Have you ever known one of those people where the nicest thing you can think to say about them is, "I don't think he hits his wife-- yet"?

Well, he is not coming to work for me at White Hart Faire!! Hooray!!!

Seriously, I would never have wanted to hire him in the first place, but I put out an open call for volunteers at the fencing club, and his wife just assumed they would be welcome. They (well, actually, she, he doesn't fence) worked the fencing demo at KCRF a few years back (while Mondo-Jerk sat in the booth all day, taking up the one dry, comfortable seat, not participating in the demo, not interacting with the crowd, not disciplining his out-of-control child [0], and just generally being in the way and sucking up available oxygen).

But once the wife realized that I am in fact the general manager of our booth, and I have both expectations and standards for behavior, she decided that they didn't want to work for me anyway.  And told me so, to my face, like she expected me to be upset or something.  So-sorry-we'll-miss-you-seeya-bye. 

Seriously, if they'd shown up, it's even money that I'd have fired them and had Security throw them out before noon the first day.

[0] Said child hit me in the back with a broadsword, and Mondo-Jerk got into my face about it when I demanded an apology.

I was feeling in a sewing mood, so I pulled out my mother’s old dress form and set it up.

One of the difficulties with the home sewing industry is that the Powers That Be decided that everything would be designed for a B cup. I guess it’s easier to design clothes for the moderately flat-chested. Unfortunately, that leaves those of us more bodacious in the ta-ta department SOL, because altering a pattern for a fuller bustline is one of the more difficult and fiddly operations. Once again, I find myself asking: if American women are getting so darn fat, why can’t I find any clothes that fit?

The dress form is, needless to say, designed for a B cup. To alter it, I sized the ribcage to fit, then dug into the back of my drawer and found a bra that fits but I never wear because it’s not very comfortable for more than a few hours. I stuffed the cups with torn-up paper towels. Yes, I know polyfil is more traditional, but I didn’t have any lying around the house.

I swear, I giggled for an hour. Someday when I’m feeling ambitious, I’ll make the dress form pinnable and squishable by covering it in quilt batting.

Later on in the afternoon, I cut the blue rayon I picked up in Dallas for a skirt. It was about two yards short for a full circle skirt, alas, so I did my usual draw-triangles-and-let-the-geometry-work-itself-out four-gore skirt. It’s all done except for fastenings and hemming. I’m letting it hang for a few days before I pin up the hem.

 A lot of people want to know what my garb looks like: this is a fairly representative sample.

Monday Anya and I went to Dallas to check out the fabric district we'd heard about.  It's at the intersection of I-35E and I-635, up and down Harry Hines Boulevard.  The neighborhood is distinctly low-rent commercial, with fabric and fashion warehouses mixed in with "gentlemen's clubs" and restaurants where the signage is primarily in languages other than English.  I suspect that it's a good place to find truly authentic Mexican and Korean food.

Our time was limited, so we only stopped in a few places.  Two fabric warehouses (where I bought some green oriental brocade for a truly obnoxious bodice and 5+ yards of clearanced rayon with a fantastic drape and hand which I'm going to turn into a skirt; I don't think I have enough for a full circle, but probably 3/4), a bead store that had Anya drooling, and a store full of purses and costume jewelry. The last was a yawner for me, because I don't go in for all that girly stuff, but Anya picked up some jewelry including a very cool articulated frog brooch that she bought specifically to make a political point at the next SCA event.  People always ask me why I'm not a member of the Society, and I tell them that I'm not interested in the politics.  It's a bit like academia-- the more trivial the award, the nastier the infighting.  Sorry, if I'm going to bust my butt, I want it acknowledged without blood being spilt.

But seriously, that district deserves a lot more exploration than we had time to give it.  If you're into garb, and you're ever in Dallas with a full day to kill, cruise up and down Harry Hines Boulevard.  Enter every shop that looks interesting.  You won't be disappointed.

Apart from some swampy spots (much of which was caused by 3 water main breaks on the south side of the site as the faire was being set up), Medfaire turned out to have beautiful weather.  It was sunny, not terribly hot or cold, windy as is customary in Oklahoma, but for once we weren't chewing our water because of all the dust in it.  You definately didn't want to wear your good boots, especially around the Gryphon stage, which was an island in the swamp.

As I had hoped, my dear Rufus the Rude was there.  I haven't seen him since July when he moved from the KC area to Louisiana (he tells me that he's mildewing in the LA humidity).  

For those who are not familiar with Rufus, he plays a street character whose schtick is to be as disgusting as humanly possible.  That costume is white, by the way.  The stuff dripping out of his beard?  Cream of Leech soup (he offers it to the patrons-- Rufus claims that Fear Factor is the greatest thing that happened to his character ever).  The stuff turns my stomach, and I know what it's made of!  He and I once discussed how to make an edible cow pie or horse "cookie" (yes, fake poop) for Rufus' gustatory pleasure-- I think shredded wheat or Wheetabix and peanut butter, with maybe green food coloring and rolled in cocoa powder for color and to keep it from being quite as sticky.

The consensus is that Rufus should appear on the TV show "Dirty Jobs".  (Rufus' comment:  "Mike Rowe couldn't do this job."  But it would be fun to see him try.)  If somebody has some video of Rufus doing his thing, would you please post it to YouTube or submit it to www.discovery.com/dirtyjobs?

There's only one word to describe my beloved Anya-- garbwhore.

The woman has more garb than I have normal clothes.  And she sews beautifully (it helps that she works in a (non-evil) call center and her employer doesn't mind her doing handwork while waiting for a  call to come in).  Most of the stuff I've seen is full Tudor.  Every piece is individually designed, with documentable details.  Tudor court dress is modular, of course-- each piece is separate, from the skirts (two), bodice and corset (one each), chemise, sleeves (at least two sleeves per outfit, and they're exchangable), and optional partlet and wrist and collar ruffs.  The "simple" stuff can take an hour to get her into, but a lot of that is that she's very picky about her accessories.

The most heartbreaking thing for me, is that she and I are such different sizes that I can't fit into any of it!  Wahhh! 

Should I ever get married, and don't ask Anya to make my wedding dress, I think that I shall lose a friend.  (Sorry Rowan!  College roommate trumps Queen any day!)

When she's not wearing Tudor, like in the Oklahoma summer heat, Anya often wears a sari.  Not only can she name the parts of a sari, she can pronounce them correctly.  I'm exceedingly impressed.

When Anya dies, the estate sale is going to be something to remember.

I spent quite a bit of time in the blacksmith shop by the south end of faire.  Mark is a dear friend, and his shop is a refuge for me.  It's a place I can sit in the shade, relax, raid the cooler for water, ice and scottish eggs, and play Perky Retail Chick.  I seem to have been luck for him this year, too-- I sold two knives, and would have sold a third if I'd had the price right in my head.  I had many a patron declaim in wonder that the knives Mark sells aren't "cheap Pakistani pieces of crap" like some of the other Medfaire vendors sell.  I purchased my belt knife from Mark about 10 years ago, and have never regretted the purchase.  I also had some good luck selling the inexpensive flint-and-steel sets.  The trick to selling flint and steel is to have a really good piece of flint (chert works too)-- once the patrons see the sparks fly as you demonstrate the proper striking technique, their hands automatically reach into their pockets.  

Mark's ex-wife, Nodigio, and her service dog, Itzl, are also dear friends (as is his daughter Chantria).   It's always a pleasure to sit and visit with them.  Itzl is as much a garb whore as Anya.

Here he is wearing his new fairy wings.  Itzl is a long-haired Chihuahua.  He loves to look at the crowd and lick my face.  I had to put a stop to it when his tounge started to go up my nose!  Sorry, Itzl, the only person who gets to insert a body part into my nose is me!

Because the Bilge Pumps were expecting a baby, Medfaire contracted the Jolly Rogers to be the singing pirates this year.  The Jolly Rogers are KCRF's homeboys, and so many years of listening to them have spoiled me for any other chanty-singing pirate group.  The Bilge Pumps are decent singers, and provide a fun performance, don't get me wrong.  I'm glad they exist.  But the Rogers will always be first in my heart.

The only thing that I don't like about Medfaire is that it's big, and it's crowded, and there's only 3 days to see it all.  You can't possibly.  If you had no other responsibilities, you might be able to visit every shop on the grounds during a 3-day weekend.  You kind of have to choose between shopping and going to shows.  It's crowded, too.  If there are only a quarter of a million visitors in a weekend, people start wondering where all the patrons are.  I love the crowd's enthusiasm-- so many of them dress up for the occasion.  The pirates, fairies, medievalists, freaks, goths, and hippies come out to play.  There are even some Westward Expansion and Civil War re-enactors who come out in their own garb, and they're always a joy to encounter.

The downside to the crowd are bratty kids, people who don't take care of their dogs, and folks who insist on believing they have a Clue and will tell you about it at the top of their lungs, especially if they're wrong.  The word for Sunday was:  "Listen, bitch, don't tell me you want to commission a custom sword for self-defense when you don't fence and have no intention of learning to do so.  You will only get yourself, and probably your baby, hurt."  I suggested to her that she invest in a nice baseball bat instead; she said, "We don't like baseball bats, we like swords."    So I suggested that she take up akido/kendo or historical sabre; she just got all snotty with me.  Whatever.

 I did manage to trip over a dead air current and go flying ass over teakettle-- right behind a stage with a show in progress.  I hope the audience enjoyed it!

It was a dark and stormy morning. Anya's hubby is a meteorologist, and after logging in early this morning and looking at all the technical details, told us that the skies would start falling about 1:00 this afternoon. Anya managed to injure herself this week, and on top of her usual medical conditions, wasn't feeling terribly anxious to dress in 24 yards of velvet and wander around in the muck.

So we went shopping. Anya took me to a sari shop in Warr Acres. I liked a lot of the tie-died cotton gauze blouses, but not a one of them would fit over my bust (the curse of the bodacious ta-tas). I did get a blue and white printed wrap skirt perfect for hot days in West Hippie-land (aka Lawrence). Anya drooled over the saris for a while, and helped a very nice Okie cop pick out one for a wedding present. There was one sari I liked, but I don't know how to wear one, so I passed until better educated. Anya did pick up a nice thing-I-can't-pronounce (long tunic thing) for hubby.

Then we had lunch while the thunder gods made up their minds. We got the news that MedFaire had been officially called off right after 2:00. The south side of the site was under 6-8 inches of water at one point, and OKC has been under a flash flood watch all day. OKC is flat as a board and on clay soils, so drainage is a real issue.

After spending far too much time in Hobby Lobby (Anya found some red and green silk remnant that I bought so I could make a new bodice out of it), we headed home.

The real excitement was around 6:00 when the hubster called from work to tell us about cloud rotation right above Norman, and to get the birds, cats, child and selves into shelter. No tornados on the ground, but I understand things were a little interesting around site for a few minutes.

The clouds at sunset-- there was a full-arc rainbow a few minutes earlier, but I didn't have the camera ready.