During the holdiay season, Santa & Mrs. Claus attend the final two weekends of LARF. It's a trip to watch a 5 year old confront the delicate social situation of to whom one must pay obeisance first - the Holy Present Bringers, or Queen Elizabeth. Where's Miss Manners when you need her??



It's getting on towards the end of the last day of the Faire, and Mrs. Claus, accompanied by her husband, stops to offer me some sweets. I peer into the box, which is filled with candy canes, but the two bags of coal have my attention.



"Candy coal! OOoooh!"



She smiles ruefully, "Oh, I don't know who's been naughty enough to deserve one of THOSE."



I didn't think twice. I didn't think at all. There, in front of my booth, in broad daylight, surrounded by thousands, with Santa looking on, I slapped Mrs. Claus a good one across the face.



She didn't say a word as she handed me the coal.



Santa managed, barely, not laugh.



And I don't know who was more stunned, me or Mrs. C.



But you can be damned sure I've renamed her. She's now my Sub Claus:)

...here: http://www.linkedin.com/pub/dir/ms/marrus, though it appears to be geared towards traditional professionals rather than yours truly. You know, like people who get jobs with resumes. I've NEVER gotten a job with a resume, and I finally just gave up. I think my few interviewers smelled my thinly masked disinterest the moment I walked in to their offices.



Any of you guys on there? Do you find it useful?



In other news, I PAINTED LAST NIGHT!!! On that Dream Stag piece from so long ago. It's better than this now, but it's not done yet:





And I may well do it again today, after I work out & yoga myself. Body just doesn't hurt enough.



ONE. MORE. WEEKEND. OF. FAIRE.



And then, to finegal a new print run, knock out a couple of paintings, rewrite parts of the book according to the editor's notes so they can lay it out, and get everything built & packed & shipped to Arisia by the beginning of January.



So not bored.

...is a fabulous event that takes place in a sparkling NYC hotel every year. It is attended by drag queens, drag kings, trannies and crossdressers alike. (No, they're not all the same thing.)



I'd met a fun crossdresser in a Maryland dungeon who invited me. When I later realized she'd asked as a date and I told her about my partner, she graciously took us both. It was HELLA fun.



This is my favorite shot from the evening. It makes my head twitch:)

Sunday at Faire was rainy, with a touch of tornado, frightening away the local populace. I was left all dressed up with nothing to do, and seven hours to kill.



That hasn't happened for a LOOOOoooong time.



But I had my sketchbook. And a pen. And my trusty facepaints. And I got to thinking about damned cats, and how when it's cold, a bed becomes a medieval wheel on which, rather than having one's joints broken, the damned furry things sleep in such a way that the owned human is forced to sleep in a meandering, aching pathway where ever the body will fit. I hate cats.



I'm particularly proud of not having done a pencil sketch. I just took my pen & drew. What IS it with all these cartoons lately???

Here she is, in all her digitally colored glory, courtesy of Chrysoula Artemis at Starlight Runner. Chrys & I know each other from our long-distant days at Valiant Comics.



Didn't she do a kickass job??





And:



Inks:





Pencils: