Wizards, repairmen and turkey legs

Come to think of it, those blocks may have been part of the slow net speed problem.

Last week, it was the phone lines that started giving us problems, which, unlike the expendable computer, is a major issue, since my husband gets his work orders by fax over those very same phone lines every day. Once I realized it wasn't an overdue bill issue, and for once, there really was something wrong with the line, I nagged Ma Bell until she sent someone out.

I've got to hand it to the phone company. If the cable company told me they were going to have someone there around 8 a.m. on a Saturday morning, I'd expect them about noon on Monday. I was expecting the AT&T guy around noon on Monday -- and he showed up ay 8 a.m. Saturday.

After an hour of crawling around, under and through my awful, cluttered house, he found the source of the problem. One little bitty cord, connecting the base of our cordless phone to the jack. For some bizarre reason, that was affecting the other phone in the other room on a totally different jack, as well as the computer modem.

You've gotta love technology -- it's the closest thing we have to witchcraft these days. Common sense and a loose foundation in general applied sciences try to tell me that one little cord on the opposite end of the house couldn't possibly affect the rest of the hook-ups, but one repairman (and positive results) proved me wrong. Apparently it's some kind of sympathetic magic...

We went to the Renaissance Festival the next day. It's the first time I've been in years and after a day of fighting with all things electronic, it was nice to roam through the woods with elves and knights. I politely ignored the electronic credit card readers and the laptops where people could design their own family crest. I turned my back on the guy dressed up as Obi Wan Kenobi (in 16th Century England? Come on, now!) and laughed myself silly at the human chess match instead.

Then there was the booth that sold striped socks, for members of the clan Pippi of Longstocking, I guess. The food booths were as bad, offering cannolis and, thank the heavens, Diet Coke. I'm not sure they had cannolis in the Middle Ages, but then again, I'm not sure those were cannolis anyway.

I've never been one of the "authenticity Nazis" who gets bent out of shape when someone wears a red dress (Gasp! Only the QUEEN can wear red!) or when you can see a man's Reeboks beneath his friar's robes. The whole event is about escaping the 21st century for a while, not hopping into a time machine and traveling back to the real thing. Smallpox, dysentery and the Spanish Inquisition are not my ideas of a dream vacation. (Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!)

One of the reasons I've always loved the Ren Fair in Triune is that its one of the few major events that "allows" mystical and magical creatures such as elves and trolls to roam the grounds along with the ladies-in-waiting and court fools. It was nice to see a drop in the number of Goth vampires this year, though. I guess since the mainstream teens have latched onto the whole vampire mythos with "Twilight," the contra-trendy Goths now consider the undead to be uncool.

Pirates, on the other hand, are the new cool, and if I'd had a dollar for every Jack Sparrow wannabe I saw Sunday, I would have been able to afford one of those overpriced turkey legs.

We had a good time, but as I pried myself out of one of the Porta-Privies, which was tilted downhill at a 30-degree angle, and found myself ankle-deep in mud, I realized that half the fun was knowing I only have to do this once a year. Visiting Ye Olde Days is funne, but only when you know you can get brb2 the future NOW -- even if that future involves modern spells jinxing your computer and phones and paying a king's ransom to the wizard who removes them.