We Still Got The Booth

Back on the tenth I told you we got a booth. Then I said nothing for two weeks.

That wasn't a bad sign. That was sewing.

Same booth. Same fair. Louisa Labor Fest, Saturday September 5, ten to three, Louisa County Parks, Rec and Tourism. Ten days out. I've started counting in days, which is never a great sign about a man.

The canopy is still in the driveway. We've put it up eleven times now. Number nine went great. Number ten took forty minutes and some language.

Meanwhile the house has surrendered. Bandanas on the kitchen table. Bandanas on the good chair. A stack on the dryer that I have been told, in a very specific tone, not to touch.

Karie's been sewing since roughly the Carter administration. (It's been three weeks. It feels like the Carter administration.)

All of it's scraps. Fabric somebody was going to pitch. Ends of bolts, leftovers, the last yard of a print nobody wanted. Second life on a dog who also got one. That's the idea, and I'm not going to oversell it. It's a piece of cloth. Your dog will look great in it.

X-Small through X-Large. Nine inches to twenty-five. Channel fits a regular collar and a fence collar. Both sides are different, so when one side gets muddy you flip it and lie to everyone.

Scrunchie ones. Snap ones. The patchwork ones that look like a quilt had a small accident.

Come say hi. Bring the dog. Try one on, walk him around, see how it sits.

I'll be the guy behind the table not knowing what to do with his hands.