I knew it.

Blake thinks I'm a paranoid person. And I am. There are, however, good reasons to be on constant lookout for the safety of yourself and others.

Did I tell you all we went to the fair? No, because I'm a terrible person and haven't updated my blog since Moses parted the Red Sea (which was awhile ago). Well, we went to the Pensacola Interstate Fair. I decided to be a fun person for once in my life and go on rides. It took a good deal of courage and confidence-boosting hand-holding. Blake reassured me the rides were fine and even though they made funny noises and were rusty and went at whiplash-inducing speeds, that they were perfectly safe. HA!

It's a good thing we didn't wait a couple of days to go because a huge piece of a ride that we'd gone on flew off and injured four people. Luckily, I didn't get injured, but the Tidal Wave did give me was a serious stomach ache. Well... the ride plus fried dough plus soda plus cotton candy plus sausage sandwich and fries plus corn on the cob. But it was totally the ride that gave me a stomach ache, right? Fair food is the best and I refuse to believe it would do me harm. On a sidenote, we didn't eat anything on a stick, which is almost unavoidable (alligator, steak, various meats, fried oreos, ice cream and candy bars).

The fair was smaller than I thought it would be. Probably the smallest fair I've ever been to, which is really saying something considering I grew up with the Fonda Fair. Fonda does have a racetrack, though. I was shocked that Pcola didn't have tractor pulls. Blake almost shed tears when he found out. Much to my chagrin, I too, was disappointed. I missed that exhaust smell and the put-put-putt of the antique tractor display.

It was worth going, though, just to walk through the gigantic building of themed booth displays (recycling, crafting, christmasing), see the old cars, paintings and photographs; to eat the food and yes... ride the (apparently super-dangerous) rides.