Irish Fest

I never used to like the fair/carnival thing. But I dig it these days, taking the honyocks to stuff like this.



I was working overtime Saturday, my Mom had come down to watch the girls so I could. There was four hours available, and I had a crack house (read chiropractor) appointment that took an hour, but after a couple hours at work, I was like, There is too much good weather and too many festivals this weekend to waste it on the cubicle farm.



Renn Fest kicks off this weekend, but that runs into October, and a bunch of this other stuff doesn't.



They charge admission for the Irish Fest, which annoys me. Like with the Roots Festival, it's an open air, outdoor thing, and they're going to rob me blind on concessions anyway, so shouldn't it be free to walk in?



Maybe they pay the bands from the door. But I walk in, and there's a guy barking raffle tickets to 'support the Irish Fest.' I'm like, I just 'supported' the Irish Fest with $10 to walk through the gate, fucker.



Em's been wanting to try Dip-N-Dots forever. Her lucky day, though it turns out to just be tiny balls of ice cream. Mo loved them too, and amazed me by actually using her spoon (she has an irritating tendency to treat ice cream as finger food).



I had a meat pie. And heard 'God That's Good' in my head the whole time I ate it. There was actually a choice of five kinds of meat pie, but it was hard to tell what was different about them. I could have a Cottage Pie, beef with onions, carrots, potatoes. Or I could have a Shepherd's Pie, beef with onions, carrots, potatoes. Or I could have a Scottish Pie, beef with onions, carrots, potatoes. You get the idea. I told the lady who sold me the pie she needed a barber shop upstairs, and she looked at me like I'm the kind of guy who would glue a coffee mug to the roof of his car.



Jim Cosgrove was playing, which seemed to please Mo.



There were three stages going. The one Cosgrove had was later covered by a piper with a Chanter and an Irish flute. He was fun, but had the bridge of his nose pierced, which bothered me. Two silver balls, obviously connected by a rod going through the flesh between his eyes, and I'm like, doesn't that make you want to go cross-eyed?



There was also a folk singer in the Marty Burke tradtion, singing Finnegan's Wake and Put the Budweiser Back In The Clydesdales. Seven Nations was playing the main stage while we were there. I liked them, but Em looked appalled, and Mo covered her ears.



We had Irish soda. I gather the Irish like remarkably less sweet soft drinks. Both me and Mo's sodas had a marked pucker, one I liked, but which put Mo and Em off. There was a funny note on mine, along with ingredients and whatnot, a note that the product would 'stain if spilt.'



I had a Boulevard Dry Stout for the sake of ceremony. $4 for a 12-ounce pour in a plastic cup. I'm sure people get tight at the Irish Fest, but I'd have to take a second mortgage out to cop a buzz at that rate.



I do want, at some point, to get a full dress kilt made, McBride tartan and all. Real men are secure enough to wear skirts, right?



Plus, I needed to leave some funds available for Santa Caligon Days.



I almost bought an Irish flag, but the booth was too crowded. $10, which I guess is a lot, but it's cheap by fair standards. Half the price of a t-shirt, right?