The yellow-brick road

In the last month since I posted about being acquainted with Dorothy, 1500 people have read my story. I think that's kind of cool.  I sincerely hope it's helped in some way.

In honor of that, today I thought I'd share the story of where the title comes from (If you haven't read it yet, read it first then come back).

Picture it:  Late-September.  Temperatures are soaring and everyone in the nation is caught up in fair-time fever.  Southern California is no exception.

I had just returned home from a trip to the Utah State Fair - complete with animal viewings, fried food, The Zipper, and the annual butter sculpture.  But I was ready for more.  So a few friends and I headed to the outskirts of LA county for the LA county fair.  In terms of fried food and carnival rides I think the LA county fair may be unmatched.  (Though I have admittedly been to few fairs).  I was like a kid in a candy store.

Before gorging ourselves on deep-fried cookie dough and Kool-aid, then subsequently trying to make ourselves throw up on any rides, we hit up the Expo Hall where the knife and spa salesmen of the world hock their wares to unwitting fair attendees.

A friend and I approached a booth near the door that was selling some sort of metal polish.  A somewhat robust woman was sitting in the booth.  We said hello and the first question out of her mouth was, "Are you guys friends of Dorothy?"  We had no idea what she meant by that (though I was probably a little more clueless than my more worldly-wise friend)  We assured her we had no idea who Dorothy was - nor did we know anyone named Dorothy. And the conversation continued.

She touted the advantages of her polish - including its FDA approval, which means the polish is edible. EDIBLE METAL POLISH!!!!! - but I digress.  We thanked her for her time and made to leave.  She said, "Oh, and sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the Dorothy question.  I just have a couple of friends here who are looking for...ya know."  We assured her of our indifference and left to look at hand-made soaps or something.

That's when the light bulb switched on.  That Dorothy.  BA HA HA!  Well ma'am, I can't speak for my compadre here, but in my case it's complicated.  I don't know that Dorothy and I are "friends" exactly, but we're acquainted. Yes.

We spent the rest of the night making jokes about Dorothy and the possible lubricating power of metal polish.  A memorable trip to the fair to be sure.

Incidentally - who goes to the LA county fair to hook up?!