Re-enactment Splinch

I've coined the term "re-enacment splinch" for the way I feel after returning home from an event.  Besides being filthy and exhausted, I'm usually sad that it's over.  But the worst part is feeling caught between the centuries, sort of splinched, if you will.  (Splinch: to be separated.  A reference from Harry Potter.  When someone is splinched, some part of their body is split apart because they did not apparate correctly.)

For about three days after most events, I wander around feeling sort of listless and checking facebook regularly for any pictures or stories from our recent adventure.  Karl and the kids and I rehash every story from our weekend.  Pathetic, I know.

Yesterday, Claire and I rode an old-fashioned steam train, the Mt. Ranier Scenic Railroad.  Clarence fought a few skirmishes, died in a glorious suicidal charge, and hung out with a gang of Civil War boys.  They formed a new unit, gave each other impressive ranks, marched and drilled, and fought some exciting rear-guard action.

Meanwhile, I walked up and down the train talking to the public with my friend, Rufus Lawless, our unit's 2nd Sergeant.

Acting as brother and sister, we told people that he and my son Clarence were returning to the war front in Virginia.  I gave him hand-knitted socks and he showed kids his gun.  I wouldn't have felt brave enough to talk to people alone, but we had a blast together.  It was just what I needed, since I got to stay in the 1800s, but with other people playing along.  Plus he's hilarious.

And now I feel splinched.  Somehow even with all the cars around yesterday, and a veritable paparazzi, I still managed to feel more in the 1800s than I ever have.  Today, no one but Karl is even making an attempt.

Also, the kids and I went to see some friends perform in High School Musical - lights, music, sound - I felt overwhelmed by the modern age.

I also felt pretty darn silly sitting in the audience dressed like this:

Yep.  I did dress like this.  I don't even try to explain anymore.

Does anyone else splinch?

Autumn