No-Coast and a stock pot.

Good Lord! What a day. I got up at the crack o’ eight. Jen picked me up and we went down to the MidTown Market to hawk our goods. It was the No-Coast Craft-o-Rama. What does that mean? “O-Rama”? I think it should have been changed to the No-Coast Craft -O-Bama – you know just as like a shout out? So, Jen and I were pretty much SiameseTwins – due to my crippling Math Anxiety, I can’t be left alone to make change for a twenty. I welcome your prayers. I smiled lots and said, “four dollars” or “five dollars” whenever I felt like it. Sometimes it was in response to a customer’s question. Here are some customers: notice their intense cheerfulness: three-females-at-our-tablethree-males-at-our-table

I did manage to step away from our table to find a crinkly cat bag for My Mother-in-Law. She’s gonna frickin’ love it. Those cats are gonna thank me by walking by me and not noticing I exist. It’ll be one awesome Christmas. …Fast forward, like, eight hours and I found myself at a delightful Holiday Party. I think it was in Plymouth. Anyway, the halls were decked, the booze was flowing. The booze was flowing. In retrospect, I don’t think it all wanted to be in my body. I’m not sure why, at the time, I thought it did want to be in there. And honestly, there wasn’t a lot of  room, what with all the spanakopita . I was planning on giving it all up in a stock pot that Katie generously donated to the car. I felt the love. I did make it home, with a clean stock pot, and Kenny dumped me into bed. He was like a hunter and I was like a deer carcass. The bed was the pick-up truck. It was so much fun. I dragged my sorry arse out of bed this morning to get my church on. The stock pot is a symbol of one woman’s redemption. So much can happen in a day.

stock-pot-with-bulletin1

PS: Did you know that 80’s glasses are back in style?? You crazy kids!

80s-glasses

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