Well, I've been to work and back, and I'm still a bit bummed. I will be all right, but I totally want to still be at Falcon Ridge. I had a really good day at work, though, and was reminded why I love my job. My dream would be to live at Falcon Ridge and have a portable salon there. But, alas, that is just a dream...
Wednesday, Brandy and I got to Facon Ridge, and immediately saw George and John, and had a big lovefest in the parking lot. Soon after I was dropped off at the top of the hill, Teresa and Nichole arrived, and I got a big lump in my throat. I saw Larry and DjP and the whole gang of usual suspects. Just typing the names out now is making me pine. On Thursday, we had a great day, with the Kennedys coming to the GFP for a workshop. They played many, many new songs, and rare songs, and I walked aroud taking pictures of my happy, mesmerized friends.
On Friday, the rain came. It had been threatening rain for a while. It drizzled mildly all morning. But two people into the new artist showcase, It began to pour as hard as I've ever seen rain pour in my life. I cowered under the food tent, venturing out only long enough to see my friend Jerree Small play. After that, I cowered under the food tent some more. I had gotten separated from my friends, and I began to sink into sadness. After an hour, it was still pouring, and I decided to check the dance stage, which is also under a tent. No one was there. My flip flops were getting sucked off in the mud. I saw no one in the dance tent. I started to cry, not that anyone would have been able to tell. It was incredibly muddy, and the buses would not be running up the hill. I had no idea what to do. A few minutes later, I heard the bus coming around the corner. I ran as much as I could with the mud sucking at my footwear, and got on the bus. When the bus got to the top of the hill, it began to spin its tires. That was the last bus that made it up the hill during the storm. When I got to my tent, I found out that the flap had blown open and a few things, including my sleeping bag, had gotten wet. My mood worsened. I went over to the GFP and snapped at a few people before calming down. We were all in the same boat, and so we sat under the pavilion and ate lots of chips until the rain subsided late that afternoon. We ventured down the hill later to see the Nields rock the mainstage, and all was well again.
We woke to mist on Saturday morning and I prayed that there would be no more rain. Around 8, the sun started to peek through the clouds, and by noon it was completely sun-drenched, and stayed that way for the entire rest of the weekend. Sunday morning's gospel wake-up call was one of the highlights of the weekend. I never feel closer to God, or whoever's watching the mad goings-on down here, than when I'm at the gospel workshop. "Gospel" meant anything from Stevie Wonder to Son of a Preacher Man. It made me feel loved, and warm, and I was surrounded by wonderful people.
The hardest part was saying goodbye, and there were some people that I didn't even get to say goodbye to. I hope that I don't regret that later. Regret is a terrible emotion. Tracy Grammer closed out the festival. During Farewell to St. Dolores, I started to tear up. Then Nichole started to cry, and I embraced her, and we cried like the sad, sensitive wusses we are. We cried on and off through the rest of her set, and when it was time to say goodbye, we hugged and kissed and promised to call. I called George a motherf*cker jokingly and felt bad that I left on that note. But still I went home, and have regretted it ever since.
In better news, I am getting a second job at PACE, my favorite place in the whole wide world. I'm happy that they're finally able to pay me, but feel kinda guilty cause I know they don't have a super-lot of money. I will likely have to get a third job to supplement it all, but I really don't want to end up working more than six days a week. I need at least one day off.
well, it's time to get going... If you're in my Falcon Ridge posse, I miss you like crazy!
Keep in touch!
