Observations, in no particular order:

- I'd forgotten the beauty of a double-handful of sunflower seed shucks sprayed across the dirt road behind the food booths. Also, the accidental art of a program on a plastic picnic table, soggy and adhered by the water draining from a cooler whose spout wasn't as closed as it might've been. These are the small things that make the place home.

- It is deeply disturbing to watch a grown man drink out of the ass of a plush squirrel. (He had gutted it and stuffed it with a water bottle. This is a fellow who got sick of being a pirate and decided that instead he was going to haul around a bunch of plush squirrels and such and beat them repeatedly with a wooden hammer. At the end of the day he showed me a blister on his finger from doing this. I think this is some sort of strange karma.)

- There is a singular bliss in standing under a continuous flow of gallons upon gallons of cold water and washing the day's dirt down the drain in black streams... and alchemy in stepping into a shower stall smelling like stinky girl and coming out smelling of green tea, chamomile, sandalwood, and cinnamon.

- There's something kind of perversely pretty in looking down a hill into a haze of dust churned up by lots of feet and not nearly enough rain. (Not that breathing it was a ton of fun, but still.)

- Said haze of dust makes washing your hands pointless. No matter how many times you do it, you're dirty ten seconds later.

- Even given the above, the accidental discovery of a hose not quite screwed on right to a spigot at about my head level backstage, creating a fine mist of spray, was delightful enough that I went through that particular door every chance I got.

- DeeDee still has the prettiest voice ever.

- No matter how many times I hear Terry Foy do his show, I still laugh.

- Wandering around with Gary is a ton of fun.

- Yay for my new leather hat!

- Having a respectable number of people compliment my outfit (and two patrons ask to take my picture) mitigates a large amount of crankiness over it causing me to only get two and a half hours of sleep. Vanity? Hell yeah. But I worked hard on it, so I think it's earned.

- The Hall of Masters was condemned because part of the roof fell in. No surprise, considering half the shingles were off last year. Heard a couple crafters complaining - rightfully so - that Peterson is ALL OVER their ass if there's so much as a damaged patch to their backstage area... and yet lets the buildings that are his fall down around people's ears.

- They knocked down Falconer's Stage (Or Unicorn or whatever the hell they were calling it) and built a castle edifice. It's enormous, bloated-looking, and grey. I'm pretty sure it's not done yet. I hope. I'm told beyond it is a Special Events area and that they're going to do some sort of Scottish village back there, which could be interesting.

- Queen's Tea (and, I assume, the Wine Tasting) has been moved to the old Scriptorium. Better place for it as far as class goes. Unfortunately, the fugly white tent off Shepherd's Green in which it was being held is not gone.

- My chemise snags on everything. Also, as it's lace-ish, being squished between my bodice and my skin for twelve hours makes my breasts look quilted.

- Stuffing a single terrycloth sock under one's breasts before lacing up doesn't change the fit or comfort of a bodice much, but does absorb a ton of boob sweat. I weep that I'm just now learning this.

- Just because it looks like lace doesn't mean a fabric breathes.

- The new Dr. Scholls duo-gel insoles are MADE OF WIN

-Any run that starts with a beautiful woman nose-down in your cleavage planting a kiss on your breasts before Cast Call has even cleared out is bound to be a good year.