2nd and 3rd Weekends

So I wrote this post last week, with every intension to post it last week with pictures, but I never got the chance to get the pics together, so I'll just do a pic post later. Which I know, is far more interesting than my droning about faire. But sorry, you'll just have to suffer through:

Sorry I haven't posted in a while. Life's been busy. But good. This is just a brief post and pics about the second and third weekends of Faire.

Second weekend I was still taking it easy because of my ankle so I only went out on Saturday. Which was probably good since Sunday my ankle was protesting. But Terri loaned me an awesome pimp cane that helped me hobble around the faire. I rocked it. But I really spend most of the day in glade. Which is weird, since I hardly ever spend time in glade during a faire day.

Dre, who plays my mother at Faire, was visiting for the weekend. She lives up in San Francisco, so she only comes to visit. Laura, who plays my sister, planned a nice luncheon for her where we threw grapes and nuts, discovered the wonders of monkey cheese, drank lots of Deveraid, and explained to our mother our new family motto "An experience with a Devereux is like an alien abduction, without the anal probing". I'd share our other family motto, but I don't know how easily offended my readers are. :P

I was sure to blame my sprained ankle on my sister when our mother showed up and explained to her all about Penny throwing me down, stopping and beating me and then throwing rocks, which is totally how it went down.

I attended the Queen during her tea* and knighting*, this section of progress requires minimal walking, so it was good for me. I offended someone who is easily offended by doing something that I had no idea I did or that it would be offensive. Sigh. And that was pretty much that.

Saturday Chris texted me to let me know his grandma fell and broke her pelvis. She's OK, but has to rest for at least another 6-8 weeks. I felt so bad for her. We spent Sunday at their house helping out as much as we could.

Third weekend came, and it was evident that we are now in the middle of the run. Friday was Kids Day* which I was sad to miss, but because of my ankle I was taking it easy, and was hoping to be out both days. The weekend was a whirlwind. It was Laura's birthday so we had another luncheon, and we had far too much fun. Again, Saturday I spend most the day in glade. Jennifer and I did hit up a Boggards  show, my first one this season, certainly not the last.

Sunday, well let's just say I had a lit to drink. A LOT. Way too much honestly. I had a great time, but holy crap. I can't really remember a whole lot. I know I talked a lot. I have a tendency to lose filters when I drink too much. I'm just hoping I didn't say anything too bad. :/ Thankfully I was amongst friends.

I did commission a new goblet that I'm really excited about. She's making it to match my new dress. I can't wait to get it. I have one of her goblets from 11 years ago when last she was at Faire. So I knew I wanted to snag another one while I had a chance. It was expensive, yes, but in my opinion it is so worth it. She is a beautiful glass artist and I love that I can have some of her work. I get countless comments on the goblet I have.

*Queen's Tea and Knighting:  These are two of the events the queen does during the day for the kids that visit the faire. They can pay to have afternoon tea with the queen and afterwards at Kids Kingdome they can be knighted by her and receive a certificate with their name on it.

*Kids Day: Is usually one Friday during the run when schools brings kids from many different schools to come out and enjoy the faire all to themselves.

Entering the Story

As I've said before here I am a Christian. I was raised in a Christian home. I was lucky enough to always have an awareness of God in my life in one way or another. Though I was "saved" when I was about 5 years old, it wasn't until I was about 19 that I actually felt God moving in my life and began a much deeper and personal relationship with him.

But I knew the Bible stories. I knew them well. I could tell you about Adam, Noah, Abraham, Job, David, Jesus, Peter, Paul… and well so on and so forth. I remember the stories being taught simply to me when I was a small child just learning about God's hand in leading Moses in releasing the Israelites from Egypt in a 10 minute message and coloring page in Sunday School; all the way to a much more in depth look, verse by verse breakdown of all the intricacies of God's character in the same story at Bible College.

Though it all I remember reading the stories of the men and women of the Bible in their struggles in their faith and failures to trust in God and think "well that's just dumb, don't they know that everything works out?" I had the benefit of knowing the ending of their story. I knew that God kept his promise in each of their stories and in the end everything would have worked out for the best. I've come to realize that this is an extremely arrogant point of view.

I can look through these individual struggles and see that they often not only lasted years but decades. I know that often I get frustrated and angry when a prayer I've been saying for months often seems like its falling on deaf ears. But Decades? Thinking of this I can't really fault these Men and Women of God having lapses of faith and anger at God. Plus I have the added benefit of having the Bible, which simply recounts over and over again the faithfulness of God. These people had nothing but their prayer and faith.

There are four stories in the bible that have been on my heart lately. These stories are each very similar to each other. And each one are stories I have read multiple times growing up, but now take on a different place in my life. The stories are of Sarah, Rachel, Hanna and Elizabeth.

Each of these four women struggles with infertility. Each of them suffered the broken heart of not having a baby. Each of them sat back and watched as others around them were blessed with the babies they so desperately wanted. Each of them faced people around them that were not understanding of their heartbreak.

Because of my struggles with infertility over this last year and a half I have just recently come to recognize a deeper understanding of these women and what their stories have to offer me in this struggle. These are the things that I gleam from their stories.

First I find it significant that there are four different stories of infertility in the Bible.  There aren't a lot of stories in the bible that a repeated throughout with 4 different individuals. In fact infertility might be the only one. I can't say for sure, so don't bank on that, but it's all that comes to my mind right now. This tells me a few things. The first being that infertility is important to God. He is aware of it, He cares about it, and He understands it. He knows the struggle that each of these women faced and that every woman since has faced and ensured that their stories were written and kept in his word so that the millions of other women long after would have their stories to rely upon for strength and support.

It tells me that I'm not alone. Infertility is a very lonely struggle. I often feel very left behind and that no one understands what I'm feeling or how incredibly deep my heartache goes. People love to fluff up tough situations. People hate to face a woman that is sad, depressed and disparaging. People want to say the quick easy answers to make it go away. "Just relax! I really believe you'll have a baby one day! At least you get to practice a lot! You don't really want kids, they just take so much of your time/sleep/money!!" People are completely unaware that each one of these statements and ones that are similar do nothing but cut right through the heart. I take comfort in knowing that each of these women felt the exact same pain I do. They heard all the same statements. But they weren't alone. In each case God was always there in complete understanding and never once did he tell them to "Just relax".

What he did say was "Trust me". Each of these four women eventually did have their baby. Some even had more than one. Now I haven't had any angle come to me promising me a baby. God has never spoken to my heart that we will for sure have a child. I do not have that promise. I do have the desire. And I've just recently come to realize that my struggle with infertility isn't a struggle with charting, fertility meds, and doctor appointments. It's a struggle with my faith. To trust in Him. I've entered the Bible story. I have to let go of my overwhelming desire to control every aspect of trying to have a baby and just trust in Him. He has never failed me in supplying any of my needs over and abundant of what I asked for or deserve.

I always thought that if I knew how this would end, either with a baby or without, then I could just deal and move on. But I don't know how our story will end. With a baby, and adoption or just our family of two. I don't know how long it will be before we know the end. Next month, next year, next decade, a lifetime. But I do know the one thing I must do is trust Him. I know that no matter what the ending, I will be OK.

I don't understand why we are going through this struggle. I don't understand why I have to sit and watch everyone in my life be blessed over and over with babies. It certainly makes me angry, frustrated and most of all sad. But I have to find strength in the promise that God has always made the story right in the end. And though I may not like the ending, I'll know that it is the right ending.

"Be still and know that I am God;" Psalm 46:10

The Ankle

My ankle I can;t say is really any better. I certainly did quite the number on it. In fact, I went in for therapy again today and the doc decided to go ahead and take some more X-Rays. So now I'm nervous again that something may be broken, though he's pretty sure it isn't. My foot has swollen again becaue I sit all day at work,and have to walk around somewhat. So far it hasn't really gone back down, which I don't like, and it aches a lot. And the bruise is just nasty.

Here are some pics if you're interested. I apologise for the unshaven legs and old pedi reminants.

Disclosure: If you are super squimish, you may want to not look.

All the above pics were taken on Sunday, which was actually the day it looked the best because I stayed off my feet the most. The bruise didn't show up until the next day and my foot swelled up again.

These were taken with crappy cell phone on Monday, but shows the bruising, you can see along the bottom of my foot and along the back side of my ankle. The top pic you can see how much my foot has swelled.

Good times. :/

OPENING DAY!!!!!! Part 2

I was having a great time talking to customers and enjoying not being restricted as a Maid. The morning went unbelievably fast and soon it was time for Progress*. We headed out to Horse Tourney, I was in the back for the first time since I was in Household*, and having a blast laughing with the girls. The drums were behind us and I have their beat memorized, for one since I’ve heard it every faire day for 14 years and two because it’s so simple. At a certain spot in the beat we will typically call out Huzzah! And being in the great mood that I was I added a little hop to my huzzah’s, and as we approached tourney, I hopped one last time and my left ankle said to me “NOOOOOO WAYYYYY LADY!!!! I HATE YOU!!!!!” And completely gave out on me in a weird wobbly, twisty mess.


I actually managed not to fall and I thought at first that it was something I could just walk off. My left ankle has been week for years now and has given out on me before, but never anything like this. It was aching pretty bad, but I thought for sure it was nothing. Until my vision literally started to black out, and I thought I might throw up. And I thought “Oh fuck, I think I broke my ankle.” During all this progress had thankfully stopped to drop of the queen to tourney and we were disbanding. At that point I just remember trying to walk without vomiting when Kristin came up to me saying something in character, and I just interrupted her to ask her to help me walk and find a place to sit down. When I finally sat my vision had returned and I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to throw up, but I realized I was sweating like crazy. Kelly fanned me off and did a quick check on my ankle, which hadn’t swollen yet. I thought if I just rested a bit I’d be fine, but I knew something wasn’t right.

With help, I hobbled back to glade. I sat out in glade for a small bit determined that I would be fine with some rest, before finally going backstage to survey the damage. I sat in my chair lifted my skirts to get my shoe and sock off to reveal a softball attached to my ankle. It was HUGE! Colleen got some ice and kept it iced for a while and Terri slathered some sort of cream on it. . I managed to make it back out for glade stop and sat at Laura’s tent for a good hour or so with ice on my ankle talking to Malcolm, always an interesting conversation there. Before finally deciding to go backstage. I rested for a bit until Cory and Michelle helped me change. Michelle very kindly went and got my car and brought it up as close as she could to save me the walk. Thankfully it was my left ankle so I could drive home.

I spent Sunday on the couch with my wonderful hubby helping me. Monday I went to the doc and it was confirmed that it wasn’t broken or fractured and he even thinks I should be able to do faire this weekend. Yay! But that is my story of my 2010 Opening Day. Started of awesome, ended not so awesome. Except for the wonderful ladies and gentlemen that helped me out that afternoon. Their kindness and caring was just so awesome and part of the reason I do faire to begin with.

Since my first day at faire this year was short there aren’t a lot of pictures, and no full ones of my dress, at least that I’ve found yet, but I did find these two and I think they are fabulous. These guys make me look so good!

Picture By Joe Foley

She was crying because she was hungry, so I distracted her with her own beauty. :)

Photo by Gar Travis

Those are the infamous feathers. So pretty though!!!! :) (the feathers, I'm ok)

P.S. Sorry this post is so long, detailed and possibly boring. I promise not to go into so much detail in the future, I just wanted to give a good picture, and I talk way too much.

*Progress: This is the Queen’s parade around the faire, it usually starts just after lunch and goes for the rest of the day, but the first trip to Tourney and then to Main Stage is the biggest part of the parade.



*Household: These wonderful actors and actresses portray the attendants to the Derby House (the town hosts) and run around like crazy to make us look good.

OPENING DAY!!!!!! Part 1

So this weekend happened. The weekend that's been circled on a calendar for months. The weekend I had been attending rehearsals for, practicing dances for, sewing my fingers off for. Opening Day of the 2010 Faire season.

I have been excited about this season for several reasons. One being that this would be my first full season in five years. Because of school and other commitments I just wasn't able to make the full commitment to faire, which is a big one. The second being that though I was still the same character, I had changed her up a bit by playing her as a married lady instead of as one of the Maids*. I had been a Maid for the last 10 years and I felt it was time to move on from that role, expand a bit and make room for the new beautiful ladies that were joining the maids this season.

I took Friday off of work to make sure I had everything in order and ready to go. I packed bags, bought a new ice chest for my lunches, made sure all my undergarments were clean, did some finishing touches on the dress and finished making my hat. The hat BTW is something I'm very proud of since I had never made a tall hat before. By Friday night everything was packed and ready to go. It felt like Christmas Eve.

Saturday morning I got up bright and early to pack the car, make coffee and some breakfast and head out in time to get to site on time. Once at faire, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to carry everything in one trip. Once everything was on site I could leave a lot of it in the lockup during the run, so this morning and the evening of closing day are always the hardest when lugging the crap. I amazed myself that I actually was able to carry pretty much everything except my cloak, which I probably wouldn't need that day anyway. I was good until about 1/3 of the way when my arms started protesting and tings started falling. I persevered, and eventually finally made it to glade, already exhausted and overheating. Not good.

I decided it would be better to do my hair and makeup first to let my body cool down before dressing, so I grabbed makeup and hair stuff and went to morning meeting. After the meeting I worked on getting dressed. Now, understand that our backstage is not at all big, and there are a lot of us, in big costumes. So there's a lot of maneuvering, 'excuse me's', and frustrations. But we always make it work and the day began. First order of business, get myself some feathers for my hat. I had bought cheap small feathers at Joann to get me by, but I needed some real plumage. We headed to the feather booth and found some beautiful feathers that worked perfectly and may or may not have been REALLY overpriced for feathers. But they are so pretty and perfect for the hat so I splurged. My only splurge for the weekend.

Next was a Pony Ride*. Oh how I have missed those Pony Rides. That Pony Ride kept me pretty happy for the rest of the morning. I predict many more of those this season. I spent the rest of the morning interacting with customers and snarking with my sister*. We had a pretty successful crowd in attendance, which is always good. There were a few patrons that said that they had been looking forward to faire since last season ended. We have some loyal fans. Of course as always there were some great costumes and some that were scary and some that make you want to cry for your mommy.

(This was just too long for one post, so I'll post the second half tonight with pics!)

*Maids: At Court we typically play characters of individuals that actually lived and were a part of Queen Elizabeth's court and try to do this as accurately as possible. Queen Elizabeth often had about 6-10 young girls, unmarried, as her companions. This was a station of honor for the girls. And we typically have about 6-7 girls representing the queens Maids at faire. It's a lot of fun, but pretty demanding since there are a lot of tasks to fulfill.

*Pony Ride: Heaven on Earth. It is a sweet lambic that is sold at the ale stand near Court Glade. Sooooo good. Come and visit me, I'll introduce you. J

*Sister: Laura plays Penelope Rich, my character's sister. Which is hilarious since we look pretty much like the opposite of each other. But she's a good sister. J

The Dentist Visit

So I've been sorta writing this post in my brain for the last week and haven't gotten around to writing it until now. But since I've been adding to it as I go along, I think it'll be a few posts.

So first, let's start with my dentist experience last week. By the time Tuesday came around my anxiety was in full swing. But it was curbed by the fact that I was REALLY, REALLY, REALLY over having a broken tooth in my mouth. The cut up tongue, chewing on one side, taking extra care to make sure food didn't get caught in there. I was so over it, I just wanted it fixed.

But I popped a Xanax anyway. The drive to the dentist I was a sweating, tummy flipping hot mess. I know that"s a sexy picture isn't it? Now, in my visit over a month ago the dentist had said he wouldn't know if he had to do a root canal until he "got in there", so I was still hoping for just the crown. But as I sat down he very calmly informed me he was just going to do the root canal. As if I wasn't already going crazy. He numbed my gums for the shot and I about passed out. I had to ask him to stop and please give me a minute to calm down. The shots were FREAKING ME OUT.

I had a flash back to when I was a kid, and probably where my dentist fear stems from, but hadn't really remembered until then. I remember the dentist we had wouldn't wait for the temporary numbing stuff to kick in before they started with the shots and I felt EVERYTHING. And they wouldn't wait for the Novocain to kick in before starting the filling or whatever, so I again felt EVERYTHING. A sign that adults tend not to take kids seriously. They just assumed I was scared and ignored my cries. I have a very distinct memory of that now. Crying because it hurt and them just blowing me off. It was incredibly unfair and a horrid experience. Thinking back on that and remembering that I had no control or say in what these people were doing to me no matter how bad it was hurting. Probably why my brain choose not to remember it. So no, I wasn't really eager to go through anything like that again.

But my dentist listened to my fears. Let me catch my breath and let me wait until I knew that the numbing had worked. He told me to lift my left hand at any time if I felt pain or uncomfortable with what was happening. That was extremely important to me and made me feel that I had some bit of control over what was happening. He gave me three shots none of which I felt. But the nurse said she was afraid to hold my hand because I was squeezing them so tight. Once the shots were done, they waited until they took effect. I put on my iPod and was able to almost relax through the rest of the procedure. Not entirely, but I think I did pretty good considering overall it took about 2 hours and five shots total. (He gave me two more before putting in my crown.)

But now I have my crown. It's still tender, but I can eat soft things on that side. And I need to go back and start getting other dental work done so that I don't have to deal with any more broken teeth. I was proud of going through that, but at the same time, I can't say I would have gone voluntarily if I hadn't of broken my tooth. I still hate the dentist and just sitting here typing this out is making my anxiety bubble, but I think I have found a really good dentist and I'm willing to get at least some work don't a little at a time. I'm not running back, but I'm going to do my best not to avoid it like a plague. Try anyway.

Tasha

I think it was about 1991 or 92 when my mom came home with a little calico kitten, smiled sweetly at my dad and said she followed her home and he had to keep her. We had always been a cat family and usually had about 2-3 at a time. We got Tasha as we knew our older cat at the time Shoe (Yes, I named him when I was 2) was getting close to passing himself and we had Ninja (named for his ferociousness as a kitten) who was probably about 5 by that time.


Tasha was a kitten in the fullest sense. Ready to attack and kill every random piece of paper, every bug and even out dangerous toes. My mom named her Tasha after Tasha Yar from Star Trek: TNG because she was so feisty. And she lived up to her name. Tasha was never a very big cat, but I don’t think anyone ever told her. When she was only a few months old she fended off a really bad flea infestation. I mean bad. For the rest of her life she wanted you to scratch her forehead because of all the bites he had there. Poor thing. As she grew she would take on other neighborhood cats, opossums, and build herself as queen amongst the other cats in the house. Whenever we got a new kitten, she would walk up to them, smack them around a bit and walk away.

She never had any problem telling you exactly what was on her mind or how she felt about things. She would let out a big meow to let you know what was what. She would even come in just to yell at you for a bit and then walk away. But she was a lover too. As I said she loved to have her forehead scratched and she would just be so content sleeping next to you, you could hear her purring in the next room.

When she was a few years old, I can’t remember when exactly my mom went to try and get her into the house and found her sitting on some stuff in the carport her face all bloody and smashed and having a hard time breathing. To this day we still don’t know what happened. We think she was running from something and ran onto a wall. We couldn’t afford to take her to the ER vet at the time, so we waited to see if she would make it through the night. The next morning my mom took her to our regular vet (who is always gracious with cost). Apparently a cat’s skull is split down the center. Tahsa had broken her face in 3 places and had multiple fractures. The vet did surgery to wire her skull back together. She recovered really well given the circumstances, but for the rest of her life she never breathed or purred quietly. Even her meow after that was downright ugly. Not so much a meow, but a screech. But she knew she was tough as nails and would be willing to take on anyone who questioned that.

As she got older we realized she was losing her eyesight. But she always knew the sound of our voices and would get so happy every time I called her. I began calling her Aunt Slappy because that’s what her attitude reminded me of. Sort of an “I’m old and tired so unless you’re gonna scratch my head or give me canned food, fuckoff” type of attitude.

Up until about 2 years ago she was able to maintain her dominance in her house. Only when my mom got her 2 new kittens that she lost the desire to smack them around and they would pick on her. So she spent most of her time in my parent’s room. She was scrawny, her fur was thin, she was blind, breathed like an emphysema patient, and had a meow that could wake you up from a sound sleep at its softest when she finally passed away this morning. But she was a good tough girl and one of the sweetest cats we ever had. I’ll certainly never forget her and I will always miss her. Good bye my Tasha-Baby-Girl.