sheer madness

Every year, I swear I will never go again. And every Labor Day weekend, I collect my wallet and, unfortunately, gather up at least one of my children and follow the herds of glassy-eyed, frenzied Utah women making their way to the sheer madness that is known as Swiss Days. Now, if you're not familiar with this annual event, it is basically a bunch of vendors selling handicrafts like beaded jewelry, nightgowns, wrapping paper, hair accessories, magnet boards and carved wooden critters. At least I think that's what they're selling--it's impossible to see or get into most of the booths due to the swarms of people jamming them inside and spilling out into the walkways. You practically need military black ops training to get in and get out of those things. Seriously--it's ridiculous. But I can't help myself--and apparently, the entire female population of the Wasatch Front can't either. So I made the pilgrimage on Friday, fought the crowds, commented several times on how crazy it was and came home wondering again why I bothered to go.

In all reality, I don't want to go, but I don't want to stay away. I'm always afraid I'll miss the perfect centerpiece for my holiday tablescape or the best hair bow deal ever. So I'm sure I will continue the tradition of going to Swiss Days--I will just never take my husband (his worst nightmare) or a stroller (my worst nightmare). Stop me if you ever see me and point me toward the merch that'll make it all worthwhile.