A Day at the Fair (Part II)

Subtitled: In which this blog gets a little bit political.

The reason we chose to attend the fair on the day that we did is because I found out that morning that they were offering—on that day only—both reduced admissions & ½ price rates on all the rides.

“Pack your bags and grab your boots, kids!” I hollered. “We’re a goin’ to the fair!”

[Okay, so it was more like, “Look, mister, if you don’t finish up those dishes and tidy your room, there won’t be any fair! I don’t care if there’s no one here to see it…I want this house clean before we leave!]

I said this all kindly, of course.

And here’s the real irony. We picked this day because of the ½ price rides, and in the end we didn’t even go on them.

No, I take that back. The two littlest girls did go on one—the carousel. Because what mother could possibly say no to her two little sweeties when they earnestly plead to ride a merry-go-round? That would make me, like, the world’s meanest mommy, wouldn’t it?

No, ma’am, I am not willing to wear that title.

And just take a look at these eager little faces:

Could they be any happier? The world is their oyster and their life, but a dream! In a wonderland they lie, dreaming as the days go by, dreaming as the summers die, and…and…

Felicity? Is there a problem?

It would appear that Felicity, whose short stature belies the very depths to which her still waters run, has started thinking.

“Is this thing safe?”

She really seemed to be entertaining some doubts.

“I know I read something about a merry-go-round malfunction in
last month’s issue of Consumer Reports. I’m certain of it.”

Eventually she got a grip (literally, figuratively, emotionally, poetically) and by the end of the first go-around her happy world view had been restored.

And that was my two little girls’ one ride. (You can see how I tried to make it memorable for both them and you.)

The logical transition at that point was to find some cotton candy, because Carousel-Riding + Cotton Candy Consumption = I am the best mom ever.

At least I was until they saw the log ride and I said that they couldn’t go on it.

And speaking of eating cotton candy, here is a photo of me doing just that:

Cate took it. She’s an artist with a vision, that Cate.

Here is her second attempt. I call it, “Focus on what really matters–the food.”

And finally:

Aha! That was her mother in all those cotton-pickin’ (cotton eating?) photos! It will be good for Cate to know this someday. (And good for me, too, because darned if I don’t want all the credit for having taken her to the fair.)

And now we get to what is by far our favorite tradition from the State Fair. Three words, my friend, and they are: Sweet Martha’s Cookies.

You haven’t lived if you haven’t had Sweet Martha’s Cookies. (Alright, perhaps that’s a bit dramatic. You’ve lived, but you’ve lived poorly.)

If ever you should find yourself at the Minnesota State Fair, here is what you have to do. (Everyone does it. It’s a tradition.) You need to swing by Sweet Martha’s Cookies for a bucket of chocolate chip cookies. It’s gonna run ya $14.00 but you will do it–again, for the sake of tradition.

Have I mentioned that these cookies are as close to heaven as you’re going to get at the State Fair? They are much more edifying than, say, the fashions on the Midway.

There is a Part I and a Part II to the cookie-consuming tradition, however. (Just like this post! Aren’t you lucky? Don’t answer that.) The first part is to purchase the cookies at one end of the fair. The second part is to take your bucket of cookies back to the other end of the fair, (without eating any of them, mind you) because that is where the Minnesota Creamery is located.

All the ice-cold milk that you can drink for dollar.

It’s the best deal at the fair.

And why they didn’t think to put this building next to Sweet Martha’s, I do not know. It’s a State Fair scam and one that we are willing to overlook for the sake of tradition.

So yes, I served my children cookies and milk for supper. Have I mentioned that I’m the best mom ever? You’d think so, wouldn’t you, were it not for my making them wait for this supper while I, myself, had something stronger.

I…I…don’t know what came over me.

We were walking along quite happily when suddenly the sun and the streams of people were just way more than I could handle. “To heck with the cookies and ice-cold milk,” I thought. “What I really need is a beer right now.”

Are you ashamed of me for having thought this? Well, it was true. We had been there since 2:00 and now it was 6:00 and I tell you, I’d earned a beer.

I’m serious. I looked like this:

And the longer we walked, the hotter I got and the less I felt like milk and cookies. What can I say? I like an occasional glass of beer.

It was so good, too. The building was cool and very quiet…just one or two other couples and us.

Me, my kids, and my cup of ice-cold Leinie’s. (It came with a lime. I about died from pleasure.)

And then I about died from embarrassment when a couple from our church arrived and saw me boozing it up while my kids waited. “I feel judged; I feel judged; I feel judged,” I thought.

And then they had a beer while their kids waited, and my happy world view was restored.

Now then. Speaking of lizards.

After the beer & the milk & the cookies, we came to a political booth selling stuff for Al Franken.

What?

Okay, okay—that was a pretty mean transition. Being pro-abortion is also pretty mean, though. It’s downright lizard-y if you think about it.

And what was up with that article he wrote for Playboy??

No, I will not be slapping an Al Franken sticker on my vehicle anytime soon. In fact, I was tempted to veer away from the man passing out buttons at the booth; instead, I chose to pass by peaceably and glanced up to see if he’d address this mom-of-many.

He was an older guy with a bushy white mustache and glasses. His eyes were kind. “Would you like a button?” he asked, and then saw the one attached to my purse strap.

“Oh. You’re voting for McCain.”

“Isn’t that obvious?” I asked with a wink.

“Well, good luck to you then,” he replied, again quite kindly.

This exchange represents, to me, one of the very best examples of a healthy democracy–the right to vote for whom you want, and to discuss it on amicable terms with the opposition.

May the best man win.

And that’s all for my coverage of the Minnesota State Fair!

Coming up? Much lighter and far less political fare from a blogger whose hometown will soon be host to a fairly prominent convention. (Tell me you know what I’m talking about. Will I talk about it? We will see.)

Ad Jesum per Mariam,

Ed. Note: Credit for the lines “In a wonderland they lie, dreaming as the days go by, dreaming as the summers die” goes to Lewis Carroll.