A peek at my Sunday. Hint: it didn’t include much writing.
A few Sundays ago, I was served ice cream by a dragon and enthralled by the mad ravings of an alchemist. A girl from the Wild West sold me a steampunk dragonfly necklace and faeries tried to lure me into their grotto.
Okay, so the dragon was really a tubby middle-aged man in a crushed velvet costume and green Crocs, the Western heroine was just a sales lady with a bad accent and the faeries…oh, who knows their deal?
Which leaves us with…
It was a strange day. Thank goodness for icy cold (hard) cider.
“I say let the world go to hell, but I should always have my tea.”-Fyodor Dostoyevsky
While The Queen City is a noble and elegant nickname, Cincinnati has long embraced its other, earthier appellation: Porkopolis. In the 19th century, this American jewel was the pig-packing center of the nation. In those days, citizens shared the streets with thousands of hogs. Today, nods to the city’s past are present in many ways, including the Flying Pig Marathon and a proliferation of objets d’pig sprinkled throughout town.They were even present at the Taste of Cincinnati USA, held this past (Memorial Day) weekend.
Top left: Revelers enjoying one of the nation’s largest street festivals. In its 34th iteration, it is the longest-standing food festival in the country.
Top right: One of many festive pig statues specially decorated for the event.
Bottom left: The cuts of this pig represent local neighborhoods.
Bottom right: A 95 degree day called for Frozen Margaritas. It was, unfortunately, way too hot to sample most of the food. We settled for pork and chicken tacos from a food truck, a slice of pizza and Irish nachos made with Saratoga chips.
After 2 hours of downing cold drinks and people watching in the extreme heat, we went home and collapsed into bed, far too tired to function for the rest of the day.
*Photographic proof that I do, indeed, have a life outside of writing and reading and editing.