Wilder by Far

A look at life with the Wilder family. Updated most weekends and some vacation days. You can contact me at movingnorth@gmail.com..

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Wednesday, August 10, 2005

"A man's got to know his limitations." - Harry Callahan


Like I said, we went to the fair. We got all the way to the Democrats and then I had to stop, mainly because I saw a few of you in the back, nodding off. So, assuming you're rested, here's more. The picture above is more like what you'd normally see on any given drive through a neighborhood in Alaska, a nice friendly "Welcome Neighbor" greeting. My only beef with these signs is I have never heard of a .357 in a semi-auto pistol.

We also were in time for the Big Friggin' Cabbage weigh off. Below is a picture of a Big Friggin' Cabbage. You can click on it for a larger version.

These cabbages are huge - as big as the pods that turned into people in "Invasion of the Body Snatchers." I'm not sure I could sleep well with a batch of these growing out back of the log cabin. First, I hate cabbage. Second, I would wake up and find that Donald Sutherland, Kevin McCarthy, or, worst of all, Kiefer Sutherland had taken over my body. Then I would have one of their careers, and, well, eww. The only bonus to waking up and being Kiefer Sutherland is that I would not have been married to Julia Roberts. Kiefer dodged a bullet on that one. (For those of you purists, I know that Kiefer wasn't in an "Invasion" movie. I just like typing "Kiefer.")

As a buddy of mine says, "It's all about the cabbage." And, given the long daytime during the summers, I'm willing to bet that even if you drench your garden in Miracle-Gro down in Missouri, Alaska probably produces the biggest cabbages in the world. Not that I'd want to eat it, no matter how big it was.

Since.
It's.
Cabbage.

And cabbage sucks. There was also some big honking pieces of broccoli. Although this was impressive broccoli, it was still broccoli. Now, a 700 pound steak . . .

Anyway, we progressed our way down the booths until we got to the midway/carnival.

I didn't think The Boy would even want to ride one of the rides, but he surprised me: he saw "The Sizzler" and wanted on. I bought the tickets (after he won stuffed animals by picking up ducks) and away we went. He loved it, laughing like a mad scientist whose creature has just come alive while the Sizzler continued to spin us at 750 rpm. He bounded away and wanted to ride the squirrel cage.

The squirrel cage is like a Ferris Wheel, but the carts can do a full 360-degree rotation. It also rotates around its central axis near the speed of sound. The squirrel cage reminded me why people my age should not be fighter pilots. Inertia, like cabbage, sucks. The Boy got into the squirrel cage, and all was well, until it started moving. Then, his enjoyment was replaced by abject terror.

"Make it stop!!!!!"

"I can't, you'll have to wait. Calm down."

About 90 seconds later (probably like 10 years for him) the ride stopped. Then five more minutes to get off the ride. A bonus of the ride was that while waiting in line to get on the squirrel cage, some older boys gave The Boy a toy plastic gun, a machine gun about three feet long. He was thrilled. His little brother, The New Boy (three months old) shakes like Jello during an earthquake when it makes its faux machine-gun sound. This is, no doubt, the first of many indignities that The New Boy will have to live through at the hands of The Boy.

After waiting with The New Boy while we waited in line for and then rode the squirrel cage, The Mrs. was ready to go home - The New Boy's conversation skills mainly involve drooling. Just standing there watching The Boy and I standing in line proved to be a bit much for her patience. I was also a bit worse for wear after being on two rides. I am no longer 18, and have no reason to impress anyone at a carnival.

So, after the brush with total terror, what was The Boy's response?

"I want to ride that one." (Pointing at The Octopus.)

Okay, I'm impressed. He's a keeper. Or, he doesn't know when to quit.

10 Comments:

Anonymous Penny Pressed said...

While I don't want to pressure you to eat anything that remotely reminds you of Kiefer, don't rule out the cabbage just yet. I was a staunch cabbage hater, because I, like you, thought it tasted a lot like Donald Sutherland. But one day I had it cooked just the right way, and now I've been converted. Of course, I only have it on St. Paddy's day, so whatever.

7:36 AM  
Blogger the Witch said...

Yup, he's a keeper.

I'm with you, probably more afraid of the giant (((quiver)) cabbage than any rusted out, wobbling carnival ride.

My local supermarket sells those baby / designer / organic cabbage heads. They don't scare me. What could possibly come out of one of those? Joel Grey? Bobby Short?

8:31 AM  
Blogger Garry said...

Next year, I'm going to grow giant cabbages just to show I'm not a scaredy-cat.

12:10 AM  
Blogger the Witch said...

Remember cabbage patch dolls?

10:14 AM  
Blogger Garry said...

Now, they WERE scary.

1:40 PM  
Blogger John said...

I can see it now, The Amazing St. Patrick's Day Cabbage Patch Doll Diet. Damn, I could be the next Dr. Atkins . . . .

6:08 PM  
Blogger Woofwoof said...

In California, some people plant giant cabbage as ornamental plants. Serious! We are definitely weird.

7:32 AM  
Anonymous birdie said...

Your posts have enticed me to visit Alaska...seems like home away from home. :D

8:41 AM  
Blogger John said...

woof,
so you can make Christmas ornaments out of plants??? wow!

birdie,
If you like cold . . . this is THE place.

12:26 PM  
Blogger Woofwoof said...

We don't have Christmas here, but we do have holidays such as Cinco de Mayo and Kwanzaa. I guess planting cabbage on their front lawns gives people a feeling of being Earth-friendly even when they drive around in big SUVs.

10:14 PM  

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