Even More fair photos
Yesterday, DH and I Joined MJ and RW for breakfast, then took our laptops out to see if they would pick up WIFI at random sites around the neighborhood. Excellent connectivity for both of them. We should be just fine, taking them to Hawaii with us. Next isse- getting a back pack for DH's. He bought me a nice backpack to carry mine just as soon as I got it, but he's had his for months, being way too self-effacing and casual about it. "I don't need anythings special." It's a joy being married to a modest man, but sometimes you need to put your foot down, whip out the credit card, and declare, "I'm buying this, and if you don't like it, you can use mine!" I haven't gotten to that point yet, but soon.
And since the inside of one Fourbucks coffee shop is just like the inside of the next, I dodn't take photos. So here are some more from the fair.
This is the tombstone for a wonder-cow: and "iron grandma" who is an amazing over-achiever in buutterfat production, all without drugs! I don't think she's actually burried right there, because in 1919, they probably weren't about to waste the meat.
Here are bunnies playing at being mirror-images of one another.
There must have been a mirror-image contest going on. Either that, or they were used to hanging out together in one cage at home, and didn't like breing seperated for the show.
A banty rooster who was just as agressive and "Cocky" as any of the big guys. No one refers to a feisty little guy as a banty rooster anymore, but it's such an apt description! (What DO they call a feisty little guy now? A tough little bastard? Oh, silly me. It's not pollitically correct to make any reference to his size. And so, a little more color gets squeezed out of the language.
Guinea hens are so like the grandmothers of the hen-house. They have their pretty black and white spotted dresses, their ample figures, their staid demeanor. These are not grannies who go line dancing or fly off to Cancun with the pool boy. These are farm grannies who make cookies and go to church. There's a certain ammount of Guinea hen in me. On the other hand, if DH would pretend to be the pool boy . . .
And since the inside of one Fourbucks coffee shop is just like the inside of the next, I dodn't take photos. So here are some more from the fair.
This is the tombstone for a wonder-cow: and "iron grandma" who is an amazing over-achiever in buutterfat production, all without drugs! I don't think she's actually burried right there, because in 1919, they probably weren't about to waste the meat.
Here are bunnies playing at being mirror-images of one another.
There must have been a mirror-image contest going on. Either that, or they were used to hanging out together in one cage at home, and didn't like breing seperated for the show.
A banty rooster who was just as agressive and "Cocky" as any of the big guys. No one refers to a feisty little guy as a banty rooster anymore, but it's such an apt description! (What DO they call a feisty little guy now? A tough little bastard? Oh, silly me. It's not pollitically correct to make any reference to his size. And so, a little more color gets squeezed out of the language.
Guinea hens are so like the grandmothers of the hen-house. They have their pretty black and white spotted dresses, their ample figures, their staid demeanor. These are not grannies who go line dancing or fly off to Cancun with the pool boy. These are farm grannies who make cookies and go to church. There's a certain ammount of Guinea hen in me. On the other hand, if DH would pretend to be the pool boy . . .
posted by roxie @ 6:28 AM
5 Comments:
At 8:25 PM ,
Willow said...
I'm loving these posts about the fair! I get a new and improved view of fair going with each observation.
At 8:22 AM ,
Donna Lee said...
We saw a turkey vulture walking on the sidewalk yesterday while driving through our town. I wanted to stop and take a photo but didn't want the hassle of an auto accident. The guinea hens almost looks like nuns from the old days when nuns wore habits.
At 9:49 AM ,
Alwen said...
I love taking pictures of the chickens at the fair. It's such a challenge to capture their personalities in a photo.
At 9:51 PM ,
Amy Lane said...
I could be a guinea hen... but I'm more like the knitting chicken in Chicken Run! (We can't call little men bantam roosters anymore? If I can be a guinea hen, Curmudgeonly Colleague can be a banty rooster...)
At 11:18 AM ,
The Fibers of Life said...
The fair always heralds the end of summer. It was pretty much a given when we lived in Milwaukie that Labor Day weekend would include a trip to the fair. I remember one trip we made with our girls. We became fascinated by a "vendor" who was touting his wonderful cookware. We sort of egged each other on and we went home with some new cookware, not the expensive stainless steel kind but nice and heavy at any rate. The girls each took pieces to their respective homes and as far as I know some of it is still in use somewhere. I still have a large lid to a skillet that has fit several large pans.
Love all the animals. The size of some of those cows and bulls is amazing. And well, there is nothing quite like a well hung pig :-)
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