Down in the Boondocks

Well, I would like to report that this week has proven to a unending joyride, but alas, that report, while perhaps more enjoyed, would be false.
My rare eggs I paid a lot for did not hatch, much to the disappointment of my classroom  and me.  First time in eleven years, and no idea what happened.
A much loved parent had a seizure during lunch at school yesterday.  Oh lands, so many layers of heartbreak.  The last time I saw Kaye like I knew her was in the emergency room minutes before a horrible seizure.  The longing for him to sit up and be okay.  The teacher friend who lost her 15 year old brother two years ago to a seizure, witnessing the whole thing.  Taking Mom to visit an assisted living facility and hoping against hope that might stir some excitement in her- ain't happening folks. Glenda's son-in-law in a fight for his life.  And the sleep that seems to to keep it's distance no matter how hard I try to find it.  A relationship, where over and over your feelings are sliced and diced and served up on a platter.  Ugh.
But, though not a hundred percent, our parent is improving, which is worth more to me than a hundred hatched rare eggs.  Glenda's Anthony was able to have his surgery and did better than anticipated and best of all, a good report on his liver biopsy. Thank you Lord!
Okay, so enough about that.  Just trying to keep it real here folks.

Remember  that day off I had?  Seems like a long time ago now.

 Well, we went to a Hemp Fest.  Apparently, it was grown in Kentucky once upon a time for things other than smoking.
So, we had hemp flour in a savory crepe,

 beer made from hemp (the last one I might add),

 dipping hemp oil,

and I made paper from hemp.

 
For my money, I'll stick with the paper.  We didn't much love hempish food stuffs.
 This guy is demonstrating how to bust up the hemp to use for textiles. That drum the hemp is rolling through is handmade wooden cogs.  It was interesting.

Then you can spin the fiber.

 The group performing was Apalatin.  Handy Man determined they must consider themselves a cross between Appalachian and Latin music.  That turned out to be true in word, but not so much in deed.  They were  mostly Latin. Good musicians, but not my favorite genre.  This little guy in front was most entertaining and took that guitar playing quite seriously.

Somehow talk of Appalachia and music will always bring up something about my Mom. I remembered to Handy Man and Gardner E. how much my Mom loved the song, One Toke Over the Line, though she had no idea what it meant.  Gardener E. hadn't heard it, but it gave us lots to talk about over the next week.  The point of this fest seemed to be the desire to bring back this crop to Kentucky as tobacco makes it way out.  Or, perhaps if Kentucky goes the way of Colorado, they hope to already be One Toke Over the Line.
Loved needing a light sweater this morning. Love a sister who buys me new tops.  Love that nothing at Mom's needs sorted this weekend.  Love that a lot of stressful school stuff of the first three weeks is over.
Happy Weekend!