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Renfest happened! Spent way too late last night searching up the Garb (in the bottom drawer of a dresser, it turns out, all together, and nicely cat-haired) and ensuring that it was all still in working order. There were some bad moments with the Rack o' Doom, but tight lacing and determination and no small amount of squishing ensured that everything fit, if a bit ... perkily.

In the morning, I donned all but the topmost layers of the costume (having figured that the proper chemise would work better than a work shirt), fueled up, and drove to meet up with dustraven, trystan_laryssa, the Mad Scientist, and "Mom", the matriarch of the crew. (trystan_laryssa is the odd one out of the biological set, being Dad's Girlfriend rather than the mother of the Mad Scientist.) We geared up and set out. trystan_laryssa bumped Tartanic all the way there, which made for a soothing dose of high-volume hyperactivity.

The trip out was familiar, ingrained in my nerves as it is to make a portion of that trip to see Darkside. I twitched all over when I had to pass his exit without turning. Getting the bodice laced up was a bit of an adventure in the parking lot. No boob wound up being flashed a la Janet Jackson, however. trystan_laryssa thought the effect was simply gorgeous, and felt self-conscious beside me.

There were the usual gate-opening theatrics. Dextre Tripp was especially interesting; mostly I was tediously shuffling. After we got let in, I judged it an appropriate time of day to call the Darkside. I'd tried on Saturday with no luck, on Sunday with no luck, but his mother had said that he'd be in on Monday doing some project with his dad, and I could certainly try... heh. He sounded groggy in the I-just-woke-up fashion, and couldn't make it. Alas.

The Tartanic concert was stunning. I pity the fool who voluntarily sits in the first row for a bagpipe concert. More so if she plans on doing it again. OMG hot. And bagpipes. Total love. The Mad Scientist was very excited and is a very nine-year-old fanboy, with much hooting and hollering. He's kept on a short enough leash that it doesn't become an issue, except, of course, for the parents keeping him on the leash every time he slips it. The energetic bodhran drummer established what he (wasn't) wearing under the kilt by reason of his careful kilt-conduct given the contents of the first row. Since he was clasping the bottoms of the kilt together every time he stepped up with one leg (and he did that enough to notice it, plus there was a bit of muttering about the "eep, family-friendly") the only conclusion was that he was avoiding giving the Mad Scientist an unnecessary eyeful. Much appreciated. I liked the music a lot; I may have to get one or more of the CDs.

Then we saw Sound and Fury doing Romeo & Juliet 2.0. Hilarious! There were issues with the wind and the sound setup, but it was handled with professional humor.

There was much wandering about. For all the wandering and looking I did, I only bought one non-food item, a shiny blacksmith's puzzle of a hair accessory that's already been very useful and admired enough so that a complete stranger asked me where I'd gotten it. The merchant had the most cunning cell phone card reader, a little slidy-slot at the side of what looked like it could have been a standard cellphone, and a wirelessly communicating cunning little printer. Techno-love.

They've been making these hair things for years, and the first person they've ever had to tell that they had too much hair for it was trystan_laryssa. She and I are plotting to get action photos of her using mine, just to demonstrate that yeah, it'll work.

Dextre Tripp did some amazing stunts. When I was last year, he did the walking on a flaming tightrope trick. This time he did a relatively new one, involving duct tape, (roughly) 300 water balloons, and EXPLOSIVES! (To quote from his summary.) How to do this one: Recruit some person from the audience who's used to being in charge. This time it was a fellow who looked rather like Mr. Clean. When he donned the orange safety vest and the yellow hard hat, it looked more like Village People time (according to the heckling). Dextre divested himself of his shirt, and Mr. Clean duct taped a prepared package of Black Cat fireworks to his chest. Previous endeavors had included fire juggling and chainsaw juggling; Dextre took two of the torches and proceeded up the ladder with them afire. (He had on ear and eye protection.) He lit off the fireworks strapped to him, and the assembled mob pelted him with water balloons. My bag took a direct hit.

The afternoon came to an eventual close. I'd wandered off by myself, but had very foolishly left the phone on vibrate. My bad. I returned just in time to completely miss Einstein Newton, better known as my wonderful professor cRon. Alas.

I'd been vacillating over whether or not to drop by and say hi to Darkside on the way home, but traffic decided that for me. There was a wreck on the highway just past his exit as coming from the renfest, so I turned off for a detour and -- there we were. trystan_laryssa met the infamous Darkside! There was much of the witty punning and happy chatting until he had to get back to the task at hand (brushing up on programming skillz) and we had to get back on the road. She liked him. He evidently has the most gorgeous eyes, and is utterly starved for social contact. (Um. Eeep. I guess I'd better start barging more.) He also needs to let the hair grow out some more, because it's not long enough. He just got it cut again, and while his motives are pure, the effects are galling.

I loaned trystan_laryssa the Fake OAV, and she loaned me some of the manga (the first 3 volumes). Whee! All is good with life. Except I got the call back. Didn't get the job. I wasn't expecting to after I heard the beginning requirements and they involved accounting-fu...
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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