Sunday, Sunday, Sunday
Jan. 12th, 2003 09:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
quislibetWhen I woke up this morning...
Sorry, I feel I should pause for a blues riff here.
Anyway.
When I woke up this morning, I managed at length (*1) to convince myself that I still wanted to go down (*2) into town for the Fetish Fair Fleamarket. I was supposed to meet up with mishak's roommate, without immediate success, but I did run into mishak himself and couplingchaos, and we wandered 'round. CC tried on a brocade corset made in Pennsylvania by Amish seamstresses. That such a thing exists to be tried on is excellent.
After my erstwhile window-shopping companions departed for a movie, I discovered someone else I knew, J.'s old roommate. I accompanied him on a quest to find the people he was supposed to meet, one of whom I actually had met before, so that's something. We found them. I wandered with them until they decided to go to a workshop on Florentine flogging, which apparently involves the SCAdian definition of "Florentine" rather than the culinary, so two floggers but no spinach.
At that point I did find mishak's roommate G. (it is only a coincidence that I should be describing so many people in terms of being roommates of other people), who was just about to leave and had missed the meetup time because of parking problems.
Now on my own, I bought an object which I scrupled to buy in the presence of J.'s former roommate, as for various reasons that would have been awkward.
After the fair closed, I went to Borders and cashed in a gift certificate which, along with six dollars of real money, enabled me to buy the "Fellowship of the Ring" extended DVD set. Coffee and a cinnamon roll from their cafe also cost as much out of pocket, which is a terrible, terrible thing, especially as the cinammon roll bordered (ha) on being a terrible, terrible thing. It was, at the least, quite stale.
A block away I gave some change to a guy sitting there with a cardboard sign that read, "Cold, broke, sober, and ugly."
So while I'd like to say that the bruises now on my butt had something to do with the Fetish Fair, in truth that is so only in the tangential sense that on my way home from it I slipped and fell on the stairs at North Station (in which case a mere bruised butt is really the best possible outcome). While this incident happened elsewhere, I was nonetheless as a result inspired to do something at last about the ice on the brick sidewalk here at home, and so before even entering my house I hung (*3) my bags on the doorknob and picked up hoe and shovel. It ended up taking nearly an hour of labor to chip a foot-wide path in the ice the length of "our" stretch of sidewalk. And I broke the hoe.
(I'd like to say that breaking hoes was somehow related to the Fetish Fair, but this is also not the case.)
Still not done with hard labor involving frozen things, I decided I wanted a medium-rare hamburger made from naturally raised beef topped with Stilton and sauteed mushrooms. This involved sawing off part of the frozen beef, as I did not wish to defrost it all. The solid block of deep-frozen Wolfe's Neck Farm beef (check them out next time you're in Freeport, ME) resisted me, but I conquered it at length and turned it into warmer food.
After bashing my arm in the abovementioned fall, wielding something like a pick, and sawing frozen foods, I am now wearing a wristband to fight forearm pain, a flareup of something carpal-tunnel-ish which hasn't bothered me for a long time.
So the carpal tunnel pain also really has nothing to do with the Fetish Fair, as such.
In fact I *did* hear the corset designer who employs Amish seamstresses telling someone that his doctor has no sympathy for the carpal tunnel problems he, the designer, faces, but perhaps it's just that the doctor disapproves of corset-making.
Had I wanted, I could have rounded out the day by watching "Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey" dubbed into Spanish.
-----
(*1) I said, "length."
(*2) I said, "go down."
(*3) Etc.
Sorry, I feel I should pause for a blues riff here.
Anyway.
When I woke up this morning, I managed at length (*1) to convince myself that I still wanted to go down (*2) into town for the Fetish Fair Fleamarket. I was supposed to meet up with mishak's roommate, without immediate success, but I did run into mishak himself and couplingchaos, and we wandered 'round. CC tried on a brocade corset made in Pennsylvania by Amish seamstresses. That such a thing exists to be tried on is excellent.
After my erstwhile window-shopping companions departed for a movie, I discovered someone else I knew, J.'s old roommate. I accompanied him on a quest to find the people he was supposed to meet, one of whom I actually had met before, so that's something. We found them. I wandered with them until they decided to go to a workshop on Florentine flogging, which apparently involves the SCAdian definition of "Florentine" rather than the culinary, so two floggers but no spinach.
At that point I did find mishak's roommate G. (it is only a coincidence that I should be describing so many people in terms of being roommates of other people), who was just about to leave and had missed the meetup time because of parking problems.
Now on my own, I bought an object which I scrupled to buy in the presence of J.'s former roommate, as for various reasons that would have been awkward.
After the fair closed, I went to Borders and cashed in a gift certificate which, along with six dollars of real money, enabled me to buy the "Fellowship of the Ring" extended DVD set. Coffee and a cinnamon roll from their cafe also cost as much out of pocket, which is a terrible, terrible thing, especially as the cinammon roll bordered (ha) on being a terrible, terrible thing. It was, at the least, quite stale.
A block away I gave some change to a guy sitting there with a cardboard sign that read, "Cold, broke, sober, and ugly."
So while I'd like to say that the bruises now on my butt had something to do with the Fetish Fair, in truth that is so only in the tangential sense that on my way home from it I slipped and fell on the stairs at North Station (in which case a mere bruised butt is really the best possible outcome). While this incident happened elsewhere, I was nonetheless as a result inspired to do something at last about the ice on the brick sidewalk here at home, and so before even entering my house I hung (*3) my bags on the doorknob and picked up hoe and shovel. It ended up taking nearly an hour of labor to chip a foot-wide path in the ice the length of "our" stretch of sidewalk. And I broke the hoe.
(I'd like to say that breaking hoes was somehow related to the Fetish Fair, but this is also not the case.)
Still not done with hard labor involving frozen things, I decided I wanted a medium-rare hamburger made from naturally raised beef topped with Stilton and sauteed mushrooms. This involved sawing off part of the frozen beef, as I did not wish to defrost it all. The solid block of deep-frozen Wolfe's Neck Farm beef (check them out next time you're in Freeport, ME) resisted me, but I conquered it at length and turned it into warmer food.
After bashing my arm in the abovementioned fall, wielding something like a pick, and sawing frozen foods, I am now wearing a wristband to fight forearm pain, a flareup of something carpal-tunnel-ish which hasn't bothered me for a long time.
So the carpal tunnel pain also really has nothing to do with the Fetish Fair, as such.
In fact I *did* hear the corset designer who employs Amish seamstresses telling someone that his doctor has no sympathy for the carpal tunnel problems he, the designer, faces, but perhaps it's just that the doctor disapproves of corset-making.
Had I wanted, I could have rounded out the day by watching "Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey" dubbed into Spanish.
-----
(*1) I said, "length."
(*2) I said, "go down."
(*3) Etc.
