Soppho

It’s a good thing I’m never the sole witness to anything of significance. One: because I look guilty. Two: because I can never remember to photograph anything. This is a long standing and not-so-grand tradition. It was my Mom’s 50th birthday last year, and boy was my camera glad to attend, all nice and cozy, wrapped in a scarf in my bag, not once having to be disturbed by something as irritating as fulfilling its function. In fact, I have not one, but two cameras. It’s like I’m running some sort of camera retirement community in which they laze by the pool in Hawaiian shirts and play Pinochle. And I serve them fruity drinks, strained, of course, so they won’t get any of those irritating seeds caught in their dentures.

So I’d just hate to break tradition just because we’re going to the county fair.

I’d love to show you the llama dressed up as a Twister mat, or the bunny driving the race car, or the potatoes done up in the likeness of the entire cast of The Princess Bride. Except, no I can’t. Because I didn’t take my camera out until we had already covered all of that. But don’t worry, I was sure to take it out just in time to chronicle Y Chrome’s true motives for taking me out to the fair.

He says, “Hey, you want to go to the fair? They have….um…horses. YES. They have horses. I want to take you to see the horses. Yes, siree. No ulterior motives here. Did I mention the horses? WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT?”

So after feigning slight interest in the rabbits, the cattle, and the zucchini the size of and shape of Cuba, the funny, historical exhibit of old men dressed head to toe in the rebel flag (wait, what’s that you say? that’s not an exhibit, those are carnival attendees? for SERIOUS?), Y Chrome takes me by the hand and says, “There’s something we just have to do!” And I’m all “Okay!” thinking we’re going to smooch on the Ferris wheel, or on the haunted house ride, or damn it all, on the stage of Livestock Unit #3 while they’re doing their artificial insemination workshop. It’s gonna be romance people! Romance!

Alright, baby, where we goin’?!?

For real?

Do you see the fear in his eyes here? I’d just asked him if we should have dinner before we devour the bag. I’m guessing that’s a ‘no’ then, huh?

Well, fine. I’m not going to argue. They have yellow cotton candy, people. YELLOW. And it tastes a few million times better than the yellow snow cone I had at the winter carnival last year. And, unlike the snow cone, maybe he’ll kiss me afterward.

Here we come, Livestock Unit #3.