Today, I went to a Renaissance Fair, dressed as a pirate.

Huzzah for the Renaissance Fair!

I've wanted to try mead for longer than I can remember; wine made of honey, appealing to the Viking within me. His name is Erik and he braids his beard and he gets a kick out of sweet booze that attracts bees like nobody's business. And yes, honey-wine is, in fact, delightful. Not for everyday consumption, that's what grog is for, but as an occational afternoon delight. Now, I'm not hardly a historian, and I can't tell you what folks in the way back when really consumed, but mild alcohols coupled with meat-on-a-stick (be that a real stick-stick or a stick of bone) seems to be a reasonable option. And I got to jaunt around dressed as a pirate, eating stick-meat and honey-booze. The Renaissance is alive and well when there's turkey legs and mead.

Oh, and corsets. Oh man, corsets. Fucking-A, corsets. Man, I could go on for an uncomfortable length of time about corsets. I mean, a frighteningly uncomfortable length of time. There were many corsets, so it was very difficult for me to concentrate on any thing for any length of time without being distracted by a lady with a rack you could fit a family of four on. What I need to do is find me a lady who wants a corset, and then BUY her a corset, and have her wear it. Then pretty much do whatever she wants for the rest of my life. Because oh man... corsets.