Buddy, It's a Ren Faire.

To the tune of "We Will Rock You"
words by my very talented friends, not me

Buddy, it's a ren faire
you can get a beer there
find someone to braid your hair
and paint your face

they got henna tattoos
games to win or lose
minstrels on the stage
rockin' renaissance blues

Weekend, Weekend Ren Fair!
(Huzzah!)

Summer, 1995.  Bristol Renaissance Faire/Festival/Thing.  My mom & I went to go shopping and see stuff, which is what you do at these sorts of things.  I got my face painted and bought a dried flower wreath for my head.  I was 14 and impressionable, loved theatre and playing dress up, so it was a perfect diversion for me.  My mom & I did not wear costumes.  We shopped, maybe saw some shows, but that's it.  I don't remember much about the people who worked there other than the fact that they wore costumes.  I had a great time, and everyone I knew told me I should work at a renaissance festival.  It seemed like the perfect job for me--drama, costumes, make-believe... but I had no idea how to get started finding out how to get involved, and with my particular lack of ambition and abundance of enthusiasm for whatever happened to be in front of me, I forgot. 

Each summer, I would make one trip out to the festival.  I would shop, wear my wreath, get the same spray of blue roses painted on my face, eat food, see stuff, and come home happy.  The summer between my junior and senior year I went with a boy whom I had a ridiculous crush on.  I remember buying this ear-cuff & earring set in gold with tiger's eye beads and when I showed this boy, he touched my ear and it was this moment of uber-specialness in my little teenage head... but that is pretty irrelevant to the story at hand.  At least I think it is, because I don't intend to ever tell the story that would feature that particular moment as an important plot point.  No one (including me) enjoys that story.  This is a different story about how I would up able to call myself a semi-professional musician and actor even though I work in a cube 5 days a week... I think that's the story I'm telling.  Anyway, that was my last trip to a renaissance festival for a very long time.

Ok, now we can fast-forward many years to the fall of 2003.  I moved to Texas and my big brother worked* at a renaissance festival, so now I had my connection and my way of knowing how to get started.  He introduced me to his friends who also worked there.  I took a trip with said friends to a festival near Houston that wasn't the festival they worked for and my brother's girlfriend (spoiler alert: he marries her later!) dressed me up in her clothes (even though I'm 6" taller than she is) and I went about in costume for the first time ever.  It was fun!  It was what I thought it would be like--shopping and eating and seeing stuff, in funny clothes.  Then, I got sucked into this crazy card game called "Between the Sheets" which isn't at all as suggestive and naughty as it sounds.  It's sort of like "Truth or Dare" with cards, only there is no "truth" option.  Anyway, I made a ridiculous dare, the cards did not turn out in my favor, so instead of my opponent having to go make a fool of himself, I had to do it instead.  It involved talking a vendor out of a pair of fairy wings, a small child into giving up his Italian ice and convincing him, and his parents, to let me scoop him up and give him a "fairy ride" (like a pony ride, only with a fairy... because I was wearing the wings... but dressed as a pirate, because... well, I just was).  And I did.  And everyone agreed and it happened.  Right there, in front of a pub and a million (or so) people watched me do this crazy thing. 

And it was fun! 

So, when January rolled around, I auditioned for the festival that was much nearer to where I lived, and where my brother and all his friends (who were becoming my friends) worked.  I made it.  I had NO CLUE what I was doing, what I had agreed to do, or what I was really in for.  After 7 weekends of rehearsals where a lot of kind, knowledgeable people stuffed my brain full of information on improvisational acting, street theatre, the history & customs of 1533 England and how to create an easily identifiable character in 2.5 seconds, I still had no idea what I was doing or how to spend my day.  I thought I knew, but I didn't know.  I wasn't sure.  I was horribly mistaken about the nature of my performance and what my day would consist of.  Then for 8 more weekends, I talked to strangers.  I said random stuff and embodied this character who was basically me, in funny clothes, and let other performers show me what it was all about.  I got the hang of it.  I liked it a lot! 

My friends and I created this other world where we invited grown-ups to play like kids again.  We asked them to pretend with us.  We told them they were characters in our game of make-believe and they played along.  I'm not kidding.  You can do that.  You can walk up to strangers and get them to play a game that you just made up in which the rules always change and there is no such thing as a wrong answer. 

That was 8 years ago.  I'm still doing that, along with many of my friends and some family too.  I also have become one of the friendly, well-informed people who teaches other people how to do this: talk to strangers in an engaging way that will leave a positive and lasting impression.  I sing on a stage and ask for tips too.  It's hard to believe sometimes that this is my life.

For the past 7 years, I've kept a list of "what I learned" statements from the weekends.  This includes such gems as "Always pee BEFORE the Tart Show" and "The best thing to take off twelve-hour lipstick is fried chicken."  This year, I haven't been as diligent.  It's not because I haven't learned things, but because I haven't made the time to put it into words yet.  This is sort of the distillation of what I've learned about why I keep doing this.  The simple answer is because it's fun.  The complicated answer is because it's fun and there's no where else to do this particular kind of thing. 

So come see me!

*On the weekends, because this is a weekend only gig.  The faire is only open Saturday and Sunday.  He worked another job during the week as well, as does the rest of the cast, which is different from the people who make their living doing this, traveling from place to place.  I mean, some of them work on the weekdays too, making and selling and doing stuff, but they travel to lots of places to do that, and the cast is generally local people who just do this kind of thing on the weekend, instead of like as a full-time livelihood...

Girl School

The Man Card. 
Truth be told, I'm not sure what rights and privileges are associated with the thing, but I do know that expressing a lack of knowledge in certain areas will cause other men to revoke the holder's man card... To avoid this happening, go read up on The Art of Manliness.  I admit that even I enjoy reading some of the stuff there.  While I could care less than half a whit about how to tie knots in my fishing cord or shave like my great-grandfather, I do appreciate information on how to make a stellar cocktail, talk to bartenders and properly introduce guests to one another.

But I'm a girl, so enough about the Man Card.  There is a common concept amongst my friends about "Girl School."  That mysterious day in school when the boys were separated from the girls and they taught us all the feminine mysteries.  It was, in reality, quite disappointingly just an out-of-date film about bodily functions. 

In most references, we find ourselves lamenting that we missed a certain day in Girl School.  I, for one, missed the day where they taught the importance of matching your purse to your shoes.  I am a one-purse-at-a-time girl.  The current specimen is black, with lots of pockets, and enough room for the average paperback novel.  Stylish?  Not really.  I also missed the days on Haute Coture and Designer fashion.  I can't tell a Prada from a Coach from a Louis Vuitton, and I had to Google how to spell that last one.  I recently spent more than 2.5 seconds considering which shoes to wear with a certain outfit.  Not in a sophisticated "which style would look best and accentuate this ensemble to the fullest potential" kind of way.  In the "oh, do I wear black or brown?" kind of way.  I was shocked!  Color Coordination was one of my major areas of study in Girls School.  I only really dabbled in Application of Accessories, but I've taken several CE courses with qualified instructors* over the years.  Yet there I was, confused by the tan pants.  The only thing to do, once I realized I was wearing black accents and thus needed black shoes, was to go straight to the bathroom to reaffirm my girly-girl qualifications.  I was aces at make-up application and have worked hard to remain up to speed with trends and techniques.  I opened my ridiculous collection of colors and brushes, consulted my mental catalogue and pulled out a muted smokey eye suitable for day office wear with an understated, but flattering, red glossy lip.  I felt firmly feminine again.

There are lots of things that I missed in Girl School.  Sewing, Mending, and most forms of crafts involving needles, including knitting and crochet.  I scrapped by with a passing grade in Kitchen Witching, but have taken a few extra courses over the years that bring me up to snuff.  I couldn't pass Make Stuff Grow at all--not the Visual or Edible versions.  Arts and Crafts was a challenge--not because I lack the imagination or skill, but mostly because I lack the patience. I did pretty well at Freestyle Dance while failing quite miserably at most structured dances, due to an overabundance of enthusiasm paired with a devastating lack of coordination and discipline.  I did alright in Music, so long as the instrument is me, and not something else.  I'm currently working on my certification in Eyebrow Adjustments.  Storytelling, Make Believe, Dress Up, Shoulder to Cry On (and the follow up "Make Them Laugh Through the Tears), How to make a Hair Do out of the Contents of Your Purse--those I'm pretty good at.

I have, however, managed to surround myself with ladies who are good at all the things I am not.  Amazing cooks, bakers, hostesses, dancers, knitter, gardeners, seamstresses, milliners, skirt tuckers, eye-lash batters, save-the-world-with-a-bobby-pin-ers, and more.  If any of them happen to lack skills in Eye Make-Up Application, or Removable Jigga-Flern 101, I'm here to help.

Of course, The Art and Power of Being a Lady is so much more than fashion and accessories.  To sum up, a quote from that lovely book: "Being a lady is an attitude.  It's about being content with ourselves and confident in our abilities.  It's about feeling good and about looking good, too. But mainly it's about doing good."

So all the primping and preening and prepping goes into creating at atmostphere of confidence and joy.  We feel good, because we look good, and so we want to do more good for those around us.  We help our friends look and feel their best on their worst days.  We cook and craft gifts for holidays and Tuesdays and because we heard a song on the radio that reminded us of someone we love.  We lend hands and care for pets and plants when friends are out of town.  We entertain babies.  We loan out our husbands for heavy lifting and making of stuff with wood and glue and saws and nails.   Our hands are eager to help, however and wherever needed. 

That's the real magic of Girl School.  Whatever day you missed, whatever skill you lack, just look to your girlfriends.  They've probably got it in spades.


*An invaluable piece of advice, passed on to me by a good friend, comes from Coco Chanel (or so urban legend says).  When you're done, dressed, and ready to go--take one thing off.  That way, you'll never be too much, over done, or trying too hard.

Once upon a dream...

Alright, it should come as no surprise to anyone that my favorite of the Disney Princess movies is Sleeping Beauty.  If you're surprised, go watch it again, and try to keep your shocked face in your pocket.

See, there are so very many things to love about that movie. 

First, it starts with a complete family.  Two parents and a new baby.  Yep, that's right!  Two parents!  A mom AND a dad... that's pretty unusual in Disney movies.  Prince Philip has two parents as well, so we're off to a good start.  Even though the Queens sort of mostly disappear and leave all the talking to the two dads... (We'll skip over the child betrothal part, because that's a historical thing, right?  Right.) I guess the extra ink for a second parent just isn't in the budget.  Wendy Darling & Princess Aurora are the only two that I can think of.  (Feel free to correct me in the comments, I'm leaving my allotted research time for this one completely dedicated to finding pictures of awesomeness.)

Second, there are fairies.  Flora, Fauna and Meriweather.  Yes, Flora is my favorite.  She's bossy, she's prissy, and she's pink.  Fauna is sweet natured and innocent like and a bit daffy.  Meriweather is sassy and a little rebellious, and blue.  They all sparkle, and fly.  I'll save my adoration for the last fairy until later.  Save the best for last, and all that.