|Sno Cone, please.|
The last time I went to the fair I believe I had a couple 10-year-old boys in tow -- one in a bit of snit because the other wouldn't go on the "fast" rides. (You know who you are.)
Those were the good old days -- of refereeing ride debates, trying to explain how it's virtually impossible to win the at midway games -- unless it involves goldfish -- and spending an eternity in front of the souvenirs concession waiting while little boys made lives-hang-in-balance choices between nunchucks or ninja swords.
Of course, priorities firmly in place, we started out our visit in search of fair food. Exercising extraordinary self-restraint, we navigated past the elephants ears and curly fries to settle on "healthy" fair food -- blackened salmon over caesar salad (delicious) and gyros (verdict is still out -- my date did not share), chased by a slice of free baklava.
I have to admit, my heart did go pitter-pat at the sight of the jumbo corn dogs being consumed next to us. Dietary virtue is so overrated.
Then on to the animals. Who doesn't love the animals?
|For future reference: This is how you wash a sheep.|
|I'm not sure this is what Miss Spokane bargained for|
when she accepted the crown.
|Did you know you can SIT ON A PIG?|
I'm totally getting one for the family room!
|Man-eating guinea fowl. Who knew?|
BTW, his name is T-Rex. And he growls.
And the vendors. We were looking for a fly-tying booth and ended up with literature about bee keeping, tub liners, fireplaces and Obama. I see the symmetry here, don't you?
|We are, if anything, an eclectic pair.|
And you know what? You can still win a goldfish.
Boy, was I tempted.
But, no, I'm saving myself for a family room pig.
|Screw the family room pig. |
Just get me a goddamn Sno Cone.