Our stake’s youth conference is going to western Missouri this year to visit some key sites from church history: Far West, Liberty Jail, Haun’s Mill, etc. Merkin, BratzBasher, and I have volunteered (rather, agreed after being asked) to participate in a couple historical reenactments/presentations/whatever. We’ll be in costume. I doubt we will be documenting this with photos.
We had our one rehearsal today. We spent two hours going over logistics of the trip, such as transportation, lodging. Marriott messed up the reservations, so the sister in charge was scrambling yesterday to fix everything — where do you find reservations for over 200 teenagers and their chaperones? Fortunately, that responsibility falls to Marriott because the mix-up is their fault. Unfortunately, we will now be staying in establishments 30 minutes away from where we planned to be. This adds overtime charges to the bus fees.
Anyway…after the long session of talking, during which BB fell asleep, we actually rehearsed our parts for the various presentations. I have a honkin’ big part at the temple — not looking forward to that. Merkin is doing a walking tour at some point. Otherwise, we just have a couple small parts to do — plus an in-the-background reenactment of the Haun’s Mill massacre while others talk about it. I get to hoe an imaginary field for a few minutes before running from the mob. BB gets to help mend and fold a quilt. Merkin gets to be an angry member of the mob.
I’ve got some costume sewing to do. I’m repairing a white skirt for a scene at the temple; making a simple, blue skirt for my costume; and adjusting a blouse to button all the way up. I’m not making bonnets. I think BB has one somewhere, but I’m not looking for it. Merkin is on his own, costume-wise.
I’m sure that I’ll be wondering why I ever agreed to do this before the job is finished. I’ve got one line in the Far West presentation that makes me cry. I always feel like a total dork when I cry in public — which, by the way, I never do because I’m very good at not crying…usually. Everyone else was talking about how awesome it was that I could barely say my line because I was crying. Whatever. I still felt like a dork.
That’s what we’ll be doing next weekend. I’ve got a week to finish getting ready, learn my lines well enough to get by with a small cheat card, and get psyched up for a scorching hot weekend dressed in pseudo-pioneer garb. Yay. At least I don’t have to help herd the teenagers. YAY!