"To complain without offering a solution is just whining. Don't do it."

This, along with how to track hand me downs and store linens, was among the nuggets of wisdom picked up at my last knit night. 

So, yeah. I guess I am about to whine about contracting the flu. But seeing as there is no solution for being so sick you just want to die so your hair will stop hurting, what's my alternative? Whine, whine. whine. 

What's the rest of yous excuse?

All you whiners who complained about my lack of posting without offering a solution..?. Not one of you offered to bring me a case of kimchi, massage my piggies, or referee squabbles over the right colored markers so I could either rest and recuperate or post, making you all a bunch of whiners. 

The only really helpful solution came in the form of a text. 

"I'm heading to the State Fair. You know you want to!!"

I did, too. 

So, we did.

And for a whole afternoon I felt like a normal person. The fair has magic powers. Or the Hot Dog on a Stick 42 ounce lemonade does. Either way, it was the least puking fun I've had in what feels like a long time. 

The kids think anything with a corn dog, baby animals, and their buddy Spiderman (who yesterday spent most of the day as a Pirate) is a great time. My children think they are baby goats with the way they nuzzled and cuddled the little beasties. It worked to our advantage that I recognized one of the women who raised baby goats from our other goat fest a few months ago. She gave the kids handfuls of special grain so they could feed them. What can I say? We get around. My culinary skills might leave something to be desired, but I've got mad baby goat hook ups. Scrunch even cuddled a chicken.

I might want to go to the fair every day for the next two weeks. Or six months if we can convince them to stay.