Whoo, hoo, the fair is here!

One more week and the Fair is here. It's all my girls can talk about lately, counting the days till the Fair starts, yapping about it every day. They're SO excited that the summer days have dwindled and Fair time has finally arrived! However, we're not talking about seeing the sheep or pigs, or walking through the quilt exhibits, not even the dunk tank. They're talking the RIDES!

And here's where MY excitement ends. I admit I was in the same boat as them when I was their age. Loved when it was Fair time and we got to ride rides and play games. Looked forward to it every year. However, now I sort of dread it. The older I'm getting, the more I actually enjoy quilt exhibits and seeing the animals. The rides part of the Fair has certainly dropped down my list of Fair To-Do's and the only thing that gets me through it, is those darn funnel cakes and those giant homemade lemonades. Thank goodness for those!

Someday maybe my girls will understand, but I'm just sorta done with traipsing around in the dirt and grass, getting my sandals and feet all filthy walking from ride to ride, sometimes the same ride multiple times. My eyes and brain are getting too old to stand in front of the blinking, neon lights of the Spin-Till-Ya-Puke ride watching it twirl and whirl so fast that even standing there I get nauseous. My back and legs wonder why after six hours of walking around, there's absolutely no where to sit down. Where's those doggone benches, anyways.

Plus, what is fun about trying to corral three young kids and their friends through hundreds of other Fair goers and NOT lose someone? I know ... just as much fun as telling your 9 year old, "NO, you can't play anymore games," at least 328 times, when the game worker keeps egging them on with what fabulous prizes they "might" win. Prizes that we drag home only to break that same night, or die or smell so bad they become dog toys.

Then, for crying out loud, there's the cost of the whole weekend. I'm through with spending $5.00 on one pretzel, $10 for a one dart chance at popping a balloon, and $7 for ride that lasts 30 seconds. I wish I didn't see it like this, but for Pete's sakes, after 3 days and $820, we basically have nothing to show for it but several pairs of dirty shoes; shirts with cotton candy and a bunch of gross junk stuck on them; stuffed animals that are the size of a softball, made in a foreign country and reek of smoke; and one dead goldfish.

The weather doesn't help the matter, as it's usually blasted hot, sometimes humid and never pleasant. I mean who wants to walk around like cattle, in 110 degree weather, stopping every few minutes to watch your precious children ride 40 feet up in the air on some spinning contraption that was put together in a matter of minutes by who knows what kind of quality workers? These workers always give me such comfort, too, when I see them texting and pulling the stop/go bar at the same time. Would they even realize if the Tilt-A-Whirl was loose and whirling down the field into the street? Makes me wonder.

Oh well, all crabbiness aside, my girls can't wait and this year, like every year, I'll be lugging around the rides, carrying lame prizes and handing out cash. I'll be standing there, sweating, as I wave at my daughters when they fly past me on the Death Trap ride trying to ignore my dirty feet. But, darn tootin', sometime before the Fair ends, I'm getting my funnel cake and my mega-size homemade lemonade. Gotta have some reason to go, right?!