Epic Fail Lawsuit

If ever I have heard of a frivolous lawsuit this would take the cake and it seems an Illinois court of appeals judge agrees.

Kimberly Garrity’s now grown children were suing her over supposed lack of good parenting during their formative years.  You may be thinking that these children were abused or neglected in some horrible way but you would be mistaken.  Steven and Kathryn Miner, now in their 20’s, allege that mommy dearest failed to do such nurturing things as not sending college care packages to her son, sending birthday and holiday cards sans the cash, enforcing a curfew on the night of the homecoming dance or threaten her son with the police if her son didn’t wear his seatbelt while in the car.

Now, before you judge them to harshly, keep in mind that these poor children, who come from an affluent Chicago suburb, had the assistance of their attorney father, Stephen Miner Sr.  The elder Miner claims that he tried to talk his children out of the lawsuit but when that failed he agreed to represent them.  Even though poor mom wasn’t found guilty the attorney and court cost could equal up to more than she would have spent on birthday cash all those years.

Seriously! I’m not sure who I blame more, the kids or the parents.  After their parents divorce the kids went to live with their father and I’m sure that as an attorney he spoiled his children mercilessly.  It’s obvious that these children were spoiled, normal working class children don’t consider taking their parents to court over not getting money for every A on their report card (which I can assure you I never got, my dad said that was my job to get good grades and in return he bought me what I needed, clothes and medical care and food)

This all reminds me of an episode of Everyone Hates Chris where Chris asks for an allowance, I still laugh at what his father told him!

Survivor

I know there are a lot of people, friends included, who do not know about my painful past, the abusive relationships, not only with others but with myself.  It’s not something that I have kept hidden, I am pretty open about it, my feeling has always been that if I could help someone I would share my experiences in the hopes of saving them.  I escaped but so many others don’t.

So, you can imagine how unsettled I was after reading  the thread on my Facebook status from earlier this weekend.  Friday night I was on my way home to change my clothes and get ready to go out with some friends for dinner and I got caught up in some traffic.  I was just about to cut through the parking lot of the 7-11 to by-pass the traffic and hop on my street when I notice the unforgivable!  Two cars involved in a minor fender bender were pulled over to the right side of the road, both cars had little damage to the car and the occupants of both cars, each of which were a Hispanic couple, were standing outside their respective cars when I noticed that the couple from the rear car were arguing.  I suspect that I know what the argument was about, I’ve been in that same argument a couple of times before myself, when the next thing I see is the man put his hands around the girls arms and give her a mighty shove backwards.

She stumbled a couple of steps and caught herself, I started to roll my window down to yell and the man (and I use that term loosely) when traffic started to move and I had to move with it.  I considered turning the corner and coming back around or pulling on my street and calling 911 but as I turned I could hear the sirens down the road so I didn’t worry too much about this girl, at least not so much right at that moment.

I did what millions of us do on a daily basis, I took to Facebook to vent my frustration out posting the following status:

“Two cars got into a fender bender down the street from my house and as I drove past I saw this guy push the girl who was in the car with him while they argued. I had to suppress my urge to pull over and knock some sense into both of them! What makes a guy think its ok to hit a woman?”

A couple of my friends showed their support with likes, my own brother irritated me a little with his comment about the guys doing it b/c they know they can get away with it until I remembered that he was right and that so many of us stay when we should be leaving.  Yet the comment that took me completely by surprise was a string of comments from an old high school acquaintance who I had been having a friendly “flirtationship” with as of late.  He completely caught me off guard with his string of comments.

Maybe he just didn’t know about my past, maybe that is just how he thinks but in either case it’s not a good situation for me to be in.

No person deserves to be hit (I have to remind myself this on a daily basis as there are countless numbers of stupid people who I would love to knock upside the head, but I digress) but especially a woman!  How anyone can think that its ok is beyond me!

 

 

Don’t Dream it, Be It

The other day I came across some pictures of me from high school.  Prom pictures, there was one from Homecoming one year, another taken in Biology class one day in this horrible sunflower t-shirt that left me wondering what I was thinking.  But there was one that was my favorite, a picture of me from sophomore year.

I remember my sophomore year, it was the first year that I felt like I was starting to fit in at school.  Freshman year was a nightmare for me but sophomore year, that was another story.  However at the time I felt horribly awkward and terribly shy (I guess as far as the shyness goes, some things never change) I had no self-esteem and was just sure that there was no reason that anyone would ever give me a second look.  On top of all of that, when I looked in the mirror the reflexion staring back at me was more like a oompa loompa than the reality.

Sixteen years later I find myself staring into the eyes of this girl, a child really, whose simple smile spread easily across her face.  Her sad eyes glimmer with the hopes and dreams of a starry-eyed dreamer.  But, this time I can see what I never could see all along, how beautiful this young woman really was, how simply elegant she was in that picture.  Each picture I looked at as I flipped through these old memories held this same beautiful girl, there she was at 3 and again at 12, each one piecing together another mystery from the past.

When I feel low now, when I feel alone or plain old ugly, I have these mementos from my past to help remind me that girl is still there, peaking around some hidden corner of my spirit.  We never see ourselves are we really are, but with time and perspective you will find that what you see is not always what you get.  Each of us is beautiful in every way imaginable you only have to believe it.

Well, No Shit Sherlock

I have never taken much stock in “studies”

I mean, what good have they ever done me anyways?  I always walk away more confused than before I had ever heard the outcome.

One day its don’t eat eggs they are bad for you and then the next its ok because the good effects of eating eggs out weighs the negative.  Can we all just get on the same page here folks?

Yet again, our brilliant scientists have “discovered” that if you sit behind a desk all day that you are doing more harm than good to your body.  They claim that if you sit all day that you are more likely doing more harm to your heart and waistline and in fact negating the hour you may have spent at the gym earlier that day.

How are you suppose to get any work done then if you can’t sit at your office?  Why stand up!  That’s right, stand up all day.  They recommend purchasing an adjustable standing desk that allows you to stand up while  you work, short of having access to one of these desks, they say an up turned empty paper box will do the trick, just set your keyboard on top of it and click away.

Some companies have even gone so far as to hire out side corporate wellness advisors to retrain the workforce on healthier alternatives.  Options like walking down the hall to deliver a message instead of emailing it or taking the stairs have helped several employees at the company featured in the story lose a combined 200 pounds.  The owner encourages this “coaching” especially since he just recently had several stints put in his heart.

To these slightly healthier individuals I say Good Work!

To the researchers and the wellness advisors I say, well, no shit Sherlock!

Sure, I will admit that I do not have one of the most active lifestyles there it, something that I am working on correcting, but isn’t it just plain common sense that if you take the stairs instead of the elevator you will have some sort of healthy payoff in the end?  Did this employer really have to waste the money on a “Wellness Coach” to tell everyone something they should have known in the first place?

And in the end, after everyone has bought these adjustable stand up desks and made these adjustments, they still won’t be any healthier than they were before and then we’ll hear the results of the new study that finds standing on your feet for too long causes longterm bone and foot problems, especially if you do so barefoot or standing in a pair of dress shoes for an extended period of time.

It’s not about losing weight or standing up all day or killing yourself to fit into the size that “they” say you should wear.  It’s about being healthy and regardless of if you sit all day at the office or not, if you are not eating healthy and if you are not moving your body then you are not going to be as healthy as you could or should be.

The researchers won’t be happy until they have killed us all trying to tell us how to be more healthy.  To them I say, COME ON.  It’s like a fad diet.  There are millions of them out there and millions of people on them trying to lose weight quick.  Let me tell you a little something that I learned a long time ago.  There is no such thing as a quick fix and anyone who tells you other wise is lying to you and if you believe it you are a bigger idiot than I gave you credit for.

Quit trying to kill yourself to be something that you are not and love who you are, that is the best medicine there is.

I’m always happy when I find new curvy-positive blogs and sites, places that we can turn to find the support system that many of us need to continue to hold our heads up high and rock our sexy, voluptuous bodies.  Even the most confident women out there has her share of days where she doesn’t feel so confident.

I must do some page pimping right now since I have found a new blog that I really love.  I am still pretty new to the whole word press thing and so I was trying to find some sister blogs last night that I could add to my blog roll and maybe some places I could turn to for inspiration and that boost when I need it.  That place came in the form of The Curvy Girl Revolution (http://curvygirlrevolution.com/)

It’s a simple place, lots of video clips of interviews and what I love the most is the abundance of pics.  Curvy girls of the world unite! Ms. Eves has found and posted some of the most beautiful curvy women I have ever seen flaunt their stuff.  It’s always wonderful to see real women (and not the women that some “plus size” places tell us are real) willing to bare it all, rolls included.

I encourage you to check it out and see what it’s all about! Just remember my lovelies!!

XOXO

-Jen

 

There is no Rewind Button in Life

orig. published 7/7/11

Are we so disenchanted with the ever after notion of marriage that we are
willing to write it off completely?  A new article on HuffingtonPost.com seems
to think so, according to Dr. Neil Clark Warren, an increasing number of
Americans are leaning toward the notion that institute of marriage is becoming
obsolete.  Take a look around you and you may tend to agree with him, after all
in the last decade the number of unmarried couples choosing cohabitation as an
option has increased more than 25% and 45% to 50% of marriages end in divorce
with the number only rising with each marriage.  With such staggering data to
choose from it makes you wonder why the GLBT community is fighting so hard for
the right to marry when they too are surely doomed to the same fate.

I suspect that the problem lies in the definition of what a marriage really
is.  I saw so many of my classmates graduate high school and jump into marriage
with unreasonable expectations only to end up living in a miserable situation or
eventually divorcing.  I realize you may be wondering what a single girl knows
about what makes a successful marriage and while I have never been married I
have learned quite a bit from trial and error and just simply by watching the
best example a person can have for what makes a lasting marriage, my parents,
whose 50th wedding anniversary is coming up this next year.

1.    Practice Common Sense: Chances are that that
person that you thought you just couldn’t live without in high school is not the
one.  I know it sounds cliche and when I was younger I refused to believe when
people told me that I was too young to really understand what love was but as I
grew older I realized that I really didn’t.  By the grace of God I dodged so
many bullets but I know where I could be right now.  physical appearance,
similar tastes those things are not what make a marriage last, sure similar
taste will give you something to talk about but if you don’t
RESPECT each other then you will never want to talk to each
other.  Just a reminder, respect means to show consideration for someone, you
may have 100 things in common but if you can’t respect that person for the 1000
things you don’t have in common then you probably shouldn’t be getting
married.

2.    Patience is a Virtue:  No matter what you may
think, there is no rush, take your time.  I am a huge proponent of living with
someone before you get married, you never really know someone until you have
lived with them for at least a year.  This is when you will find out about each
others quirks and if you can’t find a way to deal with those quirks or to
compromise somehow on them during that first year or so living together what
really makes you think that you will feel any different 10 years down the
road.  Just remember, those little things that you thought were cute in the
beginning usually end up being what drives a wedge between you in the end.

3.    Marriage Does Not Equal Happy:  The fact is
you will have good and bad days but its how you handle the bad days that will
determine how good those good days will be.  Just because you believe in fairy
tales does not mean that they exist, marriage, or any relationship for that
matter, is hard work and it takes that hard work from both people and if both of
you are not 100% willing to do the work then you are not 100% ready to be
married just yet.

4.    Two Heads Are Better Than One:  Now, do not
misinterpret what I am about to say as I know many probably will but a marriage
consists of TWO people but BOTH of those people CAN NOT be the head of house,
one of you will have to take the lead.  I was raised in a very devout Christian
home and my parents taught me that Christ was the head of man, man was the head
of woman and God was the head of Christ.  Now, however this works out for you
someone has to be the head, BUT if the person who is the head of the house is
right (with God) then not only will they consult with God then they will also
consult with their partner to come to the best decision for all involved.
Whether or not you like it I have seen it in action and it works and believe me,
if you are with someone who respects you then you will never have anything to
worry about.

5.    Support Your Spouse:  This ties into number
4, support your partner in their decisions, you may not always like them and you
don’t have to but you put in your two cents and your partner makes the best
decision they can with the information that they have available.  Now, what I am
not saying is this, for example, I had a partner one time who was a wrestling
fanatic and would spend our money on gear for him to wrestle in, this included
money for bills.  I did not support his choice because that was his immaturity
showing through.  However, if your love is offered a job in another city, a far
off city, and the two of you have discussed the pros and cons of the decision,
whatever his choice is, support him in it.  It may turn out to have been the
wrong choice, but it happens and you will make the best of the situation.

This was the way that my mom explained it to me many, many years ago, if you
fall in love with a man, ask yourself the following, is he a Godly man, when
faced with a problem how does he handle it?  If he consults with you for your
input and then prays about it to the Lord you are indeed a blessed woman.  Is he
a hard worker, will he do what is necessary to provide for his family or will he
squander away your work on useless things?  Does he respect you, will he turn to
you for advice when he is troubled, will he turn to you for comfort when he is
in pain, will he share with you his joys and triumphs, will he be honest with
you in all areas of your life together?  If you can answer yes to ALL of those
then you are a lucky woman.

I have seen the good, the bad and the ugly when it comes to relationships, it
comes down to this, if you are not able to honestly and openly listen to your
gut then be prepared to make huge mistakes and be even more prepared to clean up
the mess when it all come tumbling down around you.  Marriage is a contract, a
union, that is not to be entered into lightly, as my Daddy would say, “measure
twice, cut once.”

Repost if you Agree

orig. published 7/19/2011

Do you know how much the
president makes?  I didn’t until today when a friend of mine posted on their
facebook wall one of those “re post if you agree” messages that pointedly talked
about one of many possible reasons for the downward spiral the economy has taken
as of late.  $400,000 is an awful lot of money for someone who on top of that
receives, in excess, of a million dollars in various expense accounts to cover a
number of things that he could need.  On top of that, the big cheese, also has
unlimited use of 5 full time chefs, the massive expanse that is the White House
and the Camp David retreat (oh, what I would give for a week in the wooded haven
that is Camp David, that is without all of the dignitaries and politicians) use
of the presidential limo that gets replaced every 4 years.

The President has at his
disposal an almost unlimited number of staff, 100 assistants for work in the WH
office, 3 outside people to work at the private residence, a seperate 34 people
to work in the domestic service and administration, an unlimited number of
outside consultants and experts and none of this even begins to cover the
maintenance on the grounds and property all of which is covered at no cost to
the occupant of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.  On top of that he also receives a
$50,000 general expense account, an account for office expenses, an
entertainment expense, a SEPERATE entertainment account for “official”
presidential functions and a travel account for him and anyone traveling with
him.

Retirement, a time of
uncertainty for many, not so much for the president.  After his term is over,
the executive pension is pretty hefty, over $150,000/ yr hefty.  To put some
perspective on that, former president Clinton is expected to average out at
around $6 million.  In addition to the pension he also receives free office
space for his post presidential ventures and $96,000/yr to pay for office help
and is eligible for up to 150,000/yr for the first 2.5 yrs post presidency to
hire staff to help with the transition.

All of this on the tax payer
dime and none of this includes any money that he may make from any royalties or
business ventures he may participate in outside of polital office at any time.
Not a bad payday when you consider that the median household pay for us
commoners was around $50,000/yr in 2006.

Now, I realize the vast
responsibility that comes with being the leader of the free world and while I am
not saying that the president does not deserve to make more than anyone else I
also don’t agree that we should be footing the bill, especially in times of such
economic turbulence.  There is a possibility, although remote as it may be, that
we will not be able to pay our bills as of the beginning of August and that is a
frightening concept for a country that has always been the richest country in
the world.  So many of us don’t know just exactly how much or why we owe what we
do.

It seems to me that most of the
“pay” of being leader comes from the joy of being able to help our country in a
time of need and if the truth be known, the only reason that the president even
got a pay raise was because the leaders of Congress and the House wanted to vote
themselves a new pay raise and couldn’t do so until they did the same for the
big guy since their pay was getting dangerously close to his.  Now, there’s a
reason to get a raise!

All I am saying is that it seems
slightly skewed that the president makes $400,000/yr while our soldiers in
combat bring in a measly $20,000/yr and they put their lives on the line every
day, are on call 24/7, have absolutely no personal life, are away from their
families for months on end, are some of the most loved and most hated people in
the world, and while the president may have to make the call to declare war and
worry about the consequences of his decision our soldiers are on the front line
enforcing his decisions and they are the ones who see first hand the results of
those decisions.  Oh, did I mention that should the country go belly up and not
be able to pay our bills, the president gets paid, our soldiers
don’t.

Sweet Southern Comfort

As I get older I find myself reminiscing back to my east Texas days.  Lately
I find myself missing living out in the sticks, there was just something about
living out in the country that I was always drawn to, although I will admit to
being scared shitless when I had to drive through the woods to get home at
midnight after I had just seen The Blair Witch Project but that was a long time
ago.  I found myself listening to a new radio station that I happened across one
day, it barely even comes in here in the city, but I listen anyways, in between
static interference.  It reminds me of the great country radio stations that I
listened to when I was vacationing out at lake fork or when I was driving down
down to Houston through the Piney Woods, hearing the commercials that were so
different from the ones in the city.  Some of my favorite memories are of the
vacation to Lake Fork, sitting on the porch of the cabin reading and enjoying
the peace or going down to my friend Richard’s and fishing out on Cedar Creek
Lake or my friend Mel teaching me how to shoot out by the creek and almost
shooting the wild hog that came up across on the other side, or spending the
weekend out at my friend Barb and John’s (even if it was with my ex who was an
ass) shooting cans on the fence.

I loved going to my ex’s mom’s house, even if I wasn’t comfortable with his
family, I loved going there, driving through the back roads, I loved going to
first Monday (when it wasn’t so freaking hot) or when I worked out in Forney and
there was Grandma’s Chicken or other countless other little hole in the wall
restaurants.  Going to church with my ex’s family and everyone knows
everyone.

There is just something about living in the country that I love!

Fear and Loathing in the Homefront

orig. published 6/19/11

As I grow older I begin to understand myself more and more, I discover that
the things that I always thought were normal, the things that my parents told me
not to worry about, that I would grow out of were warning signs of problems that
urgently needed attention.  At 20 I went to a doctor for help with missing
periods, I had no insurance and the doctor recommended tests that I did not have
the money for, I did not have the test done.  The doctor counseled me, listened
to my issues and told me what he suspected was wrong but could not confirm with
out further testing.  He did suggest at that time that he suspected, just from
the short time we visited, that I was suffering from some form of depression.  I
knew that this was true, how could it not be, I had attempted suicide multiple
times since I entered high school, it was just something that I had lived with,
again, under the assumption that this was just the case, normal.  In the years
that followed, research led me to find that not only was I suffering from
Anxiety Disorder but also from Major Depressive Disorder and Social Anxiety
Disorder.

I began treatment for my depression and anxiety two years ago when my
gynecologist prescribed me Cymbalta.  Two year and I don’t feel any further
along or better off than I did three years ago or five years ago.  I know that
it can take years to find the right combination of drugs to make the difference,
I continue to take the Cymbalta only because being off of it is unbearable.  My
life now is ruled by work schedules, I would love to go to the doctor and get
the help that I need but I just simply don’t have the time in the summer
months.

I guess I am just so used to the depression that I have gotten so good at
hiding it, I can fake the smiles and the laughter but the thing that seems more
debilitating than any of the depression is the anxiety.  I avoid crowded events
where I won’t have breathing space, I avoid talking to people that I don’t know,
limiting interaction to simple hi’s or thank you’s, I am only truly comfortable
with people that I have known for long periods of time and if I do have to be
around people that I don’t know I have to have some sort of buffer, a book to
read while eating lunch alone, a friend I am comfortable with that I can focus
on, talk to when I am feeling extremely anxious.  Even with these buffers there
is only one person that I have ever felt comfortable enough with to open up
completely and even that took years and now it seems that he may be going
away…

I recently met some members of my family that I had never met before and in
August one of these cousins is having a birthday party for her daughters.  I
would love to go, its in East Texas, a place where I have always felt at home
at, it would be a wonderful way to spend time with and get to know this portion
of my family that I don’t know all that well and, well, simply put, I am never
going to meet someone sitting in my bedroom night after night and I know better
than anyone that I will never conquer this problem if I don’t confront it.

There are moments that I feel strong, moments that I feel like I could walk
up to some mysterious, attractive man and strike up a conversation but just as
quickly as that feeling comes it goes.  It reminds me of the time that, in a
moment of insanity, I got on the cliffhanger at six flags; halfway through the
line I panicked but couldn’t back out so I boarded the ride and prayed it would
be over quickly.  To this day I still have pain in my back from that ride, it
left me with a pinched nerve from not being correctly secured in the harness.
In either scenario I end up hurt.

Has anyone else suffered with MDD or Social Anxiety Disorder?

How are you living with the affects of it?

Fair Day

The cool, early morning air felt exquisite blowing through my hair.  In the
distance I could smell the faint whiffs of the animal stalls as the workers
mucked them out mixed with the sweet smells of hot cocoa and sausage being sold
at the nearby Owens Family stand. The wooden bench was moist beneath me as my
feet kicked at the sand and dirt mixture beneath. The early morning sounds of
the fair were some of my favorite sounds, the rides swooshing loudly on their
test runs, the lyrics of an Alabama song from the speaker of a nearby radio, the
game callers shouts as they heckle the passer-bys on the Midway.

It was October in Texas, the excitement filled the air around me, I looked
forward to this time of year, hay rides and pumpkin patches, sweaters and
shorts.  This day, however, was fair day, the one day of the year that even the
oldest among us could forget about that and feel a little more like a kid
again.  I started every fair day the same way each year, arriving early, before
the crowds arrived to enjoy the peacefulness of the brisk fall morning.  In
fact, the only thing that had changed after all these years was the absences of
my parents and the home made sausage biscuits that mom made each year fresh that
morning and carefully wrapped in foil and stored in the cooler to keep them warm
until time to eat.

A stroll through the farm buildings would bring back memories of Spike, the
police horse my mother “adopted” one year.  Year after year in the days that led
up to fair day, mom would constantly talk about Spike and wonder if he would
still be there waiting for her to come see him and each year after year we would
stroll through the barns looking at the pigs and Billy goats making our way
through the maze of stalls until we would at last reach the horse stalls.  The
sign at the door way read “authorized
personnel only” but that never stopped
mom, she would walk on right through the doors and gaze at the names on each of
the stalls until she would find Spike.  He knew her, instinctively, each time
despite all the weeks apart, she could call his name and he would comeright over
and nuzzle his wet nose into her palm.  She could stand there for hours and talk
to him, I always suspected that they were kindred spirits of sorts, it was the
only thing that kept her coming to the fair each year until one year we
came
and Spike wasn’t there, no sign of him, no name plate on the stall door,
nothing.  We managed to track down a worker who gave us the news.  We left early
that year; mom just couldn’t bear the hurt any longer.  That was the last year
mom came to the fair.

When I was a child the midway was my favorite place to be.  It screamed fun
and excitement but the only problem was that I was too big of a chicken to ride
any of them.  It took a couple of years for my dad to talk me into riding more
than just the marry-go-round and the go karts.  It was the scrambler and it
terrified me.  I was six with a broken arm when he helped me into the silver and
blue streaked car.  He settled into the seat next to me and squeezed me close as
they secured the bar in place.  He looked over at me and explained how to get
the most out of the ride, explained how to feel the pull of the ride and just
when to shift so that as the ride spins to make it feel like it was going
faster.  The ride started slowly and I looked up and found mom in the people
standing by the riding watching as it began to spin us backward from our
starting place.  I was laughing while I waved at her, laughing at the freedom of
spinning around in a circle, weightless and giddy, I laughed until the tears
came.  Mixed in with the
joy and exhilaration was trepidation and fear.  I
was six the day I had my first panic attack but I can still feel my dad’s arm
pulling me closer to him, what must have been only a couple of minutes felt like
an eternity to me but finally I heard the buzzer sound and the ride begin to
slow to a stop.  I could feel my dad’s chest heaving up and down as he chuckled
at my reaction to the ride.  As my dad helped me off the ride suddenly there was
a wave of sadness that washed over me, it was a lot like my reaction to the
movie Poltergeist, it scared the crap out of me but I didn’t want it to end.  In
the years that followed the Scrambler would become one of my favorite rides
along with the
Tilt-a-Whirl and the Love Bug.  I never would conquer my fear
of heights but there was something about the thrill of the speed that I never
forgot.  I miss my dad most now on fair day.

Next to Spike my mom loved to walk through the buildings looking at the
exhibits and the arts and crafts.  I remember the dankness of the exhibition
halls crowded with people oohing and ahhing over the colorful quilts and
delicate pies, watching as people peddled their wares, demonstrating their
amazing knives that can slice through silk with ease, the chopping device that
made a perfect red and green Pico de Gallo, Native American artistry, the
tapestry of colors and smells and tastes was enough to send your senses into
overload.  Miles and miles of nooks, a seasonal flea market of sorts that drew
sellers from all over the state to set up stand for a couple of weeks a year
hoping to sell, sell, sell!  As I grew older the midway lost some of its appeal
and the buildings and their inhabitants began to appeal to me. I suspect that my
country roots began to show more as I grew older; these days there is just
something about watching as common people compete to win the blue ribbon for the
best apple pie or the best double stitch or walking to the end of the hall to
see the statue of Elvis made out of butter.  Yes, butter!

As the day grew to an end we would make our way slowly back toward the
parking lot, via the food court!  Cotton Candy and fried everything, fall just
wasn’t fall without a Fletchers corny dog, a yellow cornmeal and beef delicacy
on a stick.  People would stand in line for an hour just to get this small piece
of heaven on a stick then make their
way over to the mustard pump to cover
the crispy, chewy goodness before sinking their teeth into a state fair
favorite.  My love of Fletchers came later on but as a child my choice was
always for a beautiful, mahogany smoked turkey leg, tender and juicy, the smoke
flavor would just explode in my mouth with each bite.  I would savor that lone
turkey leg all the way home.

Home.  Sunburned and tired I was always happy to be home, I would run right
to my room and sprawl across the bed and catalogue my memoires to be thought of
fondly till
the next fair day.