Waterford (with a treatise on the kindness of strangers)

First of all, Brinn made this video. So you can watch that now...


Waterford Festival from Brinn Willis on Vimeo.

Also, you can read this now:

A Treatise on the Kindness of Strangers

Lot's of people have been getting me out of pickles lately. I want to believe it's entirely due to the large percentage of friendly people in this state (commonwealth, actually), but I'm also open to the possibility that I find myself in more pickles than the average person. Thankfully, most of my pickles are -in one way or another- related to moving something I have built; which goes along with the whole theme here.

A while ago, I was driving Helga Beast when one of her rear tires blew up, twirling an 18-inch flap of tread around like a pinwheel, battering the tailpipe to pieces in the process. It was all good though, I was able to drive her home and park her for a month or so; which usually seems to fix most of the vehicle problems we encounter around here. Of course in the meanwhile I had Brinn's entire bridal show set to build (sweet pics here), portable walls, shelves, frames all that kind of stuff. Long story short, I put the new tire on the day before the show and (surprise, surprise) Helga Beast had decided she didn't like having brake fluid anymore. So we borrowed our friends' Suburban to pull the heavily loaded trailer down to Roanoke.

Lending a vehicle is friendly business to begin with, but this is where the real story starts. We got to the show just as they were telling people to finish setting up and get their vehicles out of the way. I was doing double time and getting all flustered trying to make up for Brinn's freshly broken ankle. At the last minute, I pulled out of the expo center, parked, and locked the vehicle. Having driven my share of dual-key trucks, I even thought to myself, "hey, I should make sure this key actually opens the door"; which, I thought it did. (Yeah, I italicized "thought", you know what that means.)

After trying to McGuyver the door open for 20 minutes after the show, I finally called the guy that loaned us the Suburban. "You didn't lock it did you?", he said. "Yeah dude, I was trying to be a responsible friend for once". After learning about the "other" key, the one to the door laying comfortably tucked in it's secret interior hiding space, I continued McGuyvering before returning to center, totally defeated. At this point the place was about empty, guys were sweeping up and I was faced with the task of hauling this truck-load of crap out to the parking lot trip by trip on my back. Luckily I caught the guy who had spent the previous

4 hours in the booth next to us, just as he was pulling out to head home.

"Josh! Josh! Hey! I gotta ask you a huge favor! Do you have a trailer hitch on that thing?", I yelled as I flagged him down, out of breath from running. He agreed to meet me in the parking lot, take the receiver from the Suburban and let me (he didn't feel comfortable backing the trailer) drive his parent's SUV back into the expo center to get all our stuff. He then spent the following hour chillin' with us in the parking lot and letting us check out all his video gear as we waited for our friend to drive all the way down to Roanoke with the spare secret door key. To say Josh is a gentleman would be an understatement. What's really impressive though, is that this guy, at age 18, is running an incredibly slick, highly professional videography business out of his freshman dorm room. Representing your own business at an industry trade show? Cool. Doing it at age 18? Impressive. Pulling it off with the character and professionalism of someone twice your age? That's' Josh Hall. Go check out his work, really.

I had several other kind stranger moments in recent weeks, one involving a blown-out trailer tire, the other a group of Loudoun County roughnecks (the last ones, apparently); but, I kinda wrote a lot already.

How about some pictures?

Brinn's bridal show booth featuring detachable, portable walls, weathered cedar frames, shelves, an easel, a table and a chalkboard made by me. I also made the sign, but you know Corey Egbert hand-painted the logo.

Hangin' in an empty parking lot with our new friend, Josh Hall.

This happened on I-81, while the whole family was riding up to the Waterford Festival in Helga Beast.

I had the farm jack, but the dag gone tire iron was in the trunk of Brinn's car back home. Luckily, there was an old-timer sitting on his front porch across the road from this random lot where we pulled off 81 in Edinburg, Va. I ran across the road and asked if we could borrow his tire iron, to which he responded, "bed of the truck" with a gentle nod to the old F-150 in the driveway. Kindness of strangers.

Here I am wiping sweat off my face while I talk to this guy about making shingles or something. I finished the coop on the right at the festival, but the biggest bungle of all is that I never had Brinn take pictures of it. It's down at Black Dog Salvage now and it looks really, really cool. I couldn't get the trailer winch working when we were trying to load it up, so the antique tractor guys came over and we all He-Maned the both of them into the trailer.

I still can't believe I don't have pictures of the festival coop. We even drove down to Roanoke a 2nd time to set cards out and stuff, but forgot the camera of course. Go check out the Black Dog website anyway. You can see it on their Facebook page here.

Well, here's the picture they took after I dropped it off. This coop has my favorite latch of all time, a sweet split oak window grate and a totally awesome wooden peg hinge deal on the nesting box hatch. All undocumented...

In other news, I'm digging holes for my pole barn / workshop in the backyard!!! How cool is that!? Stay tuned to see how it all works out.

-F.W.