Ventura Fair Part Dos

This time more mellow.
No concert unless you count hearing The Beach Boys whine out a few from their wheelchairs while we were back in the harbor four miles away as the seagull soars.
No staying out til midnight.
No crap wine from inside the arena.
No 45 minute wait for the bus.
No children being abused by giant spotted cows.
No crying on the bus.

This time with Jim.
This time animals.
We saw pigs.

We saw furry little short goats.

We saw sheep.

We heard sheep.

We saw a baby donkey.

Baby pigs.

A baby cow mmmmmm that one looks delicious.

A miniture cow.

And are still trying to figure out the point of that breeding.

Miniture steaks?

Those little bitesize slider burgers?

And we saw horses.

Ate a ridiculousy priced Pink's hotdog, that tasted pretty much like a Von's hotdog...

Walked through the commercial buildings and amazingly enough fought off all the hawkers selling products you cannot live without.

Except we are still alive five days later... go figure.

And then walked through the quiet midway section.

Why quiet?
We went on Senior Day.

Lots of wheelchairs, walkers and canes.

But very few surly tattooed punks.

All good.

Except for the zombies...