Weekends having been their usual ridiculously busy selves lately, I chose to spend this one closer to home despite an annual retreat in Southern Indiana that I really would have liked to attend. But since I was home, it was possible to attend another event. It wasn’t technically a Halloween party, but costumes were encouraged. Ok, fine. For assorted reasons, it behooved me to look reasonably dignified, so I pulled out a black eyelet SCA chemise, belted it with silver cording, put on a classic black pointy hat with silver spider-webs all over it, and betook myself to the gathering.
One of the women saw me come up to the buffet line and commented that my anticipated eye of newt and wool of bat were absent, to which I replied that when dining with muggles, one learned to appreciate fried chicken. Then her little boy, no more than four or five, asked me where my broom was. I told him that the best witches ride dragons, and that mine was napping out in the parking lot with the cars. His eyes got absolutely huge, and as I turned back to the table I heard him whisper “Mommy, did you hear that? She has a real dragon!”
Any pictures? (Of you in the outfit, not of Dragon Frankie.)
‘Fraid not.
Ah, well. I’ll just have to use my imagination, then….