Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

Both performances this weekend went well; both were also exhausting. I hurt less now than I did last night, but my back is really tight, my hands will only move at about 3/4 of normal speed, and I've got this Really Sore knot that extends from under my right armpit to above my right breast (can I say that?) and is restricting my range of motion in my right shoulder. OTOH, my knees are actually better than they were Friday afternoon. I was actually a little worried about driving home because I was so exhausted, but I made it back to Baltimore without needing to pull over and nap. Good thing, too: I didn't have enough gas to keep the engine running for warmth long enough for a nap.

Getting to the gig tonight was a real pain. I was running on fumes, so I had to bail off of I-95 to pump a couple dollars worth of gas, figuring that'd be enough to get me to the event and I could worry about fuel for the drive home later. That put me onto back roads, and also put me behind schedule. So discovering that Layhill Rd. in Wheaton was completely closed due to an accident was not fun. I wound up in a twisty maze of suburban built-all-at-once neighbourhood streets in a development that was completely unfamiliar to me (I know a lot of areas near there, but not the area betwen Lahill and Rt. 29), and it had lots of really long cul de sacs ("culs de sac"??) that I couldn't tell didn't go anywhere until I'd driven halfway down them, so I was lost and running out of gasoline again. There were enough turns and loops and switching direction at the ends of streets that the inertial navigation system in my head crashed and I had to rely on the "Well, the Atlantic ocean feels like it's a hundred miles behind me so I must be pointing West which is the direction I need to go to get to Georgia Ave." method of navigating unfamiliar ground in the dark. (Or maybe I was feeling the Chesapeake Bay, I'm not sure. (No, I'm not kidding, and it's why I tell people moving to the West Coast would confuse the heck out of me -- the nearest ocean would be in the wrong direction.)) And I couldn't reach John or Mike on their cell phones.

I finally got to the site after the event had started but with plenty of time to tune my guitars and eat a little bit. (I got to eat more after our set.) I arrived feeling frustrated, which meant also a little distracted, but I got over it.

(Last night, navigation wasn't a problem -- it was in Bowie, where even the parts I don't know well, I can't stay lost in (I grew up there) and there were no closed roads to divert me from my intended route anyhow. Last night I got to the gig in plenty of time, and went from the gig to my mother's house to help my youngest brother with algebra afterwards.)

I wore medieval garb both nights (Renaissance probably would've been more apropriate, but mine is missing ('nuther story there), and besides, I wasn't the only one in the band who wore medieval; the other option was my kilt, but I felt like wearing a tunic). Finished our set each night with my hatband and the front of my tunic both soaked through. There's a reason I call this "perspirational music". (Tonight I just felt weak; last night I was having trouble walking back to the green room because I was so exhausted when we stopped playing.) Last night three of us couldn't be there (two schedule conflicts and one snow-related injury). We sounded really good. Tonight all nine of us were present and we sounded even better. And we sounded more than 50% better. Sold 13 copies of our CD at the end of the evening tonight, which I figure can't be a bad thing given that we weren't the headliners. (I didn't see any promotional material for the event, but I figure the singing group hosting the event probably counts for top billing by default, right?) This was a dinner gig, which matters a lot to me right now. (Not eating all that well during the week -- budget problems -- so getting a proper meal as part of the deal for a gig helps me out a lot. Got fed last weekend as well.)

I may have gotten a couple of good photos of Chort and Barchan swordfighting -- I'll find out when I can afford to get the film developed. I had trouble getting the timing right when trying to photograph the fire eater.

One of the madrigal singers who got up to dance was wearing a Very Pretty dress, which a) moved in ways that were wonderful for that kind of dancing, and b) was perfectly suited to her body-shape in addition to being pretty itself (and her being pretty, herself). (I've commented in this journal about body-shape fashions and clothing fashions and historical clothing designs, right?) I didn't get any photos of her because my hands were busy playing guitar.

I droppped a camera in the parking lot. The strap fell off my shoulder as I was setting things down to open the trunk of my car. It's my least-favourite Pentax (which doesn't mean I won't be upset if it's damaged!), but it had my very favourite lens on it. And it landed pretty hard. I think I got away with nothing more than a small dent on the filter ring (which would still suck, 'cause that's one of the lenses I'm most likely to mount a filter on), but I'm going to worry worry worry until I've played with the camera and the lens enough to reassure me that there wasn't some more subtle damage. *sigh* I need to get my cameras properly insured. Then again, I need to come up with enough money to pay for my health and auto insurance...

Stopping for gas in Aspen Hill on the way home (paid for it in quarters, and just bought enough to get me back to Batimore), I nearly ran over a fellow lying in the driveway of the gas station, wearing dark clothes inadequate fo the temperature (IIRC, WTOP said it was 26F then in DC, so probably colder that far North of the Beltway). I got out of my car and tried to ask him whether he needed assistance (I pretty much figured he did, but I also figured it was polite to ask, especially since I didn't know what kind of assistance he needed). I had trouble making out what he was saying, and he had enough of an accent that I wasn't sure how much of it was English. Another driver came over to see what was going on, and started speaking to the guy in Spanish, which seemed a whole lot more effective than my attempt to communicate. I caught a few words, but I don't know Spanish. The other driver said he thought the guy on the ground was drunk and that I should go ahead and call the police. Two cops got there before I finished pumping my gas (as soon as I finished talking to the 911 operator I figured I may as well take care of what I went there for) and were still talking to the man (who had stood up by then) when I left. I found the whole encounter somewhat unsettling.

Hmm. I sort of felt like I should've done more myself to help, but realistically, calling the police and letting them deal with the situation was probably the best I could've done.

I got home, cursed at the camera when the back popped open (it's done that before, so the fall might have made the problem worse, but didn't cause the problem), finished off the roll, put my guitars away, transferred stuff back to my purse from my belt pouch, and am now trying to decide whether I can stay awake long enough to rinse the sweat off my body in the shower, or whether I should just fall into bed as I am.

Tomorrow will probably be all about rest and recovery. I pushed my body pretty hard both nights. But I did so doing something I really enjoy. And like I said, my knees actually feel better.

Two weeks from now we get to do almost the same gig. (Different madrigal group, in Damascus. Same basic idea. Some overlap in membership between the groups.) I like these events.