Madge and Momma Pug Do the Texas Renaissance Fair

This weekend, Madge and I embarked on getting the girls costumes together for the Texas Renaissance Fair. If you don't know what I'm talking about, take a second to go to their site and look around. It's really indescribable and you just need to go see for yourself. I'll wait 'til you get back…

Texas Renaissance Fair

… Hi! Welcome back! Okay so you see what I mean about the Ren Fair being a big deal? Which isn't really surprising because Texas does everything BIG. (Hell, there is even an episode of King of the Hill that takes place at the Texas Renaissance Fair.

The Aggie and I lived our first year in the county that the Texas Renaissance Fairs calls home. We were given free tickets and almost didn't go. I mean, you would want to out in the woods and watch a bunch of Dungeon and Dragon geeks get wound up over turkey legs and knights with wooden swords? In a burst of boredom, however, the Aggie and I decided to throw caution to the wind and off we went. No one was more surprised that me at how much fun we had. We quickly discovered that it was like the Disneyland of renaissance fairs. The actors weren't just nerds, they were honest to god Shakespearian actors. The quality of the buildings, rides and entertainment was astounding. So when Madge brought up taking the girls to the fair I was ALL ABOUT IT.

Saturday we bought dresses at the Goodwill to turn into their costumes – yes, pretty much 75 percent of everyone that goes to the fair is dressed as something from the Medieval era. Well, Madge and I love an excuse to dress up, so we decided to live vicariously through the girls, who willing if not excited about the prospect. Poor Madgette had to stand still for an hour while I pinned material to her green velvet dress.

It went a little something like this:

Madgette: "Are you almost done?"

Momma Pug: "Yes."

Madgette: "Don't stick me with the pin, okay?"

Momma Pug: "Okay."

Madgette: "Is the Internet back?"

Momma Pug: "No."

Madgette: "Will it be back tonight?"

Momma Pug: "Probably not."

Madgette: "What about the TV?"

Momma Pug: "Nope, not coming back on tonight."

Madgette: "Ouch, you almost stuck me!"

Momma Pug: "Oh, shut up. Almost doesn't count."

(Madgette looks to her mother in protest.)

Madge: "Almost doesn't count. Be still."

Madgette: "Can I go play princess now?"

Momma Pug: "I'm trying to make you a princess dress!"

Madgette: "I think I'd rather just play princess."

Momma Pug: "Fine. Go."

We turned ourselves to the exchange student Annyong. She wasn't entirely convinced that we were making something that should be worn in public. In fact, she'd argued with us repeatedly that she didn't want to wear her costume to prom. She'd like a different type dress, she said. Prom, we asked? This has nothing to do with prom. No. No. No. Then is it for Halloween, she asked? No. Not for that either, we explained. She just wasn't wrapping her mind around what a Renaissance Fair could possibly be. Since there was no Internet connection (damn you Comcast) we couldn't just take her to the site. So we showed her pictures in the fabric store of costumes that would look like hers. Still her face drew a blank. But why would we do this, she asked? Because its fun, we said. Fun? This fun, she asked? She looked at us like we were the Rainman and Forrest Gump of Fun. We tried for three hours to clue her into what a we were doing and why it wasn't the sort of dress she'd wear to prom. Finally, we gave up.

"We'll just tell her on the day of to put the damn dress on," Madge concluded. Sounds like a plan, I agreed.

As we settled into our sewing, the husbands turned on the television to the one channel they can pick up with rabbit ears – PBS. America's Test Kitchen was on, so they watch intently as the chef blind taste tested different mayonnaise brands. A moment later it cut to commercial and low-and-behold there was a advertisement for the Texas Renaissance Fair. Praise sweet baby Jesus! Madge and I pointed and screamed and you would have thought we'd just spotted the naked ghost of Elvis. Madison perked up and watched intently. Annyong soaked in ever second of it. Their reaction gave us such hope. Then the commercial faded away and Madge and I watched the girl's faces intently. Madgette was already back to playing princess with her Barbies. Annyong only uttered one syllable: "Oh." Then she disappeared back into her teenage girl lair.

A moment later, Madge and I found ourselves with yards and yards of shiny material and accoutrements in our laps and not one kid that was appreciative of our efforts to make them into an authentic 16th century princess.

"I wish I had a Renaissance dress," Madge said.

"Me too," I replied.

Then we locked eyes.

Screw these ingrates. They will wear their goddamned dresses and they will like it. And Madge and I WILL DRESS UP TOO. Yes, that's it. We'll make costumes for ourselves. Because lets face it, that’s what this all about: Madge and I wanting to play dress up. We want to be princesses, damn it.

And so, in the name of all that is holy, it shall be done.

Madge's shall be silver. Mine shall be blue. And instead of making them for cheap like we are the kiddos, we're splurging and buying ours... for $29.99 each. Suckas.