One of the things that have been the hardest about living in a mostly rural state for me is missing the eclectic artsiness of the big city.
Recently, we were magically given unusual days off. This blessing happened to coincide with the occurrence of the Snake River Fiber Fair, happening in Idaho Falls, Idaho. So, not having a clue what to expect (except for a VERY few details on their website ~ no exaggeration as it didn't even list the times the doors would open), we gassed up the car, put the dogs in the backseat and set off.
Now, a few miles South, just a couple of exits prior to where we were bound, is Dear Superman's birthplace. This restaurant used to be owned by his grandfather. The last time we were through this area, I couldn't get a shot of it. So...
The day opened with a bit of rain. No worries, we were in the right place. Vendors included folks from Idaho, Utah and Montana. The sign over the door welcomes the public to this event. The licence plate on the SUV from Utah says 'Got Yarn'. Oh, I hope so.
The event was held on a college campus. Rather than being in one large room, vendors were set up along the hallways. This particular college's hallway wound round like a rabbit warren or a hobbit hole. So at every turn was a new rainbow of colors to match the mists outside.
This event was sponsored by a spinners guild. The desire to learn how to drop spindle at the very least was difficult to ignore with all the lusciousness of alpaca, silk, MILK silk, merino.... Still, I'm determined that, like our hero Elizabeth Zimmerman, I will wait till I'm in my seventies, and I left without buying any batts or fleeces. The whole event was about the size of the events held at the granges back in Portland. I'm so glad that I went.
I did meet a couple of very nice ladies I'm hoping to see at the next fiber event in just a few days. And that will be all the Yarn events until next year in this area. So, back to searching for reasonable airline prices to take me to the events of nearly international fame, known for their sheer immense size. I will continue to strive not to whine.
Back to Superman:
After we'd been on the road a few minutes was a sign for the largest Army/Navy surplus store in the state. Which meant "Must Stop Here".
I looked at every back pack in the place, because I've been thinking for a couple of years that I need one and I'm going to be choosy and get the right one. They had HUNDREDS. I didn't get one. You know sometimes too many choices is harder than not enough.
Superman found this hat:
It brought tears to his eyes, right there in the store. His father was a soldier in the 101st Screaming Eagles. Holding the hat in his hands standing in the old family's neighborhood was a bit overwhelming for a man of good heart. I never doubt his authentic supreme Superman self.
Like the song that never ends, it goes on and on, my friends.