Calamity

Victim of a hit-and-run.

Any who know me also know I tend to speak my mind, often without thinking first. Yesterday, however, I worked very hard at holding my tongue after K was involved in yet another automobile accident. I did remarkably well, but there are just some things I have to say, so I'm going to take the chance that he's forgotten all about this little blogspot of mine.

First of all, this is precisely why I don't like to let him drive my car, whether the rest of us are riding along or not. I love my car, and he scraped it up once already, and I can't bear to see it happen again. I confess to feelings of self-righteousness where my driving record is concerned, and I rarely miss an opportunity to point out the comparison to his driving record. I'm not terribly proud of this, but it's true.

This time, it was a hit-and-run driver that made a mess of his car, and while I'll agree with him that the other driver was at fault and that he should be tracked down and prosecuted, I can't help but think that driving a little more defensively might have avoided the collision. It's easy for me to say, of course, since I wasn't there. I'm also fairly certain that if I had been the one who was hit, I'd be absolutely sure there was nothing I could have done about it. Since I wasn't there, and since K was the one hit, and given his history ... did I mention I'm a little self-righteous at times?

Indecision

So as time passes, I find that I am vacillating between a contemplative blog meant mostly for me, or a more personal journal-like blog with pictures to allow friends and family to keep up with us. Technically, I have a website that should allow friends and family to keep up with us, but it hasn't been updated in a very, very long time. Frankly, this would be easier than maintaining a website.

I've thought about having two separate blogs, but considering how few people will even care that I am blogging, it seems pointless. What I'll most likely do, then, will be a journal with occasional contemplation.

Yes, I think that will do.

"That'll do, little donkey, that'll do." - Shrek

Scarborough Faire

Taking a break at the faire with Maya.

The 2005 season of Scarborough Faire opened today! I've been so looking forward to this day, not only since the last season ended, but especially since I got a 2005 Royal Pass for my birthday in January. Last year, Scarborough Faire was my first outing since learning to walk again after being hospitalized for 6 weeks with Guillain-Barré Syndrome. The highlight of my day was discovering the troubadour Owain Phyfe. I purchased one of his CD's, listened to it daily, and rushed back to Scarborough Faire to see him again as soon as I could. Unfortunately, he had already gone back to Michigan, so I bought another of his CD's from Cantiga, who perform with him as the New World Renaissance Band, and thus began a long year of eager anticipation as I looked forward to seeing him again this year.

Imagine my dismay as I rush through the gates with my season pass in hand, pick up an entertainment schedule, go over it three times looking for either Owain Phyfe or New World Renaissance Band, then give up and rush to Cantiga's performance to ask them when I'd see him, only to be told that the powers that be at Scarborough Faire hadn't signed him to perform this year!! Alas and alack! Despite my bitter disappointment, it was still a great day at Scarborough Faire. It was so nice to know that I could come back any time with my pass, and not feel as though I had to rush from performer to performer like I usually do. Maya and I ambled along, stopping when we felt like it, lingering over peaches and cream, chatting idly with Condesa Catalina Marina La Fey (who had the acumen to notice how "exquisite" and "perfect" baby Maya is) and the members of Cantiga, one of whom informed me (oh, happy day!) that New World Renaissance Band, Owain Phyfe included, would be performing a free lunchtime concert about 5 miles from my house later this month! Now to just figure out what to do with the children ...

Aside from that delightful news, my two favorite moments at the faire both involved Cantiga. The first one occurred as they were playing one of my favorite songs, "Tourdion," which is a French song about drinking and spinning. As they played, two large fuzzy bumblebees lazily performed their mating dance on and around the stage, turning in slow circles as the harpist and I eyed them warily. It was perfect, as though they were enjoying the music and joining in! The other great moment occurred as they moved from a slow ballad into a lively jig just as the wind picked up. This wasn't just a gentle, whispering breeze. This was a strong wind that sang through the trees and dissipated the stagnant heat of the day. The timing with the music was, again, perfect.

I fall more in love with the faire every year. I suspect that by the time a year or two passes, I'll be going in costume and speaking with an accent. I already dream of the day that my teenage son and I can be counted among the performers there. Does that make me a geek? Nah. Actually, it means I'm on my way to becoming a "rennie."

Edit: Thank you to all who followed the link (now removed) and signed the petition to bring Owain Phyfe back to the Faire. He was signed for the 2006 season and sent me a personal "thank you" that made my day!

Reminiscence

I went to a community theater production of "Fiddler on the Roof" the other night. It was my first outing without baby Maya, who just turned 5 weeks old. I get the feeling her father isn't exactly warming to the prospect of keeping the two little ones by himself again any time soon, but I thoroughly enjoyed the sense of freedom I had, as short as it may have been.

I caught myself checking the backseat when I arrived at the theater, just in case she somehow mysteriously turned up in the car, but not surprisingly, the back seat was empty. As it turned out, I had an audience for my neurotic behavior. The two women coming to the show with me happened to be sitting in the car right next to mine, but I think they gave themselves away before they realized what I was doing.

The excuse for this night out was that an old high school friend of mine happened to be playing Lazar Wolf, the butcher, in this performance. He was actually somewhat more than a friend, more like a major crush, at least until I chickened out when he tried to kiss me at the state fair in my freshman year of high school. I hadn't yet had my first real kiss, and I was too scared to admit it, so my rejection of his advances came across more like ... well, a rejection. That was the end of that, and he soon ended up with (and spent the rest of the year with) one of my two best friends. She just happened to be one of the women I went to the show with. I hadn't seen him in 17 years, and I hadn't seen her in 14 years.

Though I might have once been the outgoing sort, since making myself the center of an internet romance scandal, becoming a stay-at-home mother, and not fighting hard enough the extra pounds that come with being the mother of five, I've become much more of a recluse, feeling something akin to terror at the mere prospect of facing anyone I knew in my younger (slimmer) years. So ... I brought along my mother, the other of the two women, as a sort of a buffer to keep me from panicking and to prevent awkward silences. Not that I need have worried. Funny how the years can melt away when you reunite with someone you were so close to once upon a time. We don't know as much about each other anymore, but the camaraderie was still there.

The highlight of the evening for me was when our mutual friend on stage spotted us in the audience for the first time just as he was singing the line from 'Anatevka,' the final song of the show, "... searching for an old familiar face." As solemn as the song was, and as serious as the company was, he broke character for the briefest of moments as he fought to stifle a laugh. He quickly composed himself, but we thought it was hilarious. Our neighbors must have wondered what there was to laugh about in such a scene.

In my customary cattiness, I was relieved that I was not the only one who didn't still look 17, and upon that realization, I had a very enjoyable evening. Even K and the children survived it. I'm counting down the days until I can sneak out on my own again ... to Scarborough Faire, this time!