"Hey! I've got a screaming kid, here!"
"Lady, please turn around. We won't give you a ticket if you park along the road, there."
"Hey! I live in there! Wanna see my license?! (waving license in his face)"
"Please turn around, ma'am. It's dangerous in there. The fire department needs access."
Ok. So there I was, in 100 degree heat and raging fires all around (and did I mention post-yeast infection?) with Girlfriend throwing some sort of a fit. I had to park about two miles away from home, and trek up the hill with 34 lb. Girlfriend in tow. Not to mention her huge black bag containing diapers (still), raisins, assorted "fruit" snacks, a couple of juice boxes, my digital camera, hasmat bags for poop, wipes...the list goes on.
So we trek up the hill, fire blazing and fire fighters everywhere. Of course, HWWV came out of the gates and met us midway, so we could climb into the truck. Good old Chuck was in there, along with a few necessary items, just in case we'd have to leave.
It was a bad day. A bad, bad day. And I tell you what: That day came nothing close to the horror I experienced earlier that day. That morning, in preschool:
"Wendy! Someone tells me you're the perfect person to contribute to the Holiday Bazaar!"
A Holiday Bazaar. Hey, it's not like I don't enjoy making merry every now and then. Sure, I can get festive. I can get festive all over the place if the feeling comes over me.
But, does this mean I have to pull out that plastic webbing and start weaving acrylic yarn in green, red and white? Does it mean that I have to pull out the blue and white stuff, too? With silver?
Do I have to make a picture frame? Some ornaments? What about those finger towels that are crocheted up top with a button? Do I have to pull those out of my bag, too?
Here's the clincher: I am not crafty. I can knit. I can sew, or at least I used to sew. I can cook, I can quilt.
But I am not crafty.
I stay away from glue. Please, no glitter. No plastic webbing, no rug hook, please. Please no puff paints, no sweatshirts, no tie die, no nothing. I don't want your Popsicle sticks or tempera paints or hand paints. And paleeesssee, no no no sachets.
Hey, maybe it's just me. But I'm a little worried. Who knows if I have to buy the materials? (I think I do.) Who knows if the money goes toward the preschool? (I think it does.)
What, oh what will I make? I have so much knitting to do. So much stuff. Stuff, everywhere.
Oh, and yeah, that's the Thankful Pumpkin all washed up and dried and draped, etc. Buttons festooned (festooned?). Originally I made button loop things for just the first button. But boy, oh boy, this Aurora 8 by Karabella relaxes. The sleeves, which I had to pull down a bit before the trip to the sink were springy and a bit short. Now, look at them. They are long and I love them. Just the sort of thing you can snuggle into. Something you can honestly wear. And I bet, no one will know that I made it myself. (No one will know about my "crafty" self.)