The Dream We Dream Together: Bringing Pennsic Home

I was told, early on, that I would either love Pennsic or I’d hate it.  Not true.  I love this event – the biggest yearly festival put on by the Society for Creative Anachronism – to distraction, but I have a laundry list of things that trouble me, turn me off, or just plain tick me off.  And yet…

They say that once you start going to this event, you’ll spend the rest of the year looking around (at camping equipment, pottery, projects, fabric) and thinking, “That would be great at Pennsic!”  I find that it’s the other way around:  Pennsic is an inspiration for the rest of the year.

IMG_1153My first Pennsic was my first time camping.  I’d spent plenty of time outdoors, but never spent several days without being indoors.  My little orange tent, the swaying trees, the walls of the pavilions, the sheetwalls, and the ubiquitous tapestries and draperies all made quite an impression.  That fall, I hung my walls with scarves and other hangings, which, in my attic-level apartment, swayed from the angled walls and rippled in the breeze from an open window.

One day this year, a campmate walked into camp spinning on a drop spindle.  It reminded me of contact juggling.  I used to walk from class to class on my college campus doing simple contact juggling moves until they became second nature.  Here was someone practicing a form of object manipulation that not only was mesmerizing, but made a practical and enjoyable product.  She was kind enough to answer my somewhat manically excited questions and give me a demo, showing me how you could spin and ply yarn by hand, even without a spindle.  Of course, I had known that people managed to spin and weave and sew before factories were around, and I’d done a bit of the latter two myself, but the moment when I saw her ply the yarn, the moment when it went from wool to yarn in my eyes, I admit was a realization.  “Who needs the industrial revolution?” I asked.  Granted, technology makes things easier, and makes greater production possible, but it’s powerful to realize that you can take fiber all the way from sheep to shirt, just as it’s powerful to realize that food grows on trees and medicine can be dug out of the earth.

IMG_1695I visited the vendor Minerva’s Spindle, and brought home a lovely, modestly priced spindle with a rectangular whorl, as well as a couple ounces each of several different fibers to experiment with.  I’m a baby beginner, but I love practicing spinning, and find it as meditative as contact juggling.  My big realization so far was to discover that I could really thin out the wool and, not only would the spun yarn not break, but my spindle actually hit its stride.

I was as grateful as ever for my time at Pennsic this year, but—since it fell on the heels of a death in the family and some other challenging news—I found that the things that trouble me about the event stood out in even greater relief:  Pennsic, like Game of Thrones or World of Warcraft, can cross the line from good-natured recreation into consuming escapism.  Pennsic seems to become more and more commercial, with more and more factory-made kitsch alongside the classic SCA handcrafters.  It often suffers from the “Christmas must be perfect” syndrome, which happens when a holiday has been anticipated as being so wonderful that any disappointment feels mammoth.  The event cultivates (melo)drama as scads of no-matter-how-awesome people get dehydrated and depleted in this indulgent, outdoor environment.  With more and more smartphones in use, it’s is not the escape from glowing screens that it used to be.

S5003367And yet…

At Pennsic, 10,000 people, mostly adults, gather to wear strange garb, practice skills that are regarded as having been made redundant, and spend most of their time talking face to face with each other.  While crunchy bohos like myself are represented, this is not, predominantly, an “airy fairy” group.  There are lots of attendees with military backgrounds, people who work at box stores, doctors and lawyers, desk jockeys, truck drivers, academics, restaurant owners, and more.  And they all gather, once a year, to pretend the world is different than it is.

That fact is remarkable:  Here, 10,000 people gather each year and pretend the world is different – and they succeed.  They make that different world appear for two weeks.  There is suspension of disbelief involved, but mostly the world is created by showing up, digging ditches, building walls and villas, crafting garb, and sharing meals.  This strikes me as deeply hopeful.  We all want the world to be better.  As Yoko Ono said, “A dream you dream alone is only a dream. A dream you dream together is reality.”  Pennsic is an example of just how concrete, how tangible, how real that dream can be, if we can only commit to actively pretend, actively imagine, build, and craft that dream into being.  We don’t have to limit that to just two weeks a year.  What shall we dream together?


Notes from the 2015 International Herb Symposium

Wheaton College’s beautiful campus during the International Herb Symposium.

I arrived at the International Herb Symposium somewhat flustered and awkwardly carrying my luggage in my arms since the handle on my suitcase had broken.  Not for the first time in my life, I thought that I ought to have packed lighter.  Nevertheless, I couldn’t fail to notice how lovely the setting was:  Wheaton College, with its beautiful quad, reminded my of my own time at college and made me feel right at home, as did the folks who welcomed me in at registration.  I was pretty psyched to be there, as this was my first time attending the IHS, and the list of teachers and classes made me wish for Hermione Granger’s Time Turner:  Should I take “Stress Resiliency with Plants” with Mindy Green, “Medicinal Mushrooms” with Christopher Hobbs, or “Herbal Treasures of Morocco” with Chris Kilham?  “All of them” would have been my preferred answer! Having settled my gear into the sweet little dorm room that was my home base for the weekend, I set about taking all the classes I could.

One highlight was the panel on Good Manufacturing Practices and other FDA regulations around manufacturing herbal products.  Mary Blue of Farmacy Herbs was the excellent moderator while Jovial King and Guido Mase of Urban Moonshine, Deb Soule and another herbalist from Avena Botanicals, and Cris Amarillas and Zoë Gardner of Traditional Medicinals discussed their experiences with the FDA.  All involved were generous in their discussions, and were doing their best to help and not dissuade herbal entrepreneurs.  Still, I was struck by how onerous the FDA’s requirements are for small- and medium-sized businesses and how nonsensical some of those requirements are.

This is one of multiple legal/regulatory issues in herbalism, since herbal supplements have become big business and are attracting more regulations.  One of the first things I did at the IHS was to enter into the raffle being held as a fundraiser for the Fire Cider Three, a trio of herbalists bravely facing up to a company that has trademarked the generic term “fire cider.”  Saturday evening at the IHS, Diane Miller of the National Health Freedom Coalition spoke persuasively on the importance of health freedom.  Among other things, she talked about one of her first cases as an attorney, when she defended a farmer who had been accused of practicing medicine without a license.  (There’s more about that in this interview with Diane, and here’s the website for the NHFC.)

One of my takeaways from this conference was that there are, as I see it, three or four main legal issues facing the herbal community.  (Disclaimer:  The following is my understanding of the issues.  I’m no legal expert, and you should talk to one – and do your own research – if you’re directly affected by any of these.)

  1. FDA Regulations
    Good Manufacturing Practices
    It goes without saying that quality control is essential, but the testing requirements on many herbal products are a heavy burden on small and medium-sized herbal companies.  The cost of these tests encourages large batches and mass production (and, it arguably follows, mediocrity).  It sounds like the FDA is essentially assuming everyone is guilty (of neglect or deceit) until tests prove the product is actually what they say it is – even if common sense could have proven that without expensive lab tests.  While lots of companies in this country care more about the bottom line than about quality and even safety, it’s shameful and counterproductive to hobble those manufacturers who are genuinely trying to make the best product possible.
    All herbal product companies – no matter how tiny – are subject to these requirements.  Compare this to food production companies which, in the state of Vermont, don’t need to get a health & safety inspection if they’re bringing in under $10,000 gross per year.  Herbal products are regulated comparably to pharmaceuticals, when they’re overwhelmingly closer to food than to drugs, and many herbs are food.  While companies do need to be held responsible for the quality of their products, regulations should be clear and reasonable.
    Structure/Function Claims
    Language on the labels, websites, etc. of a company producing herbal products may only describe the way in which a product supports normal health as defined by the FDA – and must not say that the product treats a given condition.  Companies are, in many cases, forced to talk around the actual effects of the herbs.  For an example, check out Traditional Medicinals’ description of Throat Coat tea.  It’s a great description, but nowhere do they say that this tea relieves a sore throat and – in my experience – it does, in a jiffy.  I haven’t talked to Traditional Medicinals about this, but I’m betting that the reason they dance around the phrase “relieves a sore throat” is that they’re not allowed to say that.  If so, this is a great example of this FDA regulation hindering clear language.  For more information on structure/function claims and how insidiously they effect clear communication, I recommend this talk by David Hoffmann.
  2. Trademarking and Patent Issues
    There’s a real danger of large companies trademarking the names of and even patenting the recipes for traditional herbal remedies.
    A while back, a company called Shire City Herbals trademarked the name “Fire Cider”.  What’s wrong with that?  Rosemary Gladstar has been sharing this remedy widely under the name fire cider since the 1970s, and the use of the name prior to Shire City’s trademark is well-documented.  Herbalists, therefore, regard “fire cider” as a generic/traditional term.  It’s as though someone tried to trademark the term “chicken noodle soup”.  You can find out more about the campaign to Free Fire Cider hereTrademarking generic terms limits other producers’ ability to communicate clearly with customers in an industry that is already severely limited in the language that’s allowed on labels.
    Recently, the New Yorker reported on the patenting of traditional recipes.  While a trademark reserves the use of marketing language, the patent-holder actually “owns” the recipe itself.  Accordingly, patents are only meant to be issued for genuinely unique recipes.  The fact that patents have been issued for traditional recipes is, frankly, pretty scary, since it costs a lot to fight those patents.
  3. Not Practicing Medicine without a License
    While it’s legal for herbalists to educate clients about the use of herbs, the language a clinical herbalist can use is limited due to restrictions on practicing medicine without a license.  Herbalists must strictly avoid diagnosing, treating, or preventing diseases or prescribing remedies.  This is, in many ways, just fine:  Conventional medicine has brilliant diagnostic tools available.  Generally herbalists don’t want to “treat” people so much as they want to empower people to care for themselves.  But sometimes this issue comes down to semantics and hinders clarity.  There are plenty of herbs that will, essentially, cure (read: give your body the tools it needs to heal from) plenty of conditions, and herbs can treat all kinds of symptoms.  We should be able to talk about that without worrying that a slip of the tongue will render us vulnerable to prosecution.
    While it’s imperative that each and every health practitioner be completely transparent about his or her training and experience, I think it’s important to question why conventional medicine is given such a privileged position.  Self care is a personal responsibility and individuals should be able to consult with whomever we think is best qualified to help us.  There are ongoing efforts to give individuals to choose their health practitioners.  You can find out more at the NHFC website.

During the last class period of the conference, David Hoffmann taught “Veriditas, the Green Man, and Herb Hugging.” This was a moving but not warm and fuzzy talk that I wish you all could have joined me at, because I don’t feel like I could do it justice with a quick explanation.  I’m just going to pull out a couple of quotes here.  I should say that these are, obviously, pulled from a larger context.

“I think product issues are the door through which capitalism is trying to take over herbalism.”

“Luckily they’re not burning us any more.  They’re just bankrupting us.  And in a capitalist culture that’s almost as bad.”

I’d like to just take a moment to emphasize that last one, in light of the above issues:

bankrupting ws

I am deeply grateful to the folks who are, despite the frustrations and challenges, fighting the good fight to keep high quality herbs accessible.  I especially admire herbal companies that provide opportunities for education:  You know that people aren’t just in it for profit when they sell bitters – and also teach people to make their own bitters.  It’s vitally important to keep teaching people to make their own herbal products, to make herbal products so ubiquitous that it’s as impossible to legislate them into inaccessibility as it is to legislate chicken soup.  Herbalists absolutely deserve fair compensation for the time, effort, and energy (as well as expenses) that go into crafting herbal products and making them available for purchase.  On the other hand, we mustn’t forget that, if we’re willing to put in our own time, effort, and energy, the plants will gift us with the rest.  Herbalism can exist outside of capitalism.

On an herb walk. You can see Edna Lou in the background.

That’s easy to say and nice to think about, but even better to experience:  A year or two ago, I came across a post about a bus named Edna Lou.  Edna Lou and Guisepi of the Free Tea Party travel around serving free tea to people at festivals, farmers’ markets, city streets, and so on.  I was, of course, intrigued – and I was pretty psyched when I saw that the tea bus would be at the IHS.  Despite this, my New England reserve reared its head, and I didn’t head straight to the tea bus:  My topsy turvy logic was that I didn’t want to bother the folks on the bus by asking for tea.  (A more sensical thought might have been that, if people have traveled so far to gift tea, they’re probably excited to share it.)  It wasn’t until Saturday night when – after a lovely time over at the Herbalist’s Ball and some excellent conversations – I was wandering back to my dorm room, perfectly satisfied to be heading to bed.  And yet, as I walked past the tea bus, I felt myself sort of leaning toward it, pulled in by the lovely thought of folks having tea.  “There’s free tea,” one of the people who was wise enough to be already hanging out at the tea bus said, and that was all I needed:  I spent the rest of the evening and some time between classes on Sunday sitting on cushions outside the tea bus, enjoying brilliant company and delicious tea courtesy of the wonderful people who had brought Edna Lou to the IHS.  Afterwards, I wished I had another week at the IHS – not necessarily to take more classes, because my brain was already bursting – but to drink tea at the tea bus, sitting on cushions and discussing classes and unpacking them with other attendees.  You can bet that – whenever, wherever – I next spot Edna Lou, I’ll make a beeline for that tea bus, because that little space of free tea and awesome people was a huge part of what I loved about attending the IHS.

Heading home both smarter and wiser, I made three trips to the car with my luggage:  One with the troublesome suitcase, one with most everything else, and one with my arms full of seedlings to plant in my garden.

Free tea! Hospitality at its best.

 

The view from the tea bus’s outdoor seating area.

 

Closing circle at the International Herb Symposium.


Notes from the 2015 New England Women’s Herbal Conference

The New England Women’s Herbal Conference is, in many ways, a demulcent* conference.  Rosemary Gladstar spoke this year about how, from the beginning, she wanted the conference to be nourishing and have a sweetness to it.  It’s a replenishing event, and a soothing one – not in the sense of tranquilizing, but of healing.  The WHC is an inspiring weekend full of engaging teachers and classes, but being an attendee somehow also feels like wrapping oneself up in a nice soft blanket that smells of linden and marshmallow.

Betzy Bancroft showing off the sliminess of marshmallow.

Betzy Bancroft showing off the sliminess of marshmallow.

You might not be surprised to learn that one of the classes I attended this year was on demulcents, “the slimaceous herbs.”  It was taught by Betzy Bancroft of the Vermont Center for Integrative Herbalism and United Plant Savers.  I’ve gotten to take a few of Betzy’s botany classes in the past, and loved them.  This was even better.  Structuring the class around an herbal action was fascinating, and kept us focused on how these herbs work and the generous ways they can help us.  The big takeaways for me?  First, I should be taking demulcents.  Why haven’t I been taking demulcents lately?  Second, quoting from Betzy’s handout, “When we ingest [demulcents], the moistening and protective qualities…have a cooling and soothing effect on the surfaces of our GI tract, which is a huge area…  Considering also that there is an enormous amount of nervous and immune activity in the GI tract, these benefits can impact not only our gut but other systems as well.  I have particularly seen that soothing the gut will in turn soothe the nerves and hypersensitivities.”  This was an “ah ha!” moment for me.  Soothing the gut as a way to sooth the nerves.  Of course, considering all the nerves that give us “gut feelings” and “butterflies” in our stomachs.

Third, marshmallow apple sauce tastes really good.  I can’t speak highly enough of having samples to try in class.  I’ve always functioned well in lecture-style academia, but I take in more and find it easier to stay present in classes when there are herbs to taste, smell, touch.  From Betzy’s marshmallow apple sauce and chia pudding to Robin Rose Bennett’s rose-infused honey to Lupo Passero’s grounding spritzer and Jenn Allen’s chunk of pinon pine resin, there were so many good scents and tastes, even before entering the dining hall.

The view from my "home" at the WHC.

The view from my “home” at the WHC.

All that is not to mention getting to camp out in the New Hampshire woods in my sweet little two-person tent that goes up as easy as making your bed.  I camped right up against the trees, and in the mornings I woke up to acorns dropping down from above and rolling off the dome of my tent.

Even that’s not to mention the people:  Running into friends from previous “herb camps” and chatting with herbalists and students of herbalism from all over.  Learning from teachers’ experiences, insights, and stories.  Witnessing performances by folks like singer/songwriter Guadalupe Urbina (whose songs have been known to work their way into your dreams), drummer Mz. Imani (who will get you up out of your seat), and silk aerialist Amy Glasser (who has superpowers).

Gorgeous people and decor in the big tent at the WHC's closing circle.

Gorgeous people and decor in the big tent at the WHC’s closing circle.

And I’ve hardly touched on the variety of activities:  Walking the labyrinth at night.  Opportunities to learn about everything from insulin resistance to sacred beekeeping.  Hot cups of chai in the morning from Tulsi Tea and gorgeous artwork and herbwork in the emporium.  All this in a venue that is set up to protect you from the elements as necessary but is fundamentally outdoors.

I must mention the class that I was, perhaps, most excited about this year: Robin Rose Bennett’s talk on wild carrot.  As a woman who has made a conscious choice not to have children, birth control is near and dear to me.  At the same time, it can be a frustrating subject:  The options are limited and none of them are ideal…but that’s a whole other blog post.  I have sometimes thought that I’d love to hear more talk about birth control in herbal circles:  How could herbs be used to support one’s body when on hormonal birth control?  How can we look at birth control options from a wholistic perspective?  Are there any non-mainstream methods of birth control that are viable options?  And so on.  So, when I saw that Robin would be teaching a class on using wild carrot for birth control, I may have actually cheered, and it was the first class to go on my schedule.  I was impressed by Robin’s up front but generous manner in teaching this class, and in sharing the advantages as well as contraindications of this method, as well as by her obvious love for this plant.  (If this is something you’re interested in finding out more about, read Robin’s book The Gift of Healing Herbs.  There is a section specifically on wild carrot, but I’ll bet you end up reading the whole book.)

One of the most nourishing aspects of this conference is the teachers’ and participants’ willingness to speak so compassionately and passionately on such a range of issues, from prickly ones like contraception to the knock-you-down hard ones like grief, trauma, pain, to the things that mainstream society often dismisses as extracurricular, like fragrance, ritual, dance, drums, song.  Considering how safe and comforting this conference feels, it can be surprising to reflect on the ways in which it continues to gently but firmly push aside the status quo.  I’ve only been to three years of this 28-year-old conference, but each year I’ve attended has been more nourishing, more inspiring, and also more fun than the last.  Here’s to next year!

 

*“Demulcent” herbs are soothing, nourishing, and protecting, also mucilaginous, emollient, “slimy.”


Shoutout: New England Women’s Herbal Conference

I just wanted to give a big shout-out to the New England Women’s Herbal Conference.  After all, this conference, which takes place in late August, has over 60 fabulous workshops for all levels, fire circles, dancing, drumming and earth ceremonies, Circle within A Circle for teenage women, Kids Kamp for 2-12 year olds, crafts, hands on activities, herb walks, canoeing, swimming, massage & oasis for relaxation… What more could you ask for?  PLUS, they’ve extended the Early Bird deadline to June 15th, so now’s a great time to save on entry.  Click here for more info and to register.

Full disclosure:  I’ve been working on some social networking for the conference, so don’t forget to wander over and follow https://www.facebook.com/womensherbalconference for you Facebookers and http://twitter.com/womens_herbal for Tweeters.

 


Dear Cooper’s: What the Frack?

Dear Cooper’s Lake Campground,

I thought we really had something.  When I first met you, you were healthy and full of life.  I loved contemplating the lake and sitting under the shade of your tall trees.  Walking from Merchant’s to Camp, I’d end up out of breath and then collapse into my tent, and sleep like I never sleep away from you.  Even the noise from the road took on the quality of waves, or breath.

We celebrated Pennsic together.  You introduced me to a lot of your friends, who have become dear friends of mine.  I met Logan at the intersection of Free Will and Good Intentions.  I have a lot to thank you for, Cooper’s, and not just for two weeks a year.

I thought it would last forever.

But Cooper’s, now I hear you’ve been thinking about fracking around on me.  You’ve even signed some sort of agreement to frack on your grounds, under the trees where the woods battles used to be held.  When I heard, I was livid.  You say you’ll use protection.  You say you’ll get tested.  But don’t you know you’re endangering your own health as well as mine?

Here in Vermont, they’ve banned fracking.  Say what you like about our relationships with trees, but we’re not prudes.  It’s even legal to walk around naked in public!  Just so long as you’re not being lewd or lascivious – or fracking.

I’ve loved you for ten years now, Cooper’s.  I’m not going to break up with you via blog.  I’ll come back just once, to say goodbye.  But once you and your new buddies have fracked, it’s over.

Kristen

PS:  I hope we can find a new home for Pennsic.  You say you don’t understand why you should give up custody, but I think Pennsic deserves to be somewhere healthy, with fresh air and water.  Your fracking is a bad influence. Pennsic XXXVIII


Book Review: The Night Circus

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Imagine, if you will, a circus.  Or maybe a carnival, since you walk through it from act to act.  This carnival has the artistry of Cirque du Soleil, is completely in black and white, only opens at night, shows up unannounced – and some of the acts might be real magic.

The Night Circus, by Erin Morgenstern, has an interesting and compelling story with a satisfying ending, but the real reason I kept turning the page was that I wanted to spend just a few more sentences in the richly-textured world of this carnival.  This book has as strong a sense of place as any story I’ve read – and you won’t want to leave.

The Night Circus has been getting a lot of buzz, and is already a bestseller, so maybe it doesn’t really need more attention.  But this book is the most delightful novel for adults that I can think of, so I’m posting this anyway :)

Why’s it particularly boho?  Who hasn’t, at some point, at least daydreamed of running away to join a circus?  (Extra points if you or a friend has actually done this.)


Acts of Beauty, and Some Late-Night Giggling

Windelbahn. Turf Labyrinth Prussia. For a Pelicaning. Pic tak... on TwitpicYou remember how I resolved not to feel sorry for myself about not making it to Pennsic this year?  I’m doing a good job.  After a month of traveling, it’s great to be back home.  Still, I have whiled away a few minutes here and there looking for news of Pennsic.  This evening, I was surprised to come across a Twitter account by the guy I knew only as that-guy-who-draws-chalk-labyrinths-at-pennsic.

Labyrinth,PennsicPavement is ugly.  There isn’t a ton of it at Pennsic, but there’s enough that I welcome seeing it transformed from plain old blacktop into a labyrinth (or, sometimes, a sundial).  One Pennsic evening last year, I was tired and hungry, so we went to that-place-that-serves-hotdogs-really-late.  What should be in front of it but a giant labyrinth!  (Pictured here.)  Logan and I walked all the way to the center together, and then I ran all the way out.  It was fun and silly and grounding and a bit strange – to be dressed in garb, running through a labyrinth, late at night, in front of a hot dog stand.  Absolutely made the evening.  Many thanks, Labyrinth Guy!


There and Back Again (or, Ireland is More Considerate than Pennsic)

Help!  The Vikings are coming!

I’m back!  I can’t cover the month I just spent in Ireland in one post, so I’ll offer you bits and pieces over the next several blog posts.  For the time being, I’ll say that I had brilliant conversations with people from all over the world, tons of tea, gorgeous walks through breathtaking land (sprinkled with historic and prehistoric sites, not to mention an astounding variety of wildflowers – many medicinal), and a generally rockin’ time.

I’ve become spoiled:  I seem to have these sorts of experiences every time I go to Ireland.  When I’m not there, I enjoy knowing that Ireland is going about its business – experiencing challenges for sure, but going on being an extraordinary place year in and year out.

I’m going to miss Pennsic* this year, but (since I just spent a month traveling) I’m determined not to feel sorry for myself.  I still can’t help but watch the calendar to see when Pennsic starts, and I’m debating whether I could get away with wearing some garb each day in solidarity.  (No debate, really.  Vermont’s a safe haven for hippie skirts and peasant shirts.)  Because Pennsic, unlike Ireland, only exists in the real world for two weeks every year.  Something I’m finding bleeding inconsiderate this summer.

When you’re there, though, that’s part of Pennsic’s charm.  Come July 30th, my consolation will be knowing that Pennsic is going about its business, and that the combined imaginations of all the people there are making it an extraordinary, if ephemeral, place.

*a.k.a. the strange festival where I met my boyfriend.


Pennsic Postmortem

Packing away Pennsic garb and supplies is something like packing away Christmas decorations: There’s a bit of nostalgia in seeing them go, but they wouldn’t be so special if you kept them out all year.  (Of course, with some creative mixing and matching, I find it’s pretty easy to wear garb in everyday life.  Especially when you live in Vermont.   So not everything gets packed away.)

Pennsic often has some of that that Christmas-must-be-perfect vibe – you know, that strained sort of “we must have fun!  WHY aren’t we HAVING FUN!” feeling.  But this was a particularly low key year and I found that vibe was completely missing – and good riddance to it!  Holidays are much more festive when they’re allowed to come as they are.

I think any feeling of “This holiday must be perfect eeeEEEE!” is a sign that there are not enough holidays going around.  So, among my many other projects, I’m starting a calendar of sundry and diverse holidays.  Then I will see how many I can manage to celebrate.  Keep an eye out for the calendar.  Probably sometime after Christmas, because lord knows I’ll have tons to do if everything’s going to be just exactly right for our Yuletide Season!

(Just kidding about that last bit.  In my family we spend all of Christmas in our PJs and only change out of them to go for a crisp-winter-air, kicking-through-the-snowdrifts sort of walk.)

Many thanks to everyone who helped make my week and a half at Pennsic a relaxing, colorful, generally rockin’ holiday.  May you have many such occasions throughout the year!


Puck, Pennsic, and the Man of la Mancha (A Frivolous, Festive Friday)

This cartoon, from xkcd, always cracks me up.  For being both green-related and creative, it’s earned it’s place this Frivolous Friday.  Here’s to the Man of la Mancha: I will always get teary watching that film, no matter how much of a sap it makes me.

It is, perhaps, not a non sequitur to segue from Don Quixote into announcing that I’m now 99% sure I’m going to visit Pennsic this year.  (What’s Pennsic?  This is Pennsic.)  That’s right, I will be reporting from on the ground at Cooper’s Lake, though with a several-day delay because, my friends, I am leaving my Glowing Rectangle safe at home.  This is some festive news, which makes this a Festive Friday, too.

A (somewhat belated) Happy Midsummer to all.  Here, we celebrated a laid-back St. John’s Eve with a fire in the firepit and fresh strawberries with cocoa scones.  Now, goodnight and a puckish weekend to you.