In a previous post, I had speculated that the art fair gods had put us on accelerated program for paying our dues, and that the only hurdle we had yet to clear was really hot weather. Oh, silly, silly us. Forgot about the god of rain.
Our last show was in Winter Park, Florida. For the first time, our set-up went smoothly and without incident. That should have clued us in that something was amiss. But the weekend was delightful, with temperate weather, good sales, and a lovely park environment. Until Sunday, when the skies opened, the rains came, and that lovely park environment turned into the Everglades. There was no grass under the tree that sheltered our booth, and had the lovely and talented Phil not had the foresight to buy us some puzzle mats at the local Big Lots, we’d have been ankle deep in mud. Or what passes for mud in Florida. It’s sort of a grimy sand. Let’s call it grind. Anyway, after an hour or so, the fair organizers decided to call it quits and let us pack our sodden tents up and go home. Where I spent the better part of the week washing the grind of of everything.
So, art fair gods, my apologies. I did not mean to offend. Please look out for us this weekend, as we do the Northern Virginia Fine Arts Festival in Reston, VA. So far, the weather looks promising. Which can only mean…what? Earthquakes? Locusts? Terrorists?
Note–in a previous incarnation of this post, I mentioned that two bots had been stolen. They weren’t–it was an error on my part, as I had forgotten to add their names to the list of bots I’d shipped off to Anthropologie. Just doing my best to live up to the stereotype of the flaky, disorganized artist…