More Boobs than a La Leche League Convention
Yaawwwwn.
I have been too tired to blog lately. I've gone to the Renaissance Faire the last two weekends, and I'm pooped. It's over an hour's drive away under good conditions. The first time we went, we got a bit of a late start and then spent over 45 minutes driving the last 10 miles. We stayed until after closing time at 5:30, changed clothes at a rest stop, and then went to eat. We didn't get home until 10:30. The second time we went on a Sunday, because I thought the crowds would be smaller. They weren't, and though we did get off to an early start, about 9:15, we still shut the place down. I don't know where the time goes.
I'm going to suggest an unofficial slogan for the Faire: "More boobs than a La Leche League convention." I spent way too much money on chemises and petticoats and bodices and such, as if such items are an integral part of my wardrobe. If they ever invent a time machine, I can go back to 1500 with a minimum of packing. I can get about 10 looks using the same lace-up bodice. It makes the jewelry I bought seem almost practical. I suppose I can loosen up the bodice a bit and pull up the peasant blouse and pass for a Hobbit easily enough if I should have need to dress like a Hobbit. That would make the costume work for at least two occasions, three occasions if I count Halloween - practically practical. Of course I also got my daughter a skirt and bodice set. I wouldn't go to the Shire without her. Then I had to get my little boy something, so we ended up with a puffy shirt, which can work for a prince, a pirate, or cavalier, and with suspenders, a Hobbit. He looked just like Wesley from The Princess Bride. (awwwwwwhhhh)
We are planning to go back to the Faire one more time, on October 30, for Halloween trick-or-treating. I've got a black velvet gown and a fancy new witch hat for that, so I won't even be wearing all the stuff I bought. After that, I will spend at least one whole weekend at home trying to recover from all this fun.
In other news, I received the check for my inheritance last Thursday, all $695.37 of it. I have decided to hold off on retiring and moving to Belize at the moment.
You may recall in my post dated August 8th, 2005, "More Blogging," I mentioned that I received a letter from a law firm informing me that a distant relative I had never heard of had died, and I was one of a couple dozen heirs. I do not yet understand how I am related, other than that the deceased must have been some sort of cousin to my grandfather. Sounded like an overused movie plot, but the reality was somewhat less glamorous.
There must be some important life lesson to be learned from this inheritance. The relatives on my father's side were, to put it kindly, frugal, and to put it not so kindly, stingy. Life's circumstances for my grandfather and his seven brothers and sisters – an absent father, the depression – left them with a streak of mean and other problems. Their cousins and such faced similar circumstances. Of the eight children of my grandfather's generation, even the ones who were lucky enough to find someone willing to marry them, didn't breed much, resulting in exactly eight grandchildren. Of those eight grandchildren, six were from my father and his brother, which I like to think meant this branch was less f*cked up than the rest. The estates of those who died early were divided among their living brothers and sisters and literally left to rot. The estates of those who died later were divided among great-grandnieces and nephews and removed cousins of the nth degree, who certainly did not appreciate the frugality of their forebears. So what is the lesson? "You can't take it with you?" "Whatever you leave will be squandered on uncaring distant relations?" How about, "Spend freely, and love more." There. That's a good ending.
I have been too tired to blog lately. I've gone to the Renaissance Faire the last two weekends, and I'm pooped. It's over an hour's drive away under good conditions. The first time we went, we got a bit of a late start and then spent over 45 minutes driving the last 10 miles. We stayed until after closing time at 5:30, changed clothes at a rest stop, and then went to eat. We didn't get home until 10:30. The second time we went on a Sunday, because I thought the crowds would be smaller. They weren't, and though we did get off to an early start, about 9:15, we still shut the place down. I don't know where the time goes.
I'm going to suggest an unofficial slogan for the Faire: "More boobs than a La Leche League convention." I spent way too much money on chemises and petticoats and bodices and such, as if such items are an integral part of my wardrobe. If they ever invent a time machine, I can go back to 1500 with a minimum of packing. I can get about 10 looks using the same lace-up bodice. It makes the jewelry I bought seem almost practical. I suppose I can loosen up the bodice a bit and pull up the peasant blouse and pass for a Hobbit easily enough if I should have need to dress like a Hobbit. That would make the costume work for at least two occasions, three occasions if I count Halloween - practically practical. Of course I also got my daughter a skirt and bodice set. I wouldn't go to the Shire without her. Then I had to get my little boy something, so we ended up with a puffy shirt, which can work for a prince, a pirate, or cavalier, and with suspenders, a Hobbit. He looked just like Wesley from The Princess Bride. (awwwwwwhhhh)
We are planning to go back to the Faire one more time, on October 30, for Halloween trick-or-treating. I've got a black velvet gown and a fancy new witch hat for that, so I won't even be wearing all the stuff I bought. After that, I will spend at least one whole weekend at home trying to recover from all this fun.
In other news, I received the check for my inheritance last Thursday, all $695.37 of it. I have decided to hold off on retiring and moving to Belize at the moment.
You may recall in my post dated August 8th, 2005, "More Blogging," I mentioned that I received a letter from a law firm informing me that a distant relative I had never heard of had died, and I was one of a couple dozen heirs. I do not yet understand how I am related, other than that the deceased must have been some sort of cousin to my grandfather. Sounded like an overused movie plot, but the reality was somewhat less glamorous.
There must be some important life lesson to be learned from this inheritance. The relatives on my father's side were, to put it kindly, frugal, and to put it not so kindly, stingy. Life's circumstances for my grandfather and his seven brothers and sisters – an absent father, the depression – left them with a streak of mean and other problems. Their cousins and such faced similar circumstances. Of the eight children of my grandfather's generation, even the ones who were lucky enough to find someone willing to marry them, didn't breed much, resulting in exactly eight grandchildren. Of those eight grandchildren, six were from my father and his brother, which I like to think meant this branch was less f*cked up than the rest. The estates of those who died early were divided among their living brothers and sisters and literally left to rot. The estates of those who died later were divided among great-grandnieces and nephews and removed cousins of the nth degree, who certainly did not appreciate the frugality of their forebears. So what is the lesson? "You can't take it with you?" "Whatever you leave will be squandered on uncaring distant relations?" How about, "Spend freely, and love more." There. That's a good ending.
posted by Mary Joan | 4:14 PM
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