The same weekend: three bake sales and one art craft sale. There were two bake sales in two churches. One church was selling specialty knives in addition to baked goods. We got knives. Why? Don’t know. The second church sold books and baked goods. We got books. Six grandchildren all read. We don’t need books. But who can resist a book sale. The art was Delaware by hand and displayed the wares of craftsman from the area. We looked and admired. As expected, the price of handmade craft was expensive. In between we hit a yard sale. That was priceless. There was junk. Someone sold a Kitchen Aid mixer (not junk). Her neighbor dutifully handed over cash and the sale was done before our eyes. We bought a vintage baby buggy from the very same neighbor. Ok! I got another project to fix up. The last stop was the AARP scholarship show – craft, baked goods, and a farmer’s market with corn straight from Georgia. It was a packed day.
For some reason there were more people with odd costumes or hair at the sheep festival. Party! Party color! When did I become conservative? But, you dress like this and you beg me to look and notice you. Maybe I don’t get out enough these days.
…as in “complaint.” I have nothing but sympathy for Colleen. There’s no wait in the men’s side of the restrooms. And the women’s line is out the door and up the block… Evidently someone thought of this. There was a bank of portapotties about 100 or so, down the road and out of sight of this place. Nice of you folks to inform people. Meanwhile, you would think the planners would have known to make the women’s side more capacious. But then again, the architect was a man?
Sheep and wool fairs always have a place where they sell fleece. It would be fleece that is sheared from the sheep and sold in large plastic bags at $/pound. It’s less expensive than yarn ready to weave. But there is a lot of processing. Are all fleeces equal. Hardly. Picking fleece is an art. I’m learning. I used to go by feel. That would be too simple. As we picked and chose, a volunteer came up and “squoze” my bag. Huh? She recognized her fleece and was checking. Yup, it was from her sheep. A mother always knows. Neat! If you wander into the fleece barn… you get fleece. I/we must be good pickers. A couple people admired our choices and told us they’d take the bag if we changed our mind.
I have a lot of cameras. I don’t get rid of them or sell them. I just keep them and my collection grows. I collect a few vintage cameras when the price is right. Cheap! Weaving and spinning stuff is a lot more bulky. It takes up real space. I have my old cameras on a few shelves at the moment. There are four looms in my bedroom. Well, three. One went to the living room – temporarily. (I hope.)
Before the auction a prudent bidder checks the merchandise. So we did. But then a bargain comes along? This time we checked in real time and it was indeed hundreds off the list price. I bid at the auction like I meant it. We got applause when we “won” it. It’s a Schacht Matchless (spinning wheel). Sure, you would know one if you saw it? But it was worth more than $1000 used. The bobbins included were worth more $$$. And the former owner was in the audience and told us what he had last spun – for the fair. We met him. He had spun up the wool for this exhibit. It was more than 75 samples. Wow! Yeah, it was quite a feat. He stayed around till his wheel was sold. And I assured him it would go to a good home. See, we even seatbelt it like a member of the family. All of this, I’m sure, is more than you needed to know.
So, we wandered through the animal display at the country fair. I’m not interested in chickens or rabbits. They are caged and you can’t get a good image. Whoa! Was I wrong! Thanks for dragging me in. Can you believe the images I got eyeball to eyeball with these chickens. And one even laid an egg for me. Hairy feet? Ok feathered feet? Crowing on demand? And the colors and the patterns. Oh my! I’m used to Perdue under plastic wrap. Too beautiful to eat… This was an extraordinarily wonderful unexpected find that I was dragged into seeing. Thanks!
He was in the lottery sales booth when I took this picture. Was he the salesman? I watched him struggle with his shirt. I admit it was a bit warm. What? Why? You decide. I’m stuck with this visual. Did I mean struck?
What does a Scotsman wear under his kilt? That is a classic question. More to the point is that it’s not natural for guys (to wear skirts). I’m not being sexist. This poor guy wears pants in normal life. His legs are naturally splayed. It’s a guy thing. Unfortunately, there was ample indication of what was under the kilt. A lady would never show. So I guess that part is sexist. I really don’t want to know the answer to this question. Nope, don’t. Please don’t tell me.