The Good Ole Summertime
It was the perfect way to spend the first real weekend of summer. Basking in the sunlight of a beautiful day, we took in a parade. A parade that I have been going to annually since I was about Ezra's age. A parade well stocked with floats, Shriners of all shapes and sizes, horses, Color Guards, clowns, cars and bands with their bass drums that beat right into the chambers of your heart. After we took in the parade, what else could you possibly do on a sunny summer Sunday but go to a carnival? 
My date for the ferris wheel. Avery and I peered over the top of of the big circle through the bottom of our seats waving hello to strangers and enjoyed our bit of calm to the crowded chaos below.
The only other ride I went on, aside from the ferris wheel- was the barrel ride. The one like the Disney teacups- you sit in a circle and turn a giant wheel which in turn, turns you round and round and round and what was I thinking? And when did rides like these become problematic to for me to well, ride? We spun around like champs- twirled and whirled better than anyone else on the ride we got the occasional glimpse of. It took me about ten minutes after departing the ride to recover. I remember asking my mom when I was about Ezra's age why she didn't go on the roller coasters or spinning rides with me and my dad- her reply was "getting old stinks." Ezra asked me the exact same question about the spinning rides. I used the exact same answer my mother gave me, the answer which when I was six I swore I would never personally need to use, but its true. Getting old stinks. (Or at least spinning around in a non-ventilated plastic barrel for three minutes and not being able to handle it does. Pick your own answer.) 
We dined and drank the finest fare at the fair- filling ourselves on cotton candy, funnel cakes, sodas, lemon shake-ups and the like. 
After all of this, we retreated back to my mother's house- starving for some real food, slightly burned (when will I ever learn? ) sticky and sweaty and tired from having too much fun. We were treated to a picnic dinner prepared by my mother and grandmother and just leisurely lounged around until the sun went down. Fireflies signaled to us by visual Morse Code that it was time to head back home. If we can have just a couple more weekends spent like this- all together- celebrating the small things it will be a good summer indeed.
My date for the ferris wheel. Avery and I peered over the top of of the big circle through the bottom of our seats waving hello to strangers and enjoyed our bit of calm to the crowded chaos below. 
The only other ride I went on, aside from the ferris wheel- was the barrel ride. The one like the Disney teacups- you sit in a circle and turn a giant wheel which in turn, turns you round and round and round and what was I thinking? And when did rides like these become problematic to for me to well, ride? We spun around like champs- twirled and whirled better than anyone else on the ride we got the occasional glimpse of. It took me about ten minutes after departing the ride to recover. I remember asking my mom when I was about Ezra's age why she didn't go on the roller coasters or spinning rides with me and my dad- her reply was "getting old stinks." Ezra asked me the exact same question about the spinning rides. I used the exact same answer my mother gave me, the answer which when I was six I swore I would never personally need to use, but its true. Getting old stinks. (Or at least spinning around in a non-ventilated plastic barrel for three minutes and not being able to handle it does. Pick your own answer.) 
We dined and drank the finest fare at the fair- filling ourselves on cotton candy, funnel cakes, sodas, lemon shake-ups and the like. 
After all of this, we retreated back to my mother's house- starving for some real food, slightly burned (when will I ever learn? ) sticky and sweaty and tired from having too much fun. We were treated to a picnic dinner prepared by my mother and grandmother and just leisurely lounged around until the sun went down. Fireflies signaled to us by visual Morse Code that it was time to head back home. If we can have just a couple more weekends spent like this- all together- celebrating the small things it will be a good summer indeed.
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