Cold. In fact, for North Central Baja Jorja, COLD. Wind chill factors down into the middle to low 20's F (below 0 C, so COLD, eh?). So layers. Yeah, layers. Flannel shirt (albeit old one, worn mostly for long sleeves & pockets), Polartech (R) (I think Registered anyway) vest, Rennie shirt, leather doublet, and over all the Great Gray Full Circle Cloak of Much Warmliness. Until nearly noon.
Slow start. Sundays always are. Surprisingly, a bit of a burst early on when the Gate opened, but it passed quickly. I helped MK in the Crafty Celts booth, though did get back over to the puppet booth a couple times when they got slammed. We finally saw three-deep ranks of chirren at the puppet booth.
Chocolate Raspberry Cake. For R & B's birthdays. Baked by Herself. Good. Yes. Good.
Much friendly schmoozing with MK in the booth. W00t!
Breakdown at the end, as mentioned over in a fatfred thread, didn't take long at all. Then a bit more helping Herself, but I hie'd meself on the road back to the Ranch to feed teh Horses, teh Kids, teh Bros, and teh Kittens. Followed immediately by Hot Shower. Hot. Did I say Hot? Yes, I did. If there weren't two Kids in teh Tub, it'd a been a Hot Soak.
And the wonderfulness of Herself's leftover home-made s'getti sauce (though I busted the mason jar getting it open, Doh!) on penne. Then I fell down. Onna bed.
Today's case of Hoggetowne Hangover is fading; tonight's sleep should do it in. Not that I'll be, like, Lively tomorrow, but at least done with Hoggetowne Hangover.
It's a rather sad/sweet feeling, when Faire closes and folk start breaking down. Like the Set being Struck at the end of a stage play. What became a small little Towne of sorts now just fades away.
That is, while one is dodging through the traffic jam of folk trying to bull their way through in their vehicles to get to their booth sites and load up.