Thursday, October 17, 2013

When you photobomb the blogger...

This month, when Little brother scolded me for not blogging, he used my middle name. Apparently he means business. Okay, okay. Cool your jets, young blood.

The Deerfield Fair! What is there to say that I haven't already said over the years? Little brother and his wife come up from Charlotte. We eat a lot. We laugh a lot, mostly at each other. Let's take a stroll through the film clip and see what comes up . . . Gerty, roll the tape.
Yes, it's true. They were selling balls. To eat.
Little brother was a complete jerk every time I took a picture.
Seriously. Cranky stepfather is not impressed. But Cranky stepfather is never impressed.
These things are still ugly.

So every fair has its craft exhibits. And it's become clear to me that they let just about any riff raff in.

Exhibit A:

My mom's blue ribbon winner!
Exhibit B:
My imaginary bf Ted Nichols, amazing every year.
A second Ted Nichols piece! I love this painting. Also, this is getting stupid.
The guy lives down the street. I just don't have the lady balls to contact him and tell him I'm a fan.

Exhibit C:
Wait--what's this amidst all the 'merica goods? That there, off to the right...

Gerty, pan closer. Is that a blue ribbon?
 Damn, that thing is stunning! Closer...
Can we see some detail please...
In case you are into this sort of thing, it's one thread
over one square on 40-ct linen. It was a total little bitch to stitch.
 My first entry into the fair and my first blue ribbon! Yay me! When I went to collect my piece days later, a fellow crafter in line struck up a conversation with me and asked which piece was mine:

Me: It's a small cross stitch piece... not sure how to describe it. There's a's really small...
Fellow crafter: Wait...was it the red one?!
Me, whispering inside and mentally high-fiving myself: yessss!

But before you get all "Damn, Kelly's awesome and winnin' blue ribbons 'n shit; how can I be more like her," please note that about a foot away from my painstaking work was this other blue ribbon winner:
Yes. I'm in the company of the iconic Hang In There kitty.

And of course there are the obligatory animal pictures:


Huh, look at that. Little brother is being all nice and stuff.

I came upon this scene. I'm guessing Cranky stepfather and Little brother are
picking on each other. Mom is in hysterics. I love it.

Aaaand back to asshattery.

My heart breaks a little every time I see an apostrophe used this way.

Christmas shopping for Little brother: Check!
Then the sound of screeching breaks:

Wait, let me get a picture before you dig in...awesome.
Thanks for sticking your face into the frame.
So the chocolate-covered bacon. was. not. good. It was too sweet--sigh, yes, I just wrote that. Mom tried her hand at it a couple days later:
At the fair, the chocolate was overpowering. At home, I could barely taste the chocolate over the bacon. I think it needed salt, frankly. Sea salt would give it a little crunch and maybe marry the two flavors. I'm sure someone out there has figured this out. I have faith that there is an answer to the bacon/chocolate question.

Meanwhile, this happened:
An apple? At the fair? I didn't think that was possible.
And frankly, it's like I don't even know you, Ligia.

Truth. No effing fried pickles again this year.

We asked Little brother to take a picture of us. A photographer, he is not.
Poor Mom, popping out of a sprig of tall grass . . .
In case you're wondering, no. Nothing is serious in our family.
So thank you, Little brother, for reminding me to write a blog entry. Where would I be without you, m'dear?



  1. YAY finally. Man did I check in at the right time.

    Last two pics are awesome-tastic.

    I scolded Ligi for eating an apple at the fair...that's just...not what it's about.

    1. Thanks for being such a good sport! The pictures of you crack me up every time.