Really Big Show

On Saturday I attended the Sister's Quilt Show in Sisters, Oregon with the quilting girls. I'm not sure I've ever blogged about the quilting girls, because,

a. I'm not so sure that they'd appreciate it,

b. there are hippa laws,

c. they might throw me out of the group for it, and

d. they were all there for me when Timmers was dying, so they deserve not to

be thrown under the bus.

I love them and I am guaranteed at least one big belly laugh whenever we get together. Saturday did not disappoint.

At the Sister's quilt show, on every second Saturday in July, the little cowboy community of Sisters, Oregon takes a ba-jillion quilts and hangs them outdoors and quilters (women over 45)come in by the busloads to walk around the streets of Sisters to look at them and act like girls who have finally been cut loose from the restraints of everyday life (lots of high pitch giggling, matching group vests/visors/hats/socks/t-shirts (that have things like "sewing chicks" embroidered on them )) I did a fair amount of sitting this year, and I am an observer by nature, and I am not making this stuff up.

It is now time for a blog visual.

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This is the poster that advertised last year's event.

The water is a quilt. Clever huh?

Here is this year's

The woman is a quilter, feeling free from the restraints of life through quilting. And flowers. You can purchase this poster, and totes, and t-shirts and other marketing paraphernalia at the show. Along with kettle corn. Which I quite enjoyed, by the way, because Betti, (not her real name, however she happens to be one) who is one of the quilting girls DID purchase some hot fresh kettle corn and shared it with the group and I publicly thank her. Betti, as usual, you are generous.

I get sidetracked so easily. Anyway, if you are lucky, at the show you can see some nice things:

But like life itself, with the good, you sometimes get the bad and the ugly.

I don't know what the above is, was, or needs to be.... but what ever it is, was, or needs to be, It was oh so real, it was perplexing, and there were 2 of them. And people were walking a wide circle around them so as not to have any taint rub off on them.

One thing the quilting girls (not to be confused with sewing chicks....we have no identifying or embroidered clothing...) like to do together is go to quilt stores, so we traveled a little south of Sisters and went to 3 stores in Bend. As we were traveling along in the car, minding our own beeswax, this was the conversation that took place:

Boan: Hey! Look at that guy on that bicycle!! He's wearing a loin cloth!

Betti, Barol, Bancy, Bebbie, and Bommacita: What? Where?

Boan: Over there! THERE! (points to the left)

Boan: Barol! Turn the car around! Hurry up! There's a guy with a loin cloth on! We need another look!

Bommacita the realist: That guy doesn't have a loin cloth on. His shorts are just torn.

Boan: Yes it is! IT IS! Barol! Turn your car around.

Mind you now, we're all at least 50 years old. However, Barol turns the car around anyway. Great personal effort was involved. I continue to enjoy Betti's Kettle Corn.

Boan: Barol! Slow down! SLOW DOWN! He's got a LOIN CLOTH on I tell you! Betti! BETTI! Get a Picture of that!

Bommacita the realist: Oh My Gosh! That guy doesn't have a loin cloth on. His shorts are just torn.

Betti unrolls her window. Barol slows the car down. All six over 50 heads look to the right. Camera is put into position. I simultaneously hear the shutter click and see the guy.

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The car goes slower. Necks are craned. Gasps are heard. Bommacita bursts, literally BURSTS into laughter. Other things almost burst right along with it.

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It IS a loincloth. IT IS. It was made out of leather. Suede actually. It had a pocket. What is the thought process when you're making your loincloth that delivers you to the conclusion that you need a pocket on it? What kinds of stuff do you keep in your loincloth pocket? Wouldn't stuff in a loin pocket cause it to not lay smooth and flat? Isn't smooth and flat a loincloth goal that all loiners should keep in mind? Is that not critical for all those involved in the covering of one's loin?

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Who does this? WHO?

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I guess it doesn't matter who. But I'm lucky. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank the barefoot guy in the Mohawk from Bend for being so kind when he got on his bike that afternoon, to carefully tuckie his loinie around his seatie to make sure that Bommacita would not have to see anything more than a leg. And it didn't hurt to leave the pocket empty. Thank you guy in the Mohawk. THANK YOU.

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But guy in the mohawk, please, in the future, if you need to feel free from the restraints of life, please just put on some pants, grab a quilt, and run through some flowers with the 3 Sisters Mountains in the background.

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And please stay in Bend because you scare me just a teensy.

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