...unless you like art.
I happen to like art, but two pre-schoolers in 85F/27C temps with about 700,000,000 people milling around - that taxes one's gentler sense of artistic appreciation. I thought it would be just another farmer's market, but no. The annual Art Fair off the Square displaces the market from its usual place, forcing a limited number of vendor's stalls to set up two blocks south. In place of only a few thousand people in search of cheese curds, the girls, Jenn, Calvin and I found exponentially more folks looking for works of art.
Jenn and I started out bravely enough. We pushed on, admiring what we could of the artists' stalls, but valiant attempts to keep from running into the various Achilles' tendons of passersby curtailed our enthusiasm in short order. A shame, really, as there were some truly beautiful and admirable works on display - from what I could see. We never did get close enough to see if we could afford such things, but perhaps that was for the best. We are still students' spouses, after all, and not exactly flush with cash.
The kids were hot and grumpy very shortly, and we called it quits. The eight-hour wait in line for a very nice glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade made the final decision an easy one. We walked the long, long way back to the bus stop, only to find out we missed the bus by only about four minutes. Jenn called her husband to come rescue her and Calvin, because she needed to be elsewhere that afternoon.
I forgot my various credit/debit style cards and was out of the limited cash I brought (because we did find the produce vendors, after all, and their selection is increasing as summer progresses), so lunch at the Union Terrace was out of the question. We had 35 minutes to kill before the successive bus, so we went to the lake.
Ducks. Waves. Sun. A nice few minutes, despite the parentless girl of about nine years who kept trying to throw rocks at the ducks. I had to have a word with her, and despite my intervention, she continued - from another part of the lake. I never did see her parents anywhere.
We arrived home on the bus in short order with no incidents. They are getting very proficient at this public transport thing.
I happen to like art, but two pre-schoolers in 85F/27C temps with about 700,000,000 people milling around - that taxes one's gentler sense of artistic appreciation. I thought it would be just another farmer's market, but no. The annual Art Fair off the Square displaces the market from its usual place, forcing a limited number of vendor's stalls to set up two blocks south. In place of only a few thousand people in search of cheese curds, the girls, Jenn, Calvin and I found exponentially more folks looking for works of art.
Jenn and I started out bravely enough. We pushed on, admiring what we could of the artists' stalls, but valiant attempts to keep from running into the various Achilles' tendons of passersby curtailed our enthusiasm in short order. A shame, really, as there were some truly beautiful and admirable works on display - from what I could see. We never did get close enough to see if we could afford such things, but perhaps that was for the best. We are still students' spouses, after all, and not exactly flush with cash.
The kids were hot and grumpy very shortly, and we called it quits. The eight-hour wait in line for a very nice glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade made the final decision an easy one. We walked the long, long way back to the bus stop, only to find out we missed the bus by only about four minutes. Jenn called her husband to come rescue her and Calvin, because she needed to be elsewhere that afternoon.
I forgot my various credit/debit style cards and was out of the limited cash I brought (because we did find the produce vendors, after all, and their selection is increasing as summer progresses), so lunch at the Union Terrace was out of the question. We had 35 minutes to kill before the successive bus, so we went to the lake.
Ducks. Waves. Sun. A nice few minutes, despite the parentless girl of about nine years who kept trying to throw rocks at the ducks. I had to have a word with her, and despite my intervention, she continued - from another part of the lake. I never did see her parents anywhere.
We arrived home on the bus in short order with no incidents. They are getting very proficient at this public transport thing.
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