Rock People

So, I'm really in the people business. Sometimes I say I'm a farmer, or domestic goddess, or a soap maker... but really I'm a people person. Cause without the people, there is no business. I get that and I like that. However, sometimes I laugh at people.

What is it with the rock people? As many of you have seen, I have a rock display on my tables at the market. These are polished river rock and they look nice on the table with my body products and also help hold the cloth down. As I gain more exposure, I am gaining more rock admirers. Last year, it was just mostly kids that liked the rocks and I liked their innocent admiration of natural rock. I remember as a kid collecting rocks and painting them or skipping stones, etc. It was nice. And I still like to skip slate into our pond... but I guess I outgrew the fascination and don't want to steal other people's rocks.

There are people that want to know where I get the rocks, what the rocks are for, and how they can have one of my rocks. Many of my rocks have been stolen. Sometimes people think the rocks are to rub the lotion in, sometimes they think they are jewels and can't believe I leave them on the table (uhm, it is just a black rock, it ISN'T onyx, I swear). Sometimes Mike has to deal with these people when I am away from the table. He just says "my wife will kill me if I let you take her rocks." He is very patient and listens to their rock stories for a long time. Then he takes it out on me later. He beats me with rocks, no I am just kidding.

The best is the person that gave me a rock! A big old dirty rock plopped down on my table and a request to "swap rocks." I had to politely decline because my rock collection is declining. Then I had to wash my cloths. The rock came out of a pocket with cigarette papers and what appeared to be marijuana.

I'm sure if you haven't seen my display, you are just unable to contain yourself and are piqued with curiousity. You, too, can see and touch my rocks if you come to one of our farm markets.

ps- since I started writing this, I went to a farm market. I had two "rock people" to visit with, one of whom wanted to take one home to her friend in another state.

pps- today I had another market. One guy wanted to get a rock. He was a black man and part Indian, or so he said. Well he didn't say he was black, I could tell. Anyway, he wanted to get some rocks to take back to an Indian reservation somewhere.