I was at the county fair for the first time. Funnel cakes and lemonade I have seen before, in an amusement park I used to work at, in Denver. But the rest was pretty much extraordinary for me. Like all these tractors, Farmalls, John Deeres, Internationals, Allis Chalmerses, most of which made before I was even planned to be born, some were made before my parents were born.

My wife and I signed up to win a tractor. We bought a 1 dollar chance, so maybe, if we are lucky, we will drive a brand old Oliver in the fall.

We looked into an old schoold building, there were small wooden desks for each kid, with a hole for black ink I guess, and there was a recitation bench, which I passed with a thrill, even now, being a graduate.

And there was a small house from the 19th century. It smelled like old wood inside, old kitchen tools. It had one big kitchen slash living room slash bedroom downstairs, and two small bedrooms upstairs, with wooden commode by the stairs. Something new for me. It was a reminder that there was something before airconditioned, 3 garage houses around here.

It was a rodeo night and a guitar hero game night. But we never got to those attractions. It’s all because of a sheep. While we were oh-ing and auh-ing at those nice black and gray creatures in the county fair barn, one stressed out sheep just turned back and fetilze our clothes and skin. Maybe it was because of the shearing contest. Who knows. But we decided to see the rodeo next year.