Fair Week.  The Preble County Fair, to be exact.

I love county fairs.  There is just something about walking down the Fairway… and seeing all the sights.  Little kids battling a fistful of cotton candy.  Twelve-year olds guiding their goats to the judging arena.  Women holding Circus Waffles like they have discovered the Ark of the Covenant.  It goes on an  on.

Ahhh.  Not only are their sights… there are smells.  Sometimes this is a good thing.  Other times… Not so much.

Today was my third day of being at the Fairgrounds.  All three have been working days.  This particular stint was at the South Entrance Gate.

It goes like this.  People drive up.  They want to go to the fair.  I ask them for $6 a piece.  They give it to me.  I give them each a ticket.   And in they go.  Wash and repeat.   And repeat and repeat.  And about six hours later… a lot of people have passed my ticket apron.

My favorite part of that… Is when my shift ends.

And when it ended… We grabbed a hamburger and headed to the grandstands for the horse races.

I sat there eating, and began wondering why hamburger are called hamburgers.  They are not made of ham.  Did someone named Ham make the first one.  Or did they used to come from pig meat… And then it got switched to cow.

In this case… We were eating Chuckburgers.  I couldn’t help but to think the very worst .

Then… Out of the clear blue… One of the horses had a wreck.   I never found out if she was okay, or not.  But this day was going downhill rather quickly.  First the hamburger conundrum… An now THIS!

So… Away we went.

I have to go back to the fair tomorrow… to do some more work.

Hopefully, it will all just be happy Circus Waffles, Elephant Ears, and Corn Dogs.

Ooooh no.  Now I am wondering why THOSE things are called what they ARE.  This fair-business is emotionally taxing I’ll tell you.

“In times of stress, be bold and valiant.”   – Horace