(no subject)
Today was the Farmer's Market. Aside from taking TEENY LITTLE SUPER GUY (whee!), who was actually very good and only freaked out a little when the kids ran at him with their sticky little hands outstretched, it pretty much sucked ass. Like, seriously. I barely sold anything; almost everyone stopped just long enough to comment ("ooh, brownies!" "oh, i love brown eggs!") but then walk off without buying anything. And one lady actually got downright hostile with me over the price of my eggs. She was all "a dollar seventy-five? I just bought some over there for seventy-five cents! What makes yours so special?" (Um. They're better?) By the end of the day, I was hungry and cranky and building up some serious feelings of ill will for my fellow Washingtonians.
No, Pants is NOT chewing on my head.
...and biting himself. And...growling softly?
My family is perfectly normal.
Anyway. As I was saying: there I was, all cranky and hungry and all that jazz, sitting in my van with my unsold baked goods all packed up, brushing goat hair off my pants so I could go into the Cafe and write down my schedule for next week. All of a sudden, some guy with a shaved head, big muscles and numerous tattoos walked up to the window to see Mr. T, who was napping in Mom's lap. Apparently he really likes goats and he's raised a lot of them. He mentioned he was from the circus; behind him I could see another, much smaller Indian-looking guy with remarkably kind eyes and quick movements that led me to conjecture that he was probably an acrobatic type. Anyway, they were both very nice, and they also let us know that the circus was only going to be in town today (and that it had a fabulous petting zoo with a pygmy hippo and, of course, many different kinds of goats).
So, upon arriving home, still in a semi-cranky mood, I managed to guilt Pants into taking me back into town to go see the circus, which he was initially disinclined to do (it is my belief that he has a hidden phobia of clowns and/or spandex) but finally agreed to.
Oh.
My.
....GOD.
(Yes, she said it, boys and girls.)
It. Was. Incredible. We're talking acrobats, we're talking trapeze, we're talking DRUMS (drummy drummy drum drum), we're talking trick riding, we're talking only-semi-crappy clowns. Oh yes, oh yes we are. I am -so- running away and joining the circus as soon as I'm legal. (Possibly before, we'll see how things go.)
So yes, anyway. That was my day. Time to go eat something and call people. Nighty night.
No, Pants is NOT chewing on my head.
...and biting himself. And...growling softly?
My family is perfectly normal.
Anyway. As I was saying: there I was, all cranky and hungry and all that jazz, sitting in my van with my unsold baked goods all packed up, brushing goat hair off my pants so I could go into the Cafe and write down my schedule for next week. All of a sudden, some guy with a shaved head, big muscles and numerous tattoos walked up to the window to see Mr. T, who was napping in Mom's lap. Apparently he really likes goats and he's raised a lot of them. He mentioned he was from the circus; behind him I could see another, much smaller Indian-looking guy with remarkably kind eyes and quick movements that led me to conjecture that he was probably an acrobatic type. Anyway, they were both very nice, and they also let us know that the circus was only going to be in town today (and that it had a fabulous petting zoo with a pygmy hippo and, of course, many different kinds of goats).
So, upon arriving home, still in a semi-cranky mood, I managed to guilt Pants into taking me back into town to go see the circus, which he was initially disinclined to do (it is my belief that he has a hidden phobia of clowns and/or spandex) but finally agreed to.
Oh.
My.
....GOD.
(Yes, she said it, boys and girls.)
It. Was. Incredible. We're talking acrobats, we're talking trapeze, we're talking DRUMS (drummy drummy drum drum), we're talking trick riding, we're talking only-semi-crappy clowns. Oh yes, oh yes we are. I am -so- running away and joining the circus as soon as I'm legal. (Possibly before, we'll see how things go.)
So yes, anyway. That was my day. Time to go eat something and call people. Nighty night.