Ren fair

On the spur of the moment, we drove out to the Renaissance Festival in Irwindale on Sunday. It was a much needed distraction. Surrounded by drunkards, pirates, and busty women thrusting their wares at you, escapism comes naturally.

A sweet little redheaded fairy accompanied by her father in full plate armor greeted visitors at the ticket booth. She came skipping over to our little boy and bent down in the muddy grass to hand him a blue glass bead: "Give this to the young lady who catches your eye and she will be yours forever. Girls like shiny things." My son had no clue what was going on, but he took care to put it in his pocket and say thank you.

Renaissance Festivals are an odd cross-section of historical anachronisms, people obsessed with very big swords, neopaganism, and knick-knacks. Did I mention the not-so-subtle overtones of drunkenness, violence, and sex? Can't miss that. And yet, it's a good place to take your children on the weekend.

L got her hair braided with bunches of flowers and multicolored ribbons; J bought a wooden sword to fight off the dragons. The music was excellent, the weather was mild, and the crowds were much too polite for LA. My favorite part was our crowd-control woman at the joust. When her neighbor took a break, she was left rushing back and forth between two sections: egging us on to boo for a knight while wildly gesturing for cheers and applause from the group a few seats over. No, wait, that was topped by someone hawking "the Coach bag of the Renaissance!" (wooden beer mugs).

J fell asleep in my arms and we went home sunburned and smiling.