Stamped.

The big Minnesota get together is taking place the next few weeks and I'll be darned if I don't go at least once to check out the local talent. Sit for an hour in the Midway, heck, half an hour, and you will walk out of there feeling better about yourself tenfold. It's the ultimate activity in ego-boosting. How in the world can I be occupying the same state as some of these people? I know not.

Nevertheless, the prices to get in the fair raise each year, to the point where you spend half your money just getting in the gate. That which could be spent on turkey legs, roasted corn and Sweet Martha's cookies. Someone, whose name shall not be revealed, stole a State Fair stamp a few years ago and we utilized it for all it's glory on Saturday afternoon. Like a group of undercover CIA agents we strategically stamped our hands "so the number wouldn't show, and it smudged just a bit but you could still see the MSF letters..." Off the bus we stepped, like cattle we were directed through the front gate and our stamp wasn't second guessed; saving about $60 in entrance fees that was better spent on cheese curds and vanilla malts from the dairy building.