Saturday stuff

[gurdymonkey]

Hopped BART into the city and played for a couple of hours in front of the Ferry Building. The guy with the skazillion pots and buckets was drumming on the median strip, so I ended up on the Ferry Building side of the street by the farmer's market right next to the You Are Here city map near the cross walk.  Ferry Building security  rousted me out of the shade because the shady patch of sidewalk  was  Ferry Building Property.  I was cool with that, but I wasn't cool with seeing the same security guy spit sunflower seeds all over Ferry Building Property half an hour later. I'm pretty sure spitting on the sidewalk is not part of his job description.

I'd replaced a string in the hurdy gurdy, which was the signal for all three of them to be wonky and unbalanced for the duration. I spent what felt like an excessive amount of time tinkering - and of course, the new string kept going gradually flat, which it will continue to do until it is done stretching.

I think I need to make a tee shirt that says, "It's OK to smile." Or maybe have George hold a sign saying that.

Fallout from standing next to the city map: I gave three different people directions and told them how much the fare was for the muni down to Fisherman's Wharf.

It was a beautiful day and I was really glad I'd worn my straw hat. I netted $12 in singles and change for about two hours play. At that point, my ankle was twinging a bit and I figured I'd better call it a day if I wanted to dance in the evening.

Guys are such GUYS sometimes. It amazes me that I said hello and/or danced with several at Gaskell's last night who did not recognize me for the simple fact that I had my hair up. Irving, the 80-something from Friday Night Waltz, was the first to be fooled as he partnered me for the Grand March.

No, actually, he was the second. I was at the pre-ball warmup and this man I'd never seen before in my life slung an arm around my shoulder and said, "Good to see you, Eileen, how have you been?" Sorry, no, not Eileen, mortification and profuse apologies ensued.

Attendance was a bit light last night. I got skunked out of a couple of waltzes because there were not enough partners. Being as I have to abstain from the high impact stuff like polka and schottiche, I must confess a bit of frustration. I even waltzed with Aviva, who was sickeningly adorable in Victorian plaid. (Can I please hate her? She looks darling in pretty much anything.) Merrin partnered me for "Sir Roger de Coverley" in the persona of the outrageous, handkissing Rrrrrrrramon!, reminding me of the days when Gaius' multiple personae used to fight over me.

I did get to do "Congress of Vienna" with Cary - who went, "I know you, don't I?" after offering me his arm. (The hair). I'll dance with him any time. He's good. Looks great in period dress too, though most men do not suffer in well fitting formalwear. Dark trousers, waistcoat and cravat, blindingly white shirt - and scarlet gloves.

Then there was the person I shall refer to as Public Enemy Number One. This guy's idea of leading was to shove me around way too fast for the music and ram me into people. I counted nine hard collisions - and he did not apologize to me or to anyone we hit the entire time. So I smiled and said "thank you, that was lovely," at the end as he abandoned me in the middle of the floor!!!! Then I pointed Public Enemy Number One out to every lady of my acquaintance and told them exactly what dancing with him was like.

I did solve some sartorial problems with my old Regency. The back is so low I could never do up the hook-and-eye closures by myself. I've lost enough weight that I can pull the whole thing on over my head now, so I just sewed the back shut.

Comments

[mamapduck.livejournal.com]

Ratting PE #1 out to other ladies is amazingly period, if the novels I've read are any indication. :)

Countess Rory can do custom printed t-shirts for somewhere in the vicinity of $8-10, last I checked.

Why do I feel like I'm channelling Jane Austen?

[gurdymonkey.livejournal.com]

I've been doing the dance thing for what, two months? I make lots of my own mistakes. I'm perfectly willing to cut a LOT of slack - in most cases. Learning to lead is a lot harder than learning to follow and I can empathise with someone who is trying to figure out where to put his feet on which beat and be in charge of the "driving" too. It's also part of the dance etiquette that they teach at both Gaskells' and FNW that It's All His Fault (TM). No matter what. (The first time I stepped on Jeremy's foot and he said, "Sorry," I found it really disconcerting and got into a debate with him about it.)

In other words, it was his lack of manners which were objectionable. I actually felt embarrassed.

Re, the TShirt thing, I have fabric paint and am not afraid to use it...