Air-Fair for the Weekend

Jack and I have had a busy weekend - busier than most...

With the Warren County Fair in McMinnville-town this past week, Jack and I felt compelled at least make an appearance. We had so much fun last year people-watching and taking photographs that we couldn't let "fair week" pass without at least a short visit, a spin around the mid-way, and a stop amid the squat cluster of locally-run fund-raising concession stands for dinner of the tasty-fried nastiness everyone around her refers to as "fair food".

That said, thumb's up to Wayside CIC for the excellent french fries, but seriously ya'll... somebody needs to be doing a fresh, hand-dipped corn dog instead of this previously-frozen, Institutional Wholesale bullshit. Considering the current economy I understand the need for aggressive fund-raising the one time of year it's possible, but I'd rather pay $2.50 for a hand-dipped, hot-lard-fried, all-beef corndog than waste my time with the same crap-on-stick I can get at Sonic. And I don't think I'm alone...

After spending a couple of fun-filled hours soaking in every bit of culture the Warren County A&L Fair has to offer Friday evening, Jack and I hit the sack earlier than normal in anticipation of the Upper Cumberland Air Show at the Sparta/Cookeville airport yesterday morning. A friend of ours shared information about it on Facebook, and having never been to an air show before, it seemed like a good place to go with the cameras.

And Jack just flat-out loves airplanes. He has no aspirations of being a pilot or owning a plane or being part of the spectacle we witnessed today, but wherever Jack Anderson spots vapor trails, he sees photo opportunities, and the first half of our day was filled with them.

Actually we got our wires crossed about the air show and arrived two hours too early. When we got to the Upper Cumberland Regional Airport, the crowd was just starting to roll in... We'd thought it started around 10:00, but the real stuff didn't begin until noon, so we had plenty of time for people-watching and admiring the planes before they got into "show mode" and started flying around.

The air show was definitely a family event with a good mix of multi-generational folks - cute children and even cuter old people. And Mennonites..

These little old ladies cracked me up... I got close enough to hear them carrying-on with one another, and folks, I'm telling you - this is Sis and me in a few years. I can't see us ever color-coordinating our outfits and accessories so splendidly, but anything can happen --

One of the things that surprises me most - be it at this air show or the fair or any number of public events - is the number of people willing to show up with tiny babies in tow...

Perhaps I just come from a particularly protective strain of people who don't feel the need to expose their infants to excessive sun, loud noises and the antibiotic-resistant strains of germs which thrive on the hands of the unwashed masses, but for crying out loud, people - can't the airplane show wait until your newborn's umbilical stump dries out? Is it that important for your grand-child to experience his "first fair" before he gets his first set of baby-shots?

Anyhoo - the air show was a lot more enjoyable than I expected, and I give the folks who organized the event a lot of credit for their planning. Parking was a breeze, and convenient shuttles to the airport entrance were provided "hay ride style" by an army of volunteers with tractors and wagons.

The planes in flight were spectacular, and I have a new appreciation for the fact that my husband doesn't do anything dangerous - like jumping out of airplanes or flying them upside-down at 4,000 feet in the air - for a hobby.

I've uploaded the best of my pictures to a photobucket album and am including it here on the blog for your enjoyment.

After a few hours at the air show and nearly blinding ourselves by looking and pointing our cameras at the wild, blue yonder, Jack and I decided to take another traipse through the fair.

The Saturday daytime crowd is totally different than the Friday afternoon crowd, and we had plenty of daylight in which to photograph the many wonders of nature, engineering and fashion on display there.

I'm continually amazed at what some people consider appropriate "fair wear" (the necklace in the photo above says "Broad St." on one side and "Booze St." on the other - classy)...

I'm also surprised by how many people have tattoos. Quite frankly I halfway expect some of these people's children to have tattoos by the time they start school.

On a side note, I can't imagine my dad having a tattoo - One time when I was a kid and Dad had a bit of razor stubble, Mom wanted to see what he'd look like with a mustache, so before he shaved, she "enhanced" his upper lip with an eyebrow pencil. Totally freaked me out.

And oddly enough, a man wearing that very look was spotted watching the mule show yesterday afternoon.

Back to the tattoo thing... I thank my parents for always discouraging that particular rite of passage and making me so fearful of hepatitis that so much as a tiny flower on my rear-end is totally out of the question. I can appreciate that it's an art and that some people love expressing themselves with ink, but count me out. Next year I might consider a temporary tattoo, just so I'll blend in with the crowd a little better, but the last time I wore one of those I ended up with a butterfly-shaped skin irritation above my ankle.

I've created a photobucket album of 2011 Warren County Fair photos and am posting that slideshow as well...


(I highly recommend that you click the links to view the photo slideshows on photobucket to see the large versions of all the photos.)

Jack and I had thought about putting in the kayaks for a paddle today, but the football game started and our motivation to drag the boats and our gear out to the truck evaporated.

Have a great week everyone --

09.11.11

September 11. We know the significance of the date. We know where we were and who we were with and how we felt ten years ago.

I'm going to spare myself, and all of you, the tear-jerking agony of recounting 09/11/01, my thoughts and feelings... I read and listen to the stories of men like Bill Biggart and Michael Benfante and am humbled by them. I cried during football today thanks to the tributes by Verizon wireless and State Farm that aired during commercial breaks.

Yesterday I had the privilege and honor of once again seeing a bald eagle fly overhead in the wild. Who needs a flag...

Peace be with us all.

And on that note, here's my September 11th tribute --

Goodnight Moon
by Margaret Wise Brown

In the great green room, there is a telephone and a red balloon and a picture of
The cow jumping over the moon
And there were three little bears sitting on chairs
And two little kittens and a pair of mittens
And a little toyhouse and a toy mouse
And a comb and brush and a bowl full of mush
And a quiet old lady who was whispering "hush".

Goodnight room
Goodnight moon
Goodnight cow jumping over the moon
Goodnight bears, goodnight chairs
Goodnight kittens
and goodnight mittens
Goodnight clock and goodnight socks
Goodnight little house
And goodnight mouse
Goodnight comb and goodnight brush
Goodnight nobody
Goodnight mush
And goodnight to the old lady whispering "hush"
Goodnight stars
and goodnight air
Goodnight noises everywhere.

Love hard. Sleep well.

Nature Calls

For the first time in a couple of weeks, Jack and I loaded up the kayaks and hit the water today. Destination: The Rock Island State Park Sandbar.

Both of us are really familiar with the water there and have spent lots of time there over the years, but this was the first time we'd done any exploring there in the kayaks.

We were pleasantly surprised to see other people paddling there - as we arrived a woman about her age was unloading a canoe to take her three grand-daughters out for a spin. Yes. Our age. GRAND-daughters.

The staff at Rock Island were having a free sunset paddle-tour at 6:00, and this woman planned to participate in it, but she wanted to get the little girls accustomed to being in the canoe beforehand. You could either bring  your own boat or use one of the ones the park owns (free of charge), which is a great deal.

Jack and I skipped the tour but applaud the efforts of the staff at Rock Island for making that kind of thing available for folks in this area. The lady paddling with her grand-daughters had driven all the way from near Knoxville with her canoe lashed to the top her her SUV. Kudos to her!

We encountered several critters - herons, geese, kingfishers and another bald eagle. And then there was this little guy pilfering around in the rocks. He looks like a groundhog, but he's not the same color as most groundhogs I've seen. If you've got the ID on this dude, drop me an e-mail and let me know. There's no prize for a correct answer, but bragging rights go a long way in some crowds...

The water was beautiful - still, cool and perfect for dangling your feet over the side...

Signs of autumn are everywhere - the colors on the hills are becoming more golden and fallen leaves float anchorless upon the water.

We stayed out until the near-full moon hung low in the east.

Approaching the boat ramp on our way back, my watering eyes darted back and forth between the two empty water bottles rolling around the floor of my kayak and the building in the middle of the parking lot which houses the restrooms.

"You can make it," I told myself, paddling with unusual intensity toward the ramp (and the three rednecks fishing there), plotting the best path from the water's edge to whichever bathroom door I happened to hit first.

Jack pulled his kayak in first and slung his legs over the side.

"Be careful. It's slick," he cautioned.

I gave myself a bounce and popped out of my kayak to realize that slick didn't even begin to describe the surface my Tevas landed on. I slid backwards - still upright on two feet - until I ran out of ramp and landed rib-cage deep in the cool water.

"Wow!" I exclaimed, looking from Jack to the redneck standing on the ramp and around to the redneck couple in a fishing boat fifteen feet away, "you're right, honey, that IS slick."

"Are you OK?!" Jack asked, eyes as big as saucers.

My eyes looked up that long hill to the building with the ladies room. "Oh yeah," I laughed as the water around me warmed slightly, "I'm just fine."

I'll have a bruise on my knee where I whacked it sliding off the bottom edge of the boat ramp, but at least my ego is still intact.

Porch Life

This is the life, folks... Live-blogging from the front porch on the iPad during the tail-end of an unexpected but welcome late-summer rain storm, watching cars pile-in for an evening at Fishlipz (wow, the spellcheck went nuts on that word)...

Rumor has it that that redneck rock-rapper, Kid Rock is making a special appearance there this evening tonight as summer slides toward conclusion. "Kid" is friends with the owner of Fishlipz, having married "the other Pamela Anderson" at Mr. Fishlipz' establishment on Lower Broad a couple of years ago. It's a definite possibility, but who knows...

The rumor has been enough to draw in a humongous crowd despite the nasty little storm which passed through at dark-thirty...

Due to the heavy traffic we've got the dogs sequestered/imprisoned in the house, so when some friends of ours stopped by for a short visit on their way down to the marina party, we moved our personal party outside to the porch. Moose is big, and he really doesn't understand the concept of weekends and the additional danger presented by drunks in cars who don't care what a freaking sweet and good dog you are, so he tends to be a bit insistent sometimes. And Dudley is no help at all...

So, we've escaped to the porch, since it's currently our only dog-free zone. The rain has eased back to what's now just a pleasant evening, and I don't care, quite frankly, if Dudley is on the couch or not.

We cleaned the kayaks today instead of taking them out on the water, as we'd initially planned. The last time we took them out, we left them in the bed of the truck overnight and got a short downpour the following morning, which left a couple of inches of water in the noses. We bilged it out, but like a dirty kid in the bathtub, it left a ring. With hot temperatures and little rain, a few hours in the yard resulted in leaves, dud beech nuts and assorted "tree trash" accumulating in them.

Rinse. Flip and drain. Sponge. Repeat.

We're planning to get out tomorrow morning - hopefully before the fog burns-off... After the cleaning task this afternoon, Neither Jack nor I felt like getting out, especially with the increased marina traffic. It's one thing to have fun with the wake from the big boats; it's totally different on a holiday weekend like this.

Porch-living. I could get used to this...