Music Monday...maybe?

Y'all ignore me. I'm exhausted, but in a good way. I spent this weekend at the Upstate Renaissance Faire with my book babies, finding new homes for quite a few of them and enjoying time with folks I only see once a year. Big shout out here to Michelle from Livy & Co. for being a great neighbor and for always supporting The Hounds of East Fairhaven at URF!

So, on to the music...there was a lot of it this weekend as we were between two stages but this one is stuck in my head now...imagine a quartet with guitar and fiddle and a female voice with the lyrics and you've got my weekend in your head too! I need a nap... Huzzah! 

The Upstate Renaissance Festival, 12-14 September!

My wee bookshop, September 2023

 So it won't look exactly like that, but you can look for the tapestries and some bunting to find me! The Upstate Renaissance Festival is one of my best events all year, and I'm so excited for next weekend. I started out with this faire working with The Hounds of East Fairhaven, who are hosted each year by Livy & Co, purveyors of the finest collars and other accoutrement for your canine friends. But after that I thought about applying to sell my books and I believe the first year (not 2022, when the monsoon hit and my canopy tried to pull a Mary Poppins) I was one of only a handful or less of authors there. Last year I was inside a building which was fantastic because SC isn't quite convinced to move on to autumn by September.

The booth indoors, September 2024

This year the faire has outgrown the lovely spot in downtown Greer and will be at the Piedmont Interstate Fairgrounds in Spartanburg, SC. I'm excited, but this will be a new experience for me. I always have help setting up and breaking down thanks to Hubs, but the last time I was solo in my tent outdoors I was still in the throes of chemo. We'll see! I did the faire last year solo, but as I've mentioned I was indoors.

I will be right next to the Livy & Co. tent, though, which will be good because our new Irish Wolfhound, Stanley, will hopefully be making his HOEF debut with my friend Anne...you may remember her as Bryn's "Auntsie" and resident Wolfhound Whisperer. Fingers crossed, and more on our big blond boy in another post. 

But if you're in the area next weekend and looking for something to do, this faire has been charming fun for the last few years and can only be more so with more space. Come see me, get copies of my books signed (as well as the other authors that will be there), and just generally enjoy the day! The faire opens Friday the 12th at 5pm - 10pm, then Saturday and Sunday from 10am - 6pm both days. There is more information here, so have a read and then come visit!

Huzzah!

Book Signing News! The Upstate Renaissance Faire In Greer, SC

Author Event, 742 in Rock Hill, 8/6/2022

So, I'm taking this crazy show on the road again, but not that far up the road this time. I will have my own booth (provided I can get that sucker set up and it isn't too windy that day) at the Upstate Renaissance Faire in Greer, SC this coming Saturday (Sept 10th). 

Y'all... I'm nervous. The good thing is that if I need something I have loads of people nearby that can come help - instead of at least two hours away like at the Carolina Ren Fest or the Atlanta Steampunk Expo. My trusty Sherpa, Anne, will be at the same faire but is working with the Hounds of East Fairhaven, and while hubs has the day off we don't want to leave the dogs alone that long.

You know what will make it better, though? If you come out to see me! You don't even have to buy a book (though that would be amazing, I really don't want to have to take all this stuff back home with me). Just come say hi and hang out in what I hope is a properly decorated booth run by a mostly properly decorated author.

Question...can I actually sign books while wearing my usual rennie garb? Only one way to find out...for more info, check out the link above or go to my website.

Notes from Exile: Light at the End of the Pandemic

My tiny studio - cluttered. It's a metaphor, I swear.

Well, y'all remember the post about vaccines, right? All 'I'm determining my own path' and 'Don't @ me for waiting for the one-shot vaccine!' Yeah, so...that isn't how it turned out. The DayJob™ let us know that because...reasons, we were going to return to the workplace prior to the end of the semester. Suddenly, I got worried about having to go back to an office that I share with someone, figuring out a bus pass, being in a classroom again with germy students, etc...and I remembered that I took a survey last year that said if my Employer offered a vaccine or a path to an appointment I would be interested.

Well of course I said that. Y'all, I am the epitome of a team player. Stop laughing.

Anyway, the very day I made my first appointment to join House Moderna (long may Saint Dolly walk this earth and make our lives better) I found out that if you are waiting on a first appointment date or in-between appointments you don't have to return to the workplace until you are fully vaccinated. The universe provides, y'all. My first jab was on 30 March, the second will be on 27 April, and I will be two weeks clear and able to 'return to the workplace' on 11 May. That is the second day of my summer break. So...

Now, I do have to work at least one major event for The DayJob™ in person before 11 May, but with two doses in my body and a good mask, I should be all right. Goodbye to the tiny studio I've created in the office I share with my dogs. Goodbye to shaky zoom classes and even shakier internet connections. 

So are we seeing the light at the end? Is this awful 'only a few weeks' turned '13 months of canceled plans, constant worry, and inability to feel at all okay' almost over? I hope so. I have a con to attend as a guest author, at least one book release, and autumn of Rennie life to look forward to if so. But you will still see me wearing a mask and keeping a distance, even if things do return to 'normal,' whatever that looks like. At least in the beginning.

Get vaccinated. Do your part. I will see you in the sunshine outside this tunnel.

Notes from Exile: I think it's October

Me and my best girl, Bryn.
(Carolina Renn Fest)

It felt like October around here for a while last week, but now we are firmly back in August/September. October means faire season, under normal circumstances. It means leaving the house at O'Dark-Thirty to drive two hours and then work all day outdoors with one of my hounds at my side. I may be an accidental Rennie, but a Rennie I am all the same, and I miss it.

Even though my participation there has been tremendously scaled back, my mind has been drifting to a created village in Huntersville, NC, and all the performers and 'fairemly' that I see there every year. I have wished I could have a steaming mug of chai in my hand, trying to keep the excited wolfhound at my side walking calmly so I can drink it rather than wear it. I've missed the shouts of Good Morning from the vendor stalls, seeing my breath (and Bryn's) in the air, and the quiet beauty of the faire before the gates are opened and the tens of thousands of patrons stream through.

I have always loved that part of faire - the part where it's just us there, the way it would be if the grounds were a real, functioning village. The writer (and well-buried actor, if I'm honest) in me loves walking along, imagining that I'm my character: an Irish lass sent with an Irish Wolfhound as a gift for Her Majesty. I love the sway of my hoopskirt as I walk. I love the street performers and vendors already in character, addressing me as 'My Lady' and asking to pet the magnificent beastie at the end of my leash. 

She loves it too - though, in recent years, Bryn has been less apt to stay on a bed in the building we lovingly refer to as the Dog Barn, preferring instead to pull me out to the front to see the people. Ciaragh is the exact opposite - she is unnerved by large crowds and would happily stay glued to a dog bed all day if only the raised beds weren't the proper size for a greyhound and she finds herself slipping off of them onto the floor. 

But neither of the big faires where I work with my dogs happened this year, and the smallish local faire made the decision to close permanently. I keep forgetting how long it has been since one of my girls has surveyed her people from the joust platform in the Southern Kingdom (the Georgia Renaissance Festival) or taken that leisurely walk pre-cannon in the lanes of the Northern Kingdom (the Carolina Renaissance Festival). I forget until one of them noses her way into the guest room-turned-pandemic supply storage and happens upon my straw hat or a stray glove. They press their nose against it, wringing out the last smells of FAIRE, and then look up at me and wag. 

We're holding onto those last smells, the images like the ones above, and the lifelong friendships formed in the early morning fog, over mugs of chai and corset lacing, until we can do all of it again in person. Huzzah, well met, and on to the rest of October!

On stalls, false starts, and the writing process...

This is my writing process, lately...

So, Nanowrimo is coming up next month. A writing conference down in Georgia is coming up next month. Two appearances at the Carolina Renaissance Festival are coming up next month, one with the Hounds of East Fairhaven and one as a SciFi/Fantasy author signing copies of Ignite and Wanderer.

That's a lot right there, enough to give anyone pause and to force normal people to take a break. But y'all know I am not normal people, not even close. I'm trying not to freak out about the book signing - literally, that is a daily struggle between OMG SO MANY PEOPLE TO SEE MY BOOKS  and OMG SO MANY PEOPLE THAT MAY WANT TO TALK TO ME. That stressed me out just typing it!

In order to keep from packing my bags and running away, I thought I'd focus on Nanowrimo. Every November I have again been swept away in word counts and nefarious noveling. I am an absolute pantser and have no plans to change...though I do sort of know what my project will be this fall. Or at least I thought I did. I thought that I would continue to ride the wave of the anonymous first-page critique from Broadleaf and start over with my Baskervilles. I thought I would get at least a rough first draft knocked out in November. I thought wrong.

I was moving at a nice clip doing research until I got stalled out by a pretty vicious head cold. I started again, but this time the fire is gone. Cold. Non-existant. I am thinking that I might just put my poor, neglected Baskervilles away for another Nano season and haul them out next year for Camp Nano. Again. Poor Lucy and Annie.

This has been my writing process this year, and I am normally good at reminding myself that 2018 and 2019 have nearly ruined me as a person, both emotionally and physically, and I'm still coming out from under that - me, not me-the-author or me-in-my-day-job. ME. But those of us that are servants of the storytelling are some of the worst for forcing ourselves forward when all we really needed was a few steps backward to see the right path.

Ugh. I'm hoping to get myself together by the end of this week, but no promises.  What do you do when you are stalled out and can't make yourself move forward?

My Little Irish Wanderer...and the Aftermath

Well, so it has been a hot minute since I last updated this - or wrote anything if I'm honest, but work and life have not given me a second to breathe, let alone open the laptop.

That little face there is my Ciaragh (Our Cailín Ádh), and she has had a marvelous adventure this week that nearly ended me. She and I were working at the Georgia Renaissance Festival this past Saturday and I completely forgot that there was a cannon shot from the bow of the pirate ship until it went off with us standing right there. She started to vibrate and I tightened up a bit on her leash to make sure she didn't bolt. My wonderful niece was there with my sister and she tried to comfort Ciaragh, but as soon as she moved away and I slacked up the slightest bit on the leash, C saw her chance and bolted. Now, for the initial escape, I was still holding onto the leash, so I spun around and was dragged behind her (through the gravel) until she could dash through the exit. Sadly I did not make the graceful turn through the S-bend of an exit that she did and instead bounced off the large wooden fence that marks the boundary between onstage and offstage.

Two of my group's volunteers and a GARF cast member pursued her as a third volunteer and my sister and niece stayed with me. At first, all I could do was make a primal growly sound because gravel+skin=OW but I was (and am) all right. It took a minute to walk up to my car, but that was where I fully expected folks to be waiting with C.

They were not.

She managed to evade capture for three more full days, and I drove back to the site every one of those days to keep looking for her. Finally, on Tuesday night around midnight, I got a phone call from someone in the area - Ciaragh was on his front porch and could I come get her, please?

Once I got my heart started again, I made some calls and arranged for some folks to go get her and keep her overnight until I could get back on Wednesday. I still don't know how I did not get a speeding ticket on my way to Atlanta that morning, and yesterday (Thursday) we got her into the vet for a checkup - she is fit as a fiddle. An Irish fiddle.

Aftermath: I have helped out with many lost greyhounds in my two decades of having pets in my life as an adult. I have always just gone where I am needed and done what needs to be done, but I have not until now been on this side of the equation. Sure, my greyhounds occasionally got out, but I never had to spend a night without them back home safely - I sent thoughts and prayers to those that did, joined the search, rejoiced in the eventual recovery, but never really got it, until now.

I have ideas percolating (as does hubs) about non-profits that not only look for lost pets but care for the owners of those pets. I had so much love and support that it was overwhelming, especially since I was convinced that Ciaragh's loss was my fault, but when it came to trying to pay for gas to keep searching, tracking teams to bring in, other pet recovery specialists who need money for materials and time - it is an expensive prospect to find your pet if they go missing, and mine was only gone for three days! So, I will let that idea keep rolling around. There has to be something that can be created that will harness the talents of EVERYONE that wanted to help rather than narrowing down the field of helpers to only those affordable options. What if we had not had a breed club behind us to help? I already have some ideas that were born from the search for Ciaragh.

So, enough of me. My girl is back, and she has effectively helped me write the last chapter of her Clobberpaws book, and I'm going to go snuggle her on the couch before I get back to writing. Make sure your pets are chipped and tagged, y'all...and loved.

Back to the faire...sort of...

This is me and my girl - well, okay mostly my girl Bryn, with what appears to be a Mommy growing out of her head. This photo was taken by a patron (at one of the renaissance faires where I work as director of the Hounds of East Fairhaven) in November of 2013, when she was just 5 months old and had been mine for about 24-36 hours.

We bring period appropriate hounds (mostly Western European, 1500-mid 1600s, but we also include some Asiatic and Eastern European breeds as well) out to meet patrons and we talk about their place in history. We also wear period-appropriate garb (or as appropriate as possible when the threat of a Clobberpaw on one's skirt is a real possibility) and tell the patrons about how these hounds (sight mostly but a few scent hounds as well) lived and worked with people in this time period.

I used to work much more than I do now. We started with a small group (four members) and we were attached to the Lord Mayor's Court at the Carolina Renaissance Festival near Charlotte, NC. We grew in numbers and ended up with our own tent the next year, then our numbers dwindled down to almost nothing and we have gone up and down ever since. We also added more appearances to our schedule - we now appear in the spring with the Royal Court at the Georgia Renaissance Festival and in September at the Enchanted Chalice Renaissance Festival in Greenville, SC.

I can remember the early days of CRF when I had three greyhounds (out of my five) that did faire with me, often sleeping in my Honda in the parking lot with me so that I didn't have to drive the 2.5 hours (one way) on Saturday nights to just have to get up and drive back on Sunday mornings. Thankfully I moved about 45 minutes up the highway since that time, so it only takes me just under 2 hours to get there now, and I only work on Saturdays because I simply cannot physically do my job on Mondays after being at faire and in the car all day Sunday.

CRF opened this past weekend for it's 25th year, and it was the first opening weekend that I haven't worked since the two years that I was forced into behind the scenes work due to living abroad. After the year that 2018 has been for me so far, I decided that it was in the best interest of my health, both physical and mental, if I took some time off from faire this fall. Bryn doesn't like the setup there anyway - she is afraid of the booth that we have after some bad playtime-gone-wrong experiences with some of our other dogs, and as a result I have to stand out in front of the booth with her for the whole day. Both of us are ready for the car after closing cannon! We will see how Ciaragh does up there - she was a star at GARF this spring until she got tired, but she's almost two and growing up more every day, so hopefully she will be able to manage being in close communion with other dogs better than her big sister does.

All that said, y'all go to the faire! The Hounds of East Fairhaven will be in their normal booth at CRF across from the DaVinci flying machine. We have greyhounds, Irish wolfhounds, borzoi, Ibizan hounds, and Afghan hounds in any combination on any given weekend, and we have fantastic human cast members that can tell you anything you want to know about their canine companions. The faire runs from 29 September to 18 November, Saturdays and Sundays. My girls and I will be there on the 21st of October and 10th of November, and I will be there with an Ibizan friend on the 6th of October and dogless to interpret on Deaf Awareness Day, 27 October. Hope to see you there!

Huzzah!

Sideways...and then some

The I Can't Even face.

Y'all. How is it that things can go from zero to one hundred so fast when I'm not anywhere near where I need to be to help?

This weekend started with Saturday at CRF which was good, just long. Bryn has a weird issue with twilight where her bad behavior gets worse the more day fades into night, and she was tired and cranky and nearly broke both my knees by slamming her giant head into them trying to remove her Perfect Pace harness from her nose OVER AND OVER.

God love that dog.

Sunday was a bit slower which was nice because I felt like the inside of a punching bag, but holy moly did the universe turn that one on its ear in no time flat. I was supposed to meet friends for dinner and a show downtown at 4pm. At 3pm I heard about an incident with the Hounds on the Sunday crew at CRF. I got all the information I could, sent a hurried damage control email to festival administration to let them know we had everything under control, and figured that I could then go downtown (only running about 10 minutes late somehow) and enjoy the musical that lives in my heart before coming back to sort out what happened at the faire that morning. I could not have been more wrong.

I feel the need to pause here and tell you that earlier that morning, Simon and I were laughing at this moment from the Big Bang Theory:

Stuart: Oh, Sheldon, I'm afraid you couldn't be more wrong.
Sheldon: More wrong? Wrong is an absolute state and not subject to gradation.
Stuart: Of course it is. It's a little wrong to say a tomato is a vegetable, it's very wrong to say it's a suspension bridge.

All kinds of hell broke loose while I was in the theatre and, in theory at least, unable to respond. But me being me, I had to at least check in on what was going on and I think my blood pressure was at an all-time high by the end of the show. I also was not able to fully concentrate on the show which makes me VERY angry at myself.  So now, today, I am sorting through different versions of events and navigating the choppy waters of hurt feelings while all the time walking the tightrope that is our continued existence in a building at this particular faire and I just really want to take a nap. Now. Under my desk.

Once again, into the breach...err, semester...

Trying the blog thing again are you? Pardon me if I don't stay
awake until you leave it hanging...again... -Willow-Pickle

Here we find ourselves again, dear friends, my handful or so of Lettuce readers, my Lettuce Heads... Oh, I like that, I think I'm keeping it. You are my Lettuce Heads. Yes.

Sorry, moving on...

Here we are again at the beginning of another semester at Clemson. It is fall, so there is the influx of TOO MANY FRESHMEN that makes class scheduling a nightmare at best and my spreadsheet for captioning a never ending work in process.

Welcome to life in Student Accessibility Services, I suppose.

Those lights in tunnels that I spoke about back in May are still burning. GARF was an amazing experience for this seasoned rennie performer that brought loads of new friends and happy memories and bits to try at other faires. The lack of coffee meetings (and overall lack of Daisy) was hard to manage but we moved onward and upward. I'm now on the cusp of the Enchanted Chalice and CRF, and while I am looking forward to again being in my element I'm finding it difficult to bring up the same amount of joy and anticipation that I am already feeling when I think of next year at GARF. I suppose everyone has their niche, and mine is Newcastle.

That makes me laugh everytime I say it, since my parents-in-law live in a village near Newcastle. The real Newcastle. The one filled with Geordies that doesn't pull a Brigadoon in the mist every summer in June.

Nothing new to report, really, other than general personal growth over the summer. Coffee meetings with Daisy morphed into snuggly telly time with Willow (and Bryn, when she isn't being ENTIRELY TOO GROWN UP TO MANAGE A SNUGGLE ANYMORE). Work was steady over the summer, so I was out of the house a lot. I missed dance and poi, but that will start back in a few weeks now that I have a steady paycheck. 

Steady. That's the word for the summer. 

Coming up though? Watch this space, there's news on the Nature Walker front. That's all I can say at the moment, but I'm about to burst here. WATCH.THIS.SPACE

Dia duit ó GARF.

Almost TOO Irish, that.

Go raibh míle maith agat to Chris Heffron (of the Southern Travel Guide) for this great shot from last Sunday afternoon. While hopping from shade spot to shade spot, Bryn and Anne and Bo and I ran into one of our dear friends from the GARF cast, Andy (aka Irish or Jordan Hale) as he was waiting to be able to spend a bit of time with his lady-love (who also works at GARF). Andy is just one of many cast members who have made us feel at home and part of the family at GARF this year (and in years past), and we can't thank him (and them) enough.

It's funny, it's like we are almost too Irish here and Bryn is trying to make a break for it. My sweet girl...she didn't have the best weekend this time around, adding stealing a sandwich off a table and trying to abscond with a turkey leg to her list of accomplishments this season. I hope that my renewed enthusiasm for this faire will bleed over to her, but I know that I am causing some of her frustration when I expect her to do bad things before she does them. She is still roaring at the horses during the joust and wagging her tail when her favourite princess says her name, so I think she is still my Rennie Hound. Dia linn, for the rest of the run, I say. Dia linn.

Lights at the Ends of Various Tunnels

Me and my girl at GARF,
photo courtesy of the Southern Travel Guide

Yeah, the last post was pretty grim, and if I'm honest, the work situation (that I still can't talk about) hasn't gotten any better, but there have been bright spots and that's what we are going to focus on in THIS post.

One of them is featured in the photo: The Georgia Renaissance Festival. Now, this is not a new thing, not by a longshot, but apparently, the fourteenth year is the charm, hoopskirt issue notwithstanding. I have made friends at GARF in the past, cast members and vendors and directors and the like, but this year just feels different. I feel at home in "Newcastle" in a way I have yet to feel at home in "Fairhaven" after fifteen years in what we refer to as the Northern Kingdom.

What has changed? Me? Having Bryn? I don't know. But this past weekend, I was able to play, really play, with both the cast and with my partner in crime, Lucy to my Ethel, and the only other member of HOEF that does more than one or two weekends at GARF, Anne. Perhaps it is the beautiful friendship that has formed between her Bo and my Bryn. Perhaps it is Anne's extrovert that brings my introvert along, often kicking and screaming, to get to know the cast.

Whatever it is, I am profoundly sad on days that I have to miss attending GARF, even though it means a 5 am start every Saturday and a late afternoon arrival back home, dirty and sweaty and hot every Sunday between the middle of April and the first weekend in June. I long to be in the lanes, even though that means pulling turkey tendons out of Bryn's mouth and replacing steak sandwiches that she snatches in the blink of an eye. I dream of the joust, and of watching with pride as Bryn thumps her tail when her favorite princess rides by, upside down in her saddle, even though I'm fighting the reflection of the sun off the light colored sand which is swirling about in my eyes and nose.

I'm hoping that this feeling of Rennie family will continue into the fall when I am again with my HOEF family in the dog barn on the eastern side of Fairhaven, and that we can project the kind of skilled performance that we are learning at GARF into our wonderfully laid back home at the Enchanted Chalice in Greenville, SC. Vikings ahoy!

I did say tunnels in the title, didn't I? While GARF is the light at the end of one tunnel, the fact that I only have four days left until my summer break is certainly another. But that tunnel is not quite as bright because I will have several months of empty coffee meetings to look forward to without Daisy. While it hasn't been easy without her, it has been easier because I've had work to distract me. Without my daily commute to Clemson, I am going to have to face what our reality looks like now; no queen on the end of my bed, huffing because I've rearranged my legs and accidentally knocked her about. No beautiful blonde/red fawn fur glimmering in the green grass of the back yard as she sunbathes. No teeth chattering in my ear.

But you see that muppet in the picture with me? She is a light of her own, and she and Willow are there to distract me when they can and snuggle with me when they can't. Their light comes to find me in my tunnel and shines into the darkness to remind me to keep moving forward.

Finally, there is light at the end of the Superginormous Manuscript tunnel...book one in the three book series that it has become is almost ready to go to Amazon, and that is both exciting and horrifying. I took the first Camp Nanowrimo to edit the second book, and am not working on editing/fleshing out the third in between expense reports and mad garb sewing/laundering. So all in all, my life has far more light than dark. I just need to be able to remember that and hang on to it...and keep moving.

Corsets and moving vans and nephews and Nano...oh myyyy...

Random acts of Silly doth abound in Fairhaven...

(You should absolutely read that Oh My in the way that George Takei says it.  In fact, every time anyone says Oh My it should be using his voice.  Every. Time.)

So it's been awhile and I've promised time and again to blog about the honeymoon, the European extravaganza that was the months of May and June for me and The Mister.  This isn't going to be that post either, so if you've been waiting for that, you might as well keep surfing.

It's currently the end of October which means the Carolina Renaissance Festival has been in full swing for four weekends now, leaving only three to go before we sadly pack up the Dog Barn for another year and start madly plotting our garb for our trip to the "Southern Kingdom" of Newcastle in Georgia in the spring of next year.  But wait, that's not all that's going on...I'm still working on getting my soon to be former roommates decked out in garb of their own (a court gown to be done by this coming Saturday as well as a doublet!  I must be MAD.), moving into a new house, and starting a NaNoWriMo on Thursday.  Mad indeed!

We thought that it would be easy to do when we started this sewing project back in August (nevermind that I was doing a Camp NaNo then as well).  We planned to do the parts of the gowns at the same time and finish them both before Opening Weekend so that we didn't have to worry.  Ah, the best laid plans...

My gown is mostly done, as you can see in the photo above.  There are some bits that need finishing and WHO KNEW that thing would be as HEAVY as it is, but there you are.  Beauty is pain.  I had a little girl curtsy to me yesterday because she thought I was royalty ("your dress looks like the queen's!") so I guess it's all worth it.  Out of the mouths of babes...if ONLY my garb looked like Bettina's work!

Anyway, so mine is almost done and will have to be re-done before next year.  The sleeves are the heaviest part and will have to be grommetted in so that I can removed them before performing mundane tasks such as going to the privy or picking up poop or...amazingly enough...putting on my cloak!  It was like I was holding two persian cats under there.  Not good.

We've almost completed our move into the new house.  As I type, The Mister is wrestling with putting up blinds and unwrapping/setting up IKEA bookshelves.  It never ceases to amaze me the size difference in our furniture in our American house as opposed to our English one.  Where are my "huge" leather sofas?

Over the weekend my brother in law Andrew and his...partner?  Girlfriend?  I'm not sure the appropriate term, but they had a little boy, the first grandson/nephew for the Dunnes.  I'm hoping to see photos soon, and I need to get on the ball and email my niece, the new kid's big sister, to check in on her.  Being a big sister is not always as glamorous as it looks, and I want her to know that Auntie Nancy has been there/done that and would love to listen if she needs to discuss the finer points of siblings.

Finally...Nano starts on Thursday and I think it's going to be EQ fanfic for me again.  My hope is that all of this writing I grind out in November (as well as the past Nanos that have been on the same theme) can one day be edited to remove anything that the EQ head honchos may think is actually their property and made into a fantasy novel that can be published and read by people other than me and my sometimes muse, Mike (who brought one of the main characters to virtual life in game for years).

Yeah, so...that's what's going on here.  Not much, really, in the grand scheme of starvation and war and Hurricane Sandy, I suppose.  But enough.  You hear me universe?  I've got enough for now.

Oh myyyy indeed.

What I've been up to...

You'll see me for a second when she talks about the heavy costumes we wear...I'm on the left in the orange.

It's more exciting than all that, honest!

Snores of a Clown, a photo by Nancy Dunne on Flickr.

Well, the 2011 CRF season has almost come to an end. We have two more weekends to go, and I have a day and a half left to work.

Speaking of, if you're in the area before about 1pm on Sunday, 13 November or any time on Saturday, 19 November come see me and Clown in the doghouse!  And while you're at it, you can follow us on Twitter, like our page on FB using the box on the right hand side (make sure you're following the official HOEF page for the most up to date info), and join our FB group.

Right, shameless promotion done. This season has been so much better than I think any of us could have imagined back at the beginning of October. Just before the season started (and I do mean JUST BEFORE, like A WEEK BEFORE) we had a major change up of leadership and basically how we operate as a group. Rather than one director as has been the way in the past, we now have an advisory board made up of one member from each adoption group that is represented. So much more democratic as well as taking the burden off just one person.

Sadly, in the change up we did lose some members but we have gained about seven new members in the process. Almost every day we've been at CRF this season the dog house has been full to overflowing with dogs! We've had such a good time. The atmosphere is relaxed and fun again like it was in the early days when we had nothing but a tiny wet tent and a few hay bales on which to sit. It's been a good thing overall, and will ensure the continued success of the group and the growth of membership. Win-Win!

As you can see, my new boy Clown has taken to life at the festival like he's always been there...I think he might be channeling a bit of Hunky there as well.

So Huzzah and Well Met! Two more weekends and then we're planning for GARF in the spring!

A new day, another template...

I love orange., a photo by Nancy Dunne on Flickr.

I was telling my fabulous friend Goddess Lynne (who writes the marvelous blog, The Way of the Moth) that I'd looked over my blog with its new template and decided that it was screaming SPRING at me.  In fact, that's not what it was screaming at all, but instead it was yelling at me FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY COULD YOU HAVE PICKED A MORE GIRLY TEMPLATE? I HAVE A REP TO PROTECT, YOU KNOW. So, because I do not appreciate being yelled at in that manner, I found a new template.  Autumnal.  Ridiculous.  GIRLY.  That'll show...uh...did I just admit to having a conversation with my blog?

Anyway!  I'll try this one on for size.  I promise, too, that there will soon be a write up and pictures of our first weekend and kids day at the Carolina Renaissance Festival.  I just haven't gotten my head wrapped around it enough to write about it due to all the other stuff floating around in there at the moment.  And the YELLING FROM THE BLOG.  Did I mention the yelling?  In the meantime, though, please feel free to join our new facebook group for the Hounds of East Fairhaven if you have a facebook account.  You might also visit Goddess Lynne's blog and check out her fab poem, "Autoharp."  Genuine genius, that.  Talented friends, I have.  Talk like Yoda today, I might!

On second thought, just go join the group and read the poem.  Ta, y'all.

Forward Motion...

Clown Reaches the Beach
Originally uploaded by Nancy Dunne

So if you care to find me...look to the Western sky...as someone told me lately: "Everyone deserves a chance to fly..."

(lyrics from "Defying Gravity" from the musical "WICKED." Or from Glee. Take your pick.)

Well, I can't say too much, loyal Lettuce-Heads, because what you put out on the "tinterweb" is permanent and forever, but my situation is in a bit of flux at the moment.

I know! Again! Right?

Changes are afoot, and my situation has gone from semi-almost-stable to completely on the other foot in a matter of a week. But never fear, I think the impending change is a good one, and I'm crossing everything I can that all turns out as it should.

Confused? Yeah, me too. But I find that when things get weird, I can just look at that beautiful boy in the photo there and things will get all right-ish riteawayquik. Well, for now I'm just looking at a photo of him, but tomorrow night I'll get to start a whole weekend of Clown Goodness, and that's definitely got me smiling.

Don't worry, those five or six of you that are now on tenterhooks to know what the change is and what is coming up next for those of us here at the Lettuce. Your wait will not be long nor in vain. In the meantime, though, here's something to bounce around and label me insane for: Next month is a new Nanowrimo, and I'm itching to get started!

Catch you guys after the CRF opening weekend...come see us if you're in the area!

The sweetest sound...

...is the sound of my Hounda starting up, ready to drive. Why have I picked that sound, dear readers? Well...

This weekend I headed up to Charlotte for the Renn Fest as I've done almost every weekend since the first of October. I was driving along, talking to Simon on the mobile and actually in a good mood. I got to a gas station and pulled in to refuel. After only spending $25 to fill my tank (I am LOVING the current gas prices) I hopped back in the car and turned the key in the ignition.

Nothing.

Nada.

Not even clicking.

I did not panic. I did not cry. I called Simon first to tell him what was up and then Leah, because she was driving toward Charlotte as well and had her 16yr old son/amateur mechanic in the car. They came to my rescue, her son looked around under the hood, and pronounced that the issue was probably my battery but might be the alternator.

How to strike fear in the heart of a single woman who's just quit her full time job to freelance, therefore securing a higher rate of pay without a set date for receiving such pay? Mention the words "replace the alternator" to her five days before her last payday from the prior job. Seriously. You might just get to see her head combust.

They jumped off my car and got me running again, and I headed north to my friend and fellow Rennie Debbie's house where I was staying for the weekend. Her husband can work on PLANES and according to Debbie "...can take a hunk of metal and turn it into a racecar." Off the the festival on Saturday and then again on Sunday, while he looked at the car to see if he could fix it.

It was just the battery!! Apparently the original battery was still in the car, and once replaced my Hounda started up like a dream. Thank goodness, since said freelancing is taking me to Georgia this week!

To Those Who CLEARLY Know Better Than I...

I said this is MY bed!
Originally uploaded by Nancy Allen

Okay, I know that I'm just biased or cranky or cold or something, but I think we have an exceptional crowd of Know-It-All's and Animal-Rights-Gone-Wrongers this year at the festival. I've been told that my dogs are too thin. I've been told that they were hit and abused while racing. I've been told that they don't live well with cats. I've been told that I need to cut their toenails.

Only one of those statements is true, and Mills will tell you it isn't the cat one! Jeany's nails are a bit long. So to all those people who leave the "Dog House" or "Hound Barn," as it has been nicknamed, thinking that the lady in the gray/blue/orange dress is starving her hounds and probably is in league with Satan because she is...gasp...a FAN of greyhound racing...

Ummm...

Errr...

Yeah, can't even come up with anything. All I can think of is how I wouldn't go up to another adoption group for a different breed, one with whom I've never lived, and start quoting propaganda and scare-tactic-speech that I've gotten from an internet site containing 20 year old statistics. I'm also not sure about those people who need to tell me about all the umpteenthirty animals they have rescued over the years. Does it truly make you feel better or warm your heart to have "saved" an animal (which, by the way, in case you're keeping score, does NOT make you the same as me because the only one of my animals that was "saved" was Mills, who was adopted from the shelter...) OR do you do it so people will tut-tut What A Wonderful Human Being You Are and praise you as a martyr? I was discussing this with S on the phone and I think they remind me of the Pharisees. Shouldn't we be doing our work to make the world better and just keeping quiet about it? Actions speak louder than words, etc etc?

I know, harsh words, but seriously...it is on my mind. I don't tell people automatically that I adopted my dogs after they retired from racing. I just say they are greyhounds. I don't tell people that I serve as a selfless mediator between people of two cultures and languages that can't understand each other in the interest of bringing our big world a bit closer together, either. I just say I am an interpreter.

If you're hung up on the saving bit though...my animals are the heroes, not me. They've saved my life more times than I can count.

FESTIVAL! Weekend One

gorgeous.
Originally uploaded by Nancy Allen

Every year I work the Carolina Renaissance Festival with the Hounds of East Fairhaven, and this past weekend was the opening of the season. I took all three dogs, but only Daisy went both days. H and J stayed at a friend's house Saturday.

H and J did very well. We have an xpen this year in a room off the back of our building, and several times I put the Diva back there to rest while H snoozed on the beds out front. Seems his proin is now in the right dose because we had (knock on wood) ZERO accidents yesterday!

Daisy, on the other hand, had a bit of a rough weekend, and she may have secured a permanent place in the xpen. We have two dog beds that are really those one person futon cushion things...you know, that fold up into a chair looking thing without a frame? Anyway, they are the Beds Of Choice and Much Coveted. Daisy finally got her shot at one Saturday afternoon, and was lounging there when an ITTY BITTY kid came up to see her. Kid pats her head and touches her nose...no problem. Kid grabs her nose and kisses it...still no problem. Kid grabs nose a second time to kiss her again and Daisy showed her teeth at the same time that I felt a growl come up the leash. I pulled her up and took her out back for a Time Out.

Now, Daisy has NEVER shown that kind of reaction to anyone, big or little. I took her back in and she got back on that same bed. Another kid came to visit, looked her in the eye, and she did the exact same thing again. At the time I chalked it up to her being tired and feeling threatened by the kid looking her in the eye (and the first one grabbing her nose) and she stayed on her feet and close to me for the rest of the day.

On Sunday, she immediately ran to the big bed again and at the time I didn't think anything of it. I was sitting on a bench next to her when a little boy came over to pet her. He kept moving his head around to look her in the eye and about the time I said "Don't get right in her face sweetie" Daisy's teeth came out again with the same grumble that I could feel vibrating up the leash. This time Miss Thing got the xpen with Jeany for about an hour while I walked around with my Big Man and tried to figure out what had happened.

The conclusion I came to is this: it's the dog bed. That bed is more like a couch than a bed and I think that being on it elevated her status, in her own mind. She reacted as any dog who felt him/herself to be of higher status would to a perceived threat, IE the children looking her in the eye. I could beat myself up and say that I should have been more vigilant, but the truth is that Daisy is the low dog on the totem pole in our pack and I would never have thought to watch for that kind of behavior from her. After her time out, I got her back out but didn't let her on that dog bed again until the very end of the day when most of the patrons were gone.

No more growlies. I'm not anthropomorphizing that fact to say that she "learned her lesson" from sitting in the xpen. We all know that the truth is she'd forgotten the growl by the time she got to the xpen. However, I think that keeping her off the Big Bed was key.