Finding the site was easy, we got right to it and were still 45 minutes early. We parked and walked to the grounds, and immediately I can see the event is going to be much smaller than I had anticipated. I ask one of the vendors who’s already set up whom I should talk to about where I’m supposed to be, and they say to take any open spot and help myself to the tables and chairs provided. The wind is blowing gustily and we schlep our stuff from the car to the booth, choosing a sunny spot to help keep warm. My favorite bindi blows off my forehead and is immediately lost in the wind, so after a few minutes of fruitless searching, I shrug it off as a sacrifice to bring about more prosperity. It’s cold outside, maybe 55 degrees not factoring in the wind chill factor, and our costumes are completely obscured by our jackets, which makes me laugh after having spent so much mental energy on the dilemma of what to wear.

We set up the design books, prop my henna sign against the table legs, and I resist the urge to bite my nails in fear of everything blowing away. I had brought several of my large brass sculpture Hindu deities (Lakshmi and Ganesha included) both for decoration and to help hold things down on the table. Tara, the Buddhist Goddess of Pure Heart, is stationed right next to me and all day I use her weight to hold down every design page I end up working from. I prefer to display my books open at events, in hopes that they will draw folks over to stop and look at. But they’re flapping in the wind to the point I’m fearful they will tear the plastic pages out, and the gusts are so strong, they even lift up one entire book and toss it into the grass. After fetching the nomadic design book, we decide to stack them one on top of the other instead. I am already cold, and Rebecca and I both pull on the leg warmers that I brought (more just-in-case, contingency plans at work) which helps ... some. My toes in my open sandals, that I thought would look more ‘renaissancey’, are going slightly numb.

The serious Ren Faire folks are obvious from the start, they’re all wearing heavy wool or velvet cloaks and look toasty. Damn. I even have a wool cloak at home, I really do, and I didn’t even think of bringing it. Double damn. Rebecca and I chat and shiver like chihuahuas in winter while waiting for the event to begin. I can count on my fingers the number of other vendors there – a chain mail booth, a Renaissance clothing booth, food concessions, a palm reader, another chain mail/blade sharpening booth. I’m not a pessimistic person, but I’m already quite concerned about getting any work done given the tiny size of this venue, as well as the day’s weather. We both figure if I even make my booth fee back, perhaps that will be good enough.

By 10:30, a few people are trickling in and one young girl stops by and talks to us while paging through my books. She stops at CCJ’s Celtic designs and asks the cost for the largest one on the page. I mentally kick myself for not removing the Celtics, as I have yet to master the Celtic knotwork and am incredibly intimidated by the art. So, I shoot her a figure I think is higher than she will ever want to spend, and she smiles and says, “OK!” (D’oh!)

Inwardly, I start praying. Whenever I’m worried about a design I pray. I ask Laksmhi to puhlease help this girl doing her work, to guide my hand, and to bring a positive experience to the client. Inwardly, I’m thinking, it’s my first design of the day and it’s gonna be a bitch. Nooooo, I’m not worried. On the good side, I will have now made over half my booth fee all in one sitting.