Monday, May 7, 2012

To Market

Last Saturday was the Spring Horseshoe Market and I'm so glad to have been a part of it. So far, every time I've done a fair or a market I end up feeling really good about having devoted myself to this handspinning business. My husband came along this time to help set up the booth and run the inevitable errands that came up-like getting change and extra bags and, um, chairs. I didn't realize I had forgotten them until the tent was set up and I was trying to figure out how to fill up a 10x10 space with what little I had brought along. Hopefully I don't repeat that at Renegade. Then, when we were settling in and people started flowing by, he grabbed his RV repair book, sat down in the back of the booth and kicked off his shoes. That was embarassing enough, but then I heard him swearing (barely) under his breath in the direction of some random guy with an anti-Obama tshirt on. We laughed about it later, but in the moment all I could do was glare at him until he sheepishly apologized. I'm really glad he came along, though. Without him I would have been a starving, seatless, sphincter-clenching mess by the end of the day. Plus now I think he really gets why I've decided to devote so much time, energy and love into Eat Agar.

It got up into the 80's on Saturday, not exactly the kind of weather that inspires folks to buy scads of handspun, but I sold a few things; some skeins of yarn, a postcard, some bent knitting needle bangles I made out of my stash. What really bouyed me though, were all of the connections I made. A jewelry designer I had been convoing with on Etsy stopped by to check out my wirecore, Jaime from Fancy Tiger stopped by with some encouraging words and I scored some amazing reclaimed barn wood earrings from Canvas' booth and found the studio apron of my dreams at Sparrow Waits. I bonded with one person over an obscure anthropology book and lots of people stopped to watch me demo spinning. I love the way the wheel becomes a kid magnet. A lady with a wonderful German accent stopped to watch me spin at one point and let me in on the fact that, in German, when you say someone is "schhpinnink" it means that they're a little crazy. Heh, heh....

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