Weather was a bit bakier than I prefer, but not as hot as it's been in years past, and not downpouring rain, so happy things there.

To get the obvious out of the way first, my three favorite names for the new parking situation in the gravel quary:

1. Death Valley
2. The Dust Bowl
3. Never-Never Land (as in: second car to the right and straight on till morning)

And, of course, one can't forget the joke: "Minnesota Renaissance Festival - where parking is the pits!"

As another somewhat business-related aside, I'm always a little stunned to find performers who are put out by folks who dress up and come out as Capt. Sparrow and similar characters (although Jack is by far the most popular at the moment). Yes, it did get a little silly when the movie first came out and you could spot fourteen of them in a walk from one side of the grounds to the other. When you think about it, though - they're just like us. They want to put on fun clothes and play make-believe for a while. They support our fantasy. Why shouldn't we support theirs? I've heard the argument that it's because they're playing somebody else's character... but so are the entertainers who play hobbits, and I've not noticed people looking down on them.

(Personally I'd love to see someone come as Capt. Barbosa or Will Turner or Elizabeth, just for variety, but I suppose they're not quite as immediately identifiable.)

I'm also saddened by the term "Twig-wannabe" for folks who come as fairies. Don't get me wrong; I adore Twig. I love watching her work, and I think she is a magnificent example/portrayal of the Fae. But all of Faery is not one person, no matter how amazing, and I've always gotten the impression that the Fae would take umbrage at being pigeon-holed.

Sure, the costumes might not be the best... whether it's Jack, Xena, Fae, or other - but over the years I've seen some participant costumes that weren't any better.

Just my opinion, of course, but I spent enough time in the public school system being scorned that I hate to see people take the time to put on their best stitches in hope of being invited to play only to get looked down on by the very people they admire.

(Not all characters in my books share this opinion, of course - but they're not required to.)

Anyway - random exposition aside, here are the tidbits from the weekend:

- Holy crap a lot of people read my taller half's livejournal. Many thanks to all who flagged me down because of it.

- I find I don't miss the Falconer stage so much now that the Fandazzis are there making magic. That area seems like it was made just for them. (I will, however, forever hate the King's Dungeon.)

- I chatted with an artist who had been at Fest since the very beginning - and was gifted a copy of the coloring book he'd drawn back in 1976, full of pictures of the landscape back then. (This was after BJ bragged about getting one and I drooled, so he offered to introduce me.)

- The Dregs have a zombie chicken song. I now have it stuck in my head. (Buck buck buck brains!)

- It always surprises me how grateful people are when you offer to take the place of the person behind the camera so the whole group can be in the photo. Such little things can bring happiness.

- Recognition by a group of patrons I'd played with earlier in the day is such an ego boost - always nice to know I made an impression!

- Peasant Rolling Grovel is just as much fun as a spotter as it is as a groveler

- The Four Pints Shy CD is awesome - their recording of "Honest Man" is worth the price of the album right there.

- Playing with patrons that come through Irish Cottage - and of course the denizens of the cottage itself - is one of life's great pleasures

- Pounding the snot out of some cinnamon in a mortar is very cathartic. yay percussive therapy!

- The highest form of recycling is re-use. I delivered a broken and dirty Nuk to Como Cottage to hang on their Gator Trophies display (are pacifiers like Pringles for gators?)

- Lorelei visited! Yay for the rafters ringing with "Meadowlark" once again.

- It's fun to torment Taffy (in a good way) as he patrols the Free Beer Tasting show (Or, at least, I assume it was a good way. He didn't complain.)

- I got bit by something that left two small puncture marks on my left forearm and caused it to swell in a mildly alarming way. Thankfully a Ziploc bag of ice from the First Aid folks seemed to take care of the problem

- I bought both books in Dana Baird's Spellkeeper series. I can't wait to read more about the Intrepid Ellie!

- Kids are endlessly entertaining. I played with a little princess and her long balloon, which I dubbed a pink snake and said she must be very powerful to have charmed it to do her bidding. She wound up chasing me around with it, which seemed to amuse the hell out of her parents.

- On that theme, I also played with Fiona for a while - and I am now finding collateral glitter in all sorts of interesting places. (Damn stuff migrates.) She's such a little sweetie and full of hugs. On Monday for my reading I set up my books on the floor and plopped down cross-legged behind them, and she recognized story time when she saw it and parked herself in my lap. She proceeded to determine the playlist by spontaneously picking one or another of them up and saying I needed to read from that one next. This reduced deliberating on my part - quite welcome as my brain had entirely left the building by then. She also helped me pack everything up, and I told her I needed to hire her as a roadie. Her mom said I could pay her in brownie bars, which sounds good to me.

- I am forever humbled by the unswerving belief my family (both blood and chosen) has in me - especially when my own is acting like a poorly aligned shopping cart

- Even when the floorboards are different, the broom is different, and so is my garb... sweeping Cottage's floor still feels the same

The parking gods were gracious and produced a better spot than the one I had last week, although that is apparently short-lived. The Powers that Be are unhappy about the amount of parking lot the participants take up and how that really needs to be going to patrons. So they're going to be putting us all in the pit on the other side of the campground, with shuttles running until ten in the morning, a few more around noon, and then some after final cannon. They realize that some people have medical, etc. needs to not be parked there, and so 22 people will get passes.

Um. only 22 people get to have problems? How's that work? I understand that a lot of people will make crap up just to not have to park down there (can't blame them) - but it seems to me that if there are, for example, 54 legitimate issues (medical or otherwise), that somebody should go over to the Xerox machine and run off a few more passes. What if 25 people with those handicap parking passes show up and want one? Three of those people get to just not be handicapped anymore? I can understand wanting more parking for the patrons, but perhaps the Fest's owner should've thought of that before he agreed that the people from whom he's leasing the land could blow bits of the lot up.

I have a feeling that this will be as big of a cluster as the last time they declared pit parking. You'll notice it went back to the regular spot.

That was the only real blip on the Fest radar, though - for which I am grateful, as I'd had a crappy and stressful week. It was wonderful to feel it all melt off as I rumbled down the gravel road.

And these are among my many blessings:

Friends to hug and share my excitement - especially BJ and Toni and Taffy and Angus and Angelina and Rachel and Ingrid and Jeff.

Vilification to make me laugh.

Stories from Dana Baird to fill my head with wonder - really, really, go to her reading at Irish Cottage. The bit about the Intrepid Ellie is not to be missed.

Standing on the hill behind Mac's with a  couple friends, giddy with joy and possibility and waving to the parade as it passed.

People to listen to my stories - and who like them enough to want to take books home with them. And then come back wanting the next one.

The late afternoon comfort of Irish Cottage, listening to music I haven't heard in years and had forgotten how much I loved. It was strange and wonderful and sad all at once to hear a young man in a broadcloth peasant's outfit sing "The Keeper" in the place that still echoed with the multi-part ghost-harmonies of my Cottage sisters. (Not that "The Keeper" was ever a particular favorite, but it is one I've never heard elsewhere.) I miss mornings of brushing my hair into braids as I watched the wind rustle through Tinker's tree and listened to Mother Superior telling another terribly off-color nun joke - or even just re-tell the one about the leprechaun asking if there were "any wee little nuns about me size". I long to climb up in the rafters and sprawl there to let the music waft up at me from below, to hear Kindred and Gallowglass and Lorelei again and smell Auntie Brie's signature Misty Dream cooking on the fire. Instead I sit in the seanchai chair and think how strange it is that I've actually earned the right to park my butt in that esteemed seat - and to have others offer it to me when I walk in the door.

The kind lady at the exit gate who found my wayward hat-plume and shoved it in a hanging basket of flowers so it wouldn't escape until I returned to fetch it.

Discovering that the candle holders at Cottage aren't vanished - they're just not on display due to a desire to have a more period (and thereby, less candle-festooned) look. That I can understand and highly respect. Just knowing they're still in the house makes me feel better.

Stunningly perfect weather on both days: sun slanty and warm across Festival's grounds on Sunday, making me want to curl up like a cat in a patch of it somewhere and take a nap; wind brisk and a little chill on Saturday - just enough to make me consider the wisdom of a cloak.

The chuckle of a patron at a joke I've just told - even when it's not a particularly good one.

The triumphant grin of the girl-knight on the sliding joust as she got the ring on her lance.

Hearing a band that's been out there as long as the trees sing "Follow Me Up To Carlow" as I was passing the Mead Booth

 The knowledge that there are places in the world where a sunset or a song will always remind me that there is beauty in the world and that everything turns out okay in the end, no matter the pain in getting there.