This past weekend was Metamora Days, an annual festival that takes place in the one-horse town where I grew up.
I am not sure what a one-horse town is.
I am sure Metamora is one.
But if you'll harken back to yester-year with me, you'll see a little girl who's birthday party was held each year during this grand festival. Tiny little Metamora used to put on a much better show than she does today. The day would commence with a parade lining up right in front of our house, continue with a downtown craft fair, petting zoo, and hoopla, and finish up with a breath-taking hot air balloon launch. Oh, and then fireworks.
And in my innocent youth, I don't believe I could quite differentiate that this was not all, in fact, in celebration of my birthday.
In fact, as we drove into town last weekend, to introduce Madalyn to the thrills of small town splendor, I saw a sign for some little one's birthday. Warm sigh. Lucky kid."How does the rooster feel, Maddy?"
"He feels nice."
"Baaaa-ing" at the sheep. They communicated quite nicely with one another.
Everyone in my family heard me say, "I just can't believe how well she rode that horse. She looked like she'd been doing it all her life" 15 times.
Quite a sight to behold.