Rachel S. Heslin
Thoughts, insights, and mindless blather

How faire thee?
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Y'know, I was going to do this long journal entry about the ups and downs of faire this past weekend, starting with discovering less than 3 hours before the joust horses showed up that we had nowhere to put them (I was going to title that section "Whither their withers?")(Shawn, my magnificent husband, did the impossible and found someone nice enough to donate pens on zero notice) and mentioning the huge pile of lumber on a vendor space that hadn't been removed and my telling off the fire marshall and having her call the sheriff to arrest me except they really wanted to arrest her for passing off her boyfriend as an assistant fire marshall and how much the gypsies enjoyed hiding me as a Dangerous Fugitive From The Law and that, with all the crisis management and heat I kind of forgot to eat for about three days and ended up in the ER with sodium levels just shy of convulsions and I am not working faire next year but, y'know, I just don't want to talk about it any more.

Met some very cool people, though.


What we need to do is give the fire marshall a really problem booth so that she expends all of her energy there and leaves the rest of us alone. We need to have a fireworks stand.
-- Andres of the Mystic Gypsies

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