Town Parties & Cupcakes of Course

I think only a few of you noticed the little me in the mirror of the truck yesterday.  I understand, it was a lame attempt at cool photography, but I thought it would be like a Where’s Waldo game or something.  More like, ‘or something’.

So, this was a big weekend for us.  My town rolled out the red carpet, put on a grand show, and hosted the world.  Not really, but it was quite the party for small New York town.  For my kids, the highlight was riding those swings that fly you through the air until you want to lose your breakfast, lunch, and dinner from the past week and a half.  I am convinced the only reason FringeKid likes this ride is because she enjoys watching her flip-flops fly through air as they ‘accidentally’ fall from the vice-grip of her toes.  Not a good moment for the guy in charge of the ride, because it’s contagious.  Suddenly flip-flops begin slipping from the air in all directions.  It could be worse.  It could have been birds dropping their stuff.  He didn’t see it that way.

The thing I appreciate about this military Hummer is the seats.  Every family vehicle should come with seats encased in the most durable plastic known to man.  I mean what mother would not love to just hose out her car once a week.  No more sitting in melted crayons or once-sucked Cheerios.  No milky sippy-cup smells or juice-box stickiness.  Military issued Hummers should replace the Mini-Van as the next family vehicle.  Forget the commercials you see on TV.

My favorite part of the weekend was Saturday morning when The Chicks Along Canal set up their displays.  It was a hormonal upheaval of female proportions.  The kind of show men endure for the love of God and their wives.  FringeBoy went and sat in the car after 2.8 minutes.  He found a Lego to play with or a book to read or something.  Me, I enjoyed the sights and sounds.  Browsed through vintage linens, old junk, and handmade goods till my heart’s content.  FringeMan found a coffee, and FringeKid shopped.  After all, she’s female.

They had live music playing, but truthfully it just became background noise for me.  I was listening to FringeKid chatter in my ear the entire time about a cute chair our artist friend would like (go visit her website HERE), or a sign I must see, or an old dress that looked like it came from TV….blah, blah, excited blah!

She’s destined to be a junker.  I don’t think there’s any way around it.

One of my favorite spots was this Chick’s.  She has the most delightful signs and other assorted painted wood furniture, frames, mirrors, and even that ginormous green house/bird house thingy with the chandelier inside.  If it didn’t mean kicking out a family member to gain space, I would put that item in my house.

You can visit Christina HERE @ Signs of Obsession.  I noticed we have some blogs in common, but we hadn’t crossed paths until this past weekend.  It was my pleasure.  She’s super sweet and so is her cupcake sign.  I bought it by the way.  It was my splurge of the summer.  If you visit Christina, be sure to tell her I sent you.

The sign is only temporarily up there.  If you notice the ceiling just got cut and patched.  It needs to be sanded and painted.  Then I will hang the cupcake sign permanently.

I think that’s all for today.  I just noticed how many words I used.  Believe it or not, I don’t like to overwhelm you.  I know, you don’t believe it.

Sorry.

Add to FacebookAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to FurlAdd to Newsvine

Advertisements

14 thoughts on “Town Parties & Cupcakes of Course

  1. Pingback: Art: The Act of Making Things Pretty « the domestic fringe

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s