I caught the 5:58 on Saturday night and rode it to the next stop, which was two blocks from the south end of the booths. Heard some really great blues while walking about; at one point I called Trainman’s cell and left him an exceedingly musical voicemail, in the finest nanny-nanny-boo-boo mode.
It took me a little over an hour to walk the east side booths, chatting with the artists and picking up business cards, scribbling on the back of the cards just what it was that I had liked. It took me a little over half an hour to walk the west side, because I was tired and hungry and didn’t want to shell out cash for coupons to buy mediocre food. If 6 or 7 or 9 coupons = one beer [which of course I could and would not have], I wondered: how many coupons to flirt with a cop? There were a lot of Fort Worth’s finest in evidence, some of them fine indeed.
I behaved myself; I promise!
The artist whose work I fell in love with last year, was back again this year, and I got to speak to him. His wife is a knitter! And while I mostly ignored the jewelry, there was one woman whose work is both whimsical and exquisitely crafted. I think I will just stick $10 in each of two envelopes, every payday, until I have enough to buy the print from Artist A and a pin from Artist B.
[Now I am a little hungry for Chinese food, because I am old enough to remember the joke...]
And in the random-acts-of-artness category, I saw a ladybug which had been made from a hard-hat, or maybe an old metal motorcycle helmet or WWII helmet, or maybe Sally Fields’s hairdo from Steel Magnolias, and painted and embellished. No, I am not buying one. But it made me grin hugely.
Had a great visit with BestFriend. We sat on the couch and nattered away, then ran over to Lucile’s for bowls of lobster bisque and fresh-baked rolls, followed with entirely too much decadent dessert [Black Bottom Key Lime Pie for me; a moist, dense slice of chocolate cake for her]. We drove around my part of town. She showed me where my ward’s old meetinghouse is. We found Saint Emilion, a tiny and spendy French restaurant that we’ve put on the list for some day when we are both flush. I showed her my chapel, and the gorgeous house I posted about week before last, and then we came home by way of Ryan Place, which is full of lovely huge old houses and small cottages like this one.
And then I took a nap. When I woke up, I grabbed my bag of pretzels to donate to the munchies table, and I drove all the way across Dallas to the dance, which was the first dance since New Year’s that I had the kind of blast I used to have all the time. *Two* dances with Brother Yummy, good conversation with Brother Sushi, lots of hugs with various and sundry friends, and congratulations to two friends who are graduating the singles program [i.e., getting married, not getting carried feet-first out of their respective chapels].
I got home at 12:45 on the dot. The remainder of the key lime pie is now down the hatch, and I’m just waiting for it to settle so I can sleep all night without a visit from the Heartburn Fairy and her nasty sister, the Reflux Fairy. They don’t come here often, but they are never, ever welcome when they do.
In knitting news, I have almost 4” done on the current incarnation of the Sunrise Circle Jacket. I am alternating rows with the two yarns: one-row stripes rather than the traditionally advocated two-row stripes, because the differences in dye lot are so distinct as to produce two nearly unrelated colors. The yarn I have had for 20+ years is a true turquoise. The yarn I bought from my fellow Raveler this year is a lovely teal. In the light cast by the ceiling fan here in the living room, they are closer in hue. In daylight and fluorescent light they are dangerously close to “what was I thinking?” territory. But the fabric which they make when alternated is rich and lively, and I think I will enjoy the finished sweater.
We are sneaking up on 2:00am. I am almost ready to call it a day. But I think I will knit one more row. Maybe two.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!