The Western North Carolina Mountain State Fair (that is the full name of this annual week-long shindig!!!) happens to almost always fall around Gus' birthday - so we continue the beloved tradition we began last year (this year with our good friends Heather and Rion) of shlepping to the fair, sweating through a sun-soaked parking lot, stuffing ourselves with overpriced yet under-nutrient fair food (we stayed away from anything on a stick this year)and then ride midway rides until the nap-nasties set in...this year, just like last year...the last ride was rough...Gus - even after 17 go arounds on the SAME merri-go-round (no joke, he did, however, vary his choice of transportation between the blue motorcycle and the orange bus) - lost it all, when it was time to pack in...
...he slept the sleep of the truly exhausted on the way home, dreaming no doubt about a blue motorcycle, a green tractor, an orange bus and a lellow (not a typo) helicopter and maybe a goat and a lama and a camel (which he fed like a champ at the petting zoo).
I can't wait to forcefully pluck him off the last ride next year...what will I do when he starts riding those truly scary things that drop at zero-gravity???
Hang on for my dear life???
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