Sellout! I sold out of tankards!
Okay, not quite. But I only had SEVEN left, so frankly it's "close enough for government work," as the saying goes.
Seriously, yesterday morning we had 34 pieces left, and I said I would be happy (delirious, in fact) to sell 15 more. Sundays are fairly slow at this event plus it closes earlier in the evening, so lower sales are the norm. In fact, I sold 27!!
The booth, yesterday morning. Sparse sparse shelves.
The booth, mid-day. Even sparser shelves.
By the end off the day, this is all that was left.
Altogether we sold a total of 176 pieces. I went around all day so thrilled I was babbling like an idiot. I have NEVER experienced such amazing sales. Thank you ALL for your prayers and well-wishes, it worked!!
Some sights from the day. In the morning this gentleman wandered by and I begged permission to photograph his beard. Looked terrific.
This mother was walking around, looking very retro-hippy. I have a fondness for hippies so I thought she looked pretty.
We saw helicopters all the time. I think the park must have been near a launch-pad (or whatever they're called). Some were news helicopters, some were police helicopters, and who knew what the rest were.
An interesting fashion statement. Not unattractive, just... different.
A kilt-wearer. There was a kilt-seller two booths down from us, doing their best to get the men of Portland into these attractive garments. Seriously, I have a fondness for kilts.
Unfortunately this photo turned out blurry, but I was trying to get a shot of the plugs in his ears.
Later in the day another fellow came through, attentive to his one-year-old son who toddled into my booth. It was one of those heart-warming things where daddy clearly adored his son, though it was funny to see daddy covered with tattoos and piercings. I asked permission to photograph his earlobe, and he proudly told me they were at 7/8 inch and told me (in possibly more detail than I needed to hear) about the process involved in stretching.
A drawbridge rising. Oh man, these things are fascinating to watch.
T-shirts du jour:
And this startling declaration:
(Polygamy, I was told, is a type of beer.)
You'll never guess what this fellow is doing. He's taking a photo... of my "knucklebuster" credit card machine. Yes, really. In fact, he was the second "Generation Y" fellow to ask what it was and confessed they had never seen one before. I felt very OLD.
In the evening as the festival wound down, my friend Mick and I broke down the booth. I'm not exaggerating when I say this crate his holding our remaining stock. Make a note: next year, bring more tankards.
Before returning to my friend Wendy and Tim's home, I indulged myself for a couple of happy hours in Powell's Bookstore, a wonderful place.
Think HUGE, and you'll have Powell's. It takes up one entire city block and is four floors high, with a maze of half-levels and odd staircases and vast aisles.
I spent (cough) probably more than I should, but hey, it's my once-a-year indulgence. And Don very kindly told me not to worry about it.
As I checked out, I noticed this stack of bumperstickers by the cash register sporting Portland's unofficial motto.
This is my friend Wendy and her daughter Libbi. Wendy and Tim adopted Libbi from Guatemala when she was a baby. I love this family like crazy.
Moments after I post this update, I'm climbing into my car for the loooong drive home. Once again, dear readers, thank you for your prayers and support for a most extraordinary weekend.