Okay... but guess my weight??? Who thought of that???!!!!!!

The end of summer brings such a sense of loss that it's only fitting there is a monumental, landmark event to console us through the pain.
An event so noteworthy, exhilarating, and dare-I-say, even educational, that some of us look forward to it with the greatest anticipation the entire month of August.
And. Now. It's here.
It's state fair time in the Gopher State.


I lived the entire first half of my life having never gone to the state fair. Sure, up on the Iron Range we had the St. Louis Country fair in Hibbing when I was growing up and that was a pretty big deal in its own right but I don't know how I ever lived for twenty-ahem-some years without knowing the pleasure of a free yardstick, multiple glasses of all-the-milk-you-can drink or the knowledge of the shortcut that takes you from there to the Sweet Martha's Cookie stand to get the perfect accompaniment.
For the first five years after I got married we lived in the cities and my husband, who was well aware of the magic of the fair having gone while he was growing up, took me once, twice, and sometimes even more in one season.
The first few times we went as a two-some, walking hand-in-hand listening to the vendors in the grandstand and perusing the offerings of the bazaar. Sometimes we even took in a concert by a national headliner. Later I hobbled, pregnant belly protruding into the crowd, searching every half mile or so for a suitable empty seat and the perfect food to fill an odd craving.
Later we pushed strollers and held on to toddlers learning to incorporate a break for naps and ice cream into our visits. Only once did we misplace a child and only for a few moments next to the water ride.

One of my favorite state fair memories is the year our middle daughter, desperately desiring one of the big teddy bears from the midway tried and tried and tried until all of her change was gone to win one. On the verge of sobbing - and a pending meltdown she pitched a diddly of a toss, the ring spun around the bottle and a big blue 6' tall bear belonged to her. 
Then she discovered how impossible it is to lug a big teddy bear through the crowd at the fair and how hard it is to get someone else in your family to do it, too.

We've made great purchases at the fair. Miracle cleaning cloths that can be reused forever and ever and ever, personalized Christmas ornaments and bird houses.Wedding gifts and birthday presents have been bought during trips to the fair. And every year, even though we swear we won't stop, we still end up standing somewhere along the walkway oohing and aahing at a new item, sucked into the pitch while a demonstrator explains why their product is the must-have item of the year. Then there's the learnin' part. You can't visit all those booths about animals, vegetables, and natural resources without picking up at least one thing that makes ya just a little smarter.

We eat gyros for our biggest meal of the day and I always get my wedding ring, (original cost $269 with my college roommate's employee discount) cleaned with pocket change. When they're finished it looks good as new. And since my husband always patiently waits with me on the sweltering hot second floor of the grand stand for my ring to shine and for me to walk through slow moving lines to gather free tote bags and yard sticks I return the favor by going to the animal barns and machinery hill with him.


During the years we moved away from Minnesota for a couple of fair runs but whenever possible we still managed the trip back during the fair.  Sometimes with our kids, sometimes with friends, occasionally alone.
This year when the commercials began and the news channels talked about beginning their live broadcasts from their assorted booths I marveled at how in a couple of years it will be only the two of us visiting the fair once again..........although ...apparently not for awhile.

Because while we can barely get our cool kids who are all in college and high school now to go to a movie with us for fear a friend might see they have parents or walk beside them through the aisles of a grocery store - when we talked about making a trip to the Minnesota State Fair the other night at dinner every one of the three kids we've introduced to the big pig, the caramel apple sundae and the DNR booth yelled, "I'm coming!"

BOOBS or BANGS?

In the age of the fanciest of gizmo and gadgets and electronic calendars in all shapes and sizes I still choose to shun them all. I rely on an archaic system that involves a handy dandy paper and pencil black book planner with a month-at-a-glance, a pencil with an eraser, and a paper clip to mark the date. 
It's how I roll.
It's what I understand.
It's a system I am a slave to.
I am nothing without the black book planner.

A rebel against modern day conveniences I tuck the planner under my arm, tote it around hither and yon and refer to it daily to see where I should be and when. When I'm setting up an appointment or in a meeting and everyone else grabs their phones and other hand held devices I dig out the black book - which, incidentally, is only a bit smaller than the Qwest Dex phone book.

With such a steel proof method to keep my important notes, appointments and reminders it's a wonder I managed to double-book two 
very important
appointments on the same day last weel.
One being my mammogram and the other being, well, another pressing, hard-to-get appointment with, ah, my hair stylist.

When I realized my predicament I deeply pondered the dilemma, "Well this isn't going to work," I thought and called the hospital and cancelled my mammogram.

For roughly 23 seconds.

I wondered as soon as I'd hung up how it could be that highlights in my hair would weigh the more important of the two options. A look in the mirror confirmed the dire need for the hair appointment and I already knew how long it could be before the stylist could squeeze me in again, but the real quandary is -
What does that say about me?!

Well, first of all it says
a) I realize how hard it is to get an appointment with a good stylist.
b) I'm pretty much anxious to look for a-n-y excuse to not show up for an appointment that consists of prodding, poking, probing or pinching any of my female areas and that probably isn't that unusual,
but it also says
c) I am now a shallow, simple person who would choose to replace my sickly, dark roots with beautiful, bright blond ones instead of showing up for a screening that could save my life.

So... in the end I realized I had momentarily lost my mind and my better sense prevailed. I called the hospital right back.

"Hi, I just called a minute ago to cancel my 8:30 on Monday for my mammogram and I'd like to reschedule it please."
"The same appointment?"
"Yes. For 8:30 a.m. on Monday."
"The exact same appointment?"
"Ah, yes."
"At 8:30 a.m. on Monday - just like you had?"
"Yes. Is it gone already?"
"No. Just checking. You want to reschedule the same exact appointment for the same exact time you just cancelled for?"
"YES. (sigh) I thought I had a conflict (dark roots) but I don't so I'd like to just come in for the mammogram (not really but my guilt is weighing heavy)."
"Okay, I've got you down. Thanks for calling (you unorganized goof that probably has a hair appointment conflict that you double booked by using a planner made out of paper instead of using an electronic device that would have saved us all this hassle) Have a good day."


The good news is...I did the right thing and showed up for the mammogram and received the letter yesterday that the test was fine.

And more good news...the hair appointment I rescheduled is in two days.
Dark roots be damned - it may be shallow your days ARE numbered.