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Meet the Columnist

Columnist, Sheila Moss, is humor writer from  Tennessee. She writes  a weekly human interest column about daily life and the funny things that happen to everyone.

   She has written for  the Daily News of Kingsport,   Griffin Journal, Oakridge Now, Atlanta Woman Magazine, Aberdeen Examiner, Angleton Advocate,  and Smyrna AM, a supplement of the Murfreesboro Daily News Journal. She has been published by Voyageur Press, McGraw Hill, and the good folks at Guidepost Books.  Her articles have appeared in numerous anthologies and other publications, both in print and online.

    She is a former board member and past  Editor of  the Columnists.com, website of  the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, the oldest and largest professional organization for columnists. She is the Web Editor of Southern
Humorists.com
  and  a founder of the Southern Humorists writers' organization. She is writer, editor, and webmaster of HumorColumnist.com

    To carry her weekly column in your newspaper, or to republish an article, please contact her. It's that easy. 

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Fun at the Faire....
 


Fun at the Faire


Every year I say ďnot againĒ and every year I find myself there again. It isnít that I canít resist the advertisements, or that I actually want to go, or even that my arm is being twisted or Iím suffering from undue influence.

Somehow, when May comes around and itís time for the local renaissance festival, my memory plays tricks on me. I think maybe they put something in the water that makes me forget. The weekend comes, I forget that Iím not going, and there I am again.

My grandson loves to go, that probably has a lot to do with it too. What kid wouldnít love it? Magicians, escape artists, sword-fighting pirates, fire eaters, dueling knights in armor, itís the kind of storybook place that lets fantasy go wild.

I like these things too; donít get me wrong. Itís just that after a whileÖ well, Iíve seen it all before and itís always pretty much the same. Of course, they do have this really good food. Iím partial to the ďleg of fowlĒ, or as we common folk call it, fried leg of turkey.

Besides turkey, they also have kettle corn. I canít resist kettle corn. Even though the popcorn smell blended with the smell of dung from the camels across the path, I couldnít stay away from the kettle corn booth. I took my popcorn elsewhere before eating it, however.

In addition to the strange medieval wearing attire and crafts that are featured in the booths, they also sell a lot of unusual trinkets and baubles that I have a hard time resisting. I told myself ďno jewelryĒ this year. But, I could look, couldnít I? It doesnít cost anything to look.

And thatís how I ended up with the tiger-eye necklace... just looking. But it was really an unusual piece and such a good deal! Besides, I had to do something to pass the afternoon besides watch the laundry wenches frolic, and it wasnít time for the fire eater yet.

Okay, so I went to see the fire-eater. I donít know how he does it without burning his insides out, but he does. Not only do I not know how, I also donít know why. He must have a recessive pyromania gene that makes him want to play with fire. Don't try this at home, kids.

My grandson kept returning for additional funds until I found out he was spending the money on renaissance versions of games of chance, not hotdogs. He really wanted a stick tossing game, which they did not have this year. They did have bow and arrow set, however. Good grief! And I was worried about stick tossing games being dangerous?

By the time the knights were ready to duel, I was ready to go, but I didnít want to miss out. Unfortunately, the fire walkerís show was at the same time. Decisions, decisions. Who could resist knights in shinning armor participating in games for the honor of the queen? Violent as it may be, it is still probably the most interesting event there.

Now Iíll grant you that there are some very weird folks running around in the woods in very weird costumes. Not all of them are festival re-enactors either, many of them are supposedly the audience. However, Iím not sure they look a whole lot more bizarre than the gentle folks at the steeplechase race with their silly sundresses and hats -- all horsed up for the horse races, with white flesh hanging out everywhere, making pictures for the social section of the newspaper.

But I digress.

At least the people at the Renaissance Faire know they are acting strangely.


Copyright 2007 Sheila Moss
 
 



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