Craft Fair MANIA!!!

Yvonne called me three weeks ago, out of breath and frantic.

Y: "K!!! Mark October 22nd on your calendar."
K: "Why? Is Journey coming to town?" [reference to me giving her endless shit for seeing Journey about 5 years ago]
Y: "Fuck you. Craft fair! You're coming with me this year, woman."
K: "I dunno...the husband might have something going..."
Y: "Tell the husband you're MY bitch that day. You're going."

Who was I to argue? I informed my husband that I'd be hanging with the geriatrics the morning of 10/22. He rolled his eyes and gave his standard "Don't spend too much money" speech. It was decided. Visions of personalized Christmas ornaments and hand-knit scarves (with love in EVERY STITCH!) danced in my head as the day drew nearer. Friday night, I called Yvonne to finalize the arrangements.

K: "So what time are we meeting up?"
Y: "We should be there at 8am sharp."
K: "WHAT? WHY? It doesn't start until 9."
Y: "K...there's gonna be a line."
K: "Are you kidding?
Y: "The line is usually wrapped around the corner by 9."
K: "Well so what...it's not like they're gonna sell out. There's 200 tables."
Y: [annoyance in her voice] "We have to get to Snowman Lady's table! She sells out every year."

I was immediately embarrassed by my ignorance. Snowman Lady is famous throughout the region for her hand-made snowmen. Snowmen in sweaters. Snowmen in sleds. Snowmen with various awareness ribbons embroidered on their bulbous bottoms. Snowmen that hang on doors. All for rock-bottom prices that make the middle-aged women swoon.

As it turned out, parking was also a hugely competitive situation, so I begrudgingly agreed to drag myself out of bed on 4 hours sleep and meet up with Yvonne at the crack of dawn. Dunkin Donuts coffee in hand, and a large canvas bag over my shoulder to hold my inevitable purchases, I stumbled up to the front door of the high school to join the already-growing crowd of snowman-crazed bitties.

Even though we were there so early, there were still about 20 people ahead of us. One boasted that she'd been there since 7, and as Yvonne predicted, she was there for one reason; Snowman Lady. Just the mention of it got the line buzzing; there were recaps what they got last year, predictions of what she might have this year...it was like the Beanie Baby craze all over again. As 9am approached, the bitties got antsy.

Old Lady: "It's 9am. Open up already!"
Man at door: "It's actually 8:59."

So the bitties started a countdown. I shit you not, they counted down from sixty and let out a Fenway-esque roar as the doors were flung open. I've never seen women in their 70's move so fast. They were on a mission: WE MUST FIND SNOWMAN LADY!

Yvonne and I elbowed our way through and followed the stampede downstairs. Apparently, Snowman Lady occupies the same spot each year. between the boys and girls rooms on the lower level - no guesswork in the hunt for snowmen. By the time we got there, 15 people were in line, and 20 more were pushing their way in toward her displays, snatching what they could.

I went into the situation refusing to be taken by Snowman Lady's wiles. They're snowmen, big whoop, I was there to support Yvonne's efforts, not to be a mindless sheep. I perused the quickly diminishing selection with nonchalance. Then, I saw it.




A snowman head that coordinated perfectly with my front door. Sweet Jesus, it sang to me.


How much, you ask?

$7.95.


Out of my way, bitches...that snowman's mine





I reached over the heads of the 5 foot tall barracudas who had their arms loaded up with booty and snatched the head for myself. Daggers shot from their eyes, but I didn't give a fuck. Snowman Head was ALL MINE.

BAAAAAAAAAAAAA.....

Yvonne smirked at me. I was now one of them.

As I stood in line, I chatted with my counterparts...we ooh'd and aah'd over each other's finds. This one lady held a snowman in a sweater that coordinated perfectly with my Snowman Head...I lamented that we should have been in line at 8am. Yvonne smirked again.

The rest of the fair was nice, and I picked up a few items for family and friends, but nothing topped the high that we got from Snowman Lady. How could I have been so blind? ALL THE WASTED YEARS...

Next year...7:30. And a bigger bag.