Lesser case of horizontal feline paralysis today - only forty-five - TopicsExpress



          

Lesser case of horizontal feline paralysis today - only forty-five minutes of mandatory cuddles before the cat bit me and left. Concomitantly, I arrived at Dickens Fair an hour earlier today. I wore a fairly subtle tan herringbone plaid jacket, a WahMaker Latigo waistcoat I bought in 2000 as part of one of the outfits for a Victorian/Edwardian weekend I programmed (with enormous admin help from Danine Cozzens) in Eureka - its shiny, with vertical stripes in different colors (sage green, brown, tan, with figures in the stripes; more coherent than it sound) and which it hadnt occurred to me to wear to DickFair before last year - some Victorian repro trousers, brown with a white stripe - held up by some button suspenders Deborah Rush brought me back from a trip to England with her parents, and a wing-tip collar Victorian shirt with a yellow-ivory tie with figures. Not convinced the wing-tip thing works; Im not getting these things starched and if you dont do that the wing-tips dont read; besides, I most fancy myself in tall collars. (Against all advice, I might add.) Warm and humid again, and pretty crowded when I got there. Still had a nice several hours of dancing, including a delightful Tales from the Vienna Woods with a first-time-for-me partner and an epic Blue Danube with a long-time favorite; Lord Byrons Fancy with a little girl who got hold of it pretty quickly, although held back by some unwillingness to actually look at anybody directly; several polkas (still walking!), and a Congress of Vienna with Mrs. Fezziwig herself, who does a fine job on the one vast substantial smile (which is very nearly all the characterization Dickens gives her). Tried to get back to Sals - Ive been hoping to wish Laura Gregory a belated happy birthday in person - but no luck. First break went off in shirtsleeves and felt (all internally) that I was letting the side down when I looked at a couple of eminent Victorians in heavy wool coats; went out at the second break in coat and top hat with walking stick, and regretted it. (Get all warm and sweaty dancing and immediately put a coat on top of that - its dumb! Another reason why Im not a Fezziwigger.) Stayed through the Hallelujah Chorus, dressed again in coat and top hat, and headed back to my car, which was about a block further away than usual, down Argonaut street. A large black man spotted me in full gear and didnt blink; he just tried to bum a cigarette from me. HIs sang-froid impressed me so much I regretted not having one to give him. Stripped to the skin above the waist in the street outside the car; I was saturated from undershirt to coat, and put on a dry shirt. On the way home listened to some of To the Best of Our Knowledge on the radio; heard an interesting piece about digital memorials, including people deliberately interacting with the Facebook pages of their dead loved ones, in a first-and-second-person conversational way. The guest made the point that whats different isnt us talking to dead people; its that we now we do it where others can listen in. When they moved on to the upload-your-personality-into-a-computer guy I started listening to the BBC News Quiz podcast on my phone and thought it exceptionally good, laughing my way down the freeway. Stopped at Trader Joes for provisions. Saw all kinds of seasonal stuff that Vanessa used to pick up, like the Brandy Beans, as well as the pesky chocolate stars. Didnt get any of them. While I was looking for my preferred credit card - theres about 50 things in the zip-lock bag I use as a wallet - its cheap, not extra bulky, and waterproof - found a Trader Joes gift card which I think Id harvested post-mortem from Vanessas purse, and it turned out to have 20 bucks credit on it, so I was glad to use it and have one fewer thing to carry around. Home, put groceries away, interacted with pesky cat, started laundry, microwaved a tasty eggplant parmigiana dish from TJs and drank most of a pineapple cider (interesting, but the pear is better). Home, tired, reasonably snug; hoping you are all well. No more dancing until Woodshed on Tuesday.
Posted on: Mon, 08 Dec 2014 06:47:53 +0000

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