Friday, Day 2 at the Folk Fest

I fear that I may be getting a big red "F" on my volunteer necklace/name/ID thingie at the '08 Festival. I think the fact that I am at home blogging about it may be a subtle clue....

The chopping volunteering portion went remarkably well once again. The kids met another volunteer's kids, and they busied themselves with the iced tea dispenser, and the joys of liberally tattoeing their entire bodies with coloured markers. (Gee, I hope those weren't the never-come-off-until-you-die-and-maybe-even-later variety of markers.....) I myself was consumed with the chopping of tomatoes. And chicken. Four hours of it.

Brian and I had engaged in lengthy discussions prior to the event, detailing how this FF experience was going to be shared, and family, and reciprocal, and team-building. So, after our chopping session was complete, we enjoyed a truly delicious lunch of refried bean fajitas with sauteed fresh vegetables, chickpeas, a tossed salad, and fresh organic field strawberries. Then we headed out from backstage; towards the children's entertainment tent, and the handmade village. So far, so good. We splintered off somewhere near the handmade village so that Jane and I could drool through the booths and Brian could move ahead with the boys toward the sand pile and other hippy forms of pre-adult entertainment. It was an eye-tingley good time. There was gorgeous jewlery made from raw, earthy materials. Clothing made of hemp. Drums. Guitars. Reclaimed wood products. And Wanda June. Jane found a Wanda hat that she just had to have, and then we made our way towards the section where we imagined we'd find Brian and the boys.

He wasn't looking too happy.
Nor was Brian.

I carried the crying Sam-boy to the van and we made our way back to Blunderview. Jane got that hat. On the condition that tomorrow, she'll watch the boys at home, and we can go and maybe listen to some music at the Folk Festival.

I guess we've officially screwed up our chances of ever producing a fully easy-going hippy child. But, I confess, I still hold out hope. Tomorrow our first born, our original ff child, is coming home from camp. Her birthday is on ff weekend. I was in labour with her at Folk Fest '94. Last year, she accompanied me and shared my joy in living close to the earth.

If you catch me blogging tomorrow, then we'll all know it for sure.
It will become undeniably true that I am a hypocritical, no good, lousey, wanna-be hippy ma.

I may as well just move to the golf course and hire a decorator.