Billy Bob Loves Charlene

I wish I was one of those people who was content to just hang out.  I desperately want to be one of those people who sits on her couch, watching TV and drifting in and out of sleep for two full days.  I feel like those are the people who are at work early and rarely yawn.  I am not one of those.  This weekend, I convinced Mr. Cutthroat that it would be a great idea to bake a bunch of candies, cookies, and treats and become a vendor at the local sheep and wool festival.  For those of you who are keeping score at home, this is one week after we just walked the Susan G. Komen 60 Miler and two weeks after we moved into a new home.  So, we did.  I spent my nights this week baking and packaging sweets.  Saturday we packed up the car and drove down and set up our modest booth that looked more like a bake sale outside of a church.  But, we were successful.  (And, thank the heavens we were because I would have never heard the end of my failure!) We were successful in the sale and also in yarn.  Cutthroat Yarn took home 3rd place in the handspun yarn division.  If you are interested, this is the skein:  Grimace 
I would love to eventually have enough yarn to sell at a booth, but I would need to work two years to have the stock built up.  I have to say that it wasn't that stressful after the baking was completed.  I brought my wheel and spun yarn while Mr. Cutthroat handed out samples to passersby.  People watching at a fiber festival is always a good time.  Knitters will show up wearing hand knitted items that are beyond reason.  As long as I live, no one will ever be able to explain the need for a pair of knitted shorts.  Anyway, our booth was stationed between the ice cream truck's noisy generator and the sample John Deere tractors.  The tractors were basically climbing instruments for children.  Also, they had a horn.  All day Saturday, children would climb up and blow the horn for way too long of a time.  By the time I got back to the hotel, I felt like I had shell shock.  Every time I heard a horn on the street, I would jump.  And as if my prayers had been answered, someone disabled the horn on Sunday.  If I knew who that person was, I would have probably spent twenty minutes in a passionate embrace with them. 
The festival was a great experience, as it always is.  I will likely do it again.  But, I need to jazz it up with a Cutthroat logo and sign.  Maybe Mr. Cutthroat could dress up as a giant bearded cookie?  Yes!