Now something to make you smile....

Above is a picture of me at a renaissance fair several years ago. It was almost a year before I got married. Some friends and I went to Scarborough Faire dressed in costume. Another friend was suppose to go with us, but came down with a migraine right before we came to pick her up. So, there was me, my friend Nita, Maryse (pronounced "Marcy"), and her husband, Quentin. Quentin had planned to bribe a mud beggar to embarass Julie (the one who didn't come). I had forgotten all about this, until we started to walk away from the tightrope show. About thirty feet from me, a mud beggar caught my eye and his face brightened as if he saw the love of his life.

"Oh, please, not me!" I thought desperately to myself. We followed Quentin into a clearing. I was so busy trying ignore the beggar, that I didn't realize that Quentin was leading us into a spiral at first.

As we made our way into the center of the food courts, Nita says, "Mandy, there is someone following you."

"No there's not," I insisted.

"Yes there is!" she retorted. "Mandy. Turn around and talk to the man."

So I took and deep breath and turn around. "May I help thee, sir?"

"She speaks!" the man exclaimed, "and the voices of angels never sounded so sweet." I stood there with a tight smile, trying to fight down my panic, as he went on to rhapsodise the beauty of my soul. Finally, he threw himself at my feet, and kissed my shoe, getting a lump of mud on it.

"My lady! I spoiled your shoe! Can you ever find it in your heart to forgive a wretch like me?"

"I most assuredly can, sir," I said.

"Are you certain?"

"Quite certain."

"Then may I be so bold as to kiss your hand?" he asked.

"You may." I held out my hand and got the sloppiest hand kiss I had ever gotten, before he ended his performance and left.

I'm afraid I wasn't that good of a victim. During the whole time, I did what I could not to call attention to myself.

So there's your story to give you a smile. I hope your week has been a good one, and if not, I hope this has helped.


© 1999, Amanda Diane Barncord Doerr