More Proofs, Sun, Fun & Jewelry Girls

For the past two weeks I worked diligently correcting proof pages of my Christmas book, Gravedigger’s Christmas.

I’m sick of proofreading!

No sooner had I uploaded the finished copy Friday than the postman delivered the proof pages of the Civil War diary. So, next week’s work is cut out for me already. This incident got me to thinking about the word proof in its varied meanings; I intend to write something about how to prove that God does not exist (or maybe He does) one day next week. I’m kicking various ideas around.

Saturday, Ginny and I (and several thousand other people) browsed in the broiling sun at the 35^th Annual Riverside Art Festival where 150 artists, craftsmen, musicians, writers, and dog trainers displayed their skills.

Every time I tried to snap a picture of a crown scene, everybody moved!

Honest, there were a lot of people there — including this Meter Man; I think his teeth are so cool.:

Ginny preferred to admire seascapes:

I found by far the most interesting booths in the show were the jewelry displays. Being a keen observer -- and a card-carrying dirty old man -- I noticed that girls in low-cut blouses lean far over the counter to examine the jewelry. Years ago I paid good money to see strippers who displayed less flesh than the girls at the art show did for free.

Were I not a stalwart pure-hearted Christian, I could really become an aficionado of fine jewelry. But since I am, I only visited eight or ten jewelry displays. … Er, at least I suppose there was jewelry in those cases.

Of course, not a single one of the young lovelies bending over the jewelry counters even spoke to me. However, I did spend some time sitting on a park bench talking with an 84-year-old lady from Oklahoma who was just passing through town on her way to her brother’s funeral. Really, I did not say much to her but I did listen and let her unload.

Normally I avoid crowds because I'm subject to panic attacks, but perhaps the Lord inclined my heart to attend this festival, which I usually wouldn’t think of going to, in order to consol this old lady a tiny bit. Not all our plans are our own. I’m fairly sure He did not send me here to ogle the jewelry girls.

Here’s a photo of three beautiful women. Guess which one I’m married to:

Hey, you don’t think I’m crazy enough to take photos of the jewelry girls do you?

People of every age and description enjoyed the art show. Here’s a young man with his parrot who attracted much attention:

That may be one of the dogs from the frisbee show in the background.

Long before we’d seen it all, the heat wilted us and we quit browsing to seek iced tea. It seems appropriate that the last booth we visited contained a shadowbox wall hanging entitled Sun Worshippers.

This evening after supper, Ginny and I prayed for our children and the various trials, troubles and things they are involved in this coming week. As we washed our dishes, Ginny remarked, “You know, they give you an epidural when you’re giving birth, but it only lasts for a few minutes; they ought to invent an epidural that will last you for 30 years”.