Yesterday I cast off all of my responsibilities and went down to the Sisters Outdoor Quilt Show with a friend. Going to this quilt show is one of those things in my category of “complete, wondrous luxury,” and I was thrilled when my friend suggested the trip.
Usually Sisters in July is crazy hot, but this time we had pleasantly cool weather, and even some clouds that cropped up in the afternoon. We made a lazy circuit through the first two streets, with pauses for lunch and to browse in the occasional store. Every once in a while we’d have to zip across the street to see something that particularly caught someone’s eye. There are a lot of quilts in the show, and I’ve come to believe that it’s physically impossible to see them all, regardless of how methodical you are. So we ditched “methodical” and just had fun.
And then, just as were heading down the main street, we felt the first fat raindrops.
It was impossible, of course. Sisters is in Eastern Oregon, in high desert country. And it was July, for heaven’s sake! People were hastily tucking quilts back under eaves to keep them from getting wet. We continued down the street, congratulating ourselves on being Portlanders and not afraid of a little drizzle.
Ten minutes later, thunder rolled and the heavens opened up. We ran for a nearby bookstore.
Now, a bookstore is a good place to hang out in any circumstances, and we spent quite a while browsing. Every once in a while one of us would pause to watch the increasingly powerful rain, or a particularly spectacular bolt of lightening, or the army of quilt show volunteers as they scrambled to get the quilts to safety.
Eventually we decided to concede the day ended. We headed out for a consolation pastry and then got back into the car for the drive home. It was still an awesome day. And I picked up a “Men Behind The Quilts” calendar for myself. Because nearly-naked men posing with quilts is just awesome.