Tonight at the county fair.

Took my daughter to meet some friends at the county fair tonight. This is a picture of a couple of them riding the scrambler. The September air on a clear night. Sausages, onions and peppers grilling. Bright, flashing lights. Girls high-pitched screams. The roar of a crowd. Wow.

It is everything you want at a fair and more. I broke down and ate a sausage sandwich tonight. I made sure my hands were washed and sanitized. That and a Pepsi. I usually like the lemonade, but I went for the Pepsi this time. I brought home a funnel cake, wrapped it up air tight. That is for tomorrow. I bought passes to the fair this time, so I will probably go at least two more times. The sausage sandwich has left me wanting another one and soon. I used to make them in the crock pot. I'll have to do that again.

You know how they say that certain smells and certain songs can take you back to another place and time? I had that happen to me tonight. In 1975 I used to work as a short order cook in a greasy spoon restaurant/bar. The health inspector never came around and they never ran the exhaust fan. The place always smelled of deep fry grease. That is how the fair smells. It is pleasant in the open air and when you are hungry. It isn't pleasant when it is saturated into your clothes and hair and you are two feet away from someone in a vehicle driving home. Never mind.

Anyway, the smell transported me back to 1975. There was a magical feeling about that bar. From the kitchen I had a perfect view of the bar. I used to drool over the young cowboys that would come and sit on those bar stools. I was only 15, and they were probably 18 to 25 years old. I must have fallen in love every other week or so.

There was one I was particularly interested in. I remember each and every song he played on the juke box. Well, tonight the country band at the fair played that song. Talk about deja vu and memories. I was back in good old 1975 standing in that hot kitchen with the greasy smell and the song playing on the jukebox. All I needed to do was look into the dining/bar area and he would be standing there in his cowboy boots and his huge Stetson hat. He was about the only one who wore the cowboy hat in my little town. To me he was a real cowboy.

Two years later he also ended up being my boyfriend. Or, to me he was my boyfriend. He was just toying with me, I guess. Water under the bridge. They say you never forget your first love. Well, I haven't. But, I also haven't forgotten my second, my third, or my fourth. But, who's counting? I will always wonder if they hear a song that reminds them of me. I am sounding like Isaak Dinesen. Out of Africa.