then we start the total chaos
This weekend I am selling honey and soap at a holiday craft fair. The economy makes people come in hoards for the free wine, but not to buy my handmade wonderfulness. They DO, however, seem to be willing to scrape together some cash to spare on a fleece scarf for their DOG from the gabby lady with the flashy sweater at the booth next to mine. $25 Sun catchers? Sure! Handmade lavender soap? Sorry, not today. I will sniff it and exclaim over it’s loveliness, but I’m watching my pocketbook. Oh honey, there you are! We need to go over and pay for the holiday wreath I picked out. It’s made out of wine corks! People should be fined for their lack of taste. They should have to pay some sort of Poor Taste Tax. This meowing kitty sweater is 49.95, plus tax. The tax should pay for education and awareness.
In my posting haste last week I forgot to include a Santa Cruz story. Keith and I were sitting at a café, enjoying some delicious pastries and spitting out some horrible coffee, when we overheard a precious moment. We were sharing the back patio of the café with two young college-aged women wearing matching pink mini-dresses. They had a Mac laptop with them and they were playing a carefully selected iTunes play list for a little choreography session. The dance moves were…what’s the right word…contact-improv-ish? And the dialogue was priceless. “Okay, so I was thinking that when Sheryl Crow says, ‘I don’t know too many things’ we’ll cock our heads to the side like this and do the slide we talked about.”
Also, “So just pretend you’re an amoeba, you, know, breaking through?”
Also, “So now the soldier shoots and everyone starts crying. Then we start the total chaos.”