Thursday, November 10, 2011
What The HECK?!
It was the perfect night for the fair in that it wasn't cold but it wasn't hot and the sunset was beautiful as were coming in and then that full moon rose up over the midway.
Jessie had left earlier and I couldn't really seem to shake my sadness at seeing her go but what can you do? There's that boy and he needs a hip, a hand, and there are my beautiful daughter and her sweet husband and that man.
I took Magnum's advice and found the corn dogs with the buttermilk batter and shared it and a lemonade with Mr. Moon. Finest corn dog I ever ate.
We got right to the animals and Owen finally got on the pig's back (it's not real! we keep reassuring him) for a photo op.
He wasn't so sure.
He wasn't so sure about feeding the animals either but we all helped him.
I just wasn't that impressed with the chickens this year. Oh, sure, there were some fine ones but none more fine than mine. There was one called "naked neck" and whoever set out to breed that poor creature should be shot. I was as embarrassed for the chicken as the chicken was embarrassed to be alive and I did not take his picture.
I was, however, delighted to take pictures of all of the sideshow art. I love that shit. No, we didn't visit any of the sideshows. I'd rather just take the artwork's word for it and imagine it in my mind.
Less of a disappointment and not nearly as sad.
We all rode the Ferris Wheel. It was a beautiful thing.
As Owen said, "It went into the sky."
After the Ferris Wheel, Owen wanted to win a fish. Last year they won two and one of those fish is still alive in a tank in Owen's room and he's huge. HUGE!
This year no fish were won but there was a good time to be had, just trying.
Then we went back to the Merry-Go-Round. It was a newish one, but a pretty one and Owen loved that. His daddy stood by his side and I rode next to him.
Towboy Owen. Yeah. He wore that hat almost all night.
Except when his Bop was wearing it.
A good look for both.
And then we found the kid rides. Quite frankly, I thought the dinosaurs went too fast for Owen. And were too bumpy. That he would be scared. The video I put up last night proved THAT to be wrong. After that, he had to ride the stage-coach. Then the dragon roller coaster. All by himself. And he loved them all.
It was time to go. We had enough tickets for one more ride. He wanted to go back to the horses. And so, we did.
This time with Bop and Mama.
He wanted the same horse. He got it.
He fell into an eye-opened coma as soon as he hit the car seat. I tried to keep him awake by asking him questions about the fair and he would answer me but it was like talking to someone in a hypnotic trance. I hope he slept very well last night. I hope his mama did too. She'd gotten up at four-thirty in the morning to go to work.
I don't know how she does it.
So it was a good night at the North Florida Fair and today I have a dentist appointment at ten and Mr. Moon is leaving to go to Tennessee for a week to hunt and I am not sure how I'll make it here without him, despite vast experience that I have before. Of course it's supposed to get down to 34 degrees here tonight and I have done nothing in the way of protecting plants. I suppose it shall be up to the gods.
As will my fate. I am usually fine with the idea of him leaving. Less laundry, less cooking, less everything.
Including kisses and his arms around me. The peace of having him in bed next to me. The knowledge that he will be coming home as the light goes out of the sky every evening.
Well. I've promised to go wait tables at the Opera House on Friday and Saturday night. That'll get me out of the house. And I'll have Owen some and I'll...oh hell. I don't know. Eat salmon.
Be lonely. Drink gin and tease my hair and wear a white slip and sit on my front porch and scream at the children passing by.
Probably not that last part.
Maybe I'll clean house and plant pansies. Maybe I'll weed in the garden.
I'll probably stay up reading too late every night.
Whatever I do, I'll be here when he gets back. Life is so strange. One minute it's bursting at the seams and I can't keep up with it all and the next minute it's quiet and the old floors of this house seem to lead on forever in their emptiness and that's okay too.
My chickens want out. I need to eat something. This is the way of it. I cannot become un-anchored and fly off the planet, no matter how much it feels that way sometimes. I am not the Teeny-Tiny Woman and my hands are far bigger than two inches across and my feet are a size eight and they keep me pretty grounded, here on this ground.
As Owen is wont to say these days when he is amazed: WHAT?! WHAT?! and even twice now that I've heard him, "What the heck?"
I am constantly amazed at how it all works and spins and flies and settles and gets cold and warms up and that there are eggs of blue and brown in my hen house, warm and ready to tuck into my pocket to bring inside and place in a white bowl on my kitchen counter.
The fair will move on, but here we are. Over and over again.