It strikes me that many a 32 Poems blog reader would like the Crafty Bastards Festival. Although you can now find many interesting post-punkified and handmade items on Etsy, it’s still fun to brave raindrops to visit a real, live craft fair with lots of crafters with dyed-black hair, combat boots and red lipstick.

These pistolstitched folks were my favorites of all the artists.

If you can get over the shock of 8 organic apple slices (one half of an apple) costing $2, then there’s nothing to fear but fear itself at this hip festival. I’d definitely go back.

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O and I got stares because I loaded her in the mei tai carrier and she rode on my back. I guess people are used to seeing strollers. A 30ish man offered to help me get O into the carrier, which creeped me out. He sensed my creepy feeling because he quickly explained he has kids (so I am not supposed to think he’d kill me) and that he could never get them into back carriers without help. I smiled and was slightly less creeped out, but I still declined the offer.

At the festival, O made a friend and she and the friend were running around like wild ones. Then, I noticed a poet and we got to talking. His child was the one O had targeted as her friend of the minute.

On the way back to the car, I ran into random people I met at an Oktoberfest party 40 miles away the day before. I love how ‘small town’ DC feels at times.

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On another note, I still can’t believe my grandmother is dead. Grieving sucks.