State Fair diversion

My upper respiratory infection didn't stop me from enjoying the variety of Heather's birthday week. We started with an Alice Peacock concert at Lit last weekend and ended with the Oklahoma State Fair yesterday. In between I missed two days of work...that fever just wouldn't stay down.
Amy brought Caleb--who enjoyed steppin' out of his stroller for the first time. Firmly corralled between Heather, Rebecca, or me, he actually strut all around the buildings. The first stop was for me and Heather: cooking demonstrations. When you saute beef stir-fry, you know you're supposed to cook the veggies first and then remove them while you cook the beef? I didn't...and the samples were perfectly al dente (can you say that about vegetables?) unlike the sloppy mess my stir-fry usually turn out. Caleb was bored with that building, so we headed out for the next event.
Which only proves that if something can be motivated, people will race it. And if there's racing, more people will watch. Yes, we attended Swifty Swine Productions' pig races. I didn't peer behind the bleachers, but no money changed hands! Just the aforementioned motivation: oreos.
Caleb got a much bigger thrill out of the petting zoo and the baby chicks in the FFA exhibit. Just like I got a bigger thrill out of the car building. No Hondas...I guess Toyota (who took up a sizable chunk of the showroom) can't take the foreign competition. Out of the car makers there, Jeep's 2008 line most impressed me - except the concept car looked like Hummer merged with Playskool. Hopefully my Honda will last long enough for Tesla to come up with a suitable 4-wheeler.
As for fair food: I'll have to go back next year and try something else. Indian Tacos, of which I have experience several exhalations, are smothered in cheese. Deep fried stuff hasn't enticed me for years: I always regret it later, like soda. The kabobs were forgettable, but the roast corn was worth more than the $3 I paid. Next time I'll try the turkey leg.
Oh yes, there will be a next time. Blood will tell, apparently: hopefully my farm boy Dad and country girl Mom can join me.

Reality Football

Growing up in an east coast college town did not prepare me for Oklahoma fanaticism about their college football teams. Around the office this time of year, the bets, dares, & pranks get out of control. My favorite was when the OU fans decorated the outspoken Texas Longhorns fan's desk with Sooner party fixings - poor guy was picking crimson & cream confetti out of his files for weeks.

However, I have never gotten to go to a football game, so I try to keep my laughter down to a murmer...I've observed serious fans with little sense of humor. Friday I went out for drinks with some guys from work and Tom told us a vendor had given him two tickets to the OU-Miami game. He wasn't sure he wanted to go, and offered them up to the table.

I had a flashback to my childhood. At the time the rivalry was a bigger deal to WVU than to Miami - until the year Miami came to town and received a pounding. The crowd mobbed the field after WVU won and I'm sure their are pieces of the goal posts floating around fan collections all over the state of West Virginia.

Yeah, I wanted to see OU scatter Miami like those goalposts. I called my friend Rachel and claimed the tickets.

I am sitting here now, hours after the game, exhausted from walking, climbing to the top of the stadium seating, cheering, and the sun. I'm sunburnt. And I love football. OU delivered Miami the biggest loss they've taken in the history of their program. They gave me my wish.

busy day

You wish for summer days like today. Sunny, not scorching. Breezy, not too windy. Skies blue for miles. The biker brothers were out and I was so excited about house hunting I didn't even care I wasn't on one. I picked up Melissa, grabbed some Starbucks, and met my realtor. She had a stack of MLS sheets so we hopped into her SUV and drove toward historic Oklahoma City. Since I'm the prospective buyer, I took the navigators' seat.
We exited the highway and stopped at the red light on the top of the ramp. When the light turned green we pulled out to make the left turn. I didn't even feel it...just heard the THUMP and saw dark debris scatter over the road to the right. That's when I saw the unmistakable shape of a motorcycle spinning, sliding across the pavement down the cross street. The pile of metal, leather, and the helmetless head came to a stop 150 feet away long after our SUV mountain ceased moving.
I noted that the poor biker was able to move and there was a remarkable lack of blood when I heard Melissa say how is 911 busy? All I could think was Where did that bike come from? Our light was green so they must have run the red light? Why was that idiot not wearing a helmet?
I felt so bad for my realtor. At least the rider was moving. The accident could have been so much worse. The cops had few questions and Melissa and I were the only witnesses who hadn't left the scene. Everybody else was honking angrily at their long weekend commute stalled by emergency vehicles blocking the intersection.There was no question of fault: our light was green and the bike hit us. But the nice guys leave the scene last, I guess.
SUVs may be gas guzzlers, but the oversized "cage" certainly keeps its passengers safe.
The house hunting is rather anticlimactic after that, I suppose...and maybe I won't put a bike into that detached garage just yet...