Fuzzy Supplies



7 August 2009
I struggled with myself mightily in regards to this post. The ONLY photo I took today is of such poor quality that I nearly claimed to have not, yet again, taken a photo at all. Instead, pride won out over pride and I published it and I write about it.
Pride: The pride of having started this nearly three years ago and having stuck with it most every day since. That’s pride.
vs.
Pride: The pride of being considered by some, and considering myself to be a fairly talented photographer limited only by time & equipment. I hate to publish anything that is less than my best.
The first Pride won while the second pride will just have to acknowledge that not every photo can be great.
Office Supplies
Cheers.

~KR (Written on 10 August 2009)

Listening to:
Easy Money by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds
from The Lyre of Orpheus

Camera: Canon PowerShot SD850 IS
Exposure: 0.125 sec (1/8)
Aperture: f/2.8
Focal Length: 5.8 mm
ISO Speed: 200
Exposure Bias: -4/3 EV
Flash: Off, Did not fire




The Fan



6 August 2009
In the heat that is North Texas, even the largest, most efficient corporate air conditioners can’t always keep up. Therefore, years ago, I took to keeping a small Vornado on my desk to circulate the air around me and provide the illusion of cool.
Fan
Lacking for further inspiration in this heat, I turned to the fan.
Cheers.

~KR (Written on 10 August 2009)

Listening to:
Moonlight Desires by Gowan
from Great Dirty World

Camera: Canon PowerShot SD850 IS
Exposure: 0.5
Aperture: f/2.8
Focal Length: 5.8 mm
ISO Speed: 200
Exposure Bias: +1 EV
Flash: Off, Did not fire




Happy Anniversary!



5 August 2009
Today is my 14th wedding anniversary. Today is the first time in 14 years that I have not been with my wife on this day. I guess due to the natural depression and frustration of that fact, I failed to take a photo today.

Happy Anniversary, Marita Beth!

~KR




Brave Colour



Brave Colour

10 August 2009

I experienced a first today. Until today, I had never had my hair professionally coloured.

In the eighties, I used to regularly “henna” my hair. It was a painstaking process involving what looked and felt much like mud with little grassy bits in it, all over my head, and then wrapping my head in a plastic bag while it slowly stained my hair. I did it myself. I have natural red highlights anyway, and the henna really brought out the red, almost making the darker hair the accent colour. Hmmm . . . I had forgotten how much I enjoyed the look. But, actual “colour”—never before.

Now, before anyone tries to accuse me of covering my grey, let me assure you that is not my style. In fact, I treasure every silly little, kinky silver strand that appears on my head. My mother has absolutely beautiful salt and pepper hair, at 72! So, I am hopeful that my hair will do similarly pretty things as I age.

Nope, what I did today, I’ve wanted to do for a long time, and finally got the nerve to make happen while I was here in Wisconsin with a master hairdresser as a nearby friend. And it doesn’t cover any of my grey wisps. I now have a very small segment of the length of my hair, just behind my left ear, that is a combination of teal green and royal blue, making the most lovely blend of peacock-y colour I’ve ever seen! I love it. It’s such a small section of hair that when I pull my hair into a bun it’s invisible. But, I know it’s there! And, when my hair is down, or when I want to braid that little “tail” as an accent . . . it’s so cool! I feel a little bit naughty and a whole lot excited!  My thanks to Kelly for her encouragement, Chad Fabulous for his expertise, and Sherrie Phillips for her inspiration!

My photo shows the colour pretty well. So far, everyone who’s seen it likes it. I sure hope Kyle will, too! He’ll be here in just a couple of days, so I don’t have long to wait. Yay!

~MB




Bristol V Bloody Mary Sunday



Bristol V Bloody Mary Sunday

9 August 2009

Another in my Sunday series. This one is noteable, because you can still see the price tag on the bottom of my newest glass acquisition. It’s like a strawberry parfait with golden sprinkles! It’s very me. And, it literally leapt into my hand one day this week as Kelly and I were visiting with the gaffer. *
There are worse things to be addicted to, than beautiful art glass!

A miserable day at faire—too hot for more than one bloody mary. In fact, I got almost frighteningly overheated after only half an hour in costume, and backed way down to a cotton middle eastern shift for most of the day. And, it didn’t even get as hot as predicted, thank goodness!

At day’s end, though, I was done. No dinner out for me. Leftovers and a beer and paperwork and inventory and in bed by midnight!

~MB

*Note: “Gaffer” is the title chosen by Shannon Jane Morgan to refer to herself as our master glassblower. Historically, it is an old British derivation of the word “grandfather” and came to mean “old one” or “boss.” It was used respectfully to refer to a masculine village elder. Since the nineteenth century it has been used to refer to one in charge of workers, especially when those workers are apprentices. Although my experience is limited to Shannon’s studio, it is my understanding that the term is fairly common in glassblowing studios around the world. (In the motion picture industry, the term refers to the head electrician, responsible for execution and sometimes even design of a production’s lighting.)




So Much Rain; So Few Patrons



So much rain, so few patrons . . .

8 August 2009

After a Friday of almost non-stop rain, the faire site was a muddy mess. And since it continued to rain until well after noon on Saturday, the patrons were in very short supply. Somehow we managed to pull a respectable day out of the hat, but it was indeed a magic act!

The biggest disappointments of the day were surely felt by the folks of the St. George’s Guilde of Bristol. Today was their 20th Anniversary Reunion Celebration, and the day started with such rain and mud, that many did or could not get dressed up, and others simply stayed at home. But, the festivities went on, and from what I could tell, the folks had a good time, despite the sogginess and somewhat smaller numbers than had been anticipated.

St. George’s is the oldest of the guildes at Bristol—having been founded here when the festival ceased being King Richard’s Faire, and became Bristol Renaissance Faire. The guilde concept was, like most things Ren-faire, born in California, and patterned after the truly period class structures and occupational guildes that actually existed. It was originally a way to put costumed participants in period-looking settings, for the patrons to watch. Um . . . kinda like a zoo! Even in 1995, when Kyle and I did the California shows, it was still very much a concept that although it did not provide much interaction between participant and patron, it did give the patron some really cool stuff to watch, if so inclined. Kyle and I once stood for half an hour or so, just watching the members of the middle class guilde as they cooked, cleaned, did needlework, polished blades, etc. They were within a fenced area, and would only interact with folks in the lane when they emerged from their enclosure. We were still fascinated at that time, by their clothing, and the very nature of the presentation, so we loved it. But, sadly, too few patrons are so inclined, and the guild system has been severely cut back at the major shows.

I don’t know about California, although I’d guess it’s fairly similar now, but here at Bristol, I think we have three surviving guildes:

The Guilde of St. George seeks to recreate the splendor of the English court during the reign of Queen Elizabeth Tudor while on her annual summer Progress.

The Guilde of St. Lawrence is the lower/middle class guild whose primary function is to run “The Dirty Duck”—a charming little cottage and surrounding area where meals are cooked every faire day, over actual fires in period pots and such. The food is then made available at an incredibly reasonable price, to any costumed participant with a pass. So, the whole process is a “show” and rather interesting, if you lean that way.

And, the Guilde of St. Michael presents the impression of a militia of England prior to the onset of the first Spanish Armada.

The current incarnation of the guildes better now, at engaging the passing patrons. At Bristol, in particular, our queen is excellent at teaching the watching crowd about what they are seeing. She will frequently stop mid-sentence and explain a tradition, an item, even an unfamiliar word. It really helps to make the patrons feel included and keep them interested.

I love the concept, still, and wish it would spread more effectively to other faires outside the “California” mindset. We need more of that sort of thing, and less of the “Friends of Faire” with its sense of entitlement! That concept has shifted over the years, too! Originally, in the early days in California, the Friends of Faire were the group of folks that merchants and crafters could call upon to help them build a booth, or pick up a load of lumber, or patch a roof. With the festivals then, being “soft” faires where every structure was built for the run of the show and then torn down again, that sort of help was invaluable, and for their involvement, those members received the perk of being able to “hang out” in a designated area, and be a part of the show, as long as they followed the costume and behavioral guidelines of the participants. Now, sadly, at least at Bristol, that sense of responsibility is gone. Costume guidelines are laughed at, and the typical member of FOF is quicker to want a discount from a merchant, than he is to offer assistance!

Um . . . oops . . . down off that soapbox, MB! You can tell it was a slow weekend with lots of time for me to think! ;-)

Dinner was a super fun outing of some wonderful people. We have Stephen with us right now (here for the big reunion), and Ken Wilson joined us for dinner, too! So, we had a great time, and once again, the folks at Red Robin took good care of us even though we are an annoyingly large party.  We are a bit trepidatious about tomorrow—the weather report is for extreme heat and humidity.  Not good clothing-selling weather.

~MB




Velvet Petals



Velvet Petals

7 August 2009

Friday turned out to be much more of a paperwork/housework sort of day and much less of a sewing day than I had planned. But, things got done that needed to get done, and I stayed mostly dry from the all-day rain. I am still looking at this gorgeous bouquet of roses Kyle sent for our anniversary, so I decided to take a few close-up photos of them.
Today’s photo is one of those.

Stephen is in town with us this week, and tonight was the night we took him to El Sarape for his favourite mole sauce! Then, an errand or two on the way home, and to bed.

~MB




Kenosha Waterfront



Kenosha Harbour

6 August 2009

Dinner with dear, dear friends took me to the Kenosha Harbour area and when we came out of the restaurant, we were struck by how lovely this sight was. I snapped a photo and we all agreed that some night when we’re back down here, we need to take a walk and shoot a bunch of photos! It’s so beautiful.

~MB




My Anniversary Flowers



My Anniversary Flowers

5 August 2009

Our 14th Wedding Anniversary

It’s not very often I break from the mold we’ve built for The Daily KRuMB.  But, today, I wanted to make sure that all our readers got to see my beautiful anniversary bouquet.  I took another fun photo later in the day of the 6th, that I will use for that day’s post.  But, this one was too special to bury it in a post as a link.  And here’s a close-up worth seeing, too.

Enjoy!

~MB




On Anniversaries and Dancing and Promises



The Musicians Gathering

5 August 2009
Our 14th Wedding Anniversary

Folk Dance Showcase

It was a big day, and so this is a long post.  But, I promise, it’s worth reading to the end.

My husband called me first thing this morning to wish me a happy anniversary. Despite having three weeks to get used to the idea of being apart on this day, it still made me cry.  Kyle and I don’t have too many days of special celebration that are “ours.”  Our birthdays both fall during faire season, and so we are blessed with many friends to celebrate with on those days.  We don’t observe Valentine’s Day, because Kyle has major issues with the commercialization of it, and I respect that.  We do spend much quality time together, and often do dinners out, and even give each other special little gifts “just because.”  But, the very nature of that is that it’s wonderful because it’s not expected.  I am a ritualistic sort of girl, who really likes the traditions and ceremony of holidays and special occasions.  And, in the grand scheme of a marriage, no day is more sacred than the anniversary of those vows.  So, we have always treated our wedding anniversary as a day more special than any other, more sacred, if you will, and gone out of our way to be together on that day.  This is the first year when life intervened and that could not happen.

So, getting my day started was hard.  Kyle’s phone call helped, even if it did make me cry.  And, I shed a few more tears every time I thought about the whole thing.  And, every time somebody new wished me a happy anniversary.  I posted to Facebook that I was sad to be celebrating the day “long distance” which, of course, meant that dozens of people were reminded to say “happy anniversary” when they saw me.   I do love Facebook.  That was wonderful, and heartwarming, and . . . made me cry.

So, I’m sitting here at my computer looking at my email, when John Myers knocks on my door and crosses my catwalk carrying a gorgeous arrangement of roses in a vase.  Yep . . . more tears.  Only this time, they are tears of joy and sadness!  There are fourteen perfect roses—ten red ones, arranged around four white ones—a rose for every year.  John tells me they are from Kyle and I hug him and thank him, and send him on his way.  Then, after wiping the tears, I called Kyle to thank him.  And, cried some more.  I also called Kelly, Kyle’s minion in this anniversary endeavor, to thank her for her part in it, and I learned that she had asked for the flowers to arrive at the show later in the evening.  Sweet thought—I cried again.

<sigh> Okay. So, enough tears, right?  I got myself organized, finished my editing of my program, and headed out to run the errands, including the printing of the program for the show.  I indulged in a wee bit of retail therapy while I was out, and procured a new pair of shoes perfect for dancing the cancan and later wearing to Dickens on the Strand.  I got some lunch, dropped off my laundry, and was back on site in time to organize my own costuming for the show, do some stage and house management duties, and be at the stage, almost on time. 

Our crowd seemed awfully small as we were getting things set up, and musicians and dancers were gathering.  But, the more time that passed, the more people seemed to trickle into the area.  And, by showtime, I was really pleased with the number of people that were seated waiting to be entertained. I wore the hat of House Manager before the show and at intermission (box office, seating control, house lights —okay, there weren’t any house lights, of course, but I did walk around announcing, “house lights blinking . . . imagine now . . . house lights blinking . . . blinky-blinky . . . house lights blinking.” at five minutes ’til curtain.  (And . .  um, of course, there wasn’t a curtain, either, but hey.)

Then, I switched hats to Stage Manager. (Yes, it’s already on the list to make sure if we ever do this again, there is more help!)  I had prepared a giant page for each Act and posted it backstage, outlining the order of the show, for quick and easy reference.   Susabella had donated the use and done the set up of a great little EZ up pavillion (with lights) for a dressing room.  Ginger donated the use of a clothing rack and I provided a fan and a big mirror, and with a few benches and a couple of tarps for flooring, we were pretty well prepared for quick costume changes and keeping everything organized and running smoothly.  I kept the performers informed of what was happening on stage, and made sure each number was ready to go and waiting in the wings.

Somehow, magically, mysteriously—everything really fell together, and the show ran incredibly smoothly.   Even I was a little impressed!  Our emcee, Doug Mumaw, did an outstanding job of engaging the crowd and tying things together, while moving the show along at a steady pace.  Even the teaching numbers went rather quickly and more smoothly than I’d dared to hope.  The cancan number that we six girls worked so hard on seemed to be very well received, and many folks told us afterwards how impressed they were with it.  At intermission, we all mingled and got some feedback from what seemed to be an entirely happy, rather entranced audience.  Yay!  And a number of folks, both show participants and not, used the stage to swing dance to the intermission music! Again—Yay!

After I “blinked the house lights” again, we resumed the show with our second act, and the first number—a simple Native American rhythmic walking dance— saw nearly twenty people volunteer and take the stage to learn it!  That was the moment I really knew we’d been successful.  People had enjoyed what had happened up to that point so much, that they wanted to be a part of it!  Wahoo!

The second act went well—every number seemed to be a hit.  Our finale club/disco dance was a blast—and the disco ball was a huge hit, thanks partially to Carl in his red velvet and zebra print pimp-daddy suit!

When we were done, John was perfect in his timing of delivery of the  flowers that I’d ordered for Jim and Joyce.  The crowd saw it happen, and Doug made sure as we all expressed our appreciation of the orchestra.  Then he started talking about me.  He introduced me with a flourish that was as flattering as I can imagine, and I was content to curtsey and say “thank you,” but he and my friends, had other ideas.  I was pushed to the front of the stage, and Doug continued by saying that not only had I worked very hard to pull this all together, but that at this very moment I “should not even be here . . .”  “Uh oh,” I thought.  He’s gonna make me cry.   He continued, “she should be in the loving arms of her husband, celebrating her 14th wedding anniversary.”  Yep, I lost it right there. 

But, he wasn’t done.  He went on to say something about how because of my dedication to this project, I didn’t go home for my special day, but that he couldn’t put it all into words as well as Kyle himself.  “Uh oh” again.  He proceeded to open an envelope and pull out a little note card on which were written the words that Kyle wrote . . .

“Hi Kitten,
Through the wonder of nearly-instant communication and the love of friends present there with you, these words are coming to you from Texas where I, unfortunately, sit in solitude wishing instead to be with you. Today is the 14th Anniversary of the day I swore to be your best friend, your consort and your confidant and though we are 844 miles apart physically, I am there in every meaning of the word spirit. Our friends surrounding you there will embrace you until a week from today, I will stretch forth my hand and pull you to a hug that is as full of love and hope as it was fourteen years ago.
 All my love,
Your husband, Kyle”

Somewhere in the process of Doug reading this aloud,  I was also handed a beautiful white rose surrounded by thistles.   And then, I realized that Sean had also carried multiple giant boxes of tissues to the stage and was presenting them to me!  The comic relief of that is what saved me from being more of a sappy, teary mess than I was.   That, and the silly joy of being literally wrapped in dozens of arms of my friends who’d been standing behind me.  It was a beautiful, special moment that will live in my heart and my memory all the days of my life. 

I managed to pull myself together enough to say a few words of thanks . . . mostly incoherent, I’d wager . . . to Jim and the musicians and dancers, and tech guys, and to the audience.  Jim joined me on the stage and we hugged, as chaos won out, and the focus finally fell from me.  Wow.  What a lovely thing, to be so surrounded by people who care, and to have such a beautiful, and public declaration of the love Kyle and I have for each other.

What had threatened to be a horrible, difficult day, had turned out just fine, thanks to Kelly and her wiley ways, and my wonderful husband and his understanding of how important the day was to me.   And a successful show didn’t hurt, either!

After some basic clean up, a number of us went to Chili’s for dinner and continued our fun for another hour or two.  After dinner, I wanted to walk over to the full moon music jam and enjoy that for a while, but I took a moment to check my email and Facebook for the first time since early morning.  That’s when I realized that 28 people had taken the time and effort to comment on my status with happy anniversary wishes—and that’s when I had my final cry.  I am so blessed with wonderful people in my life, that sometimes it is simply overwhelming.  Thank you to each and every one of you!  I changed my status on FB to reflect the gratitude I was feeling, and promised my friends I’d update the KRuMB with the whole story of the day.  And, now you have it!

I walked over to the jam, full of appreciation and glowing with the success of the show and the depth of love in my life.  I had missed most of the music, but I did get to enjoy it for half an hour or so before the musicians declared “tired” would have to win over more music.  I couldn’t argue that, and didn’t stay up much later.  It had been a full, happy and very memorable day.

Thanks for reading along with me. 

And, Kyle—thanks for marrying me.

~MB