Reenacting isn't all fun and games. There's the waking up to the intense need to hobble to the porta potty at dawn--and it's pouring. There's the fire that won't start, will only smoke--and that smoke is having a grand time plastering itself to your face. There's 100 degrees in the shade, and then there's frozen mornings where you have to break the ice off the buckets. And then there's the fundraising.
Not every group fundraises. We have a cannon. Cannons are like pets (pets you don't have to walk, but still). They have expenses--trailers, lots of black powder, upkeep. So we have a yearly fundraiser in which we...
...sell pork chops. Really. We grill pork chops in the parking lot of a tiny grocery store in a tiny town in the nondescript rural Midwest. We get sunburned and leave smelling like charcoal and spicy bacon. We make a couple hundred bucks and I promise it's legal and Health-Code approved.
And we have the funds to play for another year. So that's where I am this weekend--weilding my 21st century meat thermometor for the 18th century hobby.