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29 August 2005 @ 06:37 pm
 
Not too much to report, my poppets.



For a wonder, Saturday was beautiful: very low humidity, temps in the low eighties and mostly sunny skies.

Scenes and fights were, for the most part, without incident (although I was a bit panicky about “Hood meets Marian” since I had dreamt I’d missed the scene entirely only the night before).

Joust 1 was, in a word, ‘meh.’ On the plus side, the crowd was huge. There is nothing like riding out to that sea of people. I doubt I’ll ever get used to it. As for the show itself… no double hits for Nick and I, but I had a nice fall. Nick took a couple of inside hits, one of which nearly took him out of the saddle (and would have done me, were I the one hit).

Joust 2 was better, but only slightly. I think Nick and I had two double hits (in case you’re wondering, we are perfectionists; we want ALL doubles). I pulled my shield on the third pass. Actually, I pulled my horse AND shield, since Nick’s lance was across the list from hitting Ivanhoe, who rode down before me. I had also pulled it on the first pass; not a lot, but enough. Just slap the car-door on my arm and call me Rookie. Sheesh.

We camped Saturday night. Kel made a gloriously garlicky marinade for chicken; I contributed a tomato/onion/balsamic salad, and our Captain Jack brought a pasta salad with veggies fresh from Mum’s garden. A lovely repast. I crashed early, though Don stayed up a bit. Slept very poorly and very little and finally awoke for good at 5 a.m. to the sound of rain beating down on the roof of my tent. I kept waiting for it to subside to no avail.

The rain continued on and off throughout the day. Even when it wasn’t raining or drizzling or spitting or misting, the humidity was downright nasty. I was wet all gorram day.


Despite this, we had a terrific ‘Meet the Band.’ The kids who were there were delightful. I want to kick myself, though, that I can not remember a young boy’s name. He comes every year, and I swear he could be a young King Arthur. He loves the Faire and the idea of chivalry and the fight between good and evil and Robin Hood and his Band(all of this without being remotely creepy). I hate it when I tank like this. I can tell myself repeatedly that I meet hundreds of kids every year, and I can not possibly remember them all… but I want to remember this one. I remember Quinn, and Phoebe and Juneau (though I can never quite recall which is which) and Nora and Elizabeth and yet another Elizabeth and her brother Cole and Katherine and Tory and the Edelweiss girls (who surprised us by showing up yet again!!! YAY!) but I can not for the life of me remember this boy’s name. I. Suck. And my brain is old. So there.

Joust 1 was surprisingly good, if a little chatty. The Sheriff and Tuck call it (and they are frelling genius! The Lite FM version was particularly inspired). As they were tallying the score, they said, “Turn to your neighbor and say something nice to them.” So I told Oso he was pretty and a very good joust horse and could run quickly when he put his mind to it. Then Nick rode up, and I told him he had nice hair. I was a bit loopy, I confess. We had tied in the games, and when we challenged for the Joust proper, all I had was “I call the young, cute one!” We had two double hits (the double solid was a thing of beauty – perfectly placed on both our parts and oh, the sound!!!) and my fall was decent. I have a new favourite part of Joust 1. After he’s knocked me off of my horse, Nick rides over to my corner, cries, “I love you!” and runs away on his horse: first-grade playground affection on the joust field.

There was much shirt-less-ness from the Tax scene on. It started with the guards and went on from there. Even the squires got in on the action. *squirelove*

A rainy 5:00 Wench set was spent up on the picnic tables beneath the paltry cover at Peacock Patio. Wet Wenches always seem to go over well.

Due to rain and utter crap-for-the-horses conditions on the field, we called Joust 2. Still, a handful of people were there, so we went ahead with the archery contest into the ground fight. Kel and I amused ourselves by striking the ultimate bodice ripper pose (one arm around me with her sword, the other on my torso (okay, okay, it started on my breast but that was an accident! Honest! Uh… shut up!), my head thrown back and my right hand on her thigh). Giggling during a moment of high drama is probably not what the director was going for. Oh, well. After the fight, I ran to Hood per usual. We leaned into one another and crashed heads. And started to giggle. All day, we’d fought in the wet and slick without injury and it was the tender embrace that did us in.

Pub Sing was wet and long and mostly enjoyable. Since pretty much everyone who had been to the 5:00 Wench set were also at Pub Sing, I made up a new Balls verse (so did Cat, but then she is insanely brilliant and wonderful). Right after Pub Sing, Nick was off to college. He'll be back for the rest of the run (save Joust 1 on Saturdays). I'm feeling all kinds of old. I watched this guy grow up. He's my little-brother in spirit, and a damned fine joust partner - the kind I can see down the length of the field, through my distance and armor and dust, and know exactly what to expect. I'm so damned proud of him, and that I get to work with him. He's a hell of a guy.

Quick beer at the camp site, then dinner and a blissfully dry bed made for a happy Kelly. The slugs at the camp site? They made for a completely freaked-out Kelly. *shudder*

Ah, crap. Your squire moments. Well, considering one of them mangled his finger in the router Friday evening, most of the squire moments were careful and/or ouchy. But they sang and danced their asses off at Pub Sing and so I love them very much. Much love all round for the back-corner crew – you know who you are!

And there was – wait for it! – considerable drama Sunday morning. I am done with that. No more patience. What the freakin’ hell, I ask you?

Now then. Verses, and you are on your way:

Saturday:
I gave caviar to the ice-man
He was too cold to have much fun with
Now he has my repeat business
So every night the ice-man cometh.

Mjolnir strikes a mighty blow,
It’s owner’s strong and sure
He showed me first-rate hammering,
Now I’m a little Thor.

Sunday:
I gave caviar to my joust horse
Now she’s filled with amorous fire
Too bad my other steed is gelded
There’s only one solution: SQUIRE!!!***

Arachne bested Athena
At the weaving – that was tricky;
Now she’s got eight killer legs
But she makes everything sticky

(Pub Sing verse)
Tarranis, God of Thunder
Thinks this weather is a snap
So when I voiced a small complaint
He gave me his roaring clap.

***If you somehow missed the story of Fortune, the ‘in heat every two weeks and masturbating on a fencepost’ joust horse, that is where this verse gets its genesis. We told Rich that a squire needs to take care of the horses – even if it means taking care of the horses. Last week, I showed him a catalogue with shoulder-length latex gloves. You get the picture.


No doubt I've missed a lot of wee details I wanted to mention. I'll add them as I recall. If I recall. Hey, I already mentioned that my brain is old.
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Ilena Ayalanetsearcher on August 29th, 2005 11:22 pm (UTC)
What's with Fortune, does she have cystic ovaries? (If she does, I think that's treatable with hormone shots.)

I haven't had to put on one of the full length gloves since ag school... :-p. I know it may sound gross, but I found it's actually pretty neat to palpate a mare and know what you are feeling. ("Cool, she's *pregnant*!")
Jobs, baby, Jobs!picoland on August 30th, 2005 12:42 pm (UTC)
Nick...college? not Stewart Little!

feck.
Jaredcrimsontom on August 30th, 2005 02:53 pm (UTC)
Yeah, I've seen those shoulder length gloves up close. Had an OLD horse collicing BADLY where I used to teach. Vet came in, put on his arm condom and whoo boy howdy!