In which our heroine finds herself at the East Atlanta Strut.
I am so glad I got conned into going to this craft fair. The only reason I went is because the lovely girl behind Gub was at the Grant Park festival. I admired her seriously cool bags, but she didn't have any in my favorite fabric that was also a style that would work for me. (I'm a knitter. I have needs.) She was so very sweet and offered to make one for me (with a zipper!) and I could pick it up at the East Atlanta Strut. So off I go, skipping merrily, to one of the neatest neighborhood festivals I've ever been to. It was so friendly, with such a neighborhood-y atmosphere. Plus, every single person there brought their dog, so I got to meet plenty of cute puppies. And I got my special custom-made bag (I feel so classy and haute-couture saying that: custom made just for me.)
I absolutely love it. It's pretty much a year-round kind of pattern, and it holds so much stuff. (I used to travel so light. Oh, sock knitting, how you have changed things.)
And then I ran into a very cool guy who remembered me from the Grant Park festival. (Probably because I was wearing my super-cool work uniform with the giant logo over the left boob.) He has a truck entirely covered in bottle caps (with a sign posted in the window that says something like: 1) 10 months 2) caulk 3) about 10,000 4) it was cheaper than therapy. It cracked me up.) He paints these beautiful watercolor-esque paintings on old boards. I had admired them at the Grant Park festival, but all I saw were the large ones, which were beyond my I-work-for-a-nonprofit budget. That day, these little ones caught my eye and somehow found their way home with me.
The one on the left says "and the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more difficult than the risk it took to blossom." I'm going to get that tattooed on my forehead. The one on the right says "anything is possible." They look so nice flanking my computer.
Note the helpful cat. He had to be moved to make typing possible. His life is so hard.
Tomorrow: more knitting! Or, when one has just finished a blanket, how many socks is it possible to cast on in a 48 hour period?