Yesterday we went to a fall festival. And the weather had me so pissed off that I turned to Jerry at one point as we were huddled under an awning trying to avoid a downpour and said, "Wanna leave?" This coming from a total cheapskate after we had already paid our admission fee and hadn't even made it into the park yet. I was so mad that I was willing to forgo the 8 bucks and retreat home under our own roof. Fall schmall.
It had taken us more than an hour to get out the door after changing our clothes multiple times to reflect the rapidly fluctuating temperature outside. We grabbed a change of clothes for Allison, diapers, wipes, toys, pre-sliced grapes and crackers for snacks, the camera, hoodies for both of us, money, keys ... but NOT our umbrellas.
Thankfully, the rain tapered to a drizzle and we opted to deal with it.
Allison being patient while I perused one of many booths filled with
pumpkin-themed goodies. I included this because I KNOW you always
wanted to see a picture of my feet in mud-caked flip flops. You're welcome.
Her second time on the boats? Psh. Old pro. I can picture her sitting
the same way behind the wheel of her first car, arm out the window
chatting with friends as it idles in the driveway. "Yeah, I've got to be
back by 7 because my mom says I have to do my MATH HOMEWORK."
We ran into our friend Natalie, her husband and their frigging adorable kids.
Allison on the cars? Yep, driving with her arm out the window.
And this? THIS? SARAH PALIN for sale in a homey weathered
country-kitsch frame? SHOOT ME, AMERICA. Shoot me.
She's a politician. Not a sex object or someone who belongs on
your living room wall next to pictures of your kids. Lets save the
weathered wood frames for Jesus, shall we?
In the sweatshirt. Out of the sweatshirt. Back in it
again. All those outfit changes must've tired her out.