Fair Day

Yesterday was that time again: the Deerfield Fair. We go every year, and it's mostly the same year to year, but why not? How often do you get to pet sheep or look at piglets? It's probably bad to enjoy looking at the cute animals and be an unrepentant meat eater, but I never claimed it was logical to think that they're sweet but not feel bothered about the thought of eating them.

This year they had a Portuguese food stand, which disappointed me a little because they didn't offer Portuguese fried dough. I amused myself by getting my friend to try to pronounce chourico, and she was stymied since it is pronounced nothing like it's spelled ("shu-REES"). I hate to admit it, but it's one of the few words in Portuguese I actually know. You'd think that considering that my great-grandfather, who was from the Azores, lived until I was 11, and my great-grandmother, from Bermuda, lived until just before I turned 19, that I'd know some more. But no, their families were very much "now that we've come to the US we speak English only" so not even my grandfather spoke it. So, all I know is "bless me", "so-so" and slang terms for feces and bugs.

In all, it was a pretty decent day at the fair. It would have been better if I hadn't fallen to the communists the day before and been sore and having to deal with it all, (in deference to male readers I'll just say that 7 hours of walking can do unpleasant things to a menstruating woman, and leave it at that) but what can you do? Mother nature's kind of a bitch, and at least it should ease off considerably before Vynce's wedding tomorrow.

"Promises you never gave, but your eyes have told me so much more." - Intruder, Teeth In Your Heart