A couple of notes from the weekend

I’m back home, mostly all in one piece. My ankles have taken to ballooning up to three time their regular size in the evenings. I’m hoping this is a result of many miles on hard floors and will rectify itself in short order.

I met a bunch of new totally fantastic people, and got reacquainted with old friends.

If, in Texas, you ask if a food item is spicy and they say “no”, consider the fact that they are outright lying or have differently calibrated taste buds. Or both.

I learned a new way to eat raw oysters … on a cracker with cocktail sauce. The preferred way ‘round here is to slurp them down with cocktail sauce (if you want to get fancy, put it in a shot glass) and follow with a shot of beer.

Of the 70,000 to 100,000 people that were at the convention this weekend, I didn’t run into a single rude person. And with that many people in one space, there will be collisions. Everyone I ran into was unfailingly polite.

I got to ride in a car with JayG while he dealt with Houston rush hour traffic, a GPS that would spontaneously turn itself off, a cell phone that kept beeping at him for no good reason, and a loud rattle coming from the back end of the car. It was almost poetic listening to his commentary switch from one irritant to the next without missing a beat.

Breda gave me my first ever manicure. Purple sparkle rainbow polish.

My favorite vendor quote of the weekend: “You know when you’re in a firefight, and you run your gun dry and the slide locks back and you don’t notice …?”

Sorry, dude. No frame of reference. I try really hard to avoid firefights.

I’m in Houston.

I managed to miss the excitement at the airport yesterday.

It was in the 40’s this morning, and it’s still cold. I was coerced into packing a bathing suit for this trip. At least the hotel swimming pool is outside so I have an excuse to not put it on.

But it’s pretty awesome here. There are a lot of famous (to me) people here. I’ve been in a perpetual state of “squee” since dinner last night. I’m sitting in a very full press room right now looking around and I’m trying very hard to fit in. Being flanked at the table by these two doesn’t hurt.  

 

P.S. I just met Kathy.

Another Open Carry Update

I haven’t had much to update because it’s been too cold to do much open carrying, and because I don’t get much reaction locally.

Until this evening.

Sweet Daughter and I went to our favorite local restaurant and there were maybe only a half dozen tables filled. Our waiter was professional and polite, but near the end of the meal, another of our “regular” waitresses came over and said that our waiter was wondering why a woman was carrying a pistol in plain sight with a child sitting *right there*.

Being a raging introvert, I have a hard time quickly finding a common frame of reference when talking to a stranger, especially about guns. Tonight, my back, knee and ankle hurt. It was chilly and raining. I wasn’t in the mood to play ambassador, but too bad. When I OC, that’s what I am. So, instead of muttering “BECAUSE I CAN”, or jumping up on the table with a “Shall not be infringed!!!”, I smiled and told the waitress to send him over if he wanted to talk. Instead, she said “Oh, I just told him you were FBI.”

  Not even close.

So, as SD and I were paying the bill, our waiter came up and asked “Why?” Why did I carry a gun? Was I FBI? When I said “no”, he said … “Ah! Police state!” Once again, I replied in the negative. He insisted I was “police state”. Again, I denied it. And again. Finally, getting exasperated, I showed him the Hello Kitty stickers. “Police do not have Hello Kitty stickers on their magazines” I firmly stated. He seemed to agree.

 

He asked if I needed special permission to carry a pistol, and I explained that no, I did not if I carried it out in the open. I needed special permission only if I wanted to cover it up and I showed him my CHP.  He seemed genuinely interested in this odd phenomena, and again he asked … “Why? Why did I do such a thing?”

I pointed at Sweet Daughter and said “To keep her safe.”

Why???

“To keep her safe.” This time, I punctuated it with a look that indicated I was dead serious. And I saw the light bulb go on over his head and he smiled at me and nodded.

 

 

 

New Pockets

In the 18^th century, a woman wore her pockets on a tape tied around her waist, and accessed them through slits in the sides of her petticoats. My pockets were okay ... a bit on the farby side (one had machine embroidery, and the other was cotton ticking) when I decided that I needed new ones. They were 15 -20 years old and holding up well, but they were obsolete.

How, you ask?

They needed a separate compartment on the inside for a cell phone.

Don't judge. When you're the contact person for your unit, you need to be reachable.

Anyhow, I remembered hearing a suggestion that pockets were a good way to use scraps of 18th century printed fabric. So I made some, complete with lining, and flipped through some of my costuming books only to find that I had the construction details wrong.

So, I took them apart, bound them properly (one with scraps of the same cotton fabric, the other with twill tape) and wore them for the first time at the Battersea event. They worked like a charm, and will hopefully last me another 15 - 20 years. Or until modern technology demands an upgrade.

They have since been sewn onto a length of twill tape to tie around the waist.

False hope

Someone threw a Gander Mountain flier on my desk at work. At first I was excited, then I got suspicious. The date on it was from last September.

That was just mean.

Check up

Today was my six month check-up at the doctor to monitor my hypertension. While waiting, I studiously tried to ignore the CNN health channel that was playing in the waiting room. I was sewing the growth tucks back in SD’s gown where she had pulled them out last weekend when I hear “Warfarin”.

Rat poison??

I looked up, and the actors were discussing the Warfarin the elderly-ish father is taking. Aha. A blood thinner.  Fine. Whatever. Back to sewing when …

The next segment was about the dangers of sugar. They actually called it a “poison”.  I gritted my teeth, shrugged at the irony and kept sewing. It just underscored what we tell SD … the difference between medicine and poison is the dose.

The next segment? It featured Gabby Giffords.

Then they had a “chef” who took unhealthy recipes and made them unrecognizable  but healthy.  What did she do besides ruin a perfectly good fish chowder recipe?

She pronounced every single syllable in “Worcestershire Sauce”.

I’m surprised the doctor didn’t  end up doubling my Rx.

Battersea

Sweet Daughter and I headed down to Battersea Plantation last Friday afternoon for their annual 

Revolutionary War event. The forecast was calling for strong scattered thunderstorms all afternoon and evening. I don’t know what I did right in a previous life, but we got all set up and snug before the rain hit, and it did. Sideways. With gusto. Other than what blew in through the door flap, we stayed dry inside. SD read for a while, and when she finished her book, she entertained herself with shadow puppets. She thought it was absolutely hysterical that every time I untied the flaps to make a run to the porta potties, the heavens opened up and let loose.

 

Very funny.

The other part about this site is that it sits near a well-used railroad track. Tornado watch anyone? I finally just decided that if I heard a train and the tent was gone, we’d dive for the ditch behind us. No sense sitting up and worrying about the train/tornado question.

 

Saturday was beautiful. The AIT students from Ft. Lee were there, and they are always a pleasure to talk to. SD got to pick buttercups. The crowds weren't huge, but they were steady.There was a service for Major General Phillips and a battle reenactment. I wore my riding habit, and … got to sit on a horse! Of course, it was a last minute thing, and the pictures have the sun behind me, but … I got to get on a horse. I was thrilled.

 

Trying to get from the porch to the saddle sideways.

  

I really miss riding.

Sweet Daughter got a little horse-time, too.

They had 18th century dancing and SD learned a dance or two, and I reached back into dark, dim recesses of my memory and managed to keep up for the most part.

 

After the public left, they put on a dance just for the reenactors, with games and general jollification.

 

I cast a mighty fine shadow, if I do say so myself.

Sunday was cooler, but dry. There was a nice crowd for the battle. SD helped with the chores ...

 

 

... and went exploring. She made a friend for the weekend, and they had a blast running around exploring and whacking each other with wooden swords and the like. All in all a great weekend, and one of our favorite events!