Monday, September 22, 2014

No black heels, but lots of tractor wheels.

This post title is in reference to one of the many books I read this summer.

When one of your closest friends asks you, “do you want to go to a tractor show with me?” the only appropriate answer is “yes.”

So K and I hopped in the car and made the trek to…somewhere past the airport (remember, directionally challenged) to an annual tractor show that is near and dear to her heart and boy it was fun. I had such a great time hanging out with and her family.

I don’t know whether to feel concerned or happy that I did not feel out of place in the slightest. Maybe it was because I grew up in Paulding County. Maybe it was because I have family in Indiana, which is pretty country. Regardless, nothing made me go “woah” in the “woah, is that real life?” Instead I went “woah, that’s a big wheel” and “woah, that’s a cute child” and “woah, that’s a mean looking bunny.”

We sampled appropriate festival food—like ice cream that was churned by some sort of tractor contraption.

I took lots of pictures, which is always a win.

And then afterwards we went and watched the game in my most favorite way ever—pre-recorded so we could fast forward past media time-outs and commercials. That, combined with great people, a comfy couch, and water, beer, and pizza at hand—is quite possibly the most perfect way for Diana to enjoy a game.

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