Carnival

The words "church picnic" or "school carnival" mean completely different things to M and I.  To M, those words mean, "Hey!  I get to strap myself into old, decrepit pieces of steel with flashing lights that are powered by old lawn mower motors and run by people with IQs of about 5!  Sounds fantastic!"  To me, those words mean, "Photo opp!"  I learned long ago to be wary of the rides at a carnival, and have nurtured an irrational fear of Ferris Wheels since my aunt terrorized me and my cousin on one when we were in grade school.

Last weekend we went to a carnival and M made himself happy riding the Rock-O-Plane (kudos to him for remembering to take the dramamine in enough time - I still say it's God's twisted sense of humor to give someone both the drive and ambition to ride carnival and amusement park rides and a whopping case of nausea with any kind of spinning motion) while I made myself happy taking pictures.  When dark clouds and claps of thunder sent everyone scurrying for cover, I went, "Cool!" and snapped away.  The clouds were fantastic.

Yes, I did take photographs of M and Zoe enjoying rides.  I just haven't processed them yet.  Forgive me...tonight I felt like being arty.

Mermaid Update: Yours truly has proven to herself that she can swim the half-mile required in the triathlon.  36 laps in my pool constitute a half mile.  Tonight I swam 50.  With no muscle cramps!  I am happy.  And exhausted.