antiquing

After going antiquing, I confess that I feel like an antique myself. Oronoco, Minnesota, has an annual antiques fair the third weekend in August, and it's this weekend. Caitlin's fiddling group got invited to play at it today and tomorrow, and I was the responsible adult today who took her. Yes, my sister is multi-talented and does everything. Anyway, while they were playing, I went and looked around at all of the things there. I was surprised at how much junk was there; you'd think that a nationally-known antiques fair would have more quality and less useless stuff. I confess that if I had a house and the income with which to furnish said house, I could have found some fun pieces, but alas, I am also a student with grandiose dreams of further education. Besides, my mom would kill me if I came home with a fiberglass moose. Anyway, I did find some Depression-era feedsack fabric, for a reasonable price, so I guess I had some luck. I also did a fair amount of walking, so at the very least, I got my exercise. Aside from the fact that I'm actually allergic to dust and have asthma, antiquing might be a good hobby. Then again, maybe not.