We were beyond excited this year to head to the fair now that our little Justine is much less “squirming lump” and much more “mobile ball of unbridled energy,” old enough to appreciate some of the sights and sounds this fantastic event has in store.  We arrived early, soon after the gates open, and threw ourselves into experiencing the various shows and booths.  In quick succession we watched a troupe of acrobatic dogs, a family of bears capable of riding bicycles (although not bicycling backwards nor blowing bubbles) and a group of wakeboarders “shredding” some two by fours with the help of a modified lawn mower engine and a tow rope.

After a quick stop at the New York State Potato Growers Association booth for a nutritious breakfast (a loaded potato), we headed to the livestock buildings to show our daughter what all the animals look like close up.  While she found the 1234324 varieties of rabbits fascinating, she was less enthralled with the cattle, perhaps because of the nonchalance with which they relieved themselves, sporting a “so?  I pooped?” look of indifference on their faces. Frankly, I was surprised Justine didn’t identify with them.  She probably wondered what size diaper they should’ve been wearing.

We grabbed a quick lunch around noon, with Kim and Justine snacking on a chicken pita, while I decided on a slightly less healthy “fried sampler,” consisting of two fried oreos, two fried chocolate chip cookies, and a fried peanut butter and jelly (as a main course).  The particular booth I patronized actually offered a “you bring it, we’ll fry it” service, which I skeptically assumed was an empty promise until the guy in front of me was handed his fried hamburger.  Only at the fair.

After lunch, it became clear that our well-behaved toddler was quickly devolving into an over-tired “fussy monster,” and so we weighed our options.  We decided to try and find a quiet spot, nurse her (that would be my wife’s task) and then hopefully get her to fall asleep in the stroller.  That is how we found ourselves under some bleachers in the horse coliseum, pushing a stroller in figure eights in a vain attempt to bring about naptime while teams of horses pulled old fashioned stagecoaches around a dirt track nearby.  Judging by the knowing glances and snickers of passers by, our attempts at causing spontaneous napping was failing badly.  Intent on enjoying more of the fair, we fell back to plan B.  Ignoring her, and just walking about, in hopes she’d just pass out.

This failed too.

Finally we decided to leave the fair, and then ride the shuttle back to the parking lot in hopes she’d fall asleep on the bus.  After a few roundtrips and a chastising from the bus driver (“you can’t just ride the bus all day…”), we fell back to our final plan.  We went back to the car, laid our now inconsolable child into her car seat, turned up her baby tunes, and waited.

Two minutes.  That’s all it took and she was out cold.  She slept for the next hour and a half as we returned to the fair, visiting the dairy building for twenty five cent chocolate milk and frozen cheesecake on a stick, trying to find bathrooms that were not overflowing with fairgoers, and strolling through the two buildings full of vendors hawking everything from steam powered mops to ShamWows to Jesus.  (My favorite was The Right to Life booth, which was giving out plastic fetuses).  When she finally woke up, we visited the pigs and the petting zoo (with a real live giraffe!), let her learn the harsh truth about carnival games (which she didn’t – she wanted to take the rubber ducks rather than the prize), grabbed a quick dinner and headed out, some nine hours after we had arrived.

All in all, another magical day at the Great New York State Fair.  If you ever have the chance to attend, I heartily recommend it – and try the deep fried Milky Way.  It will change you.  Forever.

- MWF -

Happy Fatherhood Friday to all, and to all a good day!

As the calendar turns to September, Central New York suddenly turns into ground zero for apple-picking enthusiasts.  Seemingly overnight, a lengthy stretch of Route 20 near LaFayette turns into Apple Alley, awash in orchards with signs emblazoned with “U-Pick-Em” and “Apple Fritters” and “If You Can Read This – You’re In Range.”  Folks come from far and wide to partake in the picking process, and at dirt cheap prices, who can blame them?

I must admit that, having grown up outside of Philadelphia, I had no idea there were varieties of apples outside of the dark red Red Delicious that my mother always bought, let alone the dozens that are actually grown around here.  Nor had I ever experienced the joy of plucking a HoneyCrisp or a Gala apple straight from the tree, wiping off the excess DDT (so as to avoid harmful mutation) and taking a delicious bite, before chucking it over the trees in hopes of knocking a hapless picker off of their ladder perch.  I heartily recommend the trip if you have an orchard nearby.

We decided Labor Day morning to head out to Beak and Skiff, the number one place around here to go picking, and headed down that way right around the time they opened.  The crowds were thin, something that changes drastically as September wears on.  Instead of waiting 20 minutes in the line for the tractor as usual, instead we sat on the tractor and waited for other people to show.  We were soon out at the trees, which had been barely touched this early in the season, and proceeded to fill up our bag with the JonaMacs they were picking that day.

Faithful readers (Mom) will recall of course our apple adventure last year with my parents – Justine was but a few months old and while she gave a decent effort wasn’t particulary adept at grabbing the fruit off the trees.  This year, with her now ambulatory and rambunctious, we were able to get her to adorably grab the apples off the trees and throw them in the bag with a reasonably high success rate.  But what she really loved, as evidenced by the sizable wet apple stains down her dress, was consuming the apples.  We’d get her started with a bite, and then she just nibbled away.

I suppose I never really thought about how to eat an apple, but I assumed I always realized there was a core and not to eat it.  Justine, apparently not understanding this, actually ate the apple from the ends, and right through the core.  Frankly I’m still amazed that she did this, as in my experience, you’ll break your teeth on the core and grow apple trees out of your stomach by consuming the seeds.  (Man, that was a crazy summer.)  Regardless though, she loved it, as evidenced by the nuclear meltdown she had when we tried to spirit the half eaten JonaMac away from her sticky hands.

All in all it was a pleasant, and quick affair, and we left just as the main crowds began to arrive.  With a long naptime still ahead of us, we’d still find some time to relax this Labor Day.

And eat some apples to boot.