On Sunday, Greg walked in the door from work (he's working 7 days a week right now, which sucks), and said that a ton of people were walking around in the street outside, which was blocked off, and there seemed to be fair of some sort going on.
The boys and I pulled ourselves together (we'd been wandering around in sweatpants all day, since I delaired the day off from everything serious -- including getting dressed), Greg changed out of his military costume and we headed out.
Somehow, we'd missed the memo, but there were vendors all up and down the street and in the market square, selling everything from spiced nuts to clothing to sausages. Remember how I said that I was going off sugar? I may have fallen off the bandwagon a bit.
Ok, it looks more like I jumped off. But could you blame me?
The heart was some sort of a lightly spiced ginger bread (not very sweet at all -- Andrew didn't like it), and the bon-bon thing...well, that was something else all together.
My neighbor said it's called a Mohrenkopf, which means something about a little hat. The translation was unclear, but kopf definitely means head, and she says it also means hat. It was about as big around as the palm of my hand, and 4 inches tall. There was a waffle/wafer on the bottom, then gooey milky super sweet stuff all coated with chocolate dipped in almonds. Yes, it was good. My leg ached a little the next day, but I put it up and drank a lot of water. (More poison, please! No, I need to start being consistantly good, for real.)
There were also rides for the children including a jumpy castle (Andrew wouldn't go in it because there were bigger kids already jumping -- probably a good thing, since he might have gotten hurt, and then Elijah would have wanted to try), and a little merry-go-round. Andrew begged to go on the go-round, so we finally put him on...and about 5 seconds later, he was all fallen to pieces. I would have taken a picture, but Greg was refusing to jump on the moving ride with him. I passed the stroller to Greg and jumped on myself (my dad is getting nervous thinking about how dangerous this might have been. No worries, it wasn't going that fast.) Somehow, Greg thought that I'd gotten a picture already, so he didn't document me calming him or anything, but anyway, it all happened.
Yesterday I visited with my neighbor from downstairs and she said the "thing" was called Uerkaufs Offfener Sonntag, which, loosely translated means "The One Day In The Year When All The Shops Are Open On A Sunday And There Are Vendors And Rides In The Streets For Fun". This "thing" travels from town to town towards the end of each year, and it's the only day in the year when you'll find shops open on a Sunday.
This has nothing to do with anything, but here is Greg's van: