As we blogged about before, Chica and I had a fantastic time at the CHA show.  I walked in each morning and marveled at all the beautiful colors of the booths and the smell.  Yes, the smell.  Chica thought I was crazy standing there in the doorway inhaling the aroma of brand new products.  I can’t accurately explain the smell but I liken it to hopping in a brand new car and reveling in all of its newness.

We loved browsing through each booth and doing some of the make-and-takes.  It was at one make-and-take that things went wrong for me, or at least my clothing.  We were having our picture taken with Crafty Chica and being all excited about finally getting to meet her in person when we spied Carol Duvall.  Star-struck, we started babbling to Crafty Chica about how awesome Carol Duvall is.  She offered to introduce us!  How fantastic.  I scooped up all of my free bags and purse and hurried over to stand next to Carol Duvall for my picture.  After our brief encounter with the crafting famous, Chica and I headed on to the next booth.  Then, I noticed something on my arm…and my leg…and my shorts…and my shirt…and from the look of horror on Chica’s face, my back as well.  Somehow, I had managed to get black paint all over me!  I mean, everywhere!  What the heck?  We finally figured out that all the paint was coming from my very cute, green purse. Apparently, I had placed my purse next to some drying art work when we were having our picture taken.  I assure you, my purse and clothes suffered a lot more than the wet picture.

I rushed to the ladies room to try and wash the paint off as best as I could but it would only come off of my skin.  Other ladies in the restroom sighed with sympathy but also looked at me askance wondering how the heck I managed to get paint on the back of my white shirt.  I know Chica was laughing at me inside but was kind enough to keep it to herself at the time.  I can’t say the same thing about my husband.  When we arrived home, he pointed out that I had black marks on the back of my arm (guess I missed a spot).  When I told him the story, he laughed at me…a lot.  In retrospect, I am also amused by the incident and the black splotches on my red shorts act as an unconventional souvenier of our trip!