Weekend one

Weekend one down, six to go. Other than having a bowl of dust in my stomach, I feel pretty good. I have one welt/bruise on my forearm and one almost-torn-off pinky nail but no black eyes but I'm not sure if that's good or not because really, it's not a party until someone gets a black eye. I did lose my $4 watch and even though it was only $4, it took me forever to set the damn thing so I'm quite upset to be without it now. I'll have to head back to Target to see what they have on clearance again.

I had a pretty cool encounter on Sunday after the morning fight scene. As I was walking away from getting my butt kicked, one of the men watching came up and said that it reminded him of when he used to do that in 1974. That's the first year that the faire opened and he played a monk carrying a quarter staff. Younger men would come up to him with small swords and he would disarm them. He always knew the other guys and everyone was aware of their skill levels but they didn't choreograph anything. His name was MacDuff the Insane. Fight scenes used to break out all over the place back then (or so I'm told) which at first sounds great to me but as another performer pointed out to me, in this age of litigation you'd never be able to do that now. Oh, then there's that whole skewering of innocent bystanders thing.

I have to get my brain back into work which I consider only an interruption of my plotting for the next weekend. During these next seven weeks, I end up carrying a small notebook around with me everywhere so that when ideas pop into my head at an inopportune time, I can quickly jot something down. Hopefully five hours later I'll be able to remember what I meant by "trebuchet bloomers".