_JPG.jpg)
Have you ever had a day in which you're halfway through 11 showings on properties in another city, on a very hot, Summer day, and the car air conditioning is out for the second time that season, and you suddenly wonder if you put on deodorant that morning?
Asking for a friend.
If this friend did remember it, the anxiety of wondering such a big what-if surely broke down anything that had been applied.
And just to clarify: to a Yankee, hot is anything over 77F degrees. It was pushing 90F today. We're dying here in Indiana from it.
Kal and Kara are settling into a school routine. I'll add myself into that mix. Moms everywhere are secretly delighted for the imposed routine that school brings to each day. We're all just happier for it.
Learning the new pick-up and drop-off lines is a skill in itself. The mayhem feels the same as when a crowd is leaving the game or concert immediately after it is over. I'd rather wait it out until the peoples have gone away. Too many peoples!
Saturday was our big adventure to the great Indiana State Fair. I used to go every year with my family when I was growing up and wanted to give my children some of the same delightful memories.
They were less delighted than I'd hoped, but the delight factor kicked in higher when they each brought along a friend. Yes, I knew what I was getting into with that scenario. Still, it was worth it for the fun they had.
Kal and his buddy raced the Indy 500 on a virtual reality set. They are better drivers than I am. I needed about 900 lives to survive my round of racing. Good thing I don't drive like that in real life.
I love to see the Pioneer Village. I practically memorized the Laura Ingalls Wilder books as a kid, so the visualization of life in her times always appealed to me. I love seeing the beeswax candles, the pottery, and the blacksmith shack.
My children weren't as thrilled as I, but they also didn't turn down the homemade lemonade from the village.
Or the dozens of other drinks. We brought our own water, then they each drank their weight in other liquids from vendors.
Naturally, fair food is a must during the rare occasion we go to one. I had a pickle pizza. I can almost hear my brother gagging in South Carolina right now over the thought. It's so good, though. Of course, I could eat a jar of pickles. Good ones, that is.
One delightful event in which my children could not partake is the annual banjo and fiddle contest. We went to those as kids, spending many hours on rock-hard chairs, long before the building was air-conditioned, and listened to mountain music.
Like I said, a truly delightful experience.
Maybe there was a tiny, or big, evil Mom-laugh going on at the thought of how my children would handle that sort of joy. Too bad we missed it.
Back to other thoughts...
Kal and his buddy also had fun shooting in an archery range set up at the DNR building. The girls didn't care to try, and I remember the last time I tried archery. The bow is stronger than I am.
One part I wished we could have seen, but ran out of time that day, is the draft horse barn and the wagon-pulling in the Coliseum. The size of such huge horses is both frightening and awe-inducing.
And on a rabbit trail: when Jesus comes back, it has to be on a massive, white draft stallion. No other horse would be right for a King.
We saw thousands of projects in the 4-H building. My favorite was this hobbit house. We saw sewing projects, and woodworking creations, and cakes in all shapes and sizes. I love seeing the creativity from all these kids. And I got a sewing itch again just looking at all the clothing hanging up on display.
We rode a few rides. Let me rephrase that: we is not inclusive of the writer; all the kids rode a few rides.
They would have been stuck without someone to hold hats, and water bottles, and bags, and tickets, and candy, and phones, and paraphernalia collected along the way. I had a handy backpack that needed to be about 3 times the size.
Moms typically get the pack mule job on a day such as the Fair day. I remember wondering why my mom always had such a big bag every place we went. Now, I am she.
And I was a puddle the next day at church. My apologies to the preacher. He really wasn't boring, I was just fighting the urge to become one with the floor in that moment.
And lastly before I sign off, this peanut butter jar demonstrates that the third time is definitely the charm.
No wait--the fourth time. The fifth. Surely, the sixth will do it!
I had about 10 pieces of SEALED FOR FRESHNESS lying about before I could finally dip into that lovely top layer of creamy, bronze-y goodness.
