Post #662 Meanwhile, Back At The Festival

July 31, 2019 at 6:14 PM | Posted in Uncategorized | Comments Off on Post #662 Meanwhile, Back At The Festival

In the last post, I told you about the full on weekend we had and how fun it was.  The Festival was one of the highlights.  I love doing community outreach for the various hospitals Partner/Spouse has worked at.  One time, I got to be in charge of the music and a little girl asked me why I had pink-purple IPod.  She seemed satisfied with the answer that I kept losing the black ones.  Another time, I walked all around Tucson with a group of people who never introduced themselves to me, but we were walking for heart health so I didn’t care.

The Festival was to commemorate the founding of our fair metropolis and the heritage it entails.  It’s a yearly deal, and kind of a big deal, too.  I was impressed with everything I saw, although we didn’t get to see as much as I wanted.  We got there early to help set up, and walked from our house because it’s really a small town.  It took us about ten minutes to walk there.

I got to indulge in my favorite pastime – people watching.  We had a smoothie making machine powered by bicycle.  It’s a stationary bike, and the front wheel powered the blender.  One little boy, about nine decided he was going to make the first batch of smoothies.  His mom encouraged him and it took about twenty minutes.  He was pretty beat by the time it was done, but he looked like he was having fun, and the crowd kept shouting Attaboy! and Go Faster!  When the smoothie was 99% done, a little girl with arthritis and braces on her legs wanted to take a turn.  Her mom and I got her on the bike, and while I steadied her, her mom helped her pedal.  And she had a blast!  I bet no other smoothie tasted so good.

There were a ton of food trucks at one end of the fairway and I wished I had the room in my stomach to try them all because they were varied.  I think I told you I saw the lady with the maple sugar popcorn.  She also had the popcorn kernels for sale.  Shoulda bought some, but didn’t think about it till it was too late.

It put me in mind of the county Fair where I grew up.  It was a magical time for kids of any age when the Fair came to town.  Since it was a small town and agriculturally based, the Fair was a big deal for the 4H clubs and the boy scouts, etc.  I didn’t enter anything in the competitions, but several of my friends did, so we always went during the latter part of the day so we could see the exhibits, then spend time in the evening on the rides after it got dark and the midway was lit up like Christmas.  Rides are always better when the lights are shining bright.

The Fair always meant good food, and the best was always Indian Fry Bread.  Nowadays, they call them Indian tacos.  It’s basically bread dough that’s been shaped into a small ball to rest.  Then, just before cooking, it’s stretched out to a disk about 8-10 inches across.  It’s deep-fried in oil or lard until it’s puffy and golden brown.  Then comes the fun part, deciding what to put on it.  There were several choices but the two most popular were cinnamon and powdered sugar, and The Works.  The Works were refried beans, taco meat, cheese, tomatoes, lettuce, salsa, and sour cream if you wanted it.  It was served flat but most people folded it up like a taco, hence it’s name change.  I always ate it flat.

For some reason, you couldn’t get this delicacy any time but at Fair time, at least not anywhere I knew about, so every day during the week of the Fair, I’d head over at lunch time, beg my free way inside, grab an Indian Fry Bread, then go back to work with it.  My mouth still waters.  I’ve made it myself once successfully.  So good.

Thoughts of home and food inevitably make me remember the mom of one of our pack of friends.  She was the kind of woman who would feed the stranger at her gate and never think twice about it.  I’ve seen her cook three turkeys for Thanksgiving for a club house do, and forget to make dinner for her family.  I know she was just expecting them to come with her when she served, but it surprised her that she forgot.  Of course, that year, the kids ate at our house.  I mentioned once that I liked Cheerios for breakfast sometimes, so she kept a box on hand for me.  It got stale over time, but I kept munching away at it till it was gone.  I used to call them donut seeds.

Quirky neighbors abounded in our neighborhood.  Must have been something in the water.  Our next door neighbors were “naturists”.  They had planted enough shrubbery and trees to mask most of the yard, so they could be as natural as they chose to be.  Whenever I saw them, he would be wearing a tiny speedo, and she would be wearing a tiny string bikini.  Trust me.  Neither of them should have been seen in those garments.

My brother came over one day with a  strange look on his face.  “Did you know the neighbors are nudists?”  I started laughing.  Apparently he had gone over to borrow a tool to fix his truck.  The guy had greeted him at the door naked while his wife was spread out on top of the couch in full view.

But meanwhile, back at the Festival, we were having a good time and watching people go by.  My eyes bugged out a bit when I saw a young man walking by strip to his underwear due to the heat.  His girlfriend/wife/significant other didn’t react, like this was completely normal behavior for him.

A few minutes later, I noticed an odd look on Partner/Spouse’s face and followed his gaze.  Up the street walking away from us was an older couple, and the woman wasn’t wearing a top.  She should have been.

But I’m told there are no laws against public nudity here.

And the funnel cakes and maple sugar popcorn were good.

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