The Side of the Cereal Box

Last year, for Christmas, I decided to make a bracelet for a friend of mine (who loves to wear jewelry, lots of it, and all sorts of styles). I started off really excited, then progressed to really confused, really agrivated, and, finally, really never-going-to-do-it-again. But I just couldn’t stay away from it. The creativity of combining color, texture, patterns, style - it was just too much fun! So I started making more - for any reason or for no reason. I built up quite a collection and started thinking about maybe selling it (a la Ebay, mostly), but I also started thinking about the Popcorn Festival in Brazil.

The Covered Bridge Festival is known for its miles of craft booths (as well as for its astronomical prices for vendors), but the Clay County Popcorn Festival is still young (this year was only its 3rd year) and very affordable. But I wasn’t sure I would sell anything. So since my mom was building up quite a collection of handmade baskets, and since everyone who saw them suggested that she try to sell them, I suggested to her that we go in together on a booth at the Popcorn Festival this year. I managed to sell about 40% of what I took (which was awesome!), and Mom made some great connections (a consignment shop here in Brazil, a lady from Jamestown who does Breast Cancer Awareness gift baskets for local hospitals and who also suggested festivals around the Indianapolis area), got a few orders, and sold a couple baskets as well.

And, as always, we came out of it with some good laughs.

The first one belonged to me. After we arrived and got our booth information, we parked the car and began unloading and setting up. While trying to decide which way we should face, I was wandering around to see what would be around us. The booth areas had been spraypainted on the ground with numbers (like ours: 4), but behind our booth was an area marked out with the label: B. Smith. I told Mom, “Well, I don’t know why this person is so important that they get their name on their space instead of just a number.” We were further surprised when that person didn’t even show up on Friday (although our contracts had said we had to be there for the WHOLE festival).

But when we arrived Saturday morning, we saw several additonal folks set up behind us: a soapmaker, a loom weaver, and, directly behind us, …a blacksmith. B. Smith. hee hee hee

That same day, Mom decided to weave a basket on-site. She went to find water and discovered a spout across the road from our booth. It had a strange curved handle on it, which, when tilted… did nothing. She began to think, “Is this an old-fashioned pump?” It wouldn’t surprise me in Forest Park. So she began to pump the handle, feeling very rustic and connected to the past, and just before she gave up, there was a little spurt of water. So she continued, getting little blurps each time and slowly filling her bucket… ’til a man coming out of a utility shed shouted to her. “Ma’am?” She turned around, “Yeah?” “Hold the handle all the way up!” So she did, and a flood of water came gushing out. It wasn’t a pump; she just hadn’t lifted the handle up high enough/long enough. lol

Later on, the fam came (plus Keith and Michelle). Chloe was entertaining the other vendors all day with her dancing, playing in the hay, and periodic visits to the rocking snail. (They were all asking on Sunday if she was going to be back.) There were a lot of events going on each day at the festival, and at one point, Bubbs was looking through the program and exclaimed, “Scruff McGruff was here? I haven’t see him in…” “Yeah, didn’t he go to 107?” I asked - recalling that he had visited our elementary school at one point to talk to kids about “taking a bite out of crime”. Dad replied, “Yeah, I think he was a year ahead of Andrew.” I was not amused… until retelling it later at Pizza Hut when I was too tired to not laugh.

Yes, after eleven+ hours in the booth, Mom and Dad and I went out to Pizza Hut for dinner. They had a family special that we tried to order (a large pizza, breadsticks, and drinks), to which the waiter replied, “Thin crust okay?” Uh… “‘Cuz we don’t have the hand-tossed in larges right now.” …”Don’t you make the pizzas?” I asked. “Yeah, but the dough takes 48 hours to rise and…” “Oh. …Wait… That still doesn’t make any sense!” Mom cut me off, laughing as she asked, “Couldn’t you just put two thin crusts together?” Skippy looked confused (surprise), so we just said, “Give us a few more minutes to choose something else.” So we went with the “two medium pizzas” deal. Mom and Dad got Chicken, Green Peppers, and Mushrooms. I ordered Ham and Pineapple… and got Pineapple. Who orders a Pinapple only pizza? Probably the same person who orders Beef or Pork Topping. “What part of the pig is the topping?” I asked my dad. We were laughing a lot, partially from exhaustion, I’m sure. And it only got better as we played the table games they had set out - cards from “Such and Such” (which “Sucks and Sucks”) and Buzzword (which we couldn’t resist narrating quiet and low as, “The buzzword is…” - a la Password). Buzword got us laughing because of Saint/St. (the latter of which Mom pronounced as “street”); so it was, Mount Street Helens, and the Street Louis Seaway. Such and Such got us laughing because at one point, as Dad was reading a clue, I thought he said “A Cute Myocardial Infarction…” It was, in fact, “Acute Myocardial Infarction”, but they sound the same, you know! When I realized the difference, and the mistake I’d made, I laughed hysterically and then had to explain my outburst to Mom and Dad who subsequently burst out laughing too.

Sunday was a little less ridiculous (as far as funny stuff goes). The only real event was when Bubbs tried to leave the park to come back to Grandpa’s and the car wouldn’t start. (Not so funny.) The car is currently at a garage here in Brazil, …and now it has company. My cousin Amber’s car began making funny noises on the way back yesterday morning, so she’s having it looked at (it may be something with the brakes; it looks like something is resting on the wheel/rim/whatever). She says we rubbed off on her.

Whatever does she mean?