The title really says it all, but since this is a blog - I'll elaborate.
Last weekend I took my husband, under duress, to a fine art fair. Having exhibited at mostly local arts and crafts, I wanted to get a feel for fine arts and booth set ups. I also wanted him to check out how tents were weighted because I was hoping he'd take on that responsibility. Even though I told him it was fine art show, he still thought I was dragging him to another arts and "crap" show (his words). Admittedly, I gave up trying to explain fine art, especially in relation to jewelry.
Once parked, the husband thought he was going to just take a nap in the truck. No such luck for him. After I explained his role, we ate some greasy fair food and set off through the show. At some point we got separated because he thought I was spending too much time at a particular jewelry booth. When I explained that I was chatting with the artist, he scoffed "Artist???"
There's a lot about this whole scene that he just doesn't get. In his way, though, he is being supportive and really does want me to be successful. He finally understood what I wanted as far as weights and did go to the local masonry supply for cement blocks. And he'll lend muscle whenever he can. Yesterday was my first show with my new tent, so he met me there and helped set up. He doesn't quite understand that there are breakables in the Rubbermaid tub. Luckily, nothing broke when he tossed it to the ground. He forgot to lock the table legs - again, luckily, there were only a few things on it (and I was holding on) when one side collapsed.
I figured I was tearing down on my own at 5:00, but then my knight in shining armor rode up on his motorcycle.
Maybe some day, he'll "get it". In the meantime, I'll take whatever he's willing to offer.
