Fair weekend

Fluffy: the $35 unicorn.

It's been an exhausting week here at Chez Szondy. Summer is drawing to a close, which means two things: First, decent weather where a man can put on a cardy isn't far off and second, it's time for a final fling of family fun before the school gates clang shut on the daughter for another year. I've just spent an exhausting three days that weren't helped by my having just finished a contract for a client nor that I'll need to work like a dog to make up for the last three days, but that's fatherhood for you; loads of responsibilities, tons of joy, and no time to squeeze it all into the annoyingly finite days that God sends to us. Why we can't get the occasional 28 hour day is beyond me.

Anyway, on Friday, the Szondy family went to the Evergreen State Fair. I've always loved agricultural shows, village fêtes, and all the other rural gatherings that filled my childhood in Yorkshire. Give me a tombola, a quince jam competition, a bran tub, and a steam-powered carousel and I'm happy. Throw in a beer tent and a barbecue and I may never go home. Things are a bit different in the States. The fairs are far larger, more professionally organised, and much more expensive, but I can still find a tractor show set up in a field that costs a fiver, if they bother to collect it, and is a joyous day out of hay rides and grizzled old men showing off Ford tractors that were new when Kitchner was alive.

Anyway, back to the Evergreen State Fair. That thing is a money Hoover, so we played it smart and bought our admission, midway, and parking tickets in advance and planned out our day for the most fun for the least expenditure. Then we hit our first and only fairground game and within five minutes the daughter was holding a stuffed unicorn that cost $35. I plan to keep it in a vault.

Things went uphill from there. The wife thought I was insane on insisting that we go there from basically opening to closing, but she soon saw the method in my madness as we let the daughter run her all-you-ride wristband into the ground in the Midway, then alternated that with taking in the free shows, gawping at the handicraft and homemaking competitions, and (my favourite) visiting the animal barns. Naturally, this was punctuated with downing all sorts of meaty, sugary, high-fat, high-cholesterol, low-vitamin, and generally bad for you food that would make a Vegan go into systemic shock.

Warning: Avoid the deep-fried Twinkies; they are disgusting beyond the measure of man.

You'd think this sort of thing would take it's toll and you're right. That's why they invented the Shire horse competition so Mama could take an antacid pill and we could put our feet up for a couple of hours.

The daughter had a particularly good time. Not only did we get to see the pig races, her particular favourite, but she was picked as the cheerleader for her chosen pig, who won and the daughter ended up with a blue ribbon and a photo with the speedy rasher of bacon. She then fell into more luck when a roving magician picked her as an assistant and she got to be as much the centre of attention as an eight-year old could want.

The end of our day was as perfect as we could have hoped. Nearly, anyway. A good portion of it was spent with my having to go on the rides, which I don't care for. I hate being pummeled and whirled about unless there's a point to it and flying through the air suspended by a very thin looking chain isn't so much fun for me as terrifying. Still, the wife timed our evening so that the last ride we went on was the Ferris wheel and that we'd be at the zenith of the giant wheel just at the moment when the fireworks show started. The crowning touch was when some teenagers barged the queue in front of us and I whispered to my wife, "Go ahead. We're destroying the world economy; let's see who laughs last."

They were then ejected for having counterfeit wristbands.

The dogs hate us, by the way. We came home that night reeking of farm animals, grease, sugar, sweat, and sawdust and they were convinced that we'd gone to Heaven and left them behind.

The winning Shire horse team at the parade.

They really were a magnificent rig.

Next day, the town of Monroe had it's State Fair parade, which we attended with our neighbours. it was a perfect example of a small-town fair with everybody in the district taking part from the radio station to the high school to the local cafe. Hard candy was flung to cries of "Look out! Incoming!" Okay, that was me. Equestrian teams rode by followed by a man with a wheelbarrow, and local candidates schmoozed for votes. It was the sort of eclectic, untidy, uneven affair that was tremendous fun simply because everyone was having fun doing it as well as watching it.

It was a hot day and we ended up setting our chairs on the sunny side of the street, which proved a mistake, but we were close enough to the radio station's stand that the daughter and the neighbour kids could bop to their beat.. or something... and that local churches passed out water to us. The latter was fortunate, as the whole thing went on for two hours and without the water and the sweets that I nicked from the daughter's hoard I don't think I'd have made it.

Today, was more of a recuperation day, but the wife's feet and legs were in such bad shape from all the walking that we spent most of it at the local pool where taking the weight off with a bit of buoyancy followed by a soak in the spa did us all a world of good. The water slide was open, which delighted the daughter–especially when she insisted that I have several goes on it. Sometimes I think I agree because the cup of tea that I have in the lobby to restore my nerves while wife and daughter dry their hair is so much more welcome after that.

I'd like to say that I went home and slept soundly after that, but I've three columns to write and a load of jobs to chase after, what with money being insanely tight in this economy (rattles the tip jar), so here it is nearly midnight and I'm pounding away at the keyboard.

Next up: the final road trip of the summer. I have no idea where we're going or if the car will survive, but getting there is half the fun. Getting back is another matter.