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Pixies and Pirates

June 22, 2010 - 9:34pm -- swingbug

“Jenny, get you ass out here.”

I’m standing in front of my neighbor’s house holding a black garment bag. I’m wearing a flaming red knee length chiffon dress with a black leather corset and there is a tree branch decked out in red and silver berries that appears to be eating my head.

“Why? I look more ridiculous than you do,” Jenny called through the crack in the door. I can see the flash and fluff of feathers as she’s shouldering her gear.

Down the street a group of my neighbors – who were moving a sofa into a house down the way until I came out front – have stopped dead still, staring at me with wide eyes.

“I know. That’s why I want you to come out here.”

I spent my Saturday prepping for a ballet performance. Rehearsals and pictures and blocking in the tomato red dress. When I went into Rite-Aid to purchase the makeup for this ensemble, I felt like I needed to justify my purchase to the clerk. I don’t care for makeup and I am not exceptionally comfortable picking it out to begin with. But when I walked up to the counter with false eyelash glue, black and silver eye shadow, and lipstick so bright that “Certainly Red” is all the manufacturers could think of to describe it, I felt an overwhelming need to clarify to the Rite-Aid clerk that I was not actually a whore, professionally speaking.

This must be the pirate part, you’re saying to yourself. Nope. This is the pixie part. The piece I’m performing in is called Forest and we’re playing something in the way for forest fairies.

Are you picturing Tinkerbell and trying to reconcile that vision with feathers and leather?

Clearly, I’m not that kind of fairy.

Actually, many of the forest fairies are beautiful and rather sweet looking. Somehow I always get cast as the evil one.

I wonder why that is....

Sunday I set aside the fairy ensemble and did a quick change, heading out to the NorCal Pirate Festival in Vallejo with my family. We’d never been and always wanted to go. On Father’s Day, my husband declared it as his fondest wish, so off we went. Check this out. The pirate festival had free admittance, free parking, and it was awesome. Highly recommended, if you’re of the inclination. Highlights included a canon fight between ship and shore, some stellar costumes, and a pretty good helping of calamari. Luke scored a pop-gun which he faithfully promised not to use on the cat. (Meeko, I’m not sure the pirate code applies to felines, strictly speaking, and it’s more like guidelines anyway. I’d keep a sharp eye.)

I took along one of those boxes with the demon inside who paints your picture, so you can check out his fine artwork in my media section.

Arriving back home after a long drive, I walked around the car to the trunk to retrieve my stowed weapons, pulling my hat off my head and tugging loose my braids as I went. Those same neighbors were out in front of their house having a beer. I waved, and then realized I was waving with the arm carrying the dagger and rapier. I pushed them behind my back and smiled instead.

Best part after a weekend like this? Loosening the corset strings. God bless my jeans and t-shirt, and huzzah for the 21st century.

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