The Industrial Section -- Looking For Deer's Head

Yesterday I was very bold. Remember what I said about seeing a deer's head out at the industrial section of town? Then when I retraced my path I didn't see it? I started thinking maybe I'd just missed it in my hurry and worry about the guard towers. Well, yesterday, I went out again looking for it.

I've been there three or four times now in the last few days, and that's dangerous right there. By now my car's been entered into the system and flagged. Which is natural, because if a car is never out there and suddenly it's been there three or four times in a few days, something is amiss, from their point of view.

For the most part I was hewing close to the residential district, with my excuse completely memorized. I could recite it like a robot, "I'm looking for a friend's house and must've gotten lost." Then at the last possible second I veered off and made a direct line for the place where I saw the deer's head.

My senses were very honed yesterday. I was trying to put out of my mind any preconceptions and distractions, looking only for the place that my memory would say was it. I passed the mushy place where I took a picture of some miscellaneous boards.

At first I thought maybe the powers that be had cleaned them up, because I didn't see them at first. By now it was just a marker to me that let me know I was on the right path. Had they removed them, that would've made it tougher. But there they were!

A turn there and I was getting closer.

I had two big hopes. One, that the deer's head would be an artificial deer, like a lawn ornament, in which case it would likely still be there. If they didn't get rid of the boards, then it's likely the deer would still be there. And two, that if the deer's head was an actual living deer, it would still be there. But since deer range far and wide, it occurred to me that it might've gone somewhere else. My big hope was this: Since it had rained all day, maybe he would come back to this same spot looking for a puddle to drink out of.

I found the definite spot, which I knew conclusively could be no other, and I turned in. Just checking my mirror, no SUV behind me. Now, being far from the housing district, my excuse if caught was going to be, "I'm a nature lover, and someone told me he saw a deer back here once." Admittedly that's pretty lame, but you have to be ready with something. The guards may be ruthless, but I'm assuming they'd send the stupid ones out first.

There was ... no deer there! And I didn't see any puddles either. The rain had soaked in, making a darned good reason why the deer would be looking for water elsewhere. But what I did see -- and I hadn't noticed this before -- literally curled my hair. I was in the parking lot of a crematorium! This is true! They put crematoriums in the industrial section now?!

I didn't look for the deer any longer! I got the heck out of there! The deer is probably ashes by now! Like I was going to be if they caught me! I felt a terror that I've never felt before! Because now I realized that's why I've never seen anyone else out there nosing around the industrial section: Anyone who does is immediately captured and cremated! Including wildlife!

I drove back toward the housing district, looking neither to the left nor the right. I'm looking for a friend and must've lost my way. Won't someone help me find my friend?

A Hair-Raising Visit To The Industrial Section

I said yesterday that I might go out and do some nosing around the industrial section of town. Maybe you recall, I also said I was tired at the time and might take a nap. As it turned out I did take a nap, a very refreshing one.

I had eaten well at noon at the Mexican restaurant, and, two things, going to church in the morning and eating well at noon always put me in the mood for a nap on a Sunday afternoon. There's just something about being around all those people (at church) that does an introvert like me in. Then to eat is normally thought to divert blood and various gastric acids away from the brain and to the stomach area, meaning that our brains go into a red alert situation and must immediately shut down.

I slept for a good hour, then the phone rang. I was expecting it to be someone from the industrial section, to be breathing heavily in my ear, saying that they had tracked down my number and were calling to warn me off any plans I might have to come nosing around out there. But it was a friend, just checking in. After the call -- and this is rare for me -- I lay back down and slept for a half hour or so more. Very rare!

Once I finally got up, as far as I was concerned it was a brand new day!

Anyway, let me hasten to the subject at hand, my visit to the industrial section---

I got my camera and changed the batteries, in case someone in one of the guard towers would have a ray that would disable nearly spent batteries. Then I got Underbrush, my dog, and we headed out. While nosing around this time, I stayed in the car. I had ready my excuse, if captured, that, "I was looking for a friend's house and must've lost my way." Then we drove to the edge of town and entered the terrible confines of the industrial section.

Immediately I felt myself drop 10 degrees in body temperature. That's what anxiety does to me. I stifled a shiver and kept going. I got a few pictures, including the one seen above, a blood-curdling picture of a pallet mangled beyond recognition and left to rot against a rust-stained building. So that's the kind of thing they're into out here?! I thought.

Among the things I saw that let me know I was "no longer in Kansas," so to speak, were many back ends to semi trucks, the chain fences, piles of tires, and dirt mounds (where only God knows what is buried). Off in the back somewhere I thought I saw a deer's head! Then it occurred to me that it might be a yard ornament that vandals had taken back there. Or maybe it was meant to lure unsuspecting animal lovers to their death. I kept going, not getting a picture of it. Later, when I retraced my steps I couldn't see it again!

Suddenly, and this was the hair-raising part of this whole experience, I noticed someone in an SUV following me. So they want to play rough, do this? Right before this I had pulled into a mushy area, the ground being soft, and took a picture of some scattered boards, then I backed out and this SUV was right behind me.

I thought maybe it was a coincidence. But when I went to turn, it turned with me. Then we came to another stop, and this time they anticipated me, by turning their turn signal on first! So we went that direction. Then we came to the main highway, where there were three directions they could've gone. They turned with me! I thought I have one option here to shed them, meaning I would turn on another road that was less traveled, which I did, and guess what ... they turned there too! I reached over and turned the camera off, in case worse came to worse. I drove on, giving Underbrush a consoling pat, when ... the SUV turned off to the left and we kept going straight.

I don't have heart problems, but if I would've had a nitro pill I would've taken it at that time.

At the park, Underbrush did her business, a few Number Ones and a Number Two. We were off in the sticks, but still I dutifully cleaned it up.

Finally we retraced our steps, while keeping a watchful eye out for the guards and cameras. I didn't stop for any pictures on the way back so there wasn't any trouble. The biggest thing on the way back was what I said before: The deer's head was gone!

What happened to the deer's head? It was almost a little too perfectly posed to have been real. Someone must have been back there setting it up and taking it down ... all in a conscious effort to lure me in!

A Trip To The Industrial Section In The Offing

Today could be the day, for me to take a little trip out to the industrial section of town.

I still have a few things to do around the house, and I don't know that I have the energy to go out and give the place a once over. But it could happen.

I just had lunch and feel a little full, meaning I also have that tired feeling that goes along with being full. So I might lie down and take a nap, I don't know yet. The thought of it is making me feel sleepy. Then, it could be, I might take Underbrush to the park, and maybe I'll swing by the industrial section.

Of course I know the general look and feel of the place even without making a special trip. It's a very inhospitable place, we all know that. Big buildings, pulleys, conveyors, loud banging noises, piles of sand, piles of gravel, a suspicious eye at every turn.

The big redeeming fact for any snoop, like me, is that there is a housing section abutting against the industrial section. So any Checkpoint Charlie who asks me what I'm doing out there, I can just say "I'm looking for a friend's house and must've taken a wrong turn." Even out there they seldom spray your car with bullets on the first offense. The key thing, I'd guess, is to stay in your car and act calmly rather than making a run for it. Because they can always radio ahead.

It's Sunday, though, and they might let down their guard for the Lord's day. Sunday being the day that we love our neighbor as ourselves. I can use that if they question me.

The Industrial Section -- Addendum

Again, yesterday, I meant to go out and nose around the industrial section of town, to get the real scoop about its affairs out there, but time issues prevented me from doing it.

However this is my solemn pledge and vow to you, I will eventually make it out there. And when I do...

When I do, I fully expect to see things that will curl your hair. Including the usual industrial section sights, such as rusty girders, metal doors that don't fully shut, strange paint jobs on tin buildings, things piled up with weeds growing all around the base, broken concrete blocks scattered randomly, paint cans on pallets, weeds along the side of the road sucked down in the dirt (from passing trucks), dilapidated outbuildings, abandoned gas pumps, and guard towers.

When I get there, I know, of course, that I will see the signs of industry, steam coming out of everywhere, trucks waiting in the line, trains creaking along and coupling loudly, a forklift buzzing in and out of traffic, a dump truck beeping in reverse, lots of pickup trucks parked in a fenced in parking lot, and heavy duty dumpsters.

If I'm able to nose around without being spotted, and because of video surveillance that is not likely, I will be able to dig a little deeper, looking for some kind of scandal to exploit. But because they're always on their guard, it will be more likely that I will only catch hints of possible wrongdoing, leaving me with no proof and just a lot of wild claims. That's how they're able to elude the law, that and the economic clout they wield in a community that alternately hates and loves them.

Like I said, time was an issue for me the last couple of days, which is why I didn't go out. I've just been very busy. But I will make it. I'm willing to do my part to get it done, and, who knows, maybe we'll be able to bring these guys down and reclaim the industrial section for more parks and to make it a more family friendly part of our town.

Even More Industrial Section

I was meaning to make a return visit to the industrial section of town yesterday, then I let time get away from me and it never got done. Maybe today.

I'm thinking back to that time several years ago when I was out there nosing around, which I took the picture of the yucky barrel (posted yesterday). The way I remember it, I wasn't overly concerned about video cameras at the time. But now I'm extremely paranoid about video surveillance, because I believe they have it in the industrial section.

So let's assume I'm back out there nosing around, many video cameras on many corners of buildings, perched on a swivel base for wider surveillance, will be watching and recording my every move. Sensors would be activated, meaning that an alarm, unheard to me outside, would be going off, maybe several, and there would be officials of the various companies in that area watching me. Next, I would imagine, they would alert the police and next thing I'd know I'd be hauled in for questioning, booking, and arrest.

You don't have to be a criminal, technically, for the police to harass you, all at the instigation of the moneyed powers that be who finance and oversee the industrial section. Having the money, they're able to pay off everyone to keep their industrial secrets to themselves. But the truth is, I'm not looking for secrets or an expose in any of this. I just want to understand for my own enlightenment the ways of the industrial section in modern society,

Were I to be seeking an expose, that would be a worthy goal as well. And maybe I'll fall into an expose and eventually get the goods on these guys, even though that's not my goal at this time. I can see it happening, I guess. It's part of my imagination already, whether it'd be a pollution scandal, an animal abuse case, some kind of workers' safety issue, or even something to do with human cloning out there -- at this point I don't know what's going on. Of course I have my suspicions.

I don't know what kind of expose I might get. I do know there's hard water and there's soft water. And I believe that nuclear power plants have some kind of rare earth, rare water component to them, which would make for a nasty run off situation were it to get in our drinking water or aquifer. But there's no nuclear power plants in the industrial section where I live. At least none has so far been proved. As far as we officially know, those kinds of shenanigans aren't taking place. Still, the water in that funky barrel yesterday keeps haunting my dreams.

But how do I get around the video cameras? And if there's video surveillance, there's surely going to be sharpshooters, who are paid off not to talk. A few dead bodies, what do they care? If I die while nosing around out there, at least this blog exists, letting people know that I came to a bad end in the pursuit of justice. I have no known enemies, none out in the industrial section that is. But you can only push some of those industrial types so far.

On another subject, I wanted to call attention to the tire on this truck. That's the kind of access I had a few years ago when I was out there nosing around. Obviously I got in good and close. That wasn't taken from a distance, just the distance between me and it.

The thing to mention about it is this: You don't see tires like that anywhere except in the industrial section. When they're on the road they have all their tires. It's only when they get to the industrial section that they start stripping away all the facades, as they hide behind a different facade. This particular tire, the wheel thing sticking out, reminds me of some of the shenanigans that went on in the movie Ben Hur. But I have nothing more to go on except simply the allusion.

If you stood on that wheel thing while the driver was putting it in first and then reverse, you could do one of those things like they do on a log roll in the water. It'd be terribly dangerous. But danger's what the industrial section's all about.

I might go out there today and I might not. If you don't hear from me ever again, it will be because I did go out there and was pushed or fell into a vat of something.

More Industrial Section

In the industrial section of town, there are very many piles of metal, some of it twisted, some stacked neatly, and some falling over.

You know you're getting to the industrial section when the sidewalks disappear. And what appears are parking strips next to the road where there's a lot more weeds. They have a dirtier look, since a lot of trucks speed by, sucking them closer to the ground one direction, then sucking them closer to the ground when leaving.

You could easily get hit walking out there. It looks like they make it as inhospitable as possible, just so you, the average citizen, will stay away. I was out there one day nosing around and took some pictures of a barrel that had oily water in it. I think it was water. I didn't touch it. It looked thicker than water. It gave off a pretty color. It looked possibly toxic.

Things fall over. All of us know that. If you have a bunch of boards leaning up against a door and someone opens the door from the inside, they'll fall over. Fair enough, we pick them up and put them in a better place. But not in the industrial section. There they simply let it go to pot. If the boards fall over some perturbed individual just kicks them out of the way. Next thing you know, the guy who mows (poorly already) won't mow next to them. And then weeds are growing all around them, big weeds. They're laying at every random angle. They're rotting away. Bugs and worms and snakes are now living under them. And there might be a rusty nail or a bunch of staples sticking straight up, making a hazardous situation.

Look at the barrel again. It illustrates the kind of haphazard standards out at the industrial section. "I'll toss my empty bottles in this barrel." The barrel gets more and more water in it, which mixes with the toxic stew of chemicals coating it, perhaps congealed in the bottom. There's a sizzling sound, a lot of foaming, and being neglected it builds on itself, bubbling, seething, until the bottles are floating in a thick metallic looking liquid, barely recognizable as to their brand, and certainly losing their value if you wanted to redeem them.

It's a no man's land out there. They also have lots of cracked cement, the roads going to pot.

The Industrial Section

One of the places in a town that is unpleasant is the industrial section of town. The town thinks they need industry, in the mistaken opinion that business and employment are good. Business and employment aren't good, because it takes away all our free time to have to be at work. Plus if we didn't have those ugly industrial sections of town we could have a lot more parks to walk in, play in, and beg money in, in lieu of having an actual job.

Of course I kid, I kid business men, whose big aim in life is to make lots of money. With it being such an all consuming aim that they work themselves into an early grave and never get a chance to spend it. Then it's taken by the government, who puts it into munitions and end up killing everyone. So it's a vicious circle.

I hate driving through the industrial section. You have a lot of rusty sheds, piles of scrap metal, a few broken down cars, and so many pipes and smoke stacks you can't keep track of them. It's a very exhausting business.

When I was a kid we used to drive by a big place that did something. They had those big gigantic tube buildings, pipes going everywhere, strings of electric lights all over the place, smoke seeping through cracks, industrial stuff being lifted up with hoists and periodically dropped on its head, scalding water going through tubes, men in hard hats looking up and pointing at things that needed to be fixed, scrap metal dangling from electromagnets, torches burning in the hallways, trains and empty cars that would sag under their burden, scaffolding, walkways, metal mesh sidewalks, rusted storage containers, trucks looking like Tonka toys down below, and enough waste pumping out back into the river to kill every fish on the planet.

We used to drive by there on our way to get something to eat and I couldn't understand the place. I used to wonder how anyone would know how to build that monstrosity. Did they need to have everything planned out in advance? Or did they just build a smaller version of the same thing, a slightly bigger dump truck in the smaller perspective, with five or six guys hoping they'd have enough money to someday get hard hats? Then as they went, they'd put up enough industrial pipe, everyone knowing where it would eventually hook on a water spigot when they had enough money to put it in, and so forth.

I don't know what they did there, but it could've been anything. Whatever it was built to do is most likely. Still, very amazing stuff!

It's a very harsh part of town, with way too much metal and rust. Way too many big chain length fences. Way too many semi trucks slowing down everyone else.

Your Own Personal Double Bathtubs Outside

I don't watch much TV, but somehow today I managed to see parts of the Cialis commercial that has the man and woman again soaking outside in their personal bathtubs.

I seem to remember the couple, maybe a different couple, soaking in individual bathtubs while looking out over a special vista, like they were up high somewhere. But the couple today seemed to be in a more low lying area, like they were practically in a forest.

How many people do you suppose really have side by side bathtubs outside that they go out and soak in? And do most of them have trouble getting it up? That is, the one who that would be most personally affected by the condition, as the one with the depressed appendage, that is.

I can see myself frolicking in the nude with a wife through the forest or over the mountain vista, if I had a wife. But to do all the things necessary to be taking a bath out in the forest, that sounds like more work than I'd "be up for."

Think, there's not usually plumbing nozzles, speaking of plumbing nozzles, up on a lonely mountain ledge. And forests, they might have a tap in a maple tree, which is aimed straight out and oozing syrup (effortlessly, and without a pill, I might say), but there isn't usually a hot water spigot.

So that leaves our lovelorn couple toting water from the car, then somehow trying to get it hot enough to bathe in. Because obviously if you're having trouble "in that area" you don't want to be sitting in cold water. Shrinkage is the last thing you need. But looking at the commercial, I didn't see any big hard logs under the tubs with a fire putting out heat. Yet there the people sat, in their tubs!

So Is The Shopping Center There Or Not?

I noticed a major contradiction in the Grandma Slump world as it's being reported here at the Grandma Slump blog.

It seems that back in March 2009 I reported that the shopping center, including the Mode O'Day (called Mode-A-Day in that blog posting), was torn down. But just the other day I said I was set up with a crafting table at the shopping center and using the unsecured internet connection of the Mode O'Day store.

The only defense I have for this discrepancy is to say that's the way it goes. I'll base my plea on cartoon justice, where unusual, outlandish, and impossible things can happen and everyone makes allowances for it.

It's the same standard that allows me to say that Grandma was born in 1903 and yet she's forever 104 years old. It's like in the Family Circus comic strip, where the kids clearly have birthdays and yet never get older.

I'll try to watch this kind of stuff. But for my purposes, even though I said the shopping center was torn down in 2009, I'm going to say now that it's still there. Because I do a lot of my best hanging out there. So I need it.

Boxing Up My Bunnies

I'm boxing up my excess Easter bunnies, with the season now being officially ended. I'd like to box their ears for not selling! Since rabbits are known for ears, just a little humor there.

Their ears are just pipe cleaners, in case you can't tell. To get pink pipe cleaners you have to go to every craft store in the world, it seems. They say they can't get them. But you keep up the pressure, eventually they'll pull a box out from under the counter, way under the counter. They're looking around furtively, of course.

I'm trying to put them away nice and neat, so they look reasonably good when I get them out next year. Because maybe I won't be able to get the ears next time. But I've always been lucky.

You think you could make one of these? There's really nothing to it, although I don't want to give away the entire store. The heads are made of Styrofoam, and the rest you're going to just have to guess.

Last Call For Easter Bunnies

By the time you get to Easter the bottom has completely fallen out of the Easter bunny market. There's a good reason the stores are stocked for Easter right after Valentine's Day.

But for the "small guy," the guy like me who doesn't have a store but has to depend on the rare craft sale to get rid of his wares, I don't have that many opportunities to garner a surpassing crowd to sell to in my hour of need.

The local man, the small guy, takes what he gets "and likes it." I might not like it, but I take what I get. Which in this case turns out to be the bottom scrapings, the castoffs of the mega-moguls who own and operate the shopping center.

Along with the other crafters, I share the same opinion: We wouldn't put it past them that they insulted us on purpose simply because they could! That they knew they had us over a barrel and decided just to rub it in! That they would slap us in the face because their lives are so fundamentally unhappy -- their millions not bringing satisfaction to their inner being -- that they need someone to lash out against, hoping to brighten their day with someone else's misery! There's no other reason we can think of to explain the poor setup they gave us, down the bathroom wing of the shopping center where barely anyone goes.

They raised the table fee and gave us a crappier location.

The crafter's life is not really something to be envied. It may seem exotic to the average person, like we're a band of roaming gypsies with a table and a tub full of styrofoam Easter bunnies. This is a true story: I actually had a naive little kid come up once and ask me for my autograph. But beyond the glamor of that moment and the glamor people think our lives are, it's really more a life to be pitied. And the shopping centers know that. If they could get a juggler in there cheaper they'd go for that. But, no, it's the crafters who are willing to pay for a table and space, just to sit there and stew in their own miserable juices. Jugglers are smarter, they demand their pay up front.

I always feel a little funny about doing it, which is why I don't do much of it. I'm not even a regular guy on the scene, far from it. I make it out like once a year, if I've come up with something. I don't need the money as much as most of them, thanks to my being on full disability (I have a game toe). But sometimes I come up with something and try to make a little extra money, just to have some change in my pocket. But like I said, I feel funny about doing it, mostly because I'm a guy and not a woman.

To me, when you go to a craft sale you want to see women selling this stuff. They look so much better. You see a man behind the table selling Easter bunnies, like in my case, and you immediately think there's something wrong. Men look bulky back there. And men have a naturally impatient look when they're behind a crafting table. Because we want to make money left and right. We're not happy just sitting there idly, looking at our merchandise setting idly. It's kind of funny, too, that it's the cuter the craft the more impatient the man looks. Any man who has something with lots of rounded hearts carved in wood is going to look bad. So you can imagine what I looked like with these Easter bunnies!

But as it turned out I sold close to 50! So people to a certain extent were able to overcome their aversion to a man behind the table, facing their fears adequately. I was trying to look as engaging as possible, randomly laughing and seeming to be happy. There's a few psychological tricks you can do. Like if you see someone coming, grab your cell phone and talk in a friendly way, then a random laugh, then say goodbye and hang up while shaking your head and smiling. Folks aren't really thinking it over but now they know they can trust you.

After the sale I went out with a couple of the other dealers to get coffee. It gave us a great chance to grouse about how badly it went, the lack of customers -- there was also a bake sale in town -- and how the shopping center really did slap us in the face. Because they can.

Selling Easter Bunnies At The Shopping Center

It hasn't been a terrible day at the shopping center selling my Easter bunnies. But I'm glad I didn't plow any more money into them than I did, since I've only sold just over 40 of them, meaning I have close to 60 left.

I keep thinking about dropping the price, but there's drawbacks to that. I'm already selling them one for $5 or two for $9, and if I started selling them one for $4, the two would have to drop to two for $8, meaning I'd be losing $2 every time someone bought two. So it's a problem.

But still, I'm looking on the bright side. There were enough customers to buy just over 40 of them, with a few of those of course being the ones who bought two, cheating me out of the extra buck. Come on, people, I need you to buy them one at a time!

But there I go again, looking on the dim side instead of the bright. Seriously, it hasn't been a half bad day. It's just that I'd rather make more money instead of less, but everyone's looking for a bargain. I suppose I could put myself in their shoes and see that I'd probably do the same thing, regardless of what kind of suffering the guy behind the table might be going through. I put on a brave face.

In some of the slow time I've talked things over with some of the other crafters. When you see them cross their arms and frown you know it's a good time to talk. Because they've always got a gripe on their mind that they're just dying to share. So I heard some of that. They're like me, very paranoid about people sneaking in a camera to take pictures of the crafts; that's why I don't have any pictures from the actual sale, because they'd string me up. We don't want people copying our crafts, whether from a photograph, a sketch, a photographic memory, or from buying one and disassembling it. The last one there is very hard to prevent, as you can imagine.

Crafters are among the world's unhappiest people, and it's not just the paranoia. It seems like there's always an issue about the size of the crowd and whether the advertising was sufficient. If there's anything else happening in town, whether it's a citywide celebration or a bake sale at the church, it's invariably blamed for the poor attendance. We always see the problem out there somewhere, never that people might just be fed up with crafts and surly crafters. I don't say that to them!

Then when we do get customers, we're complaining about how tight they are with their money and how the economy is always against us. I guess the complaints I hear are endless, that people can't keep their kids under control, they're playing with the merchandise, and maybe breaking something. And one of the biggest is one that's been the talk of the day -- this day -- that the shopping center has relegated us down one side hall, where people barely go and where you can barely see us. Most of the people who go down that way are on their way to the bathroom, so they rush by and aren't there to buy.

After lunch it just totally died. That's why I have time to write this. But whether I can get it sent or not is a good question. I'm using the unsecured wireless server from the Mode O'Day store and since we're clear down this hall I'm not getting a good connection. It's going out all the time.

I'm going to 'Publish Post' and see if it takes it. Yes, there it goes. Success.

Local Man Makes And Sells Easter Bunnies

Well, folks, here they are, this year's Easter bunnies I've been working on. If you're going to be at the shopping center tomorrow, stop by my table and pick up one or more!

They're great for kids, for old ladies, anyone really. I know Grandma likes them quite a bit. I've got one on the back of her stool and it really brightens up the room. And it reminds us all of the true meaning of Easter, which is of course a religious holiday of sorts.

I've got a grand total of 100 of these little rascals (they multiply!), plus the original prototype, which is on my dresser and isn't for sale at any price.

They're going to be for sale one day only, tomorrow, so if you want one or more you need to come to the shopping center, or I suppose you could call and I could set one aside for you. I hate to do that, though, because a few years ago I set aside some stuff for a guy who didn't show up to buy it. Meaning that I might've sold it at the craft sale, but then as it turned out I had to "eat" the stuff, meaning I didn't get any money for my work and materials.

Anyway, I'm easy to deal with, if you promise to show up. Usually I think a man's word is his bond and all that. I'll take your word for it if you smile and seem like a nice person, but please don't be a fast talker, because I'm convinced that most fast talkers are only out for themselves. And naturally if that same guy calls me and wants to get some of these, he's going to have to get in line with everyone else and wait his turn. I'm not doing layaways for him, that's one thing I do know.

Why is it that people expect crafters to bend over backwards for them? They don't know the work we put in. And so forth. I've set up at numerous sales and all crafters have the same gripe. We're rolling our eyes more than half the time at the ignorance that our customers display. Most of our customers don't have any sense. They think they can bring in a camera or a sketch pad and duplicate our work at home. Which is why we have a strict "no cameras" policy. And "no sketch pads." If you have a photographic memory, we can't do much about that, except we do discourage it if we see someone who's doing a little too much looking. I might strike up a conversation with him and lead him to another part of the sale.

Back to the bunnies. You can see I have quite a bit in supplies there, as well as the work to put them together. And I'm pricing them at $5.00 or two for $9.00. You're saving a dollar if you buy two. I'd rather sell all 100 one at a time, but if someone wants to buy two I don't say anything. Just put them in a sack and tell them thank you with the best smile I can manage. And if I'm a dollar poorer, that's just the way life goes sometimes.

I hope to see you tomorrow! Have a happy Easter, which, glancing at the calendar, I see is on a Sunday this year.

The Gift Of Gab

Do I have the gift of gab or don't I? That's a question that I'm thinking of tonight.

When I'm around people and they're talking, I know enough to trail along with them, responding, thinking ahead, anticipating where they're going. I'm usually thinking enough moves ahead that I can see it fizzling out before we get there.

I have Severe Conversation Fizzling Out Anxiety Disorder, for which there is no cute acronym. SCFOAD. Maybe I could make it into SCAFFOLD, Severe Conversation Anxiety Fizzling and Failing, Onset of a Lamented Disorder. Or SCAFFOLD for short. Since it's called SCAFFOLD, it's a major hang up. It's very bad noose.

There's a lot on my mind, that's not the problem. It's just I don't feel like saying it to everyone's face. Plus, I'm actually a very private person. I'm willing to listen to everyone else's confessions, but my own confession I keep in my psyche. I do fancy myself very self-revealing, but since I'm so busy editing it as I go along it sounds frantic even when it doesn't need to. I have a feeling that I fuzz up my voice a little too much, like there needs to be more treble at those times.

Some guys I know who have the gift of gab actually have the curse of gab. They're not editing ... or they edit so fast that it's seamless.