Well, now, see, I was going to write a cute little entry like this one, all about how to go to the street fair with your sweetie. It was going to look something like this. You know how I do:
Eat an elephant ear Carl never knows what these are, for some reason. I told him all about going to the Dade County Youth Fair as a kid, every year around my birthday, and how elephant ears are just a bunch of dough deep-fried and then with sugar on it, and those are my three favorite things, in any combination.
Sign various petitions This year there was no drama between pro-choice and pro-life folks, like last year at this fair when there was sort of a stand-off. Very tense. This year, the only good thing was seeing some hemp rights folks ask some cops wandering by if they’d like to sign an initiative decriminalizing adult pot smokers. The cops just sort of did a double take and smiled and continued on. I did manage to steer clear of some Revolutionary Workers frothing at the mouths, as well, which is always a win. I mean, I sympathize with the workers, but I hate getting yelled at, you know?
Decide, once again, against a silver ear cuff, but admire lots of glazed pottery I do like the experience of interacting directly with the folks that make stuff, but clearly I am a child of the suburbs who’s not quite ready to deal with cottage industries, because I hate it when they won’t let you browse. I’m probably really not going to buy a hanging hammock chair, or a coat made out of quilt pieces, or a marionnette, or a candle in the shape of a dragon. I’m just not, okay? I just want to look. I know, it’s handmade, it’s your work, it’s your livelihood…but can I just look? I’m here more for the atmosphere and for the elephant ears than for the glass windchimes. Although I did like this guy’s stuff quite a bit, honestly. How do you not like that?
Okay, so the above is what I meant to write. But here’s how it happened instead:
Go to brunch, carefully choosing something to eat that is very starchy and bland Feel slightly queasy, but sternly tell your tummy that you are going to the street fair and that is that. Drink some chamomile tea.
Notice that it’s not really clearing up, and is, in fact, starting to rain “Doesn’t matter! I want to go to the fair!” Begin to talk about and to your stomach as though it is a recalcitrant puppy: “Tummy! This is your boyfriend speaking! Be good!” (said by Carl).
Feel a little better Buy some organic natural homemade soap from a hippie from Oregon. Get a peppermint and an oatmeal-honey, plus a free sample of tangerine. Remember that you still have a whole bar of almond in your shower, which you absolutely love, but don’t care. Go with Carl to get some honey…watch him choose Fireweed over Clover because “it’s more mellow.”
Run to the U Bookstore bathroom, or rather, stagger The less said about this, the better. Happily, on your way out, pass the Ecuadorean singers from the Pike Place Market that you saw a couple of entries ago, and give them a dollar because their music is so nice. Listen to Carl reminisce about his high school trip to Ecuador. Wish you could go to Ecuador yourself.
See the guy from whom you got a beautiful knife last year for your graduation Walk up to him and tell him how much you like your knife while he has a bunch of customers there. Feel proud of your unsolicited testimonial.
Give up and go home You can’t have the gardenia-scented hand cream even though it smelled so so good. You are unemployed. It’s raining. The booth’s all the way at the other end of the street. You feel really really sick. It’s time to go. No elephant ears for you.