Saturday, August 06, 2011
At the fair
Busy times here chez Factotum with the Big Factotum here, comfortably ensconced in the guest room we now also use as a meat locker. Having company, even when it's your mother, means 1. being fully dressed when out of the bedroom and 2. planning meals that are more than standing in front of an open refrigerator and eating out of the closest tupperware.
We do OK with food in this house, but preparing a sit-down meal for three persons where everything is ready all at the same time is a little more work than I am used to. That said, I am blowing on my fingernails in self congratulation as I think of the whitefish, corn on the cob, tomato/basil salad, and spinach with pine nuts and garlic meal that I slammed on the table Thursday night.
Our big adventure so far has been going to the state fair, which always starts out with the challenge of finding free parking. SH feels his manhood is diminished if he resorts to paid parking - it is the first resort of losers who don't know how to find a Deal. I am of the "Park in the first spot you see" school, although that philosophy is tempered by a desire to hold on to my money as well. SH doesn't want to pay for parking because he is a guy. I don't want to pay for parking because I am cheap. But there is a time/money tradeoff to be made.
When money is not an issue, I am definitely of the First Spot With No Qualifications School, but SH still insists on driving around and around to see if we can find a closer spot. I point out that 1. we are not crippled, 2. it will not kill us to walk 100 yards to our destination and 3. we would be there by now if we had just taken that first space and walked rather than circled the lot for five minutes.
But we did find free, legal parking yesterday only 1/4 of a mile from the fair. My mother said she wanted me to be her personal trainer. This is training. And justification for the Oreo cake and the kringle and the fried macaroni and cheese on a stick. If you burn 100 calories for walking a mile, then the 25 calories we burned on the way in covered all that fair food, right?
We started at the sheep shed with the shearing demonstration, where we learned all about sheep and their tails and how short they should be cut and why and what happens when the mother sheep has triplets. (One of them dies unless humans are willing to hand feed it warm milk every three hours - just like having a human baby except there will always be poop but there will never be college bills.)
Then we saw the Glee-type performance by the Kids from Wisconsin, which my aunt Rita had ordered us to attend after seeing them at the Taylor County fair two weeks ago.
On to the Wisconsin Products pavilion, where we ate. And ate. Oh that Oreo cake. Sure, I could make a chocolate cake covered with white buttercream frosting and then dusted with pulverized Oreos, but why? I can buy it at the fair.
Then the Neil Diamond tribute show, where we sat. Because sitting for a while on a hot day at the fair is a good idea.
Then the horticulture and food competitions. In my next life, I want to be a cheese judge like our friend Patrick and a food judge at the fair. With the furnace metabolism to go with, of course.
Then Senator Kohl's milk shed for some 25 cents chocolate milk. I don't always agree with Sen Kohl, but I do like his chocolate milk. Then the rabbit and poultry exhibit. Who knew there were so many different kinds of rabbits and chickens? And so beautiful! But yes, rabbits also shed, so they are not a good pet substitute for cats. Hens, on the other hand, not only do not shed but they contribute to the household.
And finally, the baby animals exhibit where there are little lambs and goats and chickens (They're so fluffeh!) and ducks and pigs and calves.
Young people, if you are considering tattooing your lovely unblemished young skin, perhaps you should spend an afternoon at the fair looking at what happens to tattoos on AARP skin.
You might change your mind about permanently disfiguring your body.
And put down that funnel cake. You will regret it later. Trust me.