My middle OS Aaron is at it again. My arm is no longer confined to a cast and a sling but I relinquish my blog to him so he can continue exaggerating his dolorous journey to the Quilting Symposium. Here is part two which means that yes, there will be a part three. I had no idea he had this much teenage angst!
Fully aware that the decision I had made could possibly claim my life, I rode in the car with my Grandma and very excited mother. We pulled into Peace College and stepped out of the car. My heart pounded, vision blurred, muscles tightened and senses heightened. I became completely conscious of my surroundings as we walked to the symposium.
|Mom and I not at the symposium|
I spot a tent pavilion on my twelve o'clock with two ladies guiding us toward the quilts, another middle-aged lady on my nine also approaching the tent, a lady with a small purse on my four o'clock sitting on a bench, a lady on my three o'clock heading to the symposium, a lady, a lady, a lady, a lady. THEY WERE ALL LADIES! Was I the only male in attendance? Was I the only person under 40 interested in…I mean NOT interested in quilting? I now stood in a desert, devoid of all teenagers, males and attractive young girls.
Where had I to turn? I was completely on my own. I carried my mom’s backpack with all her essential quilt symposium tools and followed her and my grandma to the front desk. The ladies there gave us sheets of paper with all of the vendors in attendance listed.
“Thanks so much.” I wanted that raffle prize badly, but did not have the dignity...or lack of dignity to go to the vendors and ask their signature for my chance at a quilting prize.
Then the inevitable happened. And I knew it would happen. My mom looked at me, gave me her purse, and said, “I have to go to the bathroom. Stay here. Come on, Mom.”
“You want me to just stay here?”
“Yeah, wait for me and your grandma.”
This was where the nightmare began. In the midst of a tornado of frenzied quilters, my mom left me alone to go to the bathroom. I thought she loved me, now she just leaves me here to wither away in my own dark corner of the Quilting Symposium.
|Someone remind me, what am I doing here???|
"I hope they’re ok. I hope I’m ok." With every passing second, I drew nearer and nearer to my impending doom. If it seems like I’m exaggerating, (and those of you who know me know I am very careful on never being too dramatic) I’m not. I felt sure they had left me at the symposium. All hopes of a safe return home were now smashed. Goodbye world. Goodbye friends, guitars, graduation, college.
|One of these things just doesn't belong here!|
“Oh, haha, people probably thought you were a little cutie.” Thanks, Mom.
We entered the venue starting with a wall of aprons, of which my favorite was the pastel orange and purple.
|The mother of all machines|
(to be continued...)