Yesterday was "Mesa Day" in the city of Mesa, Arizona. How do I know? Well, Greg and I attempted to go to a woodworking/telescope shop in downtown Mesa and were foiled by blocked off streets, little girls with pom-poms, Girl Scouts and marching bands. Many of the people in attendance looked like long-term desert recluses and watching them walk behind the end of the parade evoked visions of the post-apocalyptic desert settings popular in science fiction.

Whenever I encounter marching bands, two things spring to mind. One - flashbacks to my two years as a flute player in my high school marching band. Two - a photo from Rolling Stone magazine from several years ago of Trent Reznor in his high school band uniform. Suddenly the pain in his music just makes that much more sense.

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Today we went to the Renaissance Festival, which is an amazingly pleasant, well-organized event down to the tiniest detail. Probably the best directed event traffic anywhere on the planet. I purchased a skirt and a snood and am wearing them even as I type this. In reality, I am just a 5-year old girl who likes to play dressup.

RenFaire always leaves me restless. Sometimes I think I could be content working year-round there, travelling from place to place wearing garb and shouting rude phrases with a British accent at the patrons. It would be a significant departure from my daily life. One of the few drawbacks, though, would be the shear amount of cleavage that one is exposed to. And nobody who wears chain mail should wear chain mail, if ya know what I'm saying. Note to self: work on pecs at the gym.