After some encouragement, I've decided to go ahead and resume my
self-appointed post of a rec.juggling festival reviewer. Hope you
enjoy it...

Due to a string of unfortunate events involving Prozac, a broken arm,
unemployment, and a plate of herring intestines, I have been unable to
attend any other fests this year besides Damento and Isla Vista. I've
really missed them, even though I've hardly been juggling this summer.
So when Andrew Conway started emailing me about getting the  14th
Annual Lodi Juggling Festival started (he's the founder but I've been
helping run it for the last four years), I had regained quite a bit of
enthusiasm about getting to a fest again.

The preparations for Lodi aren't nearly as complex as they were for
Damento. My sweetie, Bill Gilliland, did up a nice Web page depicting
the Michelangelo sculpture of David holding a strategically placed
club, specifically inspired by certain objections raised ‘round these
parts regarding nudity (classical or otherwise). This in turn
immediately gave me the idea what would become the back of the Lodi
shirt this year: the Venus de Milo, looking forlornly down at five
dropped -- and unrecoverable -- clubs.

In addition to producing the shirt and Web site, we also did the
postcard mailing and arranged things like the dinners and special
events. It was a relief to finally get ready to head out to the site
on Friday.

A couple of days before, I heard Bill on the phone with someone,
saying something to the effect of "Sure, you can crash with us
Thursday night. No problem." Since we'd had the Rootberry boys stay
over the week before (sword-swallowing philosophy over breakfast is an
experience not to be missed), I was wondering who the next guest at
Katje's Juggler's B&B would be. When I asked, Bill said it was Adam
Adler, and I just about fell over.

You see, I was convinced Adam hates me. I crapped all over his first
Lodi act about six years ago (well, to be honest, he deserved it: his
opening act for the public show... with all three of my under-10
children seated in the front row ... used music that prominently
featured the word "motherfucker"), and he was not invited back for the
next year. He thought I convinced Andrew to ban him, but I hadn't.
David Birnbaum did a nice Renegade riff on it the next year, though.

Adam ran into me during the next Portland afterglow party, and let me
know he thought I'd overstepped my bounds. He was kind of a jerk about
it, and I wasn't terribly apologetic either. So while we'd been out to
dinner a few times since then, usually Eric Bagai or Todd Strong or
some other peacemaker was seated between us and an unspoken truce was
maintained for the last five years.

So I was a little surprised to hear he'd be turning up on my doorstep
in a matter of hours. I shrugged my shoulders and figured he just
didn't know Bill and I were shacked up, and that we'd work it out when
he got here.

Well, I was being a dope. He'd pretty much forgiven and forgotten the
incident years ago and was completely charming, helpful and funny
while he was here. He and his two traveling companions arrived about  2
a.m. Friday morning, and my husky/Australian shepherd mix Wiley barked
his head off until my youngest son released him from the confines of
his room. I was convinced I would see a bloody mess once I got my robe
on and stumbled out to the living room. Sure enough, there was Adam on
the floor, with Wiley at his throat... and they both looked
deleriously happy about it. I left them all to their joyous wrestling
party, and headed back to bed. Wiley immediately adopted Adam as his
new god, focusing his worship particularly upon the deity's right
foot.

The next morning, we combined packing, making cappucinos and
breakfast, having my three kids meet with their teacher (we
homeschool; they meet with a teacher once a week on Friday at  10
a.m.), using up some brown bananas to make banana cake, formatting and
printing out the festival schedule, finalizing Saturday dinner details
over the phone... all while our guests watched Juggle Master  2000 in
the midst of the chaos.

Before they left, they helped load up the RV. This trip was to be the
maiden voyage of my  23-foot '96 Fleetwood Montara(it's part of my plan
for a major road trip with the kids; we look forward to staying at
your curb sometime soon, thanks for inviting us. More details at
www.madventure.us). I brought way too much stuff as it was, but I
could have brought even more if I wanted to. Adam and company headed
out first for the hour-long drive to Lodi, and we followed a little
later.

OK, a lot later. I was half-an-hour late for the annual  3:30 p.m.
meeting with Andrew and the park district people. Still, once they saw
me, they wanted to fill me in on everything. Andrew of course had
already headed out to the fest site, and the kids were quite happy to
start their scootering marathon. I was desperate for a restroom, but
did my best to keep a polite and interested look on my face as I
danced from foot to foot while they went over this year's details.

You don't need to hear all about that meeting, but there was one
moment where I honestly wasn't sure if they were kidding me or not.
They expressed concern about the Lodi Web site, and at first I thought
they objected to the David sculpture. No, that wasn't it. It was the
link to the Damento page, and the fourth photo on this page:
http://damento.org/photos1.html -- Tom Dick (who has done sound for us
the last couple years at Lodi... for free) wearing his "All I need to
know, I learned from porn" t-shirt. I really thought they had heard
about the Dick Franco hoo-ha, and were having me on, but when I
recognized that they were actually serious, I bit my tongue hard and
tut-tutted like the best of them. Guess we'll have to do something
about that link, but I suppose I should be glad that someone in their
office actually took the time to crawl on over to Damento and check it
out.

A quick dash in the RV over to the restrooms of the fest site was next
on the agenda, and once the urgency was reduced, I was able to start
getting things set up. Unloaded kitchen and office supply stuff,
dropped the music box & cds, and found a nice shady spot for the RV
(it had the slightest starboard list, but other than causing the eggs
to scramble on one side of the pan, it really wasn't much of a
problem).

Friday night... it really feels like it was a month ago. Got the kids
settled with raviolis, set up the sleeping gear, heard some great
feedback on the t-shirt, called Bill (who was arriving in a few hours)
and asked him to bring a few things I'd forgotten, and just sat down
to bask in all the happy juggler vibes. You know the drill... hug all
those folks you haven't seen since last fest, and check out the grub
that's being stashed in the kitchen.

George from Humboldt (who saved the spaghetti dinner from descent into
chaos last year) brought over a ball for me to sign... he's been
collecting signatures from people at fests on balls and then dipping
them in plastic to preserve them. He showed me the ones he did at
Portland, with Viktor Kee and so on. I felt honored because he chose
me as his first Lodi signature.

I had a nice visit with Barb and Wayne, old renaissance faire friends.
Barb is Porn-Tommy's mom, an R.N. and a masseuse. Barb helped us out
when a fest participant fell from an unspotted two-high, and we've
adored her ever since. Her partner Wayne has a million funny stories
and recited a poem for me called "Better Living through Chemistry"
which is exactly what you think it's about.

Adam tried to make a case for taking Wiley home with him. Steve Healy
-- JAG -- was spotted (yes, he's still alive, and he still kicks ass
at combat). I saw jugglers from Seattle, Portland, Arizona and L.A....
and there was one shaggy, skinny dude on the floor doing crazy stuff
like five-club-backcrosses. Turns out this was our featured guest,
Haggis McLeod. I heard that Willie and Dick Johnson, the Innuendo
brothers (aka Tim Kelly and BJ Joyer) weren't going to be doing our
Renegade mc gig this year... they got a paid gig instead. Sheesh.

I didn't last much beyond midnight on Friday. I felt a little bit
cheesed that everyone else seemed to be perky and ready to party all
night when I was so exhausted, but I got over it and put myself to
bed. The trains, barking seals, and leaf blowers all periodically
interrupted my slumber, but once we were settled, the RV was
comfortable. The only drawback to this set-up is that the bed Bill & I
were on is part of the cab-over section, and to get down you have to
swing your butt and legs over the abyss and grope with your left toe
for a tiny little step ledge on the wall. I'm not the most adept
person to begin with, and having to scamper up and down this perch all
night only emphasized my determination to avoid rockclimbing at all
costs.

(continued...)