking up starfish that had been blown ashore by a recent storm and tossing them back into the water. Why bother, asked the man, the beach is covered with them and most of them will wash back up? You do what you can, says the boy, because some small effort is better than nothing.)
Or, you can just call me out on how my OCD expresses itself.
Might not have been as bad if the show hadn't gone from 10am-10pm on Friday and Saturday. Or if we hadn't shown up for the 8am meeting listed in one set of paperwork that was actually at 9am. Or if I hadn't had to make at least one trip back to the house each day to walk the dogs. Only a 16 mile drive -- but since the only two roads between Clearwater and Treasure Island are the equivalents of Rockville Pike...a 45 minute trip one way, packed with traffic lights, asshole drivers and other scenic delights, such as 23 Walgreen's and 21 CVS stores...mostly located across the street from each other.
Still, met and hung out with some very cool folks, so it wasn't as painful as it could have been. Although...precious few vendors and precious little worth shopping at, so here I am, back in Kensington, with not a single dent in my Christmas shopping list. GRRRR!
Now, if only I hadn't agreed to do NCRF's Camelot Christmas this coming weekend with HM Hounds...