We went to the festival as described below. The quilt show was ok, nothing spectacular. The husband got all excited over some dip mixes (just mix with sour cream and mayo) at the street fair and bought a 18 packet sample pack. I asked if he was planning a party. What are we going to do with 18 packets of dip mix? We don’t even keep chips in the house. I’ve given up trying to understand.

Then the door to the opera house was open. It is an old opera house that is slowly undergoing restoration. I’ve never seen the door open before so I wanted to go in. The husband isn’t into that kind of stuff so he sat on a bench outside.

I got to the top of the first flight of stairs and there was a guide giving a little lecture about the renovation. Then he let the group go and we started to climb up another flight. I looked up to see where I was going and instead saw a young man in a pair of a*s-less chaps and a loincloth. He was going up the stairs in front of me and was not wearing anything under the loincloth. I was flummoxed. You don’t see that every day around here. There were a bunch of other people in costume in the group. They were performers for the festival but they were all in pioneer-type clothes. So, I’m thinking that chap boy was supposed to be an Indian.

We went upstairs and started looking at displays. I turned around to leave a display and ran right into chap boy. He seemed totally at ease with his wardrobe.

When I came downstairs the husband informed me that there was a guy with no pants on that just came out of the opera house. I told him I knew because I climbed the stairs after him.

Later the subject came up again and the husband said, “He didn’t even have a good butt.” Personally I thought it was fine but I was interested in his opinion. I asked why and he said that there were stretch marks all over it. When questioned he claimed that the guy stood in front of him while he was sitting on the bench therefore putting his butt at eye level. Heck, I climbed stairs after him and didn’t take that good of a look.

This all reminds me of a conversation that I had with some teenagers this morning at the fair. I said yesterday that I was going to go home and clean the kitchen because the evil mother-in-law was supposed to be gone. They asked if I had. I said no because she was home when I got there. So, we went to bed and watched boxing.

Her: You like boxing?
Me: Well, it’s not as good as it used to be because they used to have a cute commentator. But he got his own show or something.
Her: Does your husband know that you thought the commentator was cute?
Me: Yeah.
Her: Heather!!!! How could you say that to your husband? Doesn’t he mind?
Me: No. In fact he also knows that if Johnny Depp ever asks to sleep with me I’m going to say yes. I’m not going to persue Johnny Depp but if he ever comes to me I’ll hate myself forever if I say no.
Her Sister: But what if your husband said someone was cute?
Me: That’s fine.
Her Sister: Oh no. Any husband of mine better never look at another woman.

Little does she know that someday she may have conversations with her husband about stretch marks on a strange man’s butt.