The Yesterday Post

I've noticed lately that I'm very good at starting out posts with, "so yesterday..." This is regardless of if something happened today. I always seem to get behind. It's why I could never stand to keep a journal. I hate writing if something hasn't happened, and when it does I'm too busy to write. So instead I try to think back on events, and my memory is not so much good, so you can imagine how well that turns out.

Anyway. Yesterday I took my nieces to the fair. I also went to the library, but that wasn't very exciting. And I went to the gym, but again, old news--though I am rather proud of myself for making myself run past the point I usually want to stop at, which is not that far from the point when I start running...But back to the fair. My nieces are barely 3, and they're tiny, which might have something to do with them being twins, but I think there's a very good chance that after this experience they now harbor fears of sheep. We were walking past the animals and all of the sudden this huge sheep just sticks its head out and bleats at the top of its lungs. My little niece jumped soooo high, and then hid behind her mom. Her sister then looked back to see where the loud noise came from, and the sheep just ahead of her did the same thing. They were both rather startled and were not all that excited to stay in the large animal area. The rabbits and fowls were much more pleasant. Whenever I see chickens with huge head feathers I think of my little sis, and especially the chicken in our West Valley neighborhood with the feathers that looked like dreadlocks, and said sister making us stop the car to look at the thing whenever it randomly appeared. It always makes me wonder, looking at the artwork and stuff, at how exactly they grade that stuff. Do they do it by age? A lot of it, especially ceramic works, makes me think, "They won a ribbon for that?" My dad thinks they give ribbons to all who enter, mainly because for Young Womens a few years ago my sister had to paint a ceramic squirrel with a pot on its head, and she got a ribbon for it. She didn't so much spend any time on the thing, so it was bright pink, but had black dripping down from the pot, and basically he reasoned that if she got a ribbon for that, they all must have. Or possibly that they thought she was handicapped. Anyway, at the vegetable portion my older sister and I noticed the tiniest tomato I've ever seen on the "large wares" table. It looked lonely, surrounded by all the huge stuff. So essentially that was the fair. Snow cones there were a rip off, so we ended up going and getting slurpees instead.

That same day I finally put in the order for the Big Ol' D shirts. What a relief.