Craftiness

My mother used to tease me about how I could spend hours cutting out little pieces of paper. I had the largest trashcan of all us kids in my room.  It was yellow and I put a purple sticker of bare feet on it. It was always full. I am still in love with crafty things. Scrapbooks, cards, yarn, fabric...if it is made of anything fiber I want to play with it. My craft room could be an episode on Clean House. It is a visual of my chaotic, creative mind, running too fast to finish everything I start. Today I went to the Pork Festival in Eaton with my friend Lynn, excited to see what folks were making these days. Two years ago I had a craft booth there.  My friends helped me sell my wares, and we had a lot of fun. Then, there were lots of crafty vendors and interesting, sometimes tacky, handmade items. Things were different today. The crafty vendors were few and far between all the flea market wares...booth after booth of identical imported clothes, bogus designer purses and fake silver jewelry. Someone was selling cowboy hats made out of cardboard beer cases. That was almost intriguing. We didn't buy anything. Except ice cream. Cherry Vanilla, Moosetracks and Butter Pecan.