We attended the state fair yesterday.
- Deep-fried Oreos. I don't know what the Weight Watchers points were for these, but I'm thinking triple digits. One of those "if you have to ask you can't afford it" sort of things.
- The poignant moment when we were viewing the Budweiser Clydesdales. One of the horses let down his wiener to pee, and I mean to tell you this thing was the size of my forearm. Our adorable little sprite pointed at the horse's junk and yelled, "He's got a penis just like you, Daddy!" I couldn't tell if my husband was having a moment of pride or mortification, but he did leave the exhibit toute de suite.
- Let's hear it for swings you don't have to push. (At what age to they learn to pump, fer cryin' out loud? My arms seriously want to know.)
- Meeting a bunch of fellow rescue people at Buca di Beppo for dinner.
- Watching my child slide out of a pig's butt. You don't get that kind of entertainment just anywhere, people.
- Freeloading off good friends who make a really spectacular breakfast. If you know Dave and Lynn, I highly recommend their house for freeloading. They do not provide valet parking, however, and that was a bit of a downer.
- Rain at the fair. Precipitation at the fair should be illegal. We were carrying umbrellas and when it stopped raining I pulled out a nylon tote that I bought from a church fundraiser. I figured I could carry our soggy umbrellas (and any other fair-related stuff we picked up during the course of the day) in the tote. As soon as I pulled out the bag, however, it caught the wind and went flying. I chased it and then gracefully fell just as I caught it (and by "gracefully" I mean "with arms and legs akimbo and with my purse in a puddle"). I spent the next hour scraping mud off my leg. "I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright! And I pity any girl who isn't me tonight . . . "
- Being served chicken at Buca di Beppo even after explicitly explaining to the server that I am a vegetarian.
- Paying six bucks for a Mike's Hard Cranberry. :::wiping tear from eye:::
- Buca's not comping the dead animal flesh they served me.
- Whatever I'm going to weigh when I step on the scale tomorrow morning.