Getting Your Oompa-Loompa On…

Forty-0ne.

Forty-five thousand.

Three.

Two-hundred and eighty.

Fifteen.

Nine millionish.

What’s your guess? Do you suppose these are random numbers or might there be a common theme bringing them all together under one leafy roof? Well, I’ll spare you the agonizing suspense. Ta da! The facts and figures revolve around the Oregon Country Fair.

The Oregon Country Fair turned forty-one this year, attracting approximately forty-five thousand people to the three day event, spread over 280 wooded acres fifteen miles west of Eugene along the Long Tom River and pumping nine million dollars or so into the local economy.

Now that you are familiar with the relevant statistics, what’s the Oregon Country Fair? Excellent question. It is many things to many people. Vague enough?

Back in ’69, the event began as a barter and trade fair with the invitation to “come in costume.” While it morphed into a Renaissance Fair during its childhood, it has grown to accommodate 350 vendor booths full of delicious food, fun clothes, crazy masks, outrageous art, face painting and too many other interesting things to list individually.

There are 18 official stages providing venues for all kinds of performances: musical, comedy, vaudeville, theatrical, juggling and many etceteras, while the dusty paths shapeshift into impromptu stages for parades, marching bands, stilt walkers, giant puppets, mud people, fire dancing, hoolahooping and the legendary drum circle at the Drum Tower.

Fair-goers can be categorized into three basic groups: Those who have never been yet, those who take a year or two off, and then those who are completely devoted and would never, ever miss a year.

They can further be organized into people who buy tickets and are only allowed in during official fair hours of 11am until The Sweep at 7pm. Groom and I fall under this category. Before you ask, we have never applied to sell our bricolage jewelry as vendors. This is the only show that we have ever heard of, that even if you are accepted and invited to display your wares, that there is no guarantee you’ll have a booth.

Which brings me to the other sub-category. Fair family. The booths are not the white, temporary Easy-Up 10 X 10’s that pop up to make a tent-city like at other shows. No. The booths at the Oregon Country Fair are permanent structures with a store front downstairs and lounging upstairs. We saw one artist’s private area which included a full-on living room sofa and a kitchen sink hooked up to their very own tank of water. Fancy! Most require carpenters and maintenance, and someone has to die and leave no heirs before a booth changes hands.

The whole point of the Fair is not necessarily to vend, but to obtain the much sought after camping pass and spend several days and nights in a row out in the wooded area. The real show, they say, happens after midnight. It’s about a five day and night party, and only those allowed in the inner sanctum get to participate.

Groom and I have another reason we’ve never applied to vend. It’s the only show of the year that we are not responsible for anything. We just get to go and have a great time for the day. We actually get to walk around together, visiting with friends, looking at the artwork and pleasuring our tastebuds with gastronomic delights. We call it our busman’s holiday and we look forward to it with all the tummy butterflies children get at Christmas.

Speaking of butterflies, this could be the theme of the Fair. “Come in Costume” still stands and many individuals shed their chrysalis and transform into beautiful, colorful butterflies for the day. While they may actually don a butterfly costume, try on wings or come as something equally imaginative, the essence is the same. Trading the old work-a-day costume for a playful one, people let go of their pent up frustrations with modern life and engage in old-fashioned play.

The three day affair seems to be good for the soul. Collectively, the group sets an intention for peace and those who come fall under its influence. People are kinder, smile often, laugh outloud, complement each other, stop for photo ops, spontaneously dance and exchange many friendly hugs. If only we could sustain this for a period longer than three days.

The dress code? No pubics in public, genitals must be covered. That’s about it. As you can see by our photos, color is the word of the day. Rich, vibrant tones spanning the rainbow. Groom and I took about 400 pictures and it was a difficult chore to reduce the number to share here. How to tell the story, especially to those of you who have not yet attended, in twenty-five or less? If a picture is worth a thousand words, then you’ll probably get the gist.

I always manage to fit in this commercial. To get a better gander at the goods, simply click on any photo to enlarge, then hit the back button to return to the blog.

Some of the details are worth noting. My favorite of the day is the photo below. During the hottest part of the day, we caught a father and daughter taking a nap, her little hand held lovingly and protectively in his. Sniff.

About mid-way through the photos, you can see Kimmmm’s response to one of Lil Bo Peep’s new hats.

Groom and I appear two and a half times here today. Can you spot us? I’ll give you a clue. The “half” is the last visual aid. Aaaah, at the end of a fair day, ‘taint nuthin better than a sweet, cool shower. No, those are not sun tan lines on our feet. Those are dust lines.

Well, all good things must come to an end, and the Oregon Country Fair concluded on Sunday. I did note, however, the auspicious dates for next year. July 8-10. Written out, it looks like this. 7-8-9-10-11. If you haven’t gone yet, maybe next year is the time to do it.

Until then, adieu my dear peeps.

ZOLORELLA

Ouch! My shoulder hurts. It was injured at Roller derby last Saturday night. But I’ll get to that. First, this week has been an emotional rollercoaster ride, jostled to and fro as well as zig-zagged high and low.

No hor-moonal cycles to blame, nothing particularly personal, just what happens in this soap opera called life when we’re connected to other people and are pulled into their powerful orbits.

On an upswing, GoatPapa outdid me and my Zolo Queen marquee and has his mug plastered on the back of a bus and a huge billboard! Kudos, good job and well done.

Did you see the fat, frothy, juicy full moon last night? It’s been raining here for several days in a row, so I was elated when the skies cleared enough to behold the lunar spectacle. Which reminds me, at poetry night, an intensely fabulous woman oh, about 80 years old, who was born in Prague and came to the States via Austria when she was a teenager, kept looking at me intently. Finally, she asked me, “Are you from somewhere (a pause, the length of a beat between a comma and a period), Special (question mark?), like the moon?”

I love it. “Are you from somewhere; Special? Like the moon?”

I can never take myself too seriously, the generous folks around me won’t allow it.

On a slide down, I had to say au revoir to a friend. Maui John is leaving today for a year’s mission in Aruba. While I’m happy and excited for his adventure, I’m selfishly going to miss his humor and energy. When I describe him as hilarious, I don’t mean the occasional joke or laugh, I mean, when he’s on, he is ON. Maui John is an actor, an entertainer and a writer by trade. I don’t think the folks in the southern Caribbean Sea have a clue what’s about to hit their 21-mile island.

For his going away shin-dig, we had a most unusual party (at least according to my experience). Surprise! Both Maui John and Lil’ Bo Peep, another friend of ours, were both contestants on game shows like Match Game, Hollywood Squares and Wheel of Fortune and had roles in movies such as The Stuntman with Peter O’Toole and Dark Water. Throwing together some tasty treats, the entertainment for the evening centered around a review of their celluloid performances.

To say it was great would be an understatement. I don’t think there was a dry eye in the house, due to all the whimsy and banter. Both Maui John and Lil’ Bo Peep can slip in and out of any character, accent, drawl or dialect, and the two of them created cramps and hiccups in my body from laughing so hard.

Over dinner with Mother-in-Law a couple nights later, Groom mentioned Maui John’s notorious appearance on the Wheel of Fortune (she’s a “wheel watcher”), and even though it aired years ago, she remembered the episode. In his suit and tie, Maui John appears to be the most polite and clean cut fellow (he’s going on a mission, remember?), yet he’s also an unexpected mix of physical comedy (think John Ritter), personal charisma and quick wit (that’s why he’s an actor/comedian).

In an unprecedented move, the producers of Wheel, brought him back for a second appearance and issued a quasi-apology for the way he’d been treated during the first round. It was the encore show we were watching, the one where he took his revenge.

While trying to solve the puzzle, Maui John won a bet with a friend by working in a quote from their favorite movie to his onscreen banter, managed to kiss Pat Sajak, who turned away in embarrassment and disgust – then had a change of heart and humor, and suddenly bent Maui John backward like a dip in a romantic dance and kissed him in return, much to the audience’s approval and applause.

M. J. had to rewind the VCR on the next antic so we could catch it, as he ever-so casually copped a feel of his rival contestant and arch nemesis Nikki. Pat Sajak, however, didn’t miss a thing, and good-naturedly mentioned to her on air about “contacting legal.” At the end of the show as Maui John won $28,000 and a new car, Pat joked that it was reluctantly (or something akin), that he had to award him the prize.

Ah, never a dull moment with him in the mix. As the dust settles in his wake, we are preparing for the opening of Saturday Market in just a few short days. I received a phone call from a fellow vendor, Flame Wrangler, with an amusing story to tell.

A woman walked into her booth wearing a pair of our earrings. Flame Wrangler commented on them and the lady’s hand instinctively moved to feel which pair. “Oh, I just love Cinderella Lucinda’s earrings, but I’m disappointed with her.”

What?! I can imagine my friend’s ears perking up, I mean, who doesn’t love a bit of gossip or scandal?

“Yeah,” the woman continued, encouraged by my friend to spill. “I can’t believe she left her husband. I mean, he was so nice to her, he seemed to like her so much and treat her well. I don’t know about this new guy she’s hooked up with. He’s quiet and I haven’t talked to him yet. Why do you think she did that?”

Flame Wrangler started laughing. “No no no, let me set the record straight,” she said. “That IS her husband. She’s still married to the same man. He just lost a bunch of weight.”

Oh My Goodness! In Groom’s journey of losing 100 pounds since I met him, it never occurred to me that someone might think he was a completely different person. This mystery customer (we have no idea who she is), saw what she believed was a new man hanging out with me. Without any facts, she made up an entire story in her mind about me leaving Groom and taking up with a new beau. I am relieved that Flame Wrangler was able to tell her differently. Thank you!

Of course, the lowest part of my week, the stuff that has me dancing with anger and feelings of powerlessness, has to do with a friend that I care deeply about, but out of loyalty, I shan’t share. If you are reading this, I love you.

Even though I will not divulge the personal details of someone else’s life, suffice it to say, the circumstances had me revved up on her behalf. So I went to Roller derby.

Yeah, baby. I wanted to kick some booty, but, alas, I am too chicken. So the next best thing? Witness some girl-on-girl catfights. I needed to channel some tough feminine energy and with names like The Skatesaphrenics, Raggedy Annhilation, Juju Doll and Monster Monroe, I felt confident the Riots of Spring thrash-n-bash was the place to be. Hey, I even gave myself a moniker…Zolorella!

Now, I had never been to Roller derby before and know nothing about it, so if any of you are fans out there, just beware that I had expectations wrapped in ignorance. I thought it might be a crash and burn evening filled with Wayne Gretzky-esque ice hockey elbow-in-the-teeth action, some obvious bad sport tripping resulting in good pile-ups on the derby freeway, a bit of rough and tumble, slammin’ jammin’ elbow/knee pad fun.

But actually, without knowing the subtleties of the sport, it looked to me like a bunch of girls skating around and around and around and around in a circle. There were almost as many referees in black and white on the rink as there were roller girls in short skirts and colorful fishnet stockings.

Instead of mayhem, broken teeth and bloody snoots, there were shrill whistles to signal time-outs and lots of hand waving in the direction of the star helmeted lead girl or “jammer.” And even more polite yes ma’ams, and oh pardons, would you like to pass? Well, certainly, go ahead. Thank you. You’re welcome.

I want this politeness and mannerly behavior in my real life, in parking lots and grocery stores, and in the bleachers for crying out loud, not on the rink!

Oh, my injury? My sore shoulder that I’ve been nursing for the past four days? Well, I did get hurt at roller derby. It was just by a clumsy fan in the stands. As he descended the narrow bleachers (aargh, we were packed inna there like-a saradinas), he kicked my shoulder with his big boot while aiming for a place to step. He didn’t even say “excuse me,” or anything, just left a big nasty bruise. Ah well, he gifted me with an opening line for this week’s entry.

As for the photographs this time, we have placed them in pairs. One in each set was taken by Groom (yes, the original!) and the other by moi. To enlarge for better detail, especially for the one that says “urban,” (did you notice the precious little shoot growing out of the curved grate?), simply click on the picture, then hit the back arrow to return to the blog.

After all these months, it never ceases to amuse us that we take similar shots, but the perspective is different. In every pair, except for the roller derby (you can see him standing in line), Groom’s are the first in the set and mine are the second. For example, Groom chose to get close and personal with the camellia while I was paying attention to its petals on the sidewalk. He shot a moon by night, I noticed one in the day.

My favorite example is the statue of the boy balancing on one arm with an eagle on his foot. Same day, same moment, different angle. Or the rocking horse. From one viewpoint, the horse is positioned in front of a bush and a wooden picket fence. Without the horse moving, the second photo reveals the background has shifted to wooden shingles and green bricks.

Isn’t that the way in life? Everyone of us is right in our own perspective, yet I have to keep in mind, the picture is always different through the lens of another.