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  • Staff Infection And Other “Thangs”…

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    Yes… “STAFF” infection, NOT Staph Infection. That was what the monstrous, hyper-infectious, killer strain of “walking death influenza” was dubbed at this years Samhain Florida Pagan Gathering. Primarily, because patient zero infected several members of the festival staff, who then unwittingly shared it with other staff, then attendees, then speakers, etc. I just happened to be one of the lucky masses to be infected with extreme prejudice. Somewhere around late morning on Friday last I started feeling like crap. By that evening, I was pretty much laid up with a fever and hacking cough that was threatening to send one or both of my lungs flying across the room at supersonic speed. Not a good thing.

    Even so, a good time was had. I bunked in with Dorothy Morrison and her husband Mark on one side of the cabin, along with my wife (Evil Kat) and my offspring. On the other side of the cabin was my dear friend Kristin Madden and her son Karl, as well as another set of great buds, Z and Hardee. Even with the attack of the “Staff Infection”, we still got to visit and have a great time. I had a chance to visit with another dear friend, Chuck Cook. Unfortunately, his wife and kids weren’t able to make it this go around, but hopefully we will catch up with them in the not too distant future. I also got to visit with, and even square dance with, my old friend Ann Moura. And, of course, I spent some time with my buds John & Brandie (aka THAT Moonfire!) and their crew. To top it off, I got to meet and kibbitz with Kirk White, an author I had heretofore only known via email.

    The fest was well attended, as usual- rumor has it they even broke a record. The workshops were great and we all signed tons of books for festivalgoers. Other than the staff infection I only had two regrets – one being that Paul, our beloved guardian and firetender was not present, as he had just had surgery to remove a brain tumor. Fortunately, we received news that he is doing great, healing quicker than expected, and that the tumor turned out to be completely benign! (Yay!!) So, I’m looking forward to seeing him next go around. Just to make things right, however, someone produced a life size cutout picture of Paul’s face, and we all had pictures taken with it in groups, individually, at at various events throughout the fest so that he could be there with us, even if he wasn’t. My other regret would be that I didn’t get to make my annual pilgrimage down to Rowangrove, which is Druydess’s camp. She’s a lovely gal, tremendous hostess, and her whole crew is a blast to hang with. Every year I make sure to stop by for a few drinks and an hour or two of intelligent, witty, innuendo filled banter. Unfortunately, being laid up with the “infection” I was in no condition to drink, I wasn’t particularly witty- nor intelligent- and I would have hated to spread the virus any farther than it had already gone.

    So, FPG was a blast, even with the infection and regrets. I do feel it a moral imperative to say the following- Rayne, of guest services was fantastic! She took care of us like you wouldn’t believe, making sure that we had our cabin cooler filled with goodies and ice, extra blankets (yeah, there was actually a cold snap in Florida, can you believe it?), food, etc. She even had her minions cart our cases of books back and forth between the cabin and tables. As far as we were concerned, she was the Guest Services Goddess! And, as wonderful as the rest of the staff was and is, I also must single out my favorite Guardian, Trauma. She is an absolute sweetheart, and she saw to it that I was well taken care of from the medical standpoint. (Of course, prior to becoming infected, she also tagged me with her infamous “Flaming Dr. Pepper”, but that’s a whole ‘nother story…)

    Now…On to some other stuff…That being, “Nasty Rumors”…

    When filling out my speaker info packet for FPG, as a joke I put a few notes under “special requirements”… The notes were something to the effect that Dorothy Morrison was old and decrepit and would require a wheelchair. I also added that Kristin Madden is a whiny diva who would demand that she get anything Morrison got, and therefore they should have one for her too.

    Now…The staff of FPG knows us well, and they knew this was a joke. They posted it on their official website, as a joke. Some of you may even remember Dorothy, Kristin, and me blogging back and forth at one another about this, and generally having a great time with it.

    Unfortunately, someone who doesn’t know us read the blurb on the FPG site, and took offense. They felt that Kristin was being seriously disrespected, and were worried that Dorothy was on her deathbed.

    So…Let us quell the rumors. Dorothy Morrison is like my big sister. Kristin Madden is like my little sister. Yeah, I’m the middle child…guess that explains it, eh? (Grin)….Either way, we pick back and forth at one another all the time. It is all good natured fun, and it is how we interact. If you see us in person, all together, you will see one hell of a show. And, if I do say so myself, we are pretty damned entertaining– Well, we amuse ourselves, so hey, what more can we ask… Suffice it to say, there was no disrespect toward Kristin “Don’t Call Me Kirsten” Madden, nor is Dorothy “Older Than Dirt” Morrison in ill health. It was just us kids joking around with one another. End of story.

    Trust me, if we ever get mad at one another you won’t see us bickering. There will just be three smoking holes left where we each once stood. But, I can pretty much guarantee you that such will never happen, so no worries there.

    Okay, I need to go check on Evil Kat since she is now dealing with the Staff Infection. I’ll leave you with a few pictures…

    Thought I was kidding about the square dancing, didn’t you?

    More to come…

    Murv

  • M. R. And The…

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    Geriatric Fetish Dominatrix Hooker.

    Yeah, that got your attention, didn’t it? And, no, it’s not just a ploy to get you to read this blog. Well, not entirely, anyway (wink wink, nudge nudge).

    So, what am I babbling about?

    Well, you see, about a week ago I was in New Orleans to attend, and support, my good friend Dorothy Morrison’s book release for Utterly Wicked: Curses, Hexes, and Other Unsavory Notions. Now, a book release is a big deal. It is a party where the book is first rolled out and made available for purchase, usually a week or so prior to the official “street date” set by the publisher. So, Dorothy arranged for her release party to be in NOLA–in the French Quarter, in fact, at a wonderful store on Dumaine called Esoterica. Mimi, the owner, had her annual soiree in conjunction with it, that way there was a really huge party with Champagne, Caviar, and tons of other food & drink. A host of wonderful folks attended, all decked out in Witchy costumes, from downright scary to, dare I say it, sexy.

    This is where the Geriatric Fetish Dominatrix Hooker comes in…

    The thing is, Morrison wanted this to be a big deal (which it was) and since the title of the book is Utterly Wicked, well…ummm…Okay, let me break it down-

    Morrison, as I have explained before, is OLDER THAN DIRT. I doubt I need to provide the calculation here again, but suffice it to say she is what you’d call Geriatric. So, anyway, she plans out this whole outfit for the release. Imagine if you will, Dorothy Morrison decked out as follows:

    Black silk peasant blouse with lace cuffs, black satin boned corset, black leather miniskirt, black fishnet stockings, black Steve Madden boots (ostensibly named “The Sergeant” because they are patterned somewhat after combat boots- but, only in that they are made of both canvas and patent leather, and lace up in the front) with 5 inch stiletto heels, and a black hat with a lace thingamajig hanging down her back.

    Yeah…Like I said… Geriatric Fetish Dominatrix Hooker. All she needed was a cat ‘o nine to complete the ensemble.

    Anyway, she got herself all decked out in this getup, then pranced through the quarter, a walk spanning about 10 blocks from the St. Louis Hotel down to Mimi’s shop. Horns were honking, there were catcalls, whistles, near collisions from people craning their necks, and even a few disapproving stares from the hotel staff. (I think maybe they thought I’d been keeping a hooker in my room)

    I know there are pictures because flashes were going off all night. Hopefully some will get emailed to me so I can show you this getup, because I’m not kidding.

    However, geriatric or not, I have to admit that Morrison looked sharp and definitely had it going on. Hell, when she was getting ogled as we walked down the street I just couldn’t help myself- I told all of the panting guys to back off, because I had already paid her and secured her services for the evening.

    More to come…

    Murv