A GINORMOUS thank you to all the fabulous peeps who hunted and wandered around this past weekend to find my little tent at the invisible end of the road in "No Man's Land" to buy soap. I swear I have the most wonderful customers on the planet. Special shoutout to Jeanette who brought me a gift out of the blue. She's been following her muse with her new oil painting hobby, and one recent day received the newsletter and decided that she simply must do a painting of the little Arts & Crafts floral design logo that I use, and then decided that I needed to have it. It's beautiful, and so touching, and the highlight of my weekend - I've been crowing about it to everyone who walked in and saw it adorning the picket fence shelf that holds my sprays. Terribly sweet and thoughtful.
And to the lovely gals who somehow picked the exact moment when the two directors of the show happened to stop by the booth and check out the newbie -- all the while raving and howling about how wonderful the soap is, how they found me by the notes on the web site, insisting that it's the best soap on the planet and the only thing they use . . . Oh. My. God. You could not have picked a more perfect moment, or been more serendipitous. They both left the booth shaking their heads in wonder and amazement, and I can't help but think they might be just a little bit more impressed with me after that exchange. It's been a slow and frustrating weekend for sales, and the bottom line for all of us is how much I sell, and how much I pay them in commission. But a few well placed compliments at just the right moment may be just what the doctor ordered.
And my two new best friends, the Port-O-Let gals? Fate brought us together. I've loved every second of our kibbitzing and sharing of the arteest life and plain old wimmin stuff. I can't wait til we meet up again at the next show and can gossip about everything that's happened in between. Good luck with your shows next weekend while I'm off galivanting! I'll bring my own Charmin for our next appearance!
One teeny postscript - for the woman I talked with Sunday morning (who can't possibly know who I am, or about this blog, or ever read this). She stopped by early yesterday morning with her dog, trying to reach the bench behind my tent which is dedicated to her husband who died just last year. She was bringing a bouquet of flowers freshly cut from their garden -- pink roses, orange lilies, purple delphinium, a green branch, all scrunched up in foil. I think she mumbled that she brings some every week, but it was hard to make out. It was Father's Day, and she was trying to control a full-out weeping, just a choking, wobbly, voice, some stopping for tears, a request to place the flowers on the bench for her since she couldn't reach behind the walls of our tents. While I was clamboring over to move them into place, I had a hard time taking in the moment myself, reading the most heartfelt inscription on the metal bench that I never noticed while sitting there the previous afternoon reading People magazine and munching chips. I asked her if she wanted to come around behind the table and place them herself, or say a few words or take a moment. But she quickly stammered "no" and disappeared quickly. I really wish I could have offered something more, or shared the grief somehow, said something, hugged you, but you left so quickly that by the time I turned around and tried to squeeze my bum out from behind the table I couldn't even see where you had gone. I'm sure your husband was a wonderful man, and obviously very much loved and sorely missed. I thought about him all day, and so did all the other folks who saw the flowers and asked about them. They were still fresh and pretty when I packed up and left last night.
And now . . . ta dah . . .
I'm hitting the road! I've closed the shop, published a bright red news alert on the web site, changed the phone message and left the building.
We are taking the laptop, but probably won't have much, if any, wireless since we're planning on quite a bit of wilderness and nature time. And while in town, nobody takes their computer to the spa, now do they? So if the opportunity strikes, I may check in. But no promises. See ya Monday the 26th!