It’s not that I’m opposed to onion rings, I just object to spending over ten dollars for five of them. Six, if the little one counts, which it does not.
Who does that?
The fam took it’s yearly pilgrimage to the county fair this week and I want to start by saying that I had a firm grip on reality this time.
This is how the fair looks in my fantasy world:
And this is how the fair really looks:
The fair is not my favorite.
I make everyone begin at the barns because, chickens.
The kids ran off (there are perks to them getting old enough after all) as Hubby and I wandered through endless displays of What We Need to Buy Immediately.
We needed massage chairs and wooden plaques carved with our family crest and oysters holding pearls and grooming brushes for dogs we don’t have and new cooking pans and a Vitamix blender which we do have and fancy humidifiers and elk jerky and Russian nesting dolls and a jacuzzi and glass bead jewelry and a rubber ball that splats flat on the ground and magically reforms into a sphere while you watch and it’s only four dollars and we should buy one for everybody because that’s pretty cool.
But we didn’t.
Because we had a plan.
The kids rejoined us when they saw us stride towards the edibles, which took some doing considering the sheer volume of humanity standing in lines, shrouded in thick smoke from the turkey leg tent.
Healthy food…at the fair? I don’t think so. I can eat corn at home.
Fair thee well, figure.
The onion rings were first, because this is California and not Louisiana and we deep fry our veggies, not our amphibians.
As mentioned, they were over ten bucks.
We each got one.
We proceeded to buy the foot-long-hot-dog-on-a-stick which measured from your elbow to your wrist, with the stick reaching beyond your fingertips. Everybody cut off a portion and tried the recipe, sauces on the side.
Next up was a half pineapple, hollowed out and filled with rice, pineapple chunks and teriyaki chicken. It was gone in a five minute furious fork fight.
Cinnamon roll smothered in cream cheese frosting was an obvious choice and then we broke down and got the deep fried cookie dough because we are only human.
The chocolate drizzles tipped us over the edge.
We staggered around in the fine arts building until the pain dissipated.
You’re wondering by now…what about the carnival? The million-lightbulbs-on-a-stick machine that screams, “Throw your money away here! Win a giraffe the size of your mama! Climb into a rickety contraption held together by paper clips and run by a teenager who hasn’t slept in days because this party never ends, even after the fair shuts down!”
Not gonna happen. If I want to risk my life by launching into space in a ball slung from a giant rubber band, I won’t be doing it after eating what we’d just consumed.
This is the Fair in 4D.
Somewhere between the hypnotist, the rock band, and the tilt-a-whirl I ran out of steam.
I started looking up and away from the frantic reality and there was my fantasy, waiting patiently for me.
And my fam couldn’t pull me away from the scream zone until my priceless souvenirs were tucked away safely in my memory.