Thursday, September 4, 2008

Home Sweet Home

The blog is back from hiatus! I know you missed it. All those sleepless nights you spent staring up at the ceiling, wondering if it was every coming home can finally come to an end. If you got your local dairy farmers to put its picture on the side of their cartons, be sure to notify them that it’s ok to start printing the Moo-Maze again. That trip to Kinkos you had planned for tomorrow can be crossed off your schedule. Go ahead, throw out the template flyer you made; it’ll bring you a sense of closure. With the blog home, we can move on to the more pressing matter of determining an appropriate punishment for the little bugger. I can’t tell you how worried I was; the torture I went through was truly ineffable. So please think about appropriate punishments for the blog while you read.

If it helps, think of the blog as Ginger Spice running away from the other Spices (aka us) to try and make it big on its own. Ol’ blog forgot that it’s nothing without us though. Nothing! So this entry is sort of like Ginger realizing she’s not all that (or the bag of chips, Scary Spice is totally the chips) and agreeing to a Spice Girls’ comeback tour ( Thus, I think it’s only fitting if we adhere to the following ground rules:
1. If you want my future forget my past,
2. If you wanna get with me better make it fast,
3. Now don't go wasting my precious time,Get your act together we could be just fine
If you can agree to those terms, I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want. What do I want, you ask? I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna reallyreally really wanna zigazig ha.

This year was my first ever experience of all things deeply fried in Carney oils. Candy bars, cheese curds, scotch eggs, various on-a-sticks, and the curiously corn dog-like “pronto pup” (I smell a lawsuit…nope, never mind. That was the great big turkey sandwich drizzled in BBQ sauce, sprinkled in Cajun spices, and dripping with grease-a-liciousness) all found there way into my craw (because no word is more appropriate than ‘craw’ when talking about fair food) with the help of a few gulps of fresh squeezed lemonade and a swig from the water fountain. A chocolate bacon may or may not have been consumed in my time at the fair as well (don’t judge me!). Of course, what meal could be complete without the fragrances lurking in the animal barns? Swine smells, sheep scents, cow colognes, poultry potpourris, and even rabbit redolence; there are no better aromas for ensuring a satisfactory acid reflux. *Burp*

I had 4.

There were some foods I just could not muster the requisite bravery to try. At the top of my Do Not Eat That Thing Under Any Circumstance list: the frozen pickle juice popsicle, any and all seafood items (who honestly trusts the shrimp salesman who operates out of the back of a horse trailer? Seafood should only be purchased from restaurants required to pass health code inspections! If you are a Minnesota citizen, please write your senator to prevent the deep friend shrimp on a stick from making a return next year), the deep-fried mystery mammal, and anything which could be purchased at the convenience store for 1/3 the price.

Ok, so domesticated is a stretch. I’m rather certain that some of the people I saw were tranquilized by the Minnesota DNR (or by Vladimir Putin, taken from their wilderness habitats and relocated to the Fairgrounds for the viewing pleasure of the masses of urbanites. There’s no other way to account for the milling herds of bedraggled…something-or-others. The dredlocked, mohawked, bearded, mulleted, balded, and other such strangely tufted creatures were all out in their finest short shorts and tank tops for the festival.

No matter how they were dressed or- in some horrible cases- not dressed, everyone had one thing in common; the willingness to pay $11 for the supreme joy of squishing against other bodies into some sort of human lipid bilayer (that’s some science talk for all you biology majors out there!). Throw in the oversized stuffed animal prizes and you’ve got a fluid mosaic model analogy that Minnesota high school teachers everywhere silently wish they thought of. Elise, I give you full permission to use my brilliant idea…so long as you pay me royalties. I accept double pinochles.

Of the many different tribes I saw, the bewildered family of four with two kids on leashes was my favorite. Nothing is more satisfying than seeing a tethered, teething two year-old being dragged on his/her bum back to mom’s side so she can feed the wee one a bit of slushy. Kids are so precious!

Actually, I’m moving a bit to the West, but since I’m still east of Fargo, would you cut me some slack? I’ll make you breakfast in my wondrously spacious new home. You see, Prospect Park and I must, sadly, part. BUT, my new home in Uptown more than makes up for the Autumn move. Please check out the photo tour at to see where you can find little old me. Same roommates, great new location. And now, stained glass windows. HOO HA!

There it was, sunning its lovely self at Lake Calhoun with the rest of the Labor Day Weekend vacationers. It looked ready to take a nap, and I realized that the beach was no place for a double sawback to fall asleep. Bird do-do, waves; dripping popsicles; greasy, ketchupy, mustarded hot dogs; and all assortments of sweaty people posed too big a health risk to Mr. Jackson. I had to save him, so I picked the little guy up and deposited him in the nearest noodles and company cash register where he could get a decent night’s sleep. The people at Noodles & Co. were so amazed by our act of kindness that they rewarded us with two heaping bowls of carbohydrates. All in a day’s work.

Way to go Tom! You know what I’m talking about. Hero.