Sicken on the Strand

Hey there.

Yes, I know.  There was no post yesterday.  I was recovering from a bout of food poisoning from our trip to Dickens on the Strand on Saturday.

The day started fantastically, however.  We drove over to Enchanted Gardens, which is a fantastic little nursery near our house.  Daphne got to see some goats..

daphnewithgoatsAccording to your mother, “goats hurt you.”

We posed for a quick picture…

enchantgardxmaspicYes, your father is wearing a D&D shirt.

And after a couple laps around the nursery, we picked out Daphne’s very first Christmas tree…

enchantfirsttreepic“That’s it?  Okay.  If you’re sure, I’m sure.”

After which we headed toward Clear Lake and stopped off for a Schlotzsky’s picnic lunch at the marina where Eidolon was once docked.  So Little D. got her first exposure to boats too, which was a giggly awesome time.  We even got an offer to go for a sail on someone’s custom-built catamaran, but sadly had to decline since we were meeting family at Dickens on the Strand.

dickenslightsMechanic St. in Galveston.

Dickens was…well, it was interesting this year.  It’s rapidly becoming more Ren Fest than Victorian.  There were dreadlocked hippie girls in leather corsets hula-hooping in the street, hundreds of vaping steampunk ragamuffins, and countless pirates.  None of these, that I recall, occurred in a single Dickens novel.

“Hail, Miss Havisham!  That’s a lovely brass dirigible anchored in the gardens of Satis House.”

Which brings us to the point of poisoning.

We stopped at Wild Bill’s Olde Fashioned Soda Shoppe, bought a commemorative stein, and braved a swarm of bees to fill it with soda from their casks.  The first one was just root beer, which Jen and I shared and was just fine.  I really should’ve stopped there.  Alas, since I’d paid $20 for the stein + unlimited refills, I felt compelled to go back for a refill.  And I chose the Vanilla Cream.  That was a poor choice.

I did notice a strange metallic taste to it, but chalked it up to the metal mug and downed a full flagon of tainted soda.

24 hours later, I’m dry heaving into a toilet and suffering a moderate case of the mud butt.  And that’s where I stayed for most of Sunday evening. I’m still actually on the mend, but functioning at about 75% which is enough to get out into the world.

Damn you Wild Bill; clean your filthy soda fountains.

Anyway, I really hope the people who run Dickens try to focus a bit more on the Victorian era, and gently suggest that the steampunk kids find another venue.

[Full disclosure:  I do think the steampunk genre is awesome; I just don’t care for it blended into Christmas stuff.]

tiredgirlonwayhome‘Dem Santa socks…

See you tomorrow.


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