I spent nearly all of last week painting my kitchen. And painting. And then painting some more. I had paint globs pushed so far up under my fingernails that I think it had entered my bloodstream. Add to that all the fumes and the sore muscles, and you can imagine that I was a real peach to live with last week.
Thankfully, Melanie knows me well, and she knew my spirits would be greatly boosted by a jaunt to a once-a-year craft show held locally on the grounds of an estate.
(People use the word "estate" loosely these days, but girls, this was an ESTATE. Tennis courts, greenhouse, guest houses–plural, rolling hills, the whole deal. It was worth the cost of admission just to see how the other half–or the other .00002%, as it were–lives.)
The day was crisp and all the crafts were crafty. And the artisans were friendly and not at all put off by the fact that Melanie and I walked from booth to booth whispering too loudly, "We could SO totally make that!"
Only pictures could do the morning justice.
Doesn’t that sweet man in the background look so very thrilled that his wife drug him to a crafts show? My husband doesn’t know it yet, but that will be him in 40 years.
Corrie pooped out pretty quickly…
…but thankfully she can always count on Melanie for some fun distraction.
Evidently mum’s the word. (Get it? Mum? I SLAY me!) These things were so gigantic I don’t think they would’ve fit in my mini-van. At $20 a pot, I know they wouldn’t have fit in my budget.
As we were leaving, we stopped by the pond to let Corrie visit the swans. Yes, the swans. These people actually have swans. Melanie and I agreed that you must surely know you’ve "made it" in the world when you have your very own swans. Actually, I think Melanie’s exact words were, "Geez, haven’t these people read The Great Gatsby?"
It was a lovely morning.