the newly fangled "amish" lottery
Anyhow, after a seven-day-in-a-row stint at work and completely wearing myself out for the enjoyment of the museum go-ers, I was tired ~ to say the least~ by the time the weekend rolled around. Friday we were stretched quite thin, not only did we have our regular visitors alongside some packed buses that were pre-scheduled, but someone gave out about 200-odd free tickets to the Hornet's Car Club of North Carolina. That may not have been the exact club's name, I can't remember at this point, but nonetheless we had a bunch of people milling through for that. They were all fun and a joy to talk to, but it was one group after another, after another, and one starts to lose one's voice after that many in a row.
The weirdest moment was when our bus groups arrived. They were all Amish and these particular folks were from Ohio. Now those of you that know me, I mean actually know me in person, know that I have (or once had) a few gripes about the Amish. Don't get me wrong, I respect their lifestyles and think it is even interesting and admirable, but I have had dealings with them in the past at various other museums while they are taking their Amish vacations and would kind of taunt us museum folk in a not-so-Amish fashion. Example: Informing us repeatedly that we may live "18th style" during the day at work, but once we get home we lead normal modern lives whereas they do not. And not letting us get a word in edgewise about whatever 18th century stuff we were supposed to be talking about, because they would rather reiterate to us museum people they lived more "authentically" than we did. One summer in particular, I got really fed up with hearing it over and over and over (it was a virtual blizzard of Amish folk infiltrating Colonial Williamsburg)so I finally became quite annoyed and announced I "disliked" the Amish. Well now that I am in my thirties I am over the disdain I felt years ago at their smart-alecky comments.
Anyhow, my friends still know that the Amish once annoyed me to a point. So fast forward to this past Friday, and here I am, surrounded by about 30 wide-eyed Amish folk who are surrounding me in a circle, hanging onto my every word about 18th century tavern life. After the third Amish group in a row, it hit me that there I was in the centre of them all, and it felt really incredibly odd. It felt so odd, in fact, that I suddenly felt like the "lucky" winner in that story, The Lottery. You know the one we all had to read in high school, where the lottery winner was stoned to death. It was a creepy yet enthralling story. We also had watched the short film and I recalled the lottery winner, standing there in the middle, with the townsfolk making a circle around...enveloping...coming closer....well you get the idea. I panicked as I felt the Amish were literally closing in around me, secretly knowing I was the one years prior that was talking trash about their possible relatives and fellow people. It was not a pleasant feeling and I had to briskly lead the group to another room ~ and fast. When I recounted the story to Greg he thought it was hilarious and said that's what I get for saying what I did about them all that time ago. Maybe he is right, but it was a bit unnerving.
So now that I totally got off track, my point was that Friday was busy, albeit a bit scary. Saturday, seeing how I had a day off, we packed up the Jacks and drove to Maryland for the annual National Jack Russell trials. It was fantabulous. It was a veritable Jack Russell Heaven. No matter where you turned, you were looking at no less than about twenty Jack Russells. Aoife and Reilly had a grand time cheering on their fellow canines during the races and go-to-ground competitions. The Wilson's were out from Colorado and Aoife got to visit with her doggie father, Hunter. I swear he knew who Aoife was and kept putting his little paw out to rub her on her back or head (I had witnesses, I am NOT making that up). It was one of the sweetest things I had ever seen. And even though they had not been around one another since she was eight weeks old, they obviously share some very strong genetic traits as their behaviour is identical. Right down to the sounds they make.
On the trek back we braved driving right through the centre of D.C. Greg was horrified as he was convinced we would die. I have been there so many times in the past I knew otherwise. Besides I would dare say I would walk through D.C. at night before venturing out into northern Dublin. At any rate, Greg and Clare got to see the National Treasury Building, the Washington Monument, the Memorials, the Capitol Building and the White House all lit up at night...which was a first for both. We would have gotten out and walked but it was getting cold and the doggies were plain worn out.
Today was another busy work day and it all culminated in the cutting out of the fabric for the St. Clare nun outfit Clare is to wear in the All Saint's Play. I had no proper pattern for this, so I chalked the pattern out on the fabric and went to town cutting, and cutting, and cutting. With the scraps I am making a small nun's habit for Aoife to wear for Halloween. The other year she was a devil, this year she can be the complete opposite. Anyway, St. Clare should be all dressed and ready to go by the first of November, I hope!
