Second Fiddle

I gotta admit I am a sucker for street fairs. I simply adore the vaguely criminal element, the shanty town-like atmosphere, the tattoos and tank tops. Oh, the tank tops. And lest we forget, the tepid, overpriced beer.

I think it reminds me of my youth, when I used to step round the broken beer bottles and broken carneys of the McClain County Fair.

Thankfully, living in Super Liberal Town gives us plenty of opportunities to stroll among the masses of stained glass, funnel cones and those little metal things with the colored ball on the end that you are supposed to stick in your garden.

The last two weekends have given us back to back street fairs. And on my one day off, Diana has indulged my almost religious enthusiasm. I’d stand by the front door, bouncing and shouting, “Come on! We’re going to miss the dried out $9 bratwurst! And if I miss the ‘Battle of the Terrible Bands’ there’s gonna be Hell to pay!”

Luckily, street fairs allow dogs, so we can have the entire clan attend. Street fair time is Grover’s favorite time of the year too because it is a veritable smorgasbord of dropped nachos, dropped gyro meat and corn dogs. Although I spend way more time yanking chicken bones out of Grover’s throat than I care to admit.

And Grover is the bell of the ball. We can’t walk five feet without someone stopping us to talk about the dog. There is just something about genetically engineered superdogs that bring out the people.

The weird thing? No one gives a boo about Elijah. I think we’ve established that he is among the cutest children on the face of the earth. He gets mobbed at Target. Diana can’t buy a banana without some jerk telling her how cute Eli is. But at the street fairs? Nothing. I guess dog trumps baby.

When someone bends down to pet Grover, Eli gets a look that says, “Um, hello? Cutest baby in the world sitting here.”

It may be that we cover him in a thick layer of hat and 800 SPF. But that hardly diminishes his cuteness. It also may be that Grover is roughly 3 times his size and therefore easier to spot, cute-wise.

But today, after being ignored by the 1200th dog-lover, Eli blew a gasket and we had to head home. But I was covered in gyro juice and Bud Light, so I didn't mind a bit.