Labor Day Weekend, Part III

Our State Fair is a great state fair
Don't miss it, don't even be late
(our state fair is great)
It's dollars to doughnuts at our state fair
It's the best state fair in the state

I've never been a fan of the musical State Fair and I think it's because of those lyrics right there. Although I have always been a big fan of the song It Might As Well Be Spring -- even blind squirrels find nuts sometimes. If you really want to hear a great rendition of the song though, get the Rosemary Clooney version. No one sang that better than George's auntie.

Before any of the toe drama and boob displays of this weekend, we went to the state fair. I originally had a whole ranting treatise planned for what a ripoff this fair has become and how much money we spent just so we could walk in and spend some more money, and how county fairs are really the way to go around here and how they DIDN'T EVEN SELL DEEP FRIED BUTTER. But it seems so long ago now, I hardly know what to write about it anymore. Let's let the photos speak for themselves, shall we?

A major milestone was reached: First "solo" (as in, "without parents") ride on a carnival ride.

And the second.

I believe this ride should not have been called, "Ride a motorboat," but rather, "Ride a motorboat during a tsunami." It kicked and jerked so much that I thought one of two (and possibly both) things might happen: either a) The Caterpillar would begin screaming and crying before the ride was over, causing it to be paused for me to go rescue her while the other kids waited impatiently or b) she might be tossed out of the boat onto the waves below. But for some reason she loved it and began furiously signing "more, more, again" when I went to retrieve her. Then we fought about that.

Cows were milked.

Make that cow was milked.

Cow was petted.

Cow was thanked.

"Thanque moocoooowww!"

We spent quite a bit of time meeting and greeting with all the animals. Even those with different philosophical ideologies than ours.

Klu Klux Lamb

We helped some out with their itches.

"This lit-tle pi-gee. Scrach."

And learned a bit about anatomy.

"Daddy, that's a momma pig. I can tell."
"Um... I don't think so, honey."
"How do you know?"
"Oh, just a hunch I have."

Some of us thought that the little piggies had some nice accommodations in which to hang out.

That is, until some of us realized the little piggies don't get to leave their nice accommodations when they choose.

Is it wrong to say that I was tempted to leave her there? Right.

I was NOT tempted to leave her there.