For the Georgia Renaissance Festival. My favorite excuse ever to wear costumes and drink mead. Not that I've ever needed an excuse.
That's where I'm going tomorrow, to celebrate graduating, life, and friendship through a slapdash, anachronistic recreation of an era in history that I'm pretty sure did not actually feature deep fried pickles.
But I need your help.
Two years ago, I attended Georgia RenFest with some classmates and faced a dastardly rival at the King of the Log competition. For those of you who don't know, King of the Log is when two people get on a log and try to knock each other off using giant bags of stuffing. Best 3 rounds out of 5 is the winner. It's serious business.
The score was 2 to 2 that fateful day in May 2011. My rival--let's call her BW--and I stood face to face, sacks in hand, preparing for the final round. The whistle blew, or the trumpet, I don't remember. I don't want to get into details. It will suffice to say that my foot slipped, and I fell off the log. I also lost my cell phone and a kindly fairy returned it.
Ballet flats are not the proper footwear for King of the Log.
|Me, left, fighting the fearsome BW while some weird pirate watches.|
So tomorrow, BW and I will meet on the log once more. This time, I shan't lose. And I'll wear my Nikes.
I'd like to say I've been training, but I really kind of only remembered to start training yesterday.
If you could send good wishes my way tomorrow, it would be much appreciated.
There can be only one King of the Log. And I mean to take the crown that should have been mine two years ago.