I helped about 30 4-H kids tie dye shirts today.  Remind me not to do that any more.  Helping one or two kids–fun.  Trying to keep 30 kids from 4-12 years old from spraying permanent dye all over each other–not so much.  The upside was all the lame jokes–Okay, come over here in the grass to dye.  Well, don’t really, I’d feel guilty and your mom would be mad at me–and lord knows I can milk the mileage out of those.  But the chaos…it eats at me.  First, I bought 30 rubber gloves instead of 30 pairs of gloves.  D’oh. That meant re-using soggy gloves which is sensory hell.  Then I over estimated interest in actual TIE dying.  Mostly they just wanted to squirt dye on a shirt.  And, of course, that led to disappointing results and muddy colors, but did they listen to me?  nooooo.  And then I was covered in dye.  Most of it came off my legs, which was a nice surprise, but my hands have that lovely just-crawled-from-the-crypt blue/green tinge.  Oh, and the flies bit me.  a lot.  But I got to come home to fresh raspberry pie that I’d made this morning.

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