Let us begin with Friday evening. Knowing that we’d likely go out for dinner Saturday evening, I decided Don and I would stay home. I got a lovely bottle of wine, put together a splendid tossed salad and made ziti with that fabulous whole wheat pasta. And, because I was feeling the love, I made an extra pan for DeTroy.
The reason I mention this is because at the end of Saturday’s rehearsal, I was racing about trying to find someone to take said ziti to DeTroy up at the tack house. Kel asked what I was doing and I mumbled something about a pan of ziti. She looked at me quizzically. “What did you think I just said?” I asked.
“Pantsy D,” she replied.
And thus my Rapper name is born. I am Pantsy D. Can’t rhyme for shit but that is only because I look for the truth behind the words. Yep: Worst. Rapper. Ever.
So. Saturday. It is just sad that I can’t recall the order of the day. We did work some of the RH scenes. ‘Hood meets Marian’ is finally shaping up. The Bridge scene is just gorgeous. I know Kel told him already, but Jenelle – Kevin is so very sweet in that scene. He made the two of us cry. Score! I managed to mangle my few lines in ‘Morning Address.’
Chess Game 1. Ah, yes. Didn’t memorize my lines, as I had been told there would be cuts and/or changes that never materialized. Then, Kel and I completely fucked up our fight. Badly enough that neither of us wanted to face Lewis after. We did, finally, but not before catching his eye so that he could see us prepping to throw ourselves onto our swords. This wacky idea that I’m a good fighter? Ehhh… not so much.
Joust rehearsal consisted mainly of setting the patterns of the games and finalizing the passes for both shows. As to the latter: WOO-HOOOOOOOOO! It is looking good. I’m feeling considerably less anxious. Now, if I can only nail solid lance hits every time, I’ll be golden.
Oh, yeah. One Joust note of interest: Lewis is determined to have me do a running fall this year. Speaking as Kelly, Female Jouster who feels she must always work harder than the men to try to be equally as adept, I say “great.”
As Kelly, 36-year old woman who has an incredibly full and very physical Faire day, I say “eh?”
I don’t want to be a big baby about it. I want to do what is best for the show. But I will tell you this right now: I am not a cowboy, fearless of pain. I am not a stage combat genius, able to adjust to a changing situation even as it hurtles forward at thirty miles an hour. I am not a spry young kid, able to absorb the hurt and keep going. I will keep training. I will drill the technique. I will become, at the very least, proficient. But I do not know that I can say I will ever be good at it, and I am markedly certain that I will never be comfortable with it.
Two people have already pulled me aside and told me – for slightly different reasons – why I ought not stress about mastering this. Even so, I feel that I must.
I still feel like the world’s biggest scaredy-cat.
Squires had riding time later, and I was able to be a part of that. Both Rich and Mike did really, really well. It is not an easy process, and WOW, did Lewis bust their balls. They were both beaming, though, and did some great work. Funny – Lewis had them do the ‘glass of water’ trick: holding a brimming paper cup of water, trot three times round the joust field. Normally, whatever water is left if what you get to drink, but in this case he had one pour the remainder on the ground, then the other.
Shortly after, he put one bareback on Dante, and took away stirrups from the one riding Oso. During a break, I hopped on Oso – and was challenge. Now, I’ve never done the water thing, so mayhap my confidence was misplace. I trotted him three times round, holding the cup of water at arm’s length – sans stirrups, I might add – and lost barely a quarter of the contents. Might I say “Boo-yah’? And “Oh thank the Gods!!!”
We worked the barest mechanics of the Archery Competition and blocked the scene that follows. Ground Fight followed. Poor rabbitactor; I am afraid I abused him terribly. Sweetie, I apologize in advance. I tend to be very loopy AND on an adrenaline high by the time the Joust 2 rolls around; just ask Kelley. If I blither on so… sorry!
Kel opted to stay at Chez Kilcoyne, so once again we three trouped to our local for dinner, pints and kick-ass desserts. I ‘forced’ Kel to watch another episode of ‘Dead Like Me,’ then tucked the DVD set of the first season into her bag.
For some reason, I had the worst panic dreams that night. Not just actor’s nightmare anxiety: PANIC. Not a great deal of fun.
Sunday was, like Saturday, sunny and hot but not too humid. I’ll take it, thank you! After Wench singin’ goodness, I trotted off to work my fight with the Sheriff (which we will continue to work… and work… and work… and speaking of, can I please stop making frelling basic mistakes? sheesh).
Archery practice was scheduled, but as it overlapped my fight time, I didn’t have much of a chance to shoot. Just as well. I had thought I was getting better. Again I say: not so much. screamingdolai, you words are kind. My arrows, however, are far from center. And here is something that may come as a HUGE surprise to all of you: I tend to be hard on myself. I expect that I ought to be good at something immediately. When I am not, I take it rather badly. Bet y’all never noticed that, did you? [/sarcasm]
I intend to shoot every single day this week – weather permitting. Oh, and I desperately need to get a new bowstring. I don’t think the scotch-tape fix is Period. Nor are the koosh-ball silencers. Silencers. Honestly.
Horse time was spent going over the game and pass patterns. It was odd to step into the shoes of Head Jouster (which I am, at present, but can’t quite fathom) and determine the course of the rehearsal. We are in fairly decent shape. I do, however, need to spend considerable time riding Fortune as well as doing some serious conditioning with my Oso.
The Tax scene, at long last, is up and running and is BRILLIANT, thanks to our director and to some astoundingly talented Sheriff’s Guards and Band members. I might point out, however, that Tuck and Alan a’ Dale are mean. And so is Steve the trumpeter. Only they are also funny, which means I tend to forgive their oh-so-wrong activities.
Chess Game 2. My fight SUCKED. It sucked monkey butt. And the entire game runs rather long. But many of us did get to run through the sprinkler in between working fights, so there’s the silver lining.
End of the day was Archery Tournament, refined. The director tightened things up, made some fixes, and tra-la! there it was. Guard-Nick and I fixed a problem in our portion of the ground fight, and then Kel and I were required to add in an extra altercation. More fighting for us! She is a rock solid splendid partner, and the two of us are absolutely giddy that we get to fight one another. More time doing so is all to the good.
After rehearsal proper ended, there was a CP rehearsal. Since I don’t perform with them during the summer (being all MM kinds of busy), I used that time to practice archery (still tanked, in case you were wondering) and walking the list ten times, though I really only had about four in me.
Had the Traditional Sunday Night Pizza, dealt (badly, thank you!) with the angsty-ass crap, and crashed to dream of being cluster-bombed and then strafed on the Faire grounds. Truly.
There’s your weekly serving of Faire, from High Drama to the Banal. Enjoy!