Armed for Bear

It's 9:45 AM on Saturday. I have been up for about half an hour. Am sitting on my futon, sipping Irish Breakfast tea and eating some dry breakfast cereal, despite neither being thirsty nor hungry. A fella has to fortify himself. This is the LAST weekend of the Renaissance Faire, and I am bound –slash-determined to go, coughing or not, sick or not. Time and festivals wait for no man. Or hobbit. Whatever.

My friend Richard is coming over to drive me. I have about an hour and a half to get totally awake (switching from hot tea to Red Bull) and getting dressed for the Faire. I'm supposed to meet an online friend at the Faire, who sells some sort of jewelry and who also runs some sort of live-action role playing Vampire game, to which I have a standing invitation as soon as I feel better.

It should be fun, or at least entertaining, to see people running around in the dark with vampire fangs on, But first things first, taking fistfuls of pills for various AIDSy things, sinusy things, fevery things, and one thing that was either a Flintstones' chewable or someone's birth control.

Thus armed for bear, I am sitting here, typing while waiting for the second cup of tea to steep. I know today will wear me the hell out. But I don't care. Been house-bound for weeks, and am looking forward to having some serious fun. Several online Dungeons and Dragons friends should be there as well, so it will be a reunion of sorts.

It's been a long time since I have had outdoor fun, and I am looking forward to spending time with one of my best friends in town, drinking mead from a wooden cup, staying irritatingly in character, and probably either climbing/falling out of a tree and/or taking a nap at a picnic table at some point.

And did I mention jousting? They have jousting. And jugglers. My only regret is that I can't bring the ferrets in a pouch on my back, like the Beastmaster did in those terrible movies from the eighties.

My mom and my doctor both advised against going this year, by the way. Said I should wait until I was much better. But you know something? Opportunities don't shake down like that. Windows open, full of sweet spring air, and then close again. And who knows where any of us will be this time next year? Or WHO we will be?

I have plenty of time to be sick. I know, I've been taking it. But today, I will be a wanderer from the Shire, drinking too much mead, gnawing on badly cooked meat on a stick, kissing wenches, and dancing to wandering minstrels. Tomorrow I might not even be able to get out of bed.

Today, though, I am Dimli Miniwine, halfling, young, happy, whole, and hale.