Overextension and Back Again

Home is where I want to be. After literally months of preparation and nearly two weeks traveling and camping up in verdant Oregon, we have landed at home with a sigh. The trip was marked by extremes. Peaks and plunges. After vowing to pace ourselves and thinking we were, we worked ourselves to exhaustion anyway, left a day later than intended and plowed north, 500 miles in one day.

There was an extreme heat advisory in effect for most of southern Oregon so we sucked on frozen water bottles and pined for air conditioning as we pushed through. Our van did great considering how overloaded she was. That was a plus since we've had lots of car karma on other trips. Our usual stop in Ashland was fruitful, stocking up on food, water, treats and a squirt of some Peruvian herb called Qat (ilex guayusa). We got to fair by late afternoon with all the good stuff: golden light, smiling faces, pennyroyal redolence and a Full Load Teddy (a magical slip of paper that allowed us access into the Eight to unload right at our booth). The site looked good, no mud, not too dry and no mosquitoes.

We took our time unloading and making camp. It is after all a three day endeavor just setting up. I soon discovered that the brew from Peru was a stimulant, big time. It kicked in so strong that I was clearing debris like an Amazon. Before I knew it I not only had the kitchen just so, I'd cleared a new tent space where before there'd been a fallen tree. Did I move a fallen tree? I think maybe I did. We worked until dark and then fell asleep reveling in our new foam mats. So comfy. It is possible to love a hunk of petroleum. I remember the trees dancing over our heads like a dream.

Camp was more organized and tidy than ever before which did my head good. Tables placed well are a revelation. On Wednesday, Rob and I built new bones for the "wall" between us and our neighbor so we were all about strong lines and consolidation. Our scene felt so together that we were ready when everyone began to land. The energy shifts and builds with each arrival, so it's key to be grounded. Danny, Karen, Zoie...Mom and Dad...Mitch's Clan...Jay and Eileen. All told there's close to 20 of us sharing that behind the booths camp space. Tight.

So, Wednesday night, after Danny, Karen, Zoie got in and pitched tents, it rained. Full on pour, thunderclaps and all. Danny saved us with his excellent tarping skills but by the end of the day we were wondering why we do this crazy thing? I caught a momentary charge from the ionized air but soon enough my batteries began to run low.

The Fair was opening on Friday so we spent Thursday setting setting up merchandise. That's the hardest part for me because it's not straightforward and focusing is hard. The girls demand help setting up their scenes. There are cards to stock, signs to put up, paintings to hang, tags to place and dozens of other nitpicky decisions for me and only me to make. Besides, spectacles begin to appear along the Path and folks start to drift in to check stuff out. Invaluable aid was given by all with a special shout out to Steve for being my slave with a screw driver while hanging canvases and to Mom for tasteful discrimination and taking initiative on painting placement. By day's end we looked pretty good. The best ever. I think the weeks of painting paid off. Almost all original pieces in the booth made it feel high caliber.

So, Friday the party officially begins but by then I was pooped. I stayed juiced up on feedback from people who were liking the work. I feel such thanks for everyone's appreciation. That kept me high. And breathing in the vibe we co creative creatures make. So much luscious opulent expression. I got to trip around on Saturday night as is tradition, laughing and ogling and dancing. Highlights of the weekend include: large serene light forms changing color, dancing in the dark to the Kitchen Syncopators, members of Royal Famille du Caniveaux playing music at Chez Ray's Saturday night, African Harp, lavish visuals, amazing folks, deep conversations, synchronicities. It all adds up.

By Sunday I hit my low, waking with sneezing and chest congestion. Low ebb and vulnerable. Not my first fair cold but by then I'd had a few other firsts . A territorial dispute with a neighbor (that new wall) and a reprimand from the Fair for not being in my booth at all times(!) Not in my booth? My booth is me. The dispute worked itself out but I have some processing still to do on that last one. I sink so much energy into offering to the Fair that I can't help reeling a bit with hurt and anger. Can't they hit on the party booth down the way? Shit. Nevertheless, I am recommitted to sticking to my booth.

By the end we'd chalked up a strange and turbulent but lucrative fair. I sold several originals, hundreds of cards and prints and took in enough praise to last me a year. The fun bubbled up in twinkles and small doses, flashed out from niches and impromptu stages. Bits strung out, together they made a decent pretty thing. When I think of all this I grok the Country Fair adage "Thanks For Being Us". I couldn't have done it without everyone. My fair family. Us.