There I was, clinging desperately to the middle of August, when just like that, I tumbled to the end of the month, like the last bits of food getting shaken out of an upended bag. Raging against the calendar has never worked — for me, anyway — so what else could I do but accept that August is over and go to the Fair?
I never used to go, but as I've gotten older, the more I enjoy it, even if I don't see everything there. I love the sheep barn (natch!), the horse barn (o ya!), poking around in the Merchandise Mart and under the Grandstand. David and I got there a little late on Friday, but he has a parking angel and we found a spot just south of the bus drop-off. Go figure.
Looking west:
Looking east:
And, unfortunately, looking out for these:
I didn't get pictures of the worst offenders, which I swear were double-wides with tractor tires. Ostentatious? yes. A smart idea for shoving through crowds? No. How about down the middle of narrow, crowded aisles? Uh, still no.
We weren't about to let bloodied ankles* and a few near-misses ruin our very splendid night out. We padded the pockets of the vendor who had the Key Lime Pies on a stick, sucked down a foot-long hot dog and last but definitely not least:
So. Suppose I'll win that Ford F-150 with the extended cab and towing package? Nah, me either.
*OK. No bloodied ankles, but only because I sidestepped out of the way
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