Lessons at the Fair

Yesterday Lady M, Little S and I had a lovely trip to a very large fair with Lady M's parents. We'll call them "Jorge'" and "Cinderella" for the purposes of this post. (just randomly chosen names, no specific reason for them)
We began our adventure by forgetting the stroller for little S and having to return home to get it. Thankfully we were only about 10 minutes into the 2+ hour trip. Now, I am not at all fond of these type of events, so when we pulled back into the driveway to retrieve the stroller, I did consider running away to hide under a shrub. Unfortunately, we don't have any shrubs,
so off we went.
Our drive was lovely. Only one pit stop was needed (by me, mostly) and it would have been a quick one, had it not been for the three tour buses filled with senior citizens - mostly ladies - who filed into the restroom just before my fair maiden Lady M got there. (oops) Then, of course, there was the bus that parked directly in front of the parking lot exit because, in the words of the bus driver who I found strolling out of the rest area, "well, first thing's first, ya know." I used my "authority" and "gently" requested that he pull the bus forward a few feet so the cars could get out.....he kindly obliged and we were once again on our way.
We arrived at the fair, and my educational experience began.
(A bit of history)
Growing up, I recall attending a few festivals/fairs. The memories of the one annual festival that we attended consist of riding the Ferris Wheel with "Pap.", throwing ping pong balls in goldfish bowls, and getting annoyed with the other little kids who were riding the train with me and kept ringing the d@mn bell. (yes, I was prudish even as a little tyke.) We attended the other semi-local event primarily for the horse shows, if memory serves correctly. All in all, I know little of Fair etiquette.
(Back to the present)
As it turns out, the main goal of fair attendance is to eat as many different things as possible and play as many inexpensive games as quarters will allow. Shopping must also be squeezed in throughout the day. The way to attain these goals is simply to PACE yourself. Do not eat too much at one time. Choose the order of cuisine based mainly on the layout of the fair, and choose one's path through the fair based on the level of hunger (or nausea as it may be). My personal goal was to have a semi-nutritious lunch and some rice pudding. So, we started off with pierogies (very nutritious). The rice pudding, although nearby, was to come later, when it was time to leave. (This was where I learned my food lesson - Lesson One.)
After snack number one, we began the migration. We formed a sort of train. Jorge' and Cinderella on the motorized scooters, Lady M with the stroller containing Little S, and I following the slow moving caravan, not sure of where to go and somewhat afraid of getting lost among the farm animals.
We soon came upon a balloon man trying desperately to hold onto his large supply of character/animal balloons. (It was a bit breezy and he had a LOT of balloons.)
Grandma (Cinderella) wanted to get Little S a balloon, so a lovely pink dolphin was chosen. Unfortunately, as I was attempting to tie said dolphin to the stroller, the wind blew it at little S, thereby frightening little S and eliciting blood curling screams any time the pink dolphin floated in her direction. The dolphin spent most of the rest of the day tied to the back of Grandma's scooter and I spent most of the day chasing Grandma on the scooter to re-attach the dolphin to the seat so that it wouldn't whack her in the head. The good thing about the balloon on Grandma's scooter was that it made her much easier to find. It is amazing how easy it is to lose "elders" on scooters at a fair. (I should mention that it was senior citizen day and scooters can be rented at the fair).
(Lessons two and three - bring a fish net? or Buy a smaller balloon (2) and Attach a blinking light on a pole to the rear of the scooters (3))
Little S enjoyed her first fair game. She got to pick up swans from a little pool. She's a good picker and even gave the swans back to the game lady. She won TWO prizes - a stuffed beetle and a crab - she picked them out herself. Little S continued her string of victories throughout the day, winning a stuffed frog, dog, unicorn, and lizard of some sort. Not bad for a 10 month old, no? (ok, so she had some help)
(Lesson Four - bring a wagon for the "loot")
All in all, it was a "fair" experience. I learned important lessons, we left with a trunk full of stuffed things, and I got my rice pudding. The best part (for me, anyway) is that the adventure will not occur again for a full year!

Where Are My Pants?!?

Have you ever asked yourself (or someone else, for that matter) the question, "Where are my pants?"
It happened to me a couple of weeks ago . . .

Wow, that sounds a bit risque', doesn't it? Hmmm....well, read on. It will all make sense in a moment.

As I prepared to leave the house for the gym/martial arts school where I train a few times a week, I realized that I had a Gi (Karate uniform) with no pants. Perplexed, I looked around the basement, in the laundry, in my gym bag, any place I could think of where my pants could be hiding. I have an uncanny knack for putting things in strange places when I get distracted, so believe me when I say that I looked everywhere. No pants. Of course, I'm now running late and feeling quite frustrated that I have no bottoms. (I do have other pairs, but that's not the point.)
"How can someone possibly lose a pair of pants?" I asked aloud, exasperated.
"Did you check the laundry?" offered "Lady M", trying to be helpful.
I'm sure she was stifling laughter, however, at my latest frantic search for some important article/item that I absentmindedly misplaced at the most inopportune time. (Not that this happens often, or anything.)

So, off I go, pantsless, to the gym. (How's that for a mental image?)

Let's clear that up. I was wearing shorts, and I had a complete uniform in my bag. Just not that particular pair of pants.

I tend to do my best thinking while driving in the car. (Whoever decided that hand held cell phones are the hazard is wrong, btw, it's the thinking thing that gets me in trouble. I do digress, however.) So, as I'm driving, I go through in my head the last time that I was at the gym. I mentally finished class, went to the locker room, changed my clothes, packed my bag...WAIT....back up....finished class.....YES......that's it.........
On this particular night, I had rushed to change clothes and scamper out because I was meeting some co-workers for a late evening cocktail. OK, so now I know that I had been in a hurry to leave, but that just didn't explain the missing pants.
Then, another image came to mind. I had been at the gym one afternoon since then. I had seen a pair of pants lying on the counter in the locker room. Of course, I had no reason to think that they were mine, but now I was not so sure.
When I arrived at the school (gym - interchangeable, really), I asked "Ms. R" (a friend and lovely lady who works at this place of fitness fun) if she had, by chance, found a pair of pants in the locker room. Her eyes widened with a look of shock and a hint of disgust.
"Geesh," I thought, "what's the big deal?"
Ms. R confirms that she did find a pair of karate pants, then she adds, "They had a pair of panties with them."
PANTIES?!?!?!? (she said panties - this always makes me giggle. I don't know why.)
Sheepishly, I asked what kind, then realized, before she replied, that this may not have been appropriate. I mean, it's one thing to find someone's pants, but quite another to find two pairs. Really, in that sort of situation, are you going to check out the brand of underpants that someone wears?? Ms. R's reply pretty much supported that statement. I never knew her voice could go that high.
"I don't know, I threw them in a locker, I didn't look!" She retorted in a high pitched, faced paced tone.
I slinked my way to the locker room and checked the locker in question. There, in a balled up heap, was a pair of karate pants. I carefully extracted and unrolled them. In the mess was a lovely pair of pink jockey underwear. Yep. They were mine. Of all days to leave my britches behind, I pick the day that I wore PINK UNDERPANTS. How un-macho. I'm not sure which was more embarrassing. The fact that I forgot my pants, or the color factor. (I'm kidding - any color of forgotten underwear is quite disconcerting.)
As I was self-consciously stuffing my pants into my bag, Ms. R. walked in.
I informed her that they were indeed my pants and told her how sorry I was that she had to find my sweaty drawers.
"Hey, at least you know that they were mine," I said, trying to ease the grossness of the situation. (This, apparently, was little solace.)

In the end, we had a good laugh over it, but, from now on, I will DEFINITELY check and recheck to make sure that I have all of my pants.