![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gurdymonkeySo, there I was, desk cleaned off and ready to leave the building at 2:30 for the drive up to Reno. I got into the truck, turned the key and was greeted by a pathetic grinding noise. Fortunately for me, Ken was still shutting up the warehouse, so he drove one of the forklifts over and jumped my battery. The George Oren Tire place around the corner was useless - "I can have a battery for you on Monday," so I ran down to Bruce's Tire where I should have gone in the first place because, well, Bruce's rocks. Yep, it was just the battery. They replaced it for me pretty quickly, but that meant I didn't get on the freeway again until 4:00 PM - which meant it was a parking lot from Oakland all the way to Fairfield.
It was about 9 PM by the time I hit Reno, which means it was more like 9:30 by the time I pulled into the Land Of Dust And Poo, er, I mean, the Pitchfork Cattle Company. I pulled in behind Gwenhwyfar's day shade and sprinted across the list field to Khalid and Africa's day shade to apologize for being late for Their Royal Highnesses' pre coronation vigil - which fortunately they still were setting up for. I set up in the moonlight in record (read "minimalist camping" time), threw on a cotehardie, grabbed psaltery, tuning key, stool and cup, and headed back to the vigil.
I made pretty plinking noises in a corner, inwardly cursing every time a guest stepped between me and the few dim light sources. It also did not help that I broke a nail on my right hand a couple of weeks ago and that made it a little harder to feel my way. Flieg also played on Siobhan's borrowed psaltery, so we took turns providing background music for awhile.
It was probably around 1 AM by the time I coccooned up in my bedding. It got frigging cold. I was fine as long as I stayed covered, but of course, the cold made me need to get up and use the privy several times - did I mention the site is in the Nevada desert, so I had been virtuously hydrating all the way up in the truck?
Feels like I got a grand total of about four minutes sleep, between freight trains, latecomers setting up, cattle mooing and the ranch dogs barking at coyotes.
Saturday I dressed in the Tosenin kosode, worn open over my striped linen one. Marsaili had to ooh and ah over it when I showed up for court. I set my stool in the back row because of my hat.
Some Guy did not sit down during court. He hovered around the fringes taking photos. Got to talk to him a little during the break between courts. I was also talking to Antonio and Cat behind the royal when The Person Who Is Pissed At Me came to look out of the back, presumably for royalty. I said hello pleasantly - and she looked right through me. Fine, whatever. I will not darken the BC with my presence if she can't behave in a civilized fashion. I'm sorry she does not like that I turned out to have a backbone.
The wind began to howl down out of the hills. I ditched the hat which was trying to act like a kite, as well as the Tosenin. Right after Hauoc and Ginevra's First Court, I discovered that my tent poles were torqued at an alarming angle. After re-setting them several times I dropped the wedge right on top of everything that was inside it.
I went down to the Von Schwetzingen pavilion for the iced tea social, but who wants to eat snacks that are being bombarded with powdered cow poo? Sat shoulder to shoulder chatting with Some Guy and some other folks for awhile.
Tore down at sunset and packed my gear in the truck, figuring I'd find someplace to bunk in Reno. I discovered that my ridgepole has a lovely S-curve in it, probably the result of a thorough wetting at Pennsic, then being brought to the kiln-like desert and being subjected to constant high winds for several hours. I'll be buying lumber this week.
Her Majesty wanted to have her Queen's Champion's tourney at dusk so no one would have to fight at 5000 feet above sea level in 90 degree dry heat and wind. Duke Rolf won. Evening court was mercifully relatively short.
Special thanks toleohtulf. He administered not one, but three hugs for therapeutic purposes because he seemed to think I needed it. I don't know whether I actually did or not, but it was still very nice.
Made it into Reno around 10:30, did a very late dinner at Denny's and stayed at the Holiday Inn with friends. Showered and went to bed with wet hair because I couldn't stand being covered in cow shit any longer.
I made pretty plinking noises in a corner, inwardly cursing every time a guest stepped between me and the few dim light sources. It also did not help that I broke a nail on my right hand a couple of weeks ago and that made it a little harder to feel my way. Flieg also played on Siobhan's borrowed psaltery, so we took turns providing background music for awhile.
It was probably around 1 AM by the time I coccooned up in my bedding. It got frigging cold. I was fine as long as I stayed covered, but of course, the cold made me need to get up and use the privy several times - did I mention the site is in the Nevada desert, so I had been virtuously hydrating all the way up in the truck?
Feels like I got a grand total of about four minutes sleep, between freight trains, latecomers setting up, cattle mooing and the ranch dogs barking at coyotes.
Saturday I dressed in the Tosenin kosode, worn open over my striped linen one. Marsaili had to ooh and ah over it when I showed up for court. I set my stool in the back row because of my hat.
Some Guy did not sit down during court. He hovered around the fringes taking photos. Got to talk to him a little during the break between courts. I was also talking to Antonio and Cat behind the royal when The Person Who Is Pissed At Me came to look out of the back, presumably for royalty. I said hello pleasantly - and she looked right through me. Fine, whatever. I will not darken the BC with my presence if she can't behave in a civilized fashion. I'm sorry she does not like that I turned out to have a backbone.
The wind began to howl down out of the hills. I ditched the hat which was trying to act like a kite, as well as the Tosenin. Right after Hauoc and Ginevra's First Court, I discovered that my tent poles were torqued at an alarming angle. After re-setting them several times I dropped the wedge right on top of everything that was inside it.
I went down to the Von Schwetzingen pavilion for the iced tea social, but who wants to eat snacks that are being bombarded with powdered cow poo? Sat shoulder to shoulder chatting with Some Guy and some other folks for awhile.
Tore down at sunset and packed my gear in the truck, figuring I'd find someplace to bunk in Reno. I discovered that my ridgepole has a lovely S-curve in it, probably the result of a thorough wetting at Pennsic, then being brought to the kiln-like desert and being subjected to constant high winds for several hours. I'll be buying lumber this week.
Her Majesty wanted to have her Queen's Champion's tourney at dusk so no one would have to fight at 5000 feet above sea level in 90 degree dry heat and wind. Duke Rolf won. Evening court was mercifully relatively short.
Special thanks to
leohtulf. He administered not one, but three hugs for therapeutic purposes because he seemed to think I needed it. I don't know whether I actually did or not, but it was still very nice. Made it into Reno around 10:30, did a very late dinner at Denny's and stayed at the Holiday Inn with friends. Showered and went to bed with wet hair because I couldn't stand being covered in cow shit any longer.
I did manage to get some private face-time with Some Guy. Signals definitely seemed mixed. Part of that may have been natural circumspection in front of God And All The Neighbors in the small town atmosphere that the SCA can be, particularly at an event with painfully low attendance. Part of it may just be he doesn't know what he wants to do yet. I dunno. So I screwed my courage to the sticking place and pulled the pin on a Clue Grenade before I said goodbye to him, then left without waiting for damage reports from all sectors. The ball is now officially in his court. In the meantime, I will be turning my stomach into a macrame plant holder.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-08-26 11:19 pm (UTC)That's always the scariest part for me. Especially understand the stomach thing. Good luck!
no subject
Date: 2007-08-27 12:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-27 03:05 am (UTC)My recommendation is to make some sort of small move. Guys are like rabbits and scare easily, but we do tend to be "dumb bunnies" sometimes. A small token of affection, a kiss, done affectionately but not pushing, often breaks through yon stone head. He may be waiting for more of a sign that you're interested. A kiss, which can turn into a stronger one (invitation in yours) can turn the trick. And, if he's not going your direction, you'll be able to tell. Or he'll get halfway home and say "OH! That's what she was trying to do." Believe me, we're all "sum dum gai" far too often. (Yeah, even me...) Best of luck.
Is that the Baroness who's being cold to you? Narsty bitch anyway...
A rebuttal to The Minister Of Tourism for THERE
Date: 2007-08-27 05:20 am (UTC)I really, REALLY think they should have called it the Why Chromosome, though.
"... sorry she does not like that I turned out to have a backbone..."
Date: 2007-08-27 05:37 am (UTC)Re: "... sorry she does not like that I turned out to have a backbone..."
Date: 2007-08-27 01:24 pm (UTC)