I would have liked nothing better than to sleep in this morning, after being out late last night at craft night (although I'm glad I went because I am *this* close to joining the shoulders on that sweater I am knitting for my youngest nephew and then all that's left are the arms and the neckband and by golly I might get this thing done by Christmas after all). But we ended up getting up far too early for a Saturday because we were meeting friends at their house before piling into their nice large car and driving for several hours down to Hollister, which is where the Renaissance Faire is now being held.
Luckily the weather decided to be nice and lovely. This is crucial for a Renaissance Faire trip, if only because we like to go in garb and that style of clothing was never really meant to be endured in California's hot summer climates.
Our friends were all dressed up and Richard wore his outfit as well. I, however, resorted to renting an outfit once we got there, because one of the skirts I'd hastily put together a few years back refuses to hold together (the elastic keeps coming undone and then I have to feed it slowly through the waist band again using a safety pin and my fingers and this is really, really tedious) and my bodice was also falling apart (probably because if we'd had any sense my friends and I would never have put the seams on the side, where they would get the most stress when said garment is tightened). I did, however, wear my clunky fair-appropriate shoes and brought my belt with me, both of which looked oh-so-lovely with my shorts and my t-shirt when we swung by a bakery to pick up breakfast.
The faire is nicer in its new location. There are more trees, more shade, and it's a little hillier. The only drawback is that it seemed a bit more cramped, as if they hadn't left enough room for everything and had to stuff it all in at the last moment. But otherwise it's just like I remembered it – dusty and noisy and full of a crazy mix of people in typical garb, as well as the requisite few in some form of armor, Viking garb, kilts, or sporting wings. I do not get the wings thing, frankly, but they seem to be quite popular with the teen girl set. I suppose these, at least, are slightly more colorful than the whole Goth thing that was so prominent in years gone past.
We wandered around the booths and saw jousting and rather clumsily choreographed swordfights. Our friends' little kids got made honorary knight and lady by the 'queen'. We saw someone eat fire and juggle 10-pound bowling balls. We ate shepherds pie and strawberry shortcake. There were trolls with tusks and slow deliberate actions. I broke down and bought a new bodice because I really did not relish trying to make a new one, and we also found a dragon print (white brush strokes on a black background) that had to come home with us. I remembered how to breathe in a bodice, and I also remembered how incredibly wonderful it feels to finally take said bodice off at the end of the day.
We drove home after it got dark, stopping only briefly to get hamburgers and soda at McDonalds, and then once the kids fell asleep in the back seat, the rest of us had a spirited discussion which famous people are hot and which ones would be good in the sack and which ones we'd just rather not see naked, but who are still allowed to sit in our bedrooms and read us poetry. Okay, that last bit was mainly between me and the other woman, but still, if the entire cast of Hunt for Red October is looking for work, my friend and I are willing to supply the books of verse. Except for Alec Baldwin, who is exempt from poetry reading because we have far better things for him to be doing. And that is all I am going to say on that.