I knew I was getting old when I was allowing myself to be drug to a craft fair. I always thought of a craft fair as being someplace that attracted old women. They would sit and knit all year and then bring their gaudy offerings to fob off to someone else, for a ridiculous price. My wife really wanted to go, but her best friend was on vacation and she was able to guilt me into going with her. She reminded me of all of the car shows I drug her to. So, I was in the car, heading to one of those dusty outdoor craft fairs, the sun was blazing and it was nearly ninety degrees. When she pulled into a parking lot, I couldn’t believe that we were actually going to be in a warehouse, which meant it was going to be hot and humid. I was shocked to walk into a building and be greeted by a blast of air conditioning. The warehouse was so cool, that it wasn’t quite as bad as I thought it was going to be. I found a nice place to sit beneath an air vent, and the air conditioning was blowing down on my head. As I looked around, I realized this craft fair wasn’t what I thought it was. There was a couple of demonstrations on woodworking. Someone was making axe handles. There was even a wine and craft beer tasting booth. As I walked up and down the aisle the air conditioning seemed to be everywhere. I found I was actually enjoying myself.