I woke up this morning to my dog licking my hand in a manner than can only be described as desperate. She only does this when she really needs a human to open the door for her so I rolled out of bed but rather than following me downstairs, she hopped into my spot on the bed and promptly went to sleep. Bitch only lickin’ to steal some valuable real estate on the bed. Jerkdog.
So while being serenaded by The Husband and The Dog’s snoring, I’m finally sorting through photos from last weekend. I’m still, 6 days later, recovering from 2.25 days of Folk Fest. All week at the office I had to hear “wow, are you alright?” or “should you BE here today?!?” because seeing my somewhat pregnant self slugging around like I’d been on a 5 day bender is concerning for other people. Each time I fessed up to partying my pants off all weekend but no one seemed to believe me. I stayed up to the morning hours and had a helluva great time – I wish I’d been there longer because I missed doing and seeing things on my list but I think if I’d stayed even 2 hours longer, I’d have passed out from sheer joy mixed with exhaustion. And I even garnered a nap on 2 out of 3 days.
I saw old friends and made new friends:
I saw my favourite world-traveler/activist and the moment of seeing each other was very Lassie/Timmy, slow running towards each other, arms wide open… except for the part where I was so overcome with excitement that I caught my bag’s zipper on my shirt and got wound up and completely restrained. We spent our first few moments squealing while trying to get me untangled. It was actually a pretty fitting reunion moment.
I also saw a Bunny On A Rope(tm):
I convinced a man to take off his shirt:
I did not see Schmutzie however I was able to locate the specific table at the pub where I expected her to be. I felt vaguely like a stalker, confidently walking up to a table of strangers-to-me friends-to-she based purely on evidence from her Flickr photos. It was kinda awesome, actually. Alas, although I met Mr. Head, I did not see Schmutzie nor The Palinode. It would have rounded out the weekend but not every weekend can be perfect.
My mom and I take our folking rather seriously – as soon as gates open, we’re there. As soon as a stage opens, we’re scoring the spot that is a perfect view of people-watching and stage-watching. We picnic lunch and then take a break daily around supper, usually at the food tents (BUTTER CHICKEN AND MINI DONUTS, I LOVE YOU) then hop back to the stages. If a very loud band comes on stage or someone we’re not passionate about watching, we go and cruise the arts market because we can hear the band clearly while we shop. My mom is the Ultimate Girl Guide, packing food, rain gear, tarps, jackets and glow in the dark gear.
HARD CORE, people. That’s what we are. Only, you know, in a folky way. It’s not just folk music but any music that can be defined as “music for the people”. This year closing out the musical menu on each night were K-Os (R&B), The Wailers (Bob Marley’s reggae peeps) and Corb Lund & The Hurtin’ Albertans (country).
Our fave: Delhi 2 Dublin – for when you need to dance and can’t decide if you’re prefer an irish reel, north indian beats or reggae:
And that, my friends, is why I’ve been recovering for the past six days.
So… what’s your favourite festival?