Back to the Faire...with a side of PTSD for Mommy

HRH surveys her people... GARF Opening Day 2022

So this past weekend was the opening one for the Georgia Renaissance Festival. Anne and I headed down to work with her bloodhound Finn (whom I must have called Bo a million times) and my Bryn. I hadn't originally planned to take her, as I am reducing my appearances at Faire with HOEF until I have another keen Rennie hound that isn't into her bonus time. We're working on Ciaragh.

I was anxious all last week for all kinds of reasons. Will my garb fit? Have I forgotten how to do GARF? Will Bryn be okay at faire/for a long car ride/in a hotel room with a dog she really doesn't know? Things that were rote back in 2019 are now new and difficult and daunting. For example, I had everything packed save my overdress which was in the dryer when I started to load the car. My garb would have looked hilarious without the rest of my dress! The drive down was uneventful - Bryn slept for most of it. Our accommodation seemed fine at first, but turned out to be a nightmare of the not enough towels/shower gel dispenser falling off the shower wall/a kitchenette with no chairs for the table and no cutlery/an AC unit that sounded like a plane coming in for a landing variety. But there was a bed and a roof and we could make do.

Saturday morning I loaded Bryn up and we headed to Faire. And I was fine, really fine...until we got off the interstate and headed down that road that I drove up and down for days back in 2019, looking for any sign of my Ciaragh. My throat tightened and my mouth went dry as I saw the parking lot entrance ahead, and thought of all the times I'd driven in and out of there, knowing that I was leaving her behind to go get sleep. I was tearing up as I rode down the driveway to the backstage area where we were to park...where I sat for hours in my car with the tailgate open, hoping that she would just appear out of the trees, hop into the back, and settle in with a sigh that said she was ready to go home.

It was hard to see people who, when I last was with them, were telling me how sorry they were that she was missing and that they would keep an eye out for her. I saw the joust arena where she became so anxious and the fence that she pulled me face first into before breaking free. But Bryn wasn't running. Bryn was tired, and hot, but she stayed with me and we made it back to the hotel together.

And now I've done it...and I'm so grateful to all the cast and crew at GARF that helped and looked for her and loved me through it. But I'm also thankful to the patrons who made a point to ask if Bryn was the wolfhound that had gone missing and then were overjoyed to hear that Ciaragh was home and healthy and safe. 

Faire-mly is real. Rennies are some of the best people on the earth. Onward and upward to Celtic Weekend!