But first....
I woke up my usual "sleep in" time (about 6:30), dressed, ate, decided to practice some piano.
As I was working on it, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye (My piano, you might remember, is near a window; I can turn my head and look out while sitting at it).
Two young-ish men, running through my yard, very close to the front windows. One of them looked over his shoulder. "Almost as if he expected someone to come running after him" I thought.
Then I was like, "Wait, it's too early in the day for the vote-for-my-guy pamphleteers to be out. And they don't look like workmen. And joggers stay in the street"
And I thought: That's really hinky.
So I called the non-emergency police number. I gave the best description I could, given I just got a glance: two thirtysomething white guys, at least one with a navy blue shirt and wearing a ballcap, running north. It looked like they came from my southern neighbors.
A bit later, two cops showed up. I'm guessing my neighbors across the street saw more and reported it as well; the cops talked to them. I stuck around in case they wanted to talk to me but apparently they got all the information they needed. But still, creepy.
I figured it was okay to go, because (a) the police were aware of stuff going on and also the crooks were probably long gone and (b) anyway, if I'm gonna get my house broken into, I prefer it be when I'm not home.
So I set off.
Sadly, the herding dog club wasn't there this year, and I missed them. But I still got to watch people spin on a wheel and do bobbin lace (I kind of see how that works even though I've never tried it myself). And I watched someone throw a pot on a wheel, which I did ages ago in high school but never got very good at. (If I had all the time and all the money in the world.....well, I'd have all the different tools and toys for all kinds of arts and crafts - and would learn how to use them. Throwing pots took a certain level of concentration but it was also fun. And seemed kind of magic).
And I just walked around and looked at the booths and displays. And wondered, where do all these folks hide during the rest of the time? Why do I know so few people right in this area that do fiber arts? (Yeah, I know: if I went to Knit Night at the quilt shop I might meet more, but Knit Night is the same time as I have piano lesson).
I did see the person from Chemistry who knits, and briefly met her daughter. And as I was leaving, one of my friends from Ravelry called to me - she recognized my face and wanted to say hi.
I also spent what was for me a shocking amount of money on yarn.
Top row, from left to right: probably socks (Haven't decided just yet) for me, worsted-weight shawlette from a book I have, fingerless mitts for my sister in law (I know, I said I had yarn in stash. But this is yarn that has bison fiber spun into it! Which makes it warmer and more durable! But it's still washable, so it's all good. It's also one of her favorite colors, so).
Bottom row: Probably mitts for me or possibly socks for a gift, socks for me, and then bison yarn for socks for me.
That middle yarn is a striping yarn but I felt like I had to have it because the colorway is named "The Professor" and so I felt that it was meant to be mine.
And I really wanted a bison yarn for socks for me. Even though they may be too warm for much of the year. The color is also called lichen green, which is a color I've always liked. (I'm thinking of doing ones with a simple cable pattern out of it).
The Buffalo Wool Company (where I bought my sockyarn - yes, there were two dealers selling bison yarn) has a neat way of traveling to shows - they have a truck roughly the size of a typical UPS truck that is outfitted to be like a mini store (hanging hooks on either side for merchandise). So you can walk up into the truck and see everything on display. Apparently they go all over the place - the woman running it told me that at some show on the east coast, she really wished she could have got a photo, because she was selling a bison-bone handled hunting knife to a woman and yarn to a (male) US Navy sailor. (She said actually a surprising number of sailors knit; I suppose it's something very easily portable that will take up downtime. And anyway, didn't a lot of sailors years ago - I mean, like in the tall-ship days - knit?).
They also sell ready-made bison wool items, but the socks at least are prohibitively expensive. (I briefly considered getting a pair for someone as a gift, but it's more than I know they would want me to spend on them). (Yeah, one case where the yarn to make something is still less expensive than the finished item!)
I also got my grocery shopping done - a run to the natural foods store (and yes! they had my favorite brand of canned sweet potato puree in stock - this one is JUST sweet potatoes, no sugar or salt, and it's really good enough that I could eat it straight from the can). I also got some different wholegrain flours - after cleaning my fridge out (and keeping it clean), I have space to keep small amounts of wholegrain flour in there (so it won't go rancid), and I do plan to bake more bread this fall - I've enjoyed doing it so much and enjoyed having good bread to eat.
I know, I know: I have more yarn than I will ever knit up. I need to work down on what I have. I don't know what happens at places like fiber fests - it's like what sometimes happens in the bookstore - hope outpaces logic and you start to think, "Oh, of COURSE I will have time to knit/sew/read that, I will MAKE time, I want to." (At least with the Christmas gift things, they will have to get made up on a deadline....)
I also went to the Brookshire's (after getting lost - I thought I knew the way to get out onto FM 120 from Texoma Parkway, but it turns out I didn't, but eventually I found the way there, and learned that Morton Street eventually BECOMES FM 120). Tomorrow's dinner is going to most likely be beef stew - they had chuck on a good price (their meat is better than most I can get) and I got a bag of Yukon Gold potatoes. If I want to bake bread, the stew can probably cook at the same temperature.
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