A Feast Mish Mosh

Here's a mish mosh of Feast happenings - things that I want to remember or share. Enjoy!

The Scout Who "Didn't Die"

Late afternoon Saturday, two older teenage Scouts came over and asked about maple cakes. One wanted to know if they had peanuts in them.

I double checked the list of ingredients and assured him that they did not but said that I could not tell him that the kitchen they were made in had had no peanut exposure. I didn't think so - you never see peanuts at an 18th century event, but still, I wasn't sure.

The young men began arguing as to whether or not he should eat a maple cake. "Dude, you're gonna die!" the friend said. "Naw, I'll be fine. They aren't made with peanuts."

Each boy bought two, bit into them (and groaned in delight), and then walked off. I'll admit, I was a little nervous.

An hour later, they came back to my tent with big smiles. The one with the peanut allergy stepped up to the maple cakes table and his eyes twinkled as he said, "Just wanted to reassure you that I didn't die! Thought you might want to know." And off he walked. 

I was glad he'd stopped by!

Those Fire Starters Really Work

Most people know that 18th century folks could easily start a fire with flint and steel, but few know that they also used "fire starters," heavy glass domes that were used to focus the sun's rays on the tinder or kindling.

The booth across from me and next door to the Beignet Girls had a table set up just outside their tent where a couple of teens were demonstrating the fire starters.  Apparently they left the table unguarded for a bit with those fire starters sitting directly in the sun, and sure enough, the tablecloth was soon on fire.

It was a small fire and soon was put out, but it added a little extra excitement to the day, too. And those teens learned to never, ever leave a fire starter on something flammable in direct sunlight.

There is Only One & Two Want It

I had a very angry lady in my tent this weekend. According to her, she was looking at this shirt, and another woman, who looked at it after she did and KNEW that she was going to buy it, bought it out from under her.

At least, that was her story. 

I'd seen her looking at it, but she'd walked away from the rack without saying anything to me about holding it for her or even taking it with her. The other woman, who had been waiting behind her to look at the trade shirts had then stepped up, took it down and looked it over, and then asked to buy it.

The first woman was still in the tent and watched the transaction without saying a word. When the other woman left, she fumed as she expressed her anger at the other lady, claiming she'd deliberately bought the shirt that she had wanted so that she couldn't have it.

What??

Honestly, when she'd stepped away from the rack and walked away from the shirt, I'd thought she didn't want it, either, and saw nothing wrong in the other lady's actions.

She took my card and asked if I could find out if I could get more of the fabric and make her one. It's been almost a week and she hasn't called me, but I don't have good news for her - the fabric has been discontinued and that was the last of it.

The Shirt Off My Back

One of my own bedgowns is made from a very popular fabric. I've made and sold several of them and finally stitched up one for me.

See my new pins? Rick made them. I love them and didn't get poked once all weekend! (My arms are often covered in scratches after an event.)

A living history friend, Pat, saw me wearing mine this weekend and came over to look at it more closely. She loved how it made up into the bedgown and has asked me to make one for her out of it, too. No need to buy the fabric; she already has it at home. 

She sent me a photo of that fabric yesterday. I cringed when I saw it - it's old and been washed many, many times. It is not a good candidate for a new garment.

Pat is sending the fabric to me this weekend and I will see what it looks like in hand. It very well may be that she wants the look of a well-worn garment for her persona. Or, it may be that she isn't aware of how her fabric looks. If that's the case, I'll tactfully see if I can replace it with a new piece.

And with that, Feast 2025 is in the books. Financially, it was my best ever - I sold almost every item of clothing I'd made, nearly all the maple cakes, a lot of sleeve buttons, and half of the blackened beeswax ornaments.

Physically there were challenges, especially the long, long walk from the parking lot to my tent.

I was pleased and surprised that my stamina held up - I came home tired each night, but not the exhausted-crawl-into-bed kind of tired.

Everything is unpacked, inventoried, and repacked for Kalamazoo in March. My Feast clothes are at the dry cleaners and I'll pick them up Tuesday.

Feast 2025 was terrific and I am still feeling that Feast glow.

Now to get started on all those custom orders for clothing that I took...

Stay 'tooned!

50th Anniversary: The 2000s - Getting Older & Feeling It

As I look back on the 2000s, it seems to have been the busiest decade of my life and probably the most challenging, too.  Not only was I teaching full time, but my kids were graduating from high school and college, getting married, and having their own children. I was always on the go.

Having attended my last BreyerFest in the 1999, it would not be until 2012 that I finally had the time to go again. Fortunately the internet was exploding and I kept up with the hobby through Haynet (the grandaddy of hobby social media sites) and other online forums and sources. I still added new pieces to my collection and was active on hobby forums, but I simply did not have the time to attend any live shows.

My health took a nose dive during this decade. It was an unexpected shock in 2001 when I was diagnosed with two brain tumors. Luckily they are benign, and as long as they don't grow, I can avoid brain surgery. A third, different type of brain tumor was found in 2008 when monitoring the first two. It is a meningioma and is more concerning than the first two, but if it has to come out, it is in an easily accessed location. (Thankful, thankful, THANKFUL!)

Then, I began to notice while teaching that my hip was really starting to hurt. It began interfering with my mobility, especially in the classroom. I ended up having my right hip replaced.

I recovered from that, but then my knees began causing me trouble and I started falling. After my third fall, I saw my orthopedist and X-rays showed that both knees were bone on bone. I had to have them replaced. 

Recovering at home after my first knee replacement. That's our Lab, Zeus, snoozing with me. Like Pepper, he was a retired service dog, only he'd been a narcotics sniffer for the police. He was huge - about twice the size that Pepper is - and very gentle.

A grizzled Zeus with my mother - they had a very strong bond and he would always sit by her when she visited.

Sadly, my father passed away during this decade. He had always championed my horseyness and was still buying me model horses until his Alzheimers made it so he could not drive anymore. 

Skip-bo, one of the pieces that my father bought me.

Jack's Oh Boy, a model that I named after my dad and his pony, Oh Boy.

Despite the mounting health challenges, life was good. Our children were all independent and doing well, and while we missed them terribly, we enjoyed this new phase of life. Craig and I were busy, but we also had more flexibility in our schedules since it was just the two of us.

We'd always hoped that we could go Back Home Again (to) Indiana. Finally, after almost 30 years away, we had the opportunity to return. Craig was offered a position at Purdue here in West Lafayette, the town we both came from. We discussed our options and decided that it was time for us to go home.

Packing up my collection was more than a bit overwhelming. Not only did I have shelves lining the basement walls with Breyers and Stones, I had several china cabinets full of Hagen Renakers and other breakable horses upstairs.  On top of that, I'd just had ankle surgery and was hobbling around in a boot while finishing my Masters at the University of Illinois. 

What a whirlwind! Several of our kids came back to Illinois to help us with the gargantuan job of sorting and packing. But I graduated, the models were safely packed, and I was cleared to remove the boot the day before we were scheduled to leave. 

As excited as we were to go back home, it was difficult to say goodbye to Illinois - we'd made lasting friendships and had loved our time there. But we were also glad that we would be closer to our parents and able to help them as they dealt with their own challenges that came from growing older. It was time to move home.

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