Corn Dogs & Fake Tats

The past few days have been a blur. One of my dearest and closest friends drove up from NYC to spend the long weekend.

The main highlight on the agenda was a trip into Rutland to go to the annual Vermont State Fair. You haven't lived until you've seen a dairy cow judging contest. Actually we were witness to that last year and this year decided that we'd seen enough swollen udders the previous summer to last a life time. Last year we were giggling so loud that people were shooting us really terse looks because apparently we were not taking it seriously.

What do city girls know about cow judging anyway? As we questioned in stage whispers, wondering what it was exactly they were judged on, one gracious farmer laughing at our silliness volunteered the information. Udder size. All I could think was, oh my God, but PMS must be a walk in the park compared to what these poor animals go through for a ribbon.

Now THERE is a thought for a contest. Monthly PMS ribbons. Couple that with menopausal tendencies and you've got your game on. The categories would be endless. But I digress.

I've never been to any other State fair, but as far as I could see this one was the same as most fairs I have been to only on a larger scale. Fried foods from one end of the grounds to another. A clump of fried dough anyone? Sounds vile until you look at it and it looks like a giant zeppole with powdered sugar. Just the thought of eating one was enough to make me ill. It would have been my constant companion for a number of days and I would have spent the subsequent weeks vowing I would NEVER eat something like that again. I'm sure my Pavlovian response stemmed from some past fair that I have conveniently forgotten about where I actually ingested one. So be that as it may, I look at it as missing out on about 900+ calories that would have immediately found its way between me and my Levis.

Along side the various fried food and cotton candy vendors, are the typical 'games' which are designed to attract your many dollars and have you leaving with a consolation prize worth about 20c. Except perhaps the Duck Plucking which promised a "WINNER EVERY TIME". In a small pool the likes of which you might fill for a young child or your feet in the blistering heat of a summer afternoon, there were possibly 200 tiny plastic ducks. As we strolled by, the man in the orange apron yelled out "LADIES!!!! Pluck a duck? Pluck a duck?" We looked at the pool and its many multi colored inhabitants, looked at each other and considered the odds of coming home with a blow up hammer. In the end we politely said 'no thank you' and kept walking.

We walked past the many rides which would ultimately spin you senseless resulting in possibly parting with the fried dough which had been eaten in the preceding half hour. But it wasn't all games and fried foods.

There were agricultural exhibits and contests for the best in show for everything from rabbits to vegetables. We wondered exactly how an onion or a string bean is judged but couldn't find anyone to ask. Though, we did see a pumpkin which weight in at 310lbs so that one was a given.

All in all it was a nice afternoon spent with a true friend. Once we had our fill of livestock, produce and Maple everything, we did come home with our own ideas of souvenirs. Temporary tattoos, T-shirts for friends and our palms read.


I've decided to post only on Mondays from now with the occasional exception for important days.