Why I Hate The Ferris Wheel

My town has a street fair every fall. It’s pretty cool: a typical small suburban affair with a few rides, crab cake sandwiches, kettle corn, funnel cake, zeppoles, and more ways for a kid to spend your money than there are orange jackasses on Jersey Shore.

The first year we lived here, we all went to the street fair together. The kids had only been living with us for a couple of weeks. They didn’t have many friends yet; they didn’t have their stuff from their old house yet. #5 was a small four-year-old and I carried him most of the time. The first thing we did was get cotton candy and I remember being surprised how fast he became covered in blue stick. Luckily, one of the churches had their bathrooms open and we were able to hose him down before he became permanently stuck to a lamppost- or worse, the street. I remember standing in line for ride tickets behind a guy who was wearing a Scissorfight T-shirt. I asked him about it; turned out he was friends with the band. He was there with his kids too. I questioned the wisdom of each of us being involved with children.

This year #5 was the only one with me. The other kids made appearances as they met up with us for money or food and to hang out with their little brother. The two oldest girls were working booths, #1 as an employee and #2 for high school volleyball. I was still a walking wallet, but everyone sought out one-on-one time with #5.

#3 and #5 on something that spins too much for me
#2 and #5 on something else that I won't ride.
#5 blocking me from eating his funnel cake

So.

The Ferris Wheel.

Originally built for the 1893 World’s Fair in Chicago by George Washington Gale Ferris, Jr, variations of it have been tormenting amusement-seekers ever since. I don’t like the Ferris Wheel because the first time I ever went on one I was pretty young, maybe about six. I went with my sister and the cars on this particular Ferris Wheel were enclosed and capable of spinning all the way around. You could flip your car independently of (and simultaneously with) the Ferris Wheel spin. Two spins for the price of one.

Due to the inefficient nature of the Ferris Wheel, riders often get stuck at points around the spin as other riders are let off and on. My sister and I had the misfortune of being stuck at the top for an extended period of time while our car was upside down. Yes, both ways we could spin were stuck. We were two little girls by ourselves stuck upside down eight billion feet above sea level. That’s like, a vortex of stuck suck right there.

Sometimes you remember things and then you wonder if you’re really remembering it right or not. While #3 and #5 were waiting in line for and riding the Ferris Wheel, I called my sister to corroborate my memory.

While the kids were on this:

I was looking at this:

My foot, safely on the ground. Right side up.

My sister remembers it the same way. She doesn’t like Ferris Wheels either.

Perhaps this is a good time to lay my X-Files theory on you. The X-Files is hands down my all time favorite TV show. I own all the DVDs (purchased, obviously, before kids). My theory is that for any situation, any occurance, anything that crosses your mind, there’s an X-Files episode about it [I have the same theory regarding Jonathan Richman songs]. Sadly, I’m not enough of a hard-core geek to know all the actual titles of the X-Files episodes, but I can fill in the plots.

Anyway. The rides at the street fair remind me of the X-Files episode with the bad santa at the creepy holiday amusement park where Mulder was sure he would find his sister but instead they found lots and lots of dead children.

On second thought, perhaps this wasn’t a good time to lay my X-Files theory on you. Probably, I could have kept that to myself for at least a while longer. You were bound to find out at some point though.

You tell me, aren’t they kinda creepy?

 

Eh, maybe it’s just me.

What do you say- carnie rides: creepy or not creepy? Do you do the Ferris Wheel?

Well.

We got the kids’ school pictures back.

Here is the group shot of the fourth grade class.

Guess which one’s mine.

Yep, that’s his I Heart Bacon T-shirt. In my defense, school pictures were on a Wednesday this year and I’m on a bus for work by 6:20am on Wednesdays. {Bus? Did someone say bus? I’m pretty sure I just threw my husband under it.}

I told CC that if we wanted #5 to wear a decent shirt for school pictures next year, he would have to be the adult here because I already blew it. I couldn’t keep a straight face when I pulled this out of the envelope.

What’s your favorite school picture story?

Zing, yoga edition.

Ever have one of those weeks where it seems you have all the time in the world to do everything you need to do, plus everything you want to do? A week where each day you wake up before the alarm even goes off and you’re full of energy? A week where absolutely nothing falls through the cracks?

Yeah, me neither.

And so sometimes I don’t post on schedule. Or with substance. I did have a pretty good yoga class this week though.

One of the places I practice yoga is in the city. I had to do a Google Earth search to get a picture of the front of the studio containing what I want to show you, because none of the published images show it.

“It” being the fact that that the yoga studio is on top of a “video” store. Actually, the studio is several floors above it. Frequently there are tour buses that park nearby. Sometimes I have the good fortune of arriving when a group of midwestern show choir kids have lined up to wait for their bus (and please do not misconstrue me; midwestern show choir kids are my people) and I get to wade through them as they are experiencing what appears to be their first viewing of such items as are on display in a “video” store window.

When that happens, it pretty much makes my whole day.

This yoga studio has excellent teachers. Some of them also make me laugh.

Here are some of the yoga zings I’ve heard lately (fill in your own accent, because each teacher has a different one, which I dearly love):

Teacher: There’s no reason to be afraid of bending backwards. Be afraid of hot dogs. And Ho-Ho’s.

Student: What’s a Ho-Ho?

Teacher: I was just asking myself that. What the hell do they put in there, anyway?

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Teacher: Wait, where are you going, running man? You have to stay in the room all ninety minutes. You’re not leaving, no?

Student: I’m going to throw up.

Teacher: Oh yes, by all means. All vomiting should be done in the restroom.

The student returned from the restroom and finished the class, and ever after was referred to as vomiting man instead of running man.

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Teacher: Just breathe. Don’t go to the crazy place, people.

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Another admonition about backbends:

Teacher: Don’t be afraid of backbends, people. Be afraid of fried chicken. Be afraid of green jello that your mom makes and puts cat food in it instead of something else.

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And finally, the dry erase board. I so wish I had a picture of the drawing they had done- a crocodile in bed with come-hither eyes. The caption read:

If you invite a crocodile into your bed, don’t be mad at the crocodile when it bites you in the ass. Namaste.

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Have you heard any good one-liners lately? Gotten any good advice? How’s your week going?