I can not believe I did this. I am kicking myself.
Last year the fair was August 10 thru 17th. Entries had to be in by the 8th. The state fair was the following week. So, back in January, when we had to pick out leave, I assumed it would be the 7th to have entries in, so I took the three days prior to that off work to get ready. And haven't looked at the fair book one single time. I have been a little busy this year, after all.
Monday, I finally got my butt in gear and printed off the needlework sections. I noted that it said 21 days til the fair, but didn't really pay that much attention. I mean, I knew I had to have my stuff there on August 7th. And 21 days is not that easy for me to picture, so I just assumed it was August 7th. You know what they say about assume.
I got to thinking yesterday and realized that there was no way August 7th was 21 days away. And finally went on the website to see when the fair actually was. I totally screwed up. The fair starts August 14th. So I am off for three days for no real reason, have no way to get my stuff to the fair, can't reschedule my vacation, and I'm going to throw up. And of course the heinous thought enters my head, will that throw off entering the state fair? That is always the week after the county fair, so I worried that it would overlap. I ran to check their website. That's been moved too. I guess so it always runs through Labor Day. So, at least I can still do both. If I can get my stuff there.
So my blessed, sainted mother said she would take my stuff to the fair for me. Everytime we are on I-83, I try to tell her, "This is the exit for the fair, you just go down to the bottom of the hill, make two rights, and you go there." She usually never remembers. But my father has been to enough events at the state fairgrounds that he knows how to get there, and he's going. I sweetened the pot by telling her if she did it, she could have my car for the day. My mother LOVES my car--I think I almost have her convinced to buy one for her and Daddy, despite the fact it's a Pontiac, she adores the satellite radio, and it is pretty stinkin' cute. So she said she would take it over for me. I owe her some diamonds . . . or cookies . . . or a hug.
So I've averted a minor near-disaster. At least a stitching one for me.