I managed to reattach the grommet I had popped on my new pouch. After reattaching it I took some heavy black thread and couched both grommets. They should now be immune to pulling out and as an added bonus the pouch looks much nicer. The black thread tends to blend in with the trim and the very fabric itself. I find myself thinking that I should have done that from the get go…
This past weekend at Faire was a wild one to say the least. In addition to insane weather which included rain, tornados, and searing heat there was FOF feast. There was so much food left over they continued it on Sunday. I just couldn’t believe how much food there was.
As I was getting ready in the morning before faire I noticed I had popped a rivit on my mug strap. I have had that strap since I started coming to faire 10 years ago and really would reather not part with it so I found a vendor willing to fix it for me. To do so I had to remove my belt. They fixed it in no time flat, but that of course left me beltless. When I went to FOF to reassemble myself I found that I had also broken my camera pouch. I somehow managed to stretch the leather enough to pull the belt loop off the three rivets that held it in place.
A few hours laetr I managed to break my over the shoulder pouch that I’ve been using for CD’s…
Not a good garb weekend… I did finally manage to work the rivits back through the leather and get the pouch back together but I didn’t trust it enough to use it.
Well last ngiht I stopped into Hobby Lobby and bought a sewing awl to make a better repair of my pouch. I have never done any leather work before so I was a bit nervous about it. To my utter surprise it went quite well. In an hour I managed to sew pretty straight lines of stitching above the two rows of rivits on my camera pouch. It is my hope that it will now hold up and be immune to any more problems. I even pulled out the polyurethane glue and put a drop on each knot to keep it from untying on me.
I highly reccomend that glue, as it has managed to bond things previously thought to be immune to glue. 😀
Tonights project will be to attempt repair on my hanging pouch as I will be needing it for Sunday.
Happy Dave Day everyone. Dave Day? Yup, Dave Day. Aa buddy of mine (Yes his name is Dave ) has a party every year with his friends family neighbors etc on July 27. It is known as Dave Day. 🙂 So Happy Dave Day to all!
For anyone wondering I finished the latest Harry Potter book at 10:30 pm Saturday… I probably should not admit this on here but oh well.. I read about 1/4 of it on the drive on the tollway to Librertyville. Now before you lecture me on how dangerious that is keep in mind it was tollway driving on a friday during rushhour. Don’t forget I’m a fast reader and jsut so I appear even more wierd than normal I can temporarily take a mental picture of a few lines of the book long enough to read it in my head. So the time spent looking away from the road while driving was not all that great. I did feel a pnag or two of guilt when I saw the State Farm insurance billbord showing a guy reading a book in his car that said “Dumbest Library Ever”. So at least im not the only guy doing that 🙂
I find myself painfully reminded why I don’t read for pleasure all that often. Last night on a whim I picked up the latest Harry Potter book at Wal-Mart while grocery shopping. Now I know me, and I know this was a VERY bad thing to have done. Why did I do it? I find myself asking, well the answer is no better than the question itself… Anyway the point is rather than excersicing self control I opend the cover and began to read moments after getting home. I’m sure there are those that will argue for eitehr side as to how good the book is but that is besides the point. I have a problem, when I read any book for pleasure… I CAN’T PUT IT DOWN with out great pain… I am one of those loons that will sit and read a book cover to cover w/o stopping to notice time at all. I fored myself to leave this book in the car (yes I was reading it while driving, yes I know thats dangerous, yes I know…) today while at work or I would have accomplished nothing at all. Now I find myself sitting here nearly shaking like some drug addict looking for his next fix.. . I feel like half my mind is trapped in the darn thing and can’t get out until I finish that last page… I want to continue reading the book… I am already probably 1/4 of the way through it… Sigh.. only 15 mins to go before I can leave… I’m sure this disorder has somethign to do with why I work in a library, or perhaps the disorder came about becasue I work in a library. I’m pretty sure its the other way around though, as I’ve bene like this as long as I can remember. I remeber saturday mornign cartoons with the little commercial break things you know the public service announcements with “Captain O.G. Readmore” (yes I know the song if you are wondering) and I remember watching those PSA’s and identifying with the goofy cat…
Yes I know… Strange…
I am supposed to drive up to Libertyville to visit with friends and stay the night at their place to be closer to Faire this weekend but I’m not sure if I am going to or not. I find myself wanting to do nothign else but read the book… Also I haven’t yet packed anyhting for the weekend and don’t even know where to begin… That certainly slows down my packing and motivation…
Arrrgh… Oh well nearly time to go home…
Neisha just IMed me with a tidbit. The documentary that includes Thomas Neuendel is going to be on the Sundance channel.
Weekend number two has come and gone. This weekend like the one prior to it was hot. This weekend though was much hotter than last. I managed to keep myself well hydrated thanks to Bob, and the others at the friar. They, combined with FOF were a godsend. Saturday saw the return of Bounding Main for one of thier two apperances at Bristol. We were of course ready for them. We were asked to help them with a new audience participation thing where they start out with “Ahoy Audience!” and the audience yells back “Ahoy Bounding Main!!!”. We of course couldn’t resist playing with them. We smuggled in a dozen bags of the lunch pack size chips ahoy cookies. When the time came they yelled out “Ahoy Audience!” we yelled back “CHIPS AHOY BOUNDING MAIN!!!” and tossed our cookies. The resulting chaos and roars of laughter was well worth it. Best of all they took it in stride, laughing all the way. In fact it went over so well that we repeated it thier 3rd show. (You can’t do these things every time, or it’s expected…)
Towards the end of the day there was an impromptu revel at midsummers that brought back a flood of memories. By the time it was over I felt like I could walk on air. It is really hard to explain how much the revel and the music at faire really means to me.
Sunday brought even more heat and more importantly the return of Seelie Court!!! I left Tony’s apartment and took about 6 steps and decided that I was a fool to have thought I could wear my green doublet. I pulled it off and continued to faire having made the descision to buy a lightweight THIN doublet. When we finally got in the faire I was already sweating up a storm and had gone through one bottle of water and a bottle of propell fitness water Tony and Carrie gave me.
When I got in I met up with Seelie Court and mentioned my need to purchase lightweight clothing. After a little conversation I dragged Juli along and we hit House of Dra. It’s very odd not having Debbi there. Juli and ended up settling on one of the sleeveless shirts, wine in color. We rejected a bright red one because it, combined with my green cap made me look like a freakishly large Christmas lawn decoration. HOHOHO
After making my purchaase and stopping by Bob I met up again with Seelie Court and we wandered around before their first show. Jon played MacGregors perls for Craig of Farrington. Craig seemed to like it. We then proceded back stage to get ready for thier 1st show and I once again got ready to sell CD’s as 4 of 1 / Wohlers Media Player 🙂 (I had a bit of a surprise ready for that too)
When we started to approach Midsummers stage they had quite a large audience. The town criers had been workign their magic. The show went well I thoguht. At one point I sat a family down for the show. A few moments later Seelie started Kepper Jack and I volunteered thier older son. 🙂 The first show seemed to go by much to fast as Juli’s daughter and I got back into the swing of things and before I knew it it was over.
The day progressed on, the heat rose and the crowds dwindled. I popped into FOF garden a few times, Karl seemed to have his hands full manning the Water, Gatoraid and overheated FOFers. It was decided there would be another set at the former guildhall stage. To my own, and everyone elses surprise I managed to sell a CD to a man from Quebec before the 1st song was even over.
Towards the end of the day there was a nice sing-a-long set at the old wash well with Jon, Jess, Lindsay, David and Heather. That set lasted for a good 30 minutes or so and everyone seemed to have a great time. When that set was over a bunch of musicians “accidentally” ran into each other over by the former guildhall stage. That set was wonderful too. While the set was going on there was a huge audience that gathered around to watch. The audience was made up of a LOT of the Bristol “regular” music fans. It’s funny how the grapevine works around faire. By the time that set was over I was compleetly wiped, but extreemly happy none the less.
We finished up the day with dinner at Perkins, Seelie joined us and we had a pretty good dinner.
I was challanged by a friend to write a 6 word novel. I figure ok that’s about my attention span anyway. 🙂 So here is what I came up with.
Horse lept. Spirits soared. Earth returned.
Not really sure where that came from but I think it works.
This was forwarded to me by my friend Molly. I have been unable to find the author.
WARNING! Do NOT eat or drink anything while you read this– you may choke laughing!
I never dreamed slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Little did I suspect.
I was on Brice Street – a very nice neighborhood with perfect lawns and slow traffic. As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me.
It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it — it was that close. I hate to run over animals, and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me.
I barely had time to brace for the impact. Animal lovers, never fear.
Squirrels, I discovered, can take care of themselves!
Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing my oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his beady little eyes.
His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt!
I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for, “Bonzai!” or maybe, “Die you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!” The leap was nothing short of spectacular…
He shot straight up, flew over my windshield, and impacted me squarely in the chest. Instantly, he set upon me. If I did not know better, I would have sworn he brought 20 of his little buddies along for the attack.
Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light T-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage!
Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and leather gloves, puttering at maybe 25 mph down a quiet residential street, and in the fight of his life with a squirrel.
I grabbed for him with my left hand. After a few misses, I finally managed to snag his tail. With all my strength, I flung the evil rodent off to the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw. That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there.
It really should have. The squirrel could have sailed into one of the
pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser. But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary angry squirrel. This was an EVIL MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH!
Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands and, with the force of the throw, swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact, he landed squarely on my BACK and resumed his rather antisocial and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him! The situation was not improved. Not improved at all.
His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him. I was
startled, to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one result.
This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it.
The engine roared and the front wheel left the pavement.
The squirrel screamed in anger.
The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy.
I screamed in .. well .. I just plain screamed.
Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel-torn t-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, and roaring at maybe 50 mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street on one wheel, with a demonic squirrel of death on his back.
The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder.
With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike.
This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody’s tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle… my brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little effect against the massive power of the big cruiser.
About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient
attention to this very serious battle (maybe he was an evil mutant NAZI attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got INSIDE my full-face helmet with me.
As the faceplate closed part way, he began hissing in my face. I am quite sure my screaming changed intensity. It had little effect on the squirrel, however. The RPMs on the Dragon maxed out (since I
was not bothering with shifting at the moment), so her front end started to drop.
Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very raggedly torn T-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, roaring at probably 80 mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel’s tail sticking out of the mostly closed full-face helmet. By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse.
Finally I got the upper hand … I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked … sort-of.
Spectacularly sort-of ….so to speak.
Picture a new scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork. Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn T-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing only one leather glove, moving at probably 80 mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by, and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car.
I heard screams.
They weren’t mine…
I managed to get the big motorcycle under control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign of a busy cross street. I would have returned to ‘fess up (and to get my glove back).
I really would have. Really… Except for two things.
First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. When I looked back, the doors on both sides of the patrol car were flung wide open. The cop from the passenger side was on his back, doing a crab walk into somebody’s front yard, quickly moving away from the car. The cop who had been in the driver’s seat was standing in the street, aiming a riot shotgun at his own police car.
So, the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to “let the
professionals handle it” anyway.
That was one thing. The other?
Well, I could clearly see shredded and flying pieces of foam and
upholstery from the back seat. But I could also swear I saw the squirrel in the back window, shaking his little fist at me. That is one dangerous squirrel. And now he has a patrol car. A somewhat shredded patrol car … but it was all his.
I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made a gentle right turn off of Brice Street, and sedately left the neighborhood. I decided it was best to just buy myself a new pair of gloves. And a whole lot of Band-Aids.