“Yes,” he replied.
I kept my snort to myself and just let my gaze drift over all the different shapes, sizes, and colors.Most of them were labeled with the type of wood they were carved from.Cherry, balsam, mango, zebra, red cedar, madrona, beech, apple.Did people really use wooden spoons that much still?I remembered Dawn had an oversized wooden spoon and fork that she would use to toss salads with, but other than that, I couldn’t remember her or …otherpeople in my life ever using wooden spoons.Particularly not the soup spoon-sized ones that this gentleman had.
The sign in the middle of the table said Man’s Spoons.
“Is your name Man?Or are you just saying you’re a man who makes spoons?”Mabel asked.
“Both,” he replied.
She nodded.“Cool.”
“Why just spoons?”I asked.
Mabel looked at me like I was crazy.“Because he likes spoons, and he’s good at it.Does he need any other reason?”
Man’s stoic face twitched a bit like he was trying to smile.
“I suppose not,” I replied.
“What do you like?”Man asked her.
“Birds,” she said matter-of-factly and without hesitation.
He nodded.“I have ducks.”
“I like ducks.Though, the corkscrew penis and necrophilia thing is a bit disturbing.”
My eyes widened, and I glanced at the older gentleman, but all he did was nod in agreement.
“I like your spoons,” Mabel said before wandering to the next table.
“Thank you.”
I gave him a small, appreciative smile for entertaining my socially awkward child, and followed her to the next table.
“This is cool,” she said, picking up a round piece of wood with a burned-in, realistic image of a heron.
“That’s madrona wood,” said the man, probably in his mid-thirties, from behind the table.
“Do you freehand burn the images in?”Mabel asked him.
He nodded and scratched his rust-colored beard.“Yep.”
“This is very realistic.You have given the bird a lot of detail, and that can be difficult with a woodburning knife.”
How did she know that?
“Do you woodburn?”he asked her.
“No, but I’ve watched videos online.How much is this coaster?”
“They’re twelve dollars each,” he replied.
That sounded expensive to me.
“That doesn’t sound like enough money,” Mabel said.“The time it took to cut the wood, sand it, burn it, and varnish it.Seems like twelve is not enough.”
The guy glanced at me, unsure how to respond to my blunt kid.“I, uh … that’s what I determined was a decent price point for my labor.”
