Note: I haven't proofread this, and I don't think it comes across as finished - - but our internet service keeps passing out for reasons unknown, and I'm jotting it up while I have a chance.
It's fair season.
We get a few in a row, starting with Oktoberfest at Fort Gordon, then one in downtown Augusta, GA, moving on to one in Aiken, SC, and finally one conveniently close to our home in Evans, GA. We go, I take pictures and ride old favorites, and Didge? Didge roams constantly, refusing to sit while consuming gallons of energy drinks and ragging me about the fact that I really just don't like flying around upside down anymore. (Maybe it's age, but I don't want to throw up on my shoes in front of total strangers.) He goes absolutely maniacally serious, walks in six-foot strides, adhering to a plan no one knows and that he won't share. Me? I jog. I jog along behind him and take snapshots, and am granted occasional breaks to ride my old favorites. Sometimes I get to sit down. In the end, it's great fun, but after last year I am approaching it all with sincere trepidation.
I won't go into detail as I don't want a migraine, but a friend saw us (Didge storming, me jogging along behind) and told us later he started to say hello, but that Didge looked like he was on a mission. He was, but I don't know what it was, since he just circled...and circled...and circled. He reminded me of Jaws. That day was potently *bad* until the crowd thinned out, with Didge caffeinated to the gills and grouchy from extreme overwork (he was coming off a week of back-to-back doubles), and five billionty unruly tweens on dedicated missions to barrel into us and push us out of lines. I nearly suffered a breakdown standing in line for vinegar fries, but, hey - I got to eat as many of them as I wanted due to all the jogging, right? I'm all about a silver lining.
I have to note: We went back for a second go a couple of evenings later, and had one of the best times we've ever had. Didge apologized profusely time and time again and bought me all kinds of yummy treats. That evening is what I'll be using as my "happy place" when the going gets tough this year. I'll just close my eyes and go there, and everything will be alright.
Between now and our first foray, I have to make a take-with list that includes Ace bandages for Didge's shoulders (he's trying to break a personal record for riding the Top Spin). We're scoping out the arrival of a train bringing stuff for the downtown event, and planning to head to the one at Fort Gordon on Thursday. Here's hoping Didge carries himself calmly, but that he roams enough to make me jog off all the funnel cakes and vinegar fries.
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