Our daughter wanted to meet a friend at our county's yearly fair, so we decided we'd do our best to turn it into some semblance of a Date Night.
I tried. Sort of. We shucked out the twelve dollars to get in, but bypassed the corn shucking demo. The fair is held at the cattle stockyard, so we were greeted with the mixed-just-so-right scents of popcorn, funnel cakes, and cow patties. I enjoyed snapping a few pics, while my husband labored over the fine restorative nuances of what seemed like a few thousand antique tractors. I feigned interest at the size of someone's homegrown cucumber. I cautiously paused momentarily at the UNSAFE tiger "cage" to watch the tiger "show", which for me was watching it lick itself after a nap. I even read about the heroic efforts of a few now-deceased local WWII veterans. But unlike them, I just couldn't muster up an ounce of courage to try out a few IKNOWTHEY'REUNSAFE carnival rides.
My husband was my wingman on this, so we ducked out and went to a local place for pizza and a beer. We didn't even miss the overwhelming stench of cow manure.
It really didn't matter to me where we were. We were with each other. Sometimes the best place for life's fun is not directly under the well-lit blinking sign, but off in its shadows somewhere.
I have lazily one-finger typed this entire post from my iPhone while still in bed at 10:00am. Please forgive typos. Gotta scramble now and meet my mom at 10:30 church.
Keep it simple and enjoy your Sunday.