A hat named CLYDE.

A few years ago we went to the Ohio State Fair. The State Fair is filled with all sorts of wonderful things...most of which we didn't partake. Not that we have anything against Fried Oreos and foam fingers, but we were there for 4H judging. Oh sure, we perused through the freebies building. You know the one. It's full of businesses hoping to catch your eye so you will buy their product or services. They give away yard sticks, magnets, notepads, key chains and pens to show you how serious they are about their business.

Anyway, by the time judging was over and we had a sack of freebies we were beat...so we headed out. On the way out was the Dickies booth. The fellas all REALLY, REALLY wanted to stop there because they were giving away the chance to drive a race car. No, not an actual race car. They strapped themselves into a chair and grabbed a steering wheel and watched the huge TV screen and pretended to drive a race car. When they were done they got a Dickies ball cap to remember that moment forever and ever. Great fun for those full of testosterone. Or so I hear. I don't have a picture of that. But I *do* have a picture of what my daughter and I did to kill time while the fellas were standing in line. We pretended to fight a bull. That's right. I can just hear you now: "Golly, I wish I was there to pretend to fight a bull." You might think it's great fun to stand in front of a green screen in a hot, closed-in trailer on a hot August day. Or not. But we also got a Dickies ball cap to help us remember this moment until our photos became available to download from the internet two weeks later.

When we emerged from the trailer we noticed the daily parade was in session. By then the fellas had joined us, so we positioned ourselves to watch the parade. It was a nice little parade with THE band (what other band would there be at the Ohio State Fair?), some kids and a team of Clydesdales pulling a wagon. (Don't get ahead of me, k?)

Right next to the Dickies trailer was a booth where they were giving away samples of a new cheesy snack cracker, so we all grabbed a snack before leaving. It was there, with cheesy-yellow-powdered fingers, my teenage daughter decided that her hat needed a name. What could she name a hat that came from the Ohio State Fair after she fought a bull for it? Clyde, of course. What do you expect from a horse lover?