Yesterday Dear Sir and I piled the kids in the VW and went to the small town about 20 minutes away. The man heard there was a carnival and so we decided that we would attempt to go. I almost fell over when he suggested it. Really, it was quite an out of the ordinary thing. Usually when we are in crowded places I have to talk Dear Sir down to his happy place because he can't mentally handle it. Going somewhere like Six Flags or Disneyland is simply out of the question under usual circumstances. The man is petrified of camping, so he avoids the man at church during "camp time" so he can save himself the embarrassment of explaining that he hates camping, yes he is a bit like Frasier Krane, and his wife is a close second to Lilith at times. Why on earth do you want to urinate outside, put worms on a hook and fish in murky lake water, dig around in dirt, put up a tent, sleep on the ground in a sleeping bag, etc? All the man can think about is fleas, ticks, bears, animals, skunk spray, mosquitoes, germs, icky camp bathrooms, latrines, poison ivy, sweating, backaches, camp food (heaven forbid), and you get the picture. The Girl constantly mentions camping and we constantly dread hearing about it.
So, we tried to find the carnival. We went up and down the road it was "supposed" to be on but it was not there. Eventually we went to the Dairy Queen in the town (we tried to find IT before and couldn't---at least this time we did) and got some ice cream. Actually, Dear Sir wanted to ask someone "just in passing" where in tarnation was that carnival, really? The Dairy Queen guy said, "Sorry, it was only Saturday and Sunday." Of course, of course. The day Dear Sir wants to face his fear he gets out of it.
I got a Buster Bar (my favorite) and ate the thing, relishing every bite. I was a complete idiot and looked at the calorie label on the plastic wrapper. My heart almost stopped. Dear Sir noticed I was about to have a panic attack and said, "Rachel, give me a break. Enjoy something for once in your life! I don't want to hear it!" Then I think he said some thing about Paris Hilton or being "one of those people" and I quit. I tried my best in the car later to justify consuming that many calories. I mean, I am not a twig and I am not a *total* health freak, but trust me, when it takes a person four years of strenuous exercise and dieting to get thirty pounds off, it messes with your mind, baby.
I noticed Dear Sir ate a "medium" Oreo Blizzard. When he finished he said, "I am going to skip dinner."
Can I throw up my hands? And no, I didn't skip dinner.
So, we did not get to the carnival, we drove around in search of it for a good bit before hitting the DQ, and then we went home.
If we can get to a carnival, maybe next year the man will come to me and say, "I think we should go camping this year." That is when I will put a stop to this and say, "We are going to Six Flags and you will go on a roller coaster. We will also go to Disneyland and you will hug Goofy." But truly, hell will freeze over when he comes to me wanting to go camping. Camping is a thing chock full of Dear Sir's Room 101's and it is just not happening. I guess I will have to take the kids to Hershey Park or some place like that on my own. Anyone wanna come with?