Can't un

This morning, at 5 am, I was all gung-ho about Canton.

By 5 pm, the enthusiasm had dwindled and all that was left was a throbbing in my knees and a numbness in my distended belly.

We had a good time.

We ate all the food - strange versions of peanut brittle, chicken on a stick, expensive vats of hot cocoa, samples of bizarre jellies (peanut jelly? lime-beef jelly?), and even a nibble of a gourmet doggie biscuit.

We shopped at all the vendors - plywood yard art, scrap metal yard art, lighted yard art, inflatable yard art, animated yard art, gnomish yard art, etc. And jewelry, and children's clothes, and blankets, and Christmas ornaments, and real antiques, and fake antiques that just looked like someone cleaned out their junk room at home, and knives, and animals, such as donkeys, which were there in case you needed one to haul all your crap home.

We analyzed WHY in the Sam-Hill someone would bring their infant to First Monday. "Are you kidding me? That child still has an umbilical stump, and you are parading them around at a flea market?" That got very tiring because there were more babies there than adults. So we finally quit worrying about those poor babies, and wondered why we didn't bring ours for the day! Then we figured out that maybe these people were buying the babies at the flea market. And that is why they had them there! THAT must be it. Whew.

Anyway, eating, shopping, analyzing - that is our day in a nutshell. Pecan. Or maybe Walnut. With jalepenos. Mixed into brittle and put into a jar and sold for $18.