|Mud, Tickbites, Poison Ivy, Sunburn and Serious Exhaustion
||[May. 18th, 2009|03:59 pm]
It must be Virginia Faire opening weekend again. Here I am, on a Monday, trying not to nod off at my desk, trying not to scratch. (I itch everywhere. And not in a good way. I've now got some fabulous chain reaction allergic thing going on where hives are just popping up everywhere, in response to my scratching the things that itch for legitimate reasons. Whee!) |
I'm wondering how old is too damn old to be loading up the back of your car with 500 pounds of ice and 60 gallons of water. Apparently not 46. Although today I FEEL 86, but I'm not sure that's getting me out of anything except staying late at work.
And yes, the weather sucked once again. I am concerned that Mother Nature has realized that we had three seasons of pretty darn dry weather and is now tipping the balance in the other direction. Yo, Bitch, let's just call it even, okay?
But really, despite the fact that at the last hour, the health department decided that the well water would need to be treated before we used it and that meant that we had to truck in every damn drop of water we needed....although trucking is an oversell on the procedure. Instead, insert "Mere and Fetch's husband wiped out Wal-Mart and Costco of Water Jugs, and probably wrecked the shocks on each of their cars doing it".
And we ended the weekend wearing coats of mud from pushing out vendors and cast who couldn't make it out of the mud without some assistance.
And I felt horribly guilty for not being able to deliver a good gate of patrons to our vendors, despite the fact that really, as bossy as I am, Mother Nature pays not one iota of attention to my demands, and I really SHOULD stop feeling badly about things I can't control. But, I can't. That's another thing I can't control. And there's an endless loop we should all just back away slowly from and not look it in the eyes. Because it can smell fear.
Wait, where I am going? Tired, tired, tired. Beaten all night long with a 2x4 tired. (And now, having gotten way more involved in construction this year than in years past, I actually know what a 2x4 looks like. And now that I think on it, I was beaten all night with a 4x4.)
On the way home the Captain asked me how I thought it went. Better than before? I'm glasshalfempty, and at the time was huddled up against the side of the door, muddy, starving, cold, exhausted but too keyed up to relax, restless leg syndrome in full blown twitchy-crawly shoot off my legs at the kneecaps mode...so the most complimentary I could be was "It was the least excruciatingly painful opening yet."
And I stand by that. I can't say it was great -- any day that starts BEFORE the asscrack of dawn, and begins with needing to shopping at Wal-Mart...is dicey at best. Someday I WILL have a volunteer that shows up early enough to park the participant lot so that it's not ME frantically waving and gesturing, thinking "gee, my time would probably be better spent in the office making sure all of the profit centers are properly set up...why the hell do I forget this every single damn year?" There is NOT a Parking Fairy, apparently.
But really, small improvements that made huge differences in easing the stupid time wasters -- from really, really small, like finally being able to afford a holder for the ticket rolls -- which seems like small beer, but if you've ever spent a day fumbling with those freaking things, chasing the roll as it heads into the one corner of the office that had not been properly swept of mouse poop, you'd appreciate a cleverly designed piece of lucite. And big things like a trash dumpster, that was small to arrange, but big to have.
But mostly, just solid gold people. Veterans who are just bricks and have persevered through all of the BS and really hard times. Recent additions who have taken a year or two to get their footing, find their place and have just put their shoulders next the veterans and PULLED and created something magical. And then new folks, who've just shown up, been dragged in, sucked in, spirited away from real lives by the boggins and wound up with us, who have just found a spot, pitched in, and show huge potential. (And remember what a misanthrope I am, so this isn't even glowing praise, it's freaking nuclear.)
There are entire sections/areas of the faire where, frankly, I spent no time worrying about. Because the people in charge of them were just handling it. And I knew that if there was a problem, I'd hear about it. In a timely manner. BEFORE limbs were lost. (Which doesn't mean that the people before them were incompetent. The folks doing the job now are, in part, able to do a good job because of the foundation and tools built by those earlier folks. Good people who are building on the momentum built by others.)
There must be drama going on somewhere. Hel-lo-o, 90 volunteer actors, it's like Herpes, SOMEONE must have it. But if there is, they're doing a damn good job of hiding it or keeping it under control. Maybe that lime pit I dug out in the back...just in case I had to...umm...DISPOSE of anyone, I mean any THING! Maybe that's where it's being stashed. Hey, it's working for me.
But everyone just seems so relatively freaking happy. Despite crushing humidity to open and rain and mud on day two. Already my inner pessimist is waiting for the other shoe to drop. (What the hell does that mean? Does anybody ever wait for the first shoe to drop? Does the first shoe HAVE to drop, or are we just assuming that the second shoe is the one with the steel toes?)
Oh, I've got the list -- the list of things that need to be fixed now, that we need to get fixed before next season. And of the list of things I swore we would get done this year, come hell or high water (because I haven't really maxed out the cliches yet) only about half of them got done. But really, the list of things for which we have to feel inadequate is really getting smaller. Hell, if we weren't located so damn close to one of the Gold Standards of RenFaires, we'd be looking pretty damn good. If I close my eyes and think of the small shows I've been to...we're pretty respectable. So maybe that's it? We're developing self-esteem?
But seriously, I actually found myself enjoying the day from time to time. On opening weekend. Yeah, I KNOW. And stone cold sober. I shopped a little. I had time to learn how to use a bow and arrow. And even shoot several, before the omigod-my-volunteers-are-working-and-I'm-goofing-off's kicked in. (I need a t-shirt that reads -- "I'm goofing off right now, but I've been working since 5am without a break and will be here until 8pm tonight pushing trucks out of mudpits, so cut me some slack". But I would need a bigger back.
I may actually be able to dress out next weekend.
That thundering sound you hear? Me knocking on every piece of wood I can reach.