My Sweet, who is not a small town boy by any means, humored my by taking me to the county faire. Bless his heart! He was a good sport.
There is nothing like a county faire. It's an open house for the entire area. Not showy, like the nearby State Fair, but one where you go to check out which high schooler grew the biggest heirloom tomato, what place Aunt Mildred's double dutch chocolate pound cake got, and of course the corndogs!
And let me tell you, the true goober time to go is Saturday early afternoon. The cool kids won't bring their dates there until after dinner, so it is mostly young families, senior citizens, and every FFA member in the entire county. I mean WoW! We watched a bit of the auction going on, and I do not understand how the auctioneers keep their lips from bursting into flames. I was a bit nervous in case I had to itch my nose nose - I may have ended up spending three hundred buck on a goat.
But the real action was the main stage. At two o'clock we got to watch performances from Miss Whaterdoozit's school of dance. Six-year olds tap dancing their little hearts out! Gotta love it. My Sweet was a little disparaging about it, but when our kids are up there, he is the one who will be there with the latest of recording devices to capture every moment.
So, if you haven't made it out to your county fair yet, go out and enjoy where you come from. And have a corndog on me.