milk puke

So I am trying to run a pottery business despite having 3 children under 4. Last weekend Philadelphia hosted the show that is the basis for my business: "The Buyers Market of American Craft." For the past 2 years I haven't attended the show; I've parasitically tried to lure buyers to my studio instead. I had an accomplice this year: Baby Toby. Toby is close to baby perfection. Her only flaw is that she's a puker. One of my intimidatingly super-efficient buyers, Jude, is a tiny, gorgeous woman from Cambridge who is always dressed impeccably in black. She offered to hold Toby probably because it was painful watching me try to hold the baby, open a bottle of wine and greet some other buyers or maybe she felt it her duty as a woman to do so. Toby did an impressive job reaffirming Jude's decision never to have children. It was like a geyser in Yellowstone, magnificent, gravity defying and vibrantly smelly. By the end of the weekend I'm sure Jude felt like she'd been rolling in a pile of Gorgonzola. She's one of those people who has the one perfect outfit for the whole weekend, so she can carry a chic bag that looks big enough to hold a cotton ball and some dental floss. I hope we're still friends. Maybe I should offer to pay her drycleaning.