08 August 2005

Forecast and Aftermath ...

I rousted Cory at ten this morning to have a shower and pack up his stuff ... Ernie and Linda weren't far behind. We listened to some of the CD's we got at the Folk Fest, had fresh honey ginger lemonade, popovers and (not chana ... it can't be chana masala without chickpeas and we used lentils ... the kids called it Auntie Lynn Masala) masala for breakfast. Mary came to pick them up a little before noon ... we told each other stories of the last few days and watched Stevie's brand new DVD that I got from him yesterday at the Folk Fest, then they loaded up and left to get Cory to work on time. I puttered about ineffectively 'til I surrendered to the nap gods. I haven't yet checked to see if I have any pictures or not ... I took the camera out a couple of times and pointed it at things but it was either too bright or too dark to check to see what I'd taken for pictures.

What the fridge magnets said this weekend:
be cool as rain
tell spring about love

I want me so over you

gorgeous garden goddess
watch you sweat
producing essential summer gifts

true beauty is beneath

boy delerious dream of hot girl

drool for eternity

road shot

please only like luscious red blood

never shake mad puppy on chain

feet leave bitter smell in my bed

life is like pounding head

blow a forest whisper
but in a day shine delicate power

need not death or love sag with juice

man is shadow of music

ugly dress would beat your vision out

I lick sweet iron scream repulsive egg

I trudge thousand white moon tongues

diamond rose under enormous chocolate fiddle

it with finger run pink smear on most honey sausage

to incubate mother is thinking franticly

me like purple rock fluff

ask your woman to go to sleep

behind drunk friend lies

The kids think I know so many people and were asking if I know them all from outside the Folk Fest, or if I met some of them there. Once I thought about it, I realized that I first met Pete and another Pete and another Pete and another Pete there. Weird, eh?

There are people I see only there ... we catch up once a year and carry on. I miss them if I miss a year connecting with them. Life taken in one-year slices is about big things ... marriages, going clean and sober, babies, illnesses, career changes, deaths, grandchildren, so many big things. A friend I've known for a dozen years but have never seen anywhere else had a Cochlear implant in December and had it activated in January. He was hard of hearing enough that he could hear that his father was speaking, but not what he was saying. He'd never heard his wife giggle. He's still moved to tears each time he hears a friend's voice for the first time ... and then there's the music. I wonder if his speech will change, now that he can hear others speaking. It would be very strange to hear him speak differently.

Brandon phoned this morning to say he'd forgotten how tiring the Folk Fest is. You'd think two evenings and two full days lolling about in the sun listening to fantastic music would be relaxing ...

Thursday's a breeze ... tarp, blanket, extra clothing layers (wet weather gear if the forecast calls for it), water bottles, binoculars, camera, sunblock, bug goo, distributed among the backpacks ("It doesn't matter if that's hers, you're carrying it 'cuz she's little and can't carry as much. It's okay if you carry his hoodie, it's lighter than your water bottle and program." Etc.) and you're set! Head over at four or five in the afternoon, plop down and enjoy ... take the kids down the hill for food a couple of times and to check out the merchandise tent ... pack up by eleven and shoehorn ourselves and our gear onto a bus home ... probably in bed by midnight ... unless it rains, then add half an hour for dealing with wet gear.

Friday's about the same with an extra layer 'cuz it runs a bit later, and the programs we bought Thursday ... pack up by midnight and leave soon after to do the bus shoehorning thing ... probably in bed by one or one-thirty ... unless it rains, then add half an hour for dealing with wet gear.

Saturday's a little more work ... get up at six-thirty to get everyone showered and fed and packed up to go (hurry!) ... to the tarp, blanket, extra clothing layers, water bottles, binoculars and camera, sun block, bug goo, program, add wet weather gear regardless of the forecast, tent (bless Pete's folx' hearts for taking it for us!), tie-dye to mark the tent (I'm going to paint the fly ... I'm tired of trying to get the tie-dye to stay put and of folx not being able to find it), fruit, snacky veggies, pretzels, olives, nuts, etc. (kids aren't fuel efficient) ... rush off to join Pete's folx in line to get in the gate (wait) ... grab a spot for the tent, get it and the tarp set up so it's ready when kids arrive (hurry!) ... take stock of who wants to do/see what when, figure out where and when we've agreed to meet various people and how we'll work it into the day ... take the kids down the hill for something to eat ... check out the merchandise tent ... go to workshops at a couple of different stages ... go find lunch for the kids and something sweet to eat on the way back up the hill to catch the mainstage show and brought-with food ... back down the hill for more workshops at various stages, visits to the crafts, merchandise and record-signing tents ... grab dinner and something sweet to eat on the way back up the hill for the mainstage show ... unload the tent onto the blankets, pack up the tent and tarp by ten-thirty or eleven for Pete's folx to take it home ... pack everything up by midnight and head out soon after for the bus/shoehorn routine ... probably in bed by one or one-thirty unless it rains, then add half an hour for dealing with wet gear.

Sunday's a repeat of Saturday, only everyone's more tired and sun/wind burnt, so it's a little harder to be efficient ... on the other hand, everything's pleasantly surreal ... unload the tent onto the blankets and strike the tent a bit earlier to make room ... pack everything up by eleven and pre-smooch everyone so we can make a break for it as soon as the finale's over ... Sunday night's bus is way more packed than the other nights' ... probably in bed by twelve-thirty or one ... wet gear can wait 'til morning.

Gawds, I'm tired! We sure had a lot of fun, though.

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