Fair Season

I love Fair Season.

Anyone who lives in a small, agriculturally-based area knows what I am talking about. I look forward to Fall in and of itself, but it is really the Fair that gets me going. Our favorite is coming up in about 6 days and I can't wait. It really brings out the former 4-H-er in me, and suddenly I am really excited about seeing things such as glass jars full of peaches with a blue ribbon hanging off of them, livestock that I usually eat, teenagers trying so hard to be cool, even though they are standing beside a game that gives away stuffed animals, and of course, the Jesus floats.

What is a Jesus float, you ask?

Well, somehow in our area no one thinks it strange that every other float in a parade includes a man dressed up like Jesus, usually surrounded by a crowd of angels pumping out loud gospel music. And as these floats are often sponsored by banks and trucking companies, I can only guess that these angels (and Jesus too) have to get up for work as a bank teller the next morning.

Speaking of parades, there are always plenty of costumed characters bobbing up and down the parade route, some slightly inappropriate. We always look forward to the representative of a local bakery; you would think that a donut would be the best character, but this shop has chosen instead the Long John. Don't know what a Long John is? It's a cylindrical, hot dog shaped confection, but created into an upright parade costume, you can probably picture a certain part of the male anatomy that this resembles. I'll bet they fight over who gets to wear it.

My daughter is scared to death of Mr. Long John, and any other costumed character that might amble her way. I will never forget two years ago when she was curled up on her Poppy's lap next to me, who was enjoying having my lap to myself for the first time in almost 2 years and was blissfully examining a Jesus float. All of a sudden I notice that my daughter is screaming bloody murder. I look over to find the giant , man-sized Sonic milkshake hovering over her, frantically waving and not noticing that he was scaring the bejesus out out of a toddler. I actually had to grab his arm and politely ask that he move along...his work was done. I think my step-dad still bears scars on his arms from her clawing for her life. Luckily we visited our first Sonic this summer and found that she did not suffer flashbacks.

So here is my chance to visit my husband's hometown, remember twirling my flag in that parade just 18 short years ago, help my daughter win yet one more "fair fish", and eat fried oreos. To me, there is nothing better.

I just hope Jesus and the angels throw out some tootsie rolls from their float. I love them.