Aug. 6, 2009

On a conscious level, I think fame sounds awful.

What a bother, having people recognize you, smiling just because they saw you on some movie or some book jacket, how annoying, right? Really, I’m sure that were I famous, I would run from cameras and reporters, retreat into my quiet life as a neglected mommy and do some dishes. Now that’s a peaceful life.

Somehow I don’t think my subconscious feels the same way.

I’m currently visiting my family in Elma for a month. We try to come up every summer to bond with the cousins and get out of the heat. Apparently, this year we brought the heat with us. Sorry about that.
But my favorite highlight, hands down, is our annual visit to the Grays Harbor County Fair. Your county fair is a great county fair.

Last year’s visit was particularly memorable. My sister Jenny and I decided to take all seven of our small children to the fair at once. With no adult supervision (she and I really don’t count). Why did we opt for this form of parental punishment? Because dragging toddlers on leashes and keeping the 5-year-olds from stealing is so much fun.

As we were parading down the fairway with our mixed brood running circles around us, a reporter for The Daily World snapped a photo of us. I can’t blame her; it isn’t every day you see a circus at the circus. She came up to get our information, and I realized, in a split second, that I am lame. Very, very lame.

“So, can I get your names?” she asked.

“Sure…” my sister and I introduced ourselves separately.

“Are you from around here?” she asked.

“I am,” said Jenny, “She lives in Utah now.”

Keep in mind that this was before I was writing anything for The Vidette. “Regarding Annie” was still a concept. As far as this photographer was concerned, I was just another frazzled mother spending a day at the fair. And yet, my true colors couldn’t help but rear their ugly, crowned heads.
Without taking a second to censor my vanity, I found myself blurting out in a not-so-subtle or cool way, “I used to be Miss Grays Harbor!” Silence.

There I stood with my three wild kids and bleached out hair. I used to be Miss Grays Harbor? Let me remind you, there is no substance to this title — unless you count a very bent-out-of-shape tiara that is missing half of the plastic stones (the boys like to play with it).

My sister tried not to look at me. The reporter tried not to look at me. I seriously considered running into the cow barn. Finally, the lady gave a polite, “Oh!” and pretended to make note of that non-newsworthy bit of information. She quickly parted ways with us and went to take photos of people who weren’t looking for a personal press shoot.

As we walked away, my sister glanced sideways and said, “Next time, just wear your crown.” Now why didn’t I think of that?

See more at Annie's blog at regardingannie.com