In which our heroine visits the state of Indiana

And attends a gourd show, which is actually just like a sheep and wool festival, except there are gourds and no sheep. Or wool. There are, however, lots of people nutty over something that makes coworkers raise an eyebrow and defies explanation to a certain category of acquaintance.

"You went to a what this weekend? What do you do there? Oh. You mean there's hundreds of people all interested in ... oh. And you ... oh. I see. It sounds, um, nice." We've all had that conversation, haven't we?

The Fool opted to stay home and ply with his curvaceous companion Friday night while I went to the Indiana Gourd Show with my friend, Janice. She doesn't knit (yet). We hadn't been to the gourd show for a couple of years, so it was nice to get back to Kokomo, Ind. for a short visit. We invited the Fool, and Janice's husband, too, but oddly, neither seemed very excited about going.

Not that I blame them. Kokomo is pretty boring. The gourd show is the only thing in town as far as we are concerned.

It's at the local civic center/ car museum/ convention center. The parking lot is full of gourd vendors selling dried gourds, and inside, there are more gourd vendors selling more gourds, naked and ornamented, materials to ornament gourds and books on gourd crafting techniques.

There are musical performances (senior citizens' big band, bluegrass ensembles, old-time ensembles, gourd music bands - you know, the kind of music one expects at a gourd show.)

There are concessions (many kinds of fine encased meats) and there are classes.

This is a view of the naked gourd competition.

Janice and I signed up for a bunch of classes, because, really, you walk around, chat with some vendors, look at the art submitted for the gourd art contest, and that's the show. We initially misread the schedule and showed up at 5 p.m. Friday for what we thought was a 7-10 p.m. class. It wasn't. Gourders apparently enjoy greeting the sunrise with a cheerful song or some crap like that, because we were 10 hours late.

No worries. We talked our way into another class Saturday morning. At 7 a.m. I blame Janice.

She took a class where she painted attractive flowers on a gourd birdhouse, because she can draw and is An Artist.

I stuck to things like basketweaving because I can't draw, but weaving makes sense.

By the end of the day Saturday, I was finished. I was tired, I was sick of soaking reeds and wrestling with cane and getting splinters and I had stabbed my thumb with what I thought was a harmless tapestry needle. It was pointy. I bled.

It was a relief to get back in the car and handle my nice soft knitting with dull needles. Lovely. I finished a frog sock with orange toes. The Fool is overjoyed.

These are two gourd baskets we completed in our second class. Mine is in front, Janice's is in the back.
















I thought this objet was especially amusing ... one finds fun fur in the weirdest places these days.

Spoot also likes gourd craft (ooh, ooh, obligatory cat photo!) She is investigating a gourd with Danish coiling along the rim that I need to finish. Thanks to the Fool, the gourd also has dried catnip inside. I had to put this one up on top of the TV when we went to bed.

So that's how I spent part of the weekend. More to come on the yarn the Fool plied, as well as the frog sock.