Party on my doorstep

I rolled out of bed this morning, intent on being productive.  List of errands in my pocket, I walked out of my building and was immediately greeted by a street fair.  What? Hooray! I had heard about the street fair season in New York, but had never seen any signs or mentions of my neighborhood in the local press.  I immediately aborted my original mission and plunged in.  It was a simple fair, one that lined 1st Avenue for several blocks, abundant in food stalls, hawkers of miracle gadgets, ethnic artifacts, and clothing.  

And fried oreos.  I was intrigued, especially since I am a child of Minnesota, and the Minnesota State Fair is infamous for having every sort of food imaginable fried on a stick.  The vendor sold them in bags of 6 and 12, but I finagled for just one.  Yummy.

Satisfied and feeling a wee bit guilty, I continued my stroll and was immediately accosted by the world's best saleswoman.  A Chinese woman stepped out from the tent, took my arm, and started massaging my shoulders.  To my right was a little city of massage chairs, people with faces hidden in headrests, and an army of Asian massage workers.  I succumbed. 

Hard to beat the blissful massage, but in the end my favorite vendor was a guy selling t-shirts for kids and adults that he and his wife had designed. The young boy in the photos is his son. I loved the shirts immediately-- it was just the sort of quirky NYC/Brooklyn design that would suit my little niece, Baby Bird. Yes, the second photo has a shirt with a friendly alien next to the Flatiron building. I bought two shirts.  If you'd like one (or two or three) too, check out http://www.kataplin.com/