The note, dated October 20, is self-explanatory. And yes, this is really how she writes. I copied and pasted the thing myself. Sheryl's emails are positively Tolstoyan, with a little G Stein thrown in for good measure. That's why I save and print them. They're descriptive, informative, and they make for an engrossing bathroom read.
Aside from everything else, Sheryl is an accomplished actress with excellent taste in plays. (She's been in several of mine.) You can find her chewing scenery at the Texas Renaissance Festival each September-November. There she portrays, umm, her character at the fair is - and I'm sure she'll correct me if I'm wrong - the Queen of Wantons and Wenches. (In theatre this is called typecasting.) Before a drunken weekend throng she struts her considerable stuff, replete with Cockney accent, peasant skirt, jaunty hat, beads, and bosoms pushed up to her chin. I haven't caught her act in several years, not since she was merely the main, or head, wench. But I'm sure her performance is as obscene as ever. At least I hope it is, for the sake of Bubbas everywhere.
(You'll also notice that Sheryl begins the email as if we're already in the middle of a conversation. I don't know why she does this.)


"After spending the scariest night in a tent in a long time. Battling the waters, having part of the tarp collapse, have water start on the edge next to the wall of my king-sized mattress and gradually creep and creep and seep and force me out to inside edge, all the while listening to the rain lessen and then pummel harder.

"There was lightning and thunder that shook the ground and especially listening to the sound of the freight train and hoping that it was the train and not something that sounded like the train but wasn't.

"At 7AM I am loitering in my tent, thinking about how I am soaked through and through from several times of having to go out and reposition the tarp and push water off the tent. Thinking that I must go out again as soon as there is light and try to secure things rather than just gerry-rigging it as I had to get thru the night or it would never last the rest of the day. Thinking I could either go out in my current wetness and make repairs, put on something dry for the next 15 minutes or so and go get that wet fixing the tent before putting on costume, or just go ahead and put on costume and fix it since I am going to get wet in costume anyway and would at least still have something dry to put on before going home. Thinking that it will be miserable all day because there is neither hope nor help for it; it is coming down so hard I shall not be able to stay dry for five minutes. In this torrent I cannot even keep dry long enough to get in my car. And all the Scotch Guard and Camp Dry in the world cannot help. It shall not bead and roll off, it shall not stay on top, it shall not do as the commercials say. I shall be wet through all layers, to the skin, within seconds and all day.

"Suddenly I hear great stirring out in the downpour. I unzip the door and look out to see what it is. It is Dane Bennett, camp warden, with the news that the faire has been canceled for the day. Farm Road 1774 to Magnolia is already underwater and everyone is supposed to pack up and get out while they can. ' The Faire is cancelled for the day. This is not a joke. Leave while you can still get out.' "

"I am stunned. This is very un-George like. Still, I am grateful to no end. There is mass scurrying to gather. I start to pull out the dry clothes and decide not to bother. I shall be wet before I get to the car and do not want to try to wrestle into them once I get in the car. I just want to get out of here. As does everyone else, there shall be a caravan for safety sake, everyone move your butts.

"I batten down as many hatches as I can knowing that there shall certainly be a smell of mildew pervading my tent next weekend, but hopefully there shall not be an in-tent pool. And we head to white-knuckle it out of there.

"I am stopped by several who want to know has this ever happened before. They look to me for history. So you see the price of being a Grande Dame of the festival.

"To my knowledge, the faire has only cancelled one other time. On that day, it opened and attempts were made to carry-on rain or shine as promised on the no refunds advertisement line. But t'was finally called mid-day. I don't remember what year that happened. Do you have any recollection of this or anything like this. Can you add to the chronicles? Should I start a history? We seem doomed to repeat ourselves, but that's another thread.

"Certainly there have been other days that it should have been called off. There was the rainy rainy year, I was hosting the feast and Robyn Hoode came and stole food, that the 7th weekend was added to try to recoup the seasons losses.

"I had to tell the curious that I although it was very un-George like to have cancelled, he did cancel before opening the gate. If the gates don't open, we don't get paid. Although there should have been hazard pay for those spending the night in tents. And what an excellent excuse not to pay bonuses at the end of the season also. Am I cynical?"


Damp but
Undaunted

- Sheryl

JANUARY NOTE

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