One time, which was the first time, we went to the fair

Yes, hello again my blogging fanatical friends.  What have you done without me?  Now you can live again.

When you’re Roz and you go to the fair you go like this:

Yes, it’s very stylish.  And when you’re there and you look at things, like miniature trains, you look like this:

You’ve just eaten your first hush puppy at The Old Grist Mill and your mom has decided that next year that is what she will spend her food money on at the fair.   (They hand out free samples and wowza it’s good advertising)

If you’re an Empey boy you do this while your parents meander through the considerable garden displays.

And then, off in the distance, you see the ride that you will ride.  A gigantic rainbow slide.  It calls to you and you therefore call to your parents, every few minutes, like every two minutes, that you want to ride the bumpy rainbow slide.  Remember it is calling to you from the distance.

But if you’re an Empey parent at the North Carolina state fair, then you’re not so great with arriving at your desired destination in the most efficient manner, let alone at all.  You keep arriving at rides but the view is like this: fences and the backs of trailers.  It all seemed so easy to find until that fence was there:

So, as a befuddled Empey parent,  instead of arriving at the bumpy slide of wonder, you catch the tail end of the pig racing (which you will arrive for early next year – it is amazement itself) and try and appease your children with a muffin the size of their four year old heads.

Your attempts at appeasement are not entirely successful.

So, back to being an Empey boy, your relatively capable parents get you to the ride…. and you’re too short.

It is nearly unbearable.

So you climb on dad’s shoulders and despair.  All the way to the kiddie version which is four miles and a decade away (and that’s from your mom’s perspective.  But don’t get her wrong it was all very fun and she enjoyed it a lot, it was just 10 miles away).

By now, if you’re an Empey man, you’re tummy is empty.  That is to say, MP is MT.  And you buy a Giant Turkey Leg to eat from a person called McBride. 

But since you’re nearly thirty you have learned to share.

And so if you’re a starving MP three year old you eat that turkey leg that is bigger than your head and then you dance about it.  Little wiggles and jives and elegant bends. 

This picture cannot capture the awesomeness, but we have some blessed videos of it that maybe some day will make their way up here.  But that will take a little more motivation that I’ve got right now. 

Everybody rides a few rides in the kiddie area:

By now, if you’re an MP parent, you’re a little frazzled with how much that all costs, so you head on over to the education building where you’ve heard that you can buy a pickle the size of your head for a mere dollar.  Which is no mere miracle at the NC State Fair.

Okay, so this is a terrible picture, but if you’re Everett at this point you are beyond ravenous, and therefore MUST snatch the pickle out of your dad’s hand because he’s just too slow when he makes purchases and you just take like the biggest bite you can manage.

  

Only to find out that Nick wanted one of those spicy pickles.  This again, is nearly unbearable – this time for more physical than psychological reasons. 

And if you’re back to being Roz, then you smear that pickle all over your face.

By now it’s dark and if you’re me at the fair you love carnival lights and you take some blurry pictures. 

And then you feel like a big dork because not only did you not bring a stroller, you didn’t bring any of your kids jackets!  What?  I can’t believe I just admitted that online.  So then you have to carry your freezing pickle face daughter who really just smells like a big dill wrapped up in your jacket as best you can.

On the 20 mile walk back to the car you see and hear a crowd gathering in the arena.  You sneak in to see that there’s a freestyle motocross and BMX show going on.  Everybody is game and you sit and watch and clap and yell.  Everybody is woot wooting and it’s a grand old time.  Three and four year olds woot wooting  is not to be missed.

On the way out, you’ve overcome the chill a bit wearing mom’s sweaters, and ice cream sounds like a really good idea.  So while the ‘rents eat, you put on a show on the empty stage.  MPs on previously MT stage.

You wave goodbye to the fair and walk fifty miles to your car.

And then the heat is full blast and you’re out.  See you next year hush puppies.