There are certain things I never thought I'd do, like forget to shave my legs on a regular basis or curse at my DVR when it stopped working properly. I also never thought I'd attend a fair, theme park or carnival and actually enjoy it. But here I am, getting older, unable to understand modern technology, and who the hell has time to shave every day anyway?

The Florida State Fair has arrived, and I've come to accept the fact that I'm one of those people who attends with her kids and pretends not to be embarrassed when they sing along with "Ramblin' Man" blasting from the loudspeakers. I tell myself that it's not so bad; we don't like fried butter or anything.

My kids were never the types that begged to go to Orlando all the time. Visiting once or twice every few years was always enough for them.

Then, a few years ago, Husband introduced them to roller coasters. Now, when we aren't alienating people on a local football field, he's taking them to ride Kumba for the 200th time. This is fine with me because that's Bonding Time with Daddy. I get to stay home and find new and interesting ways to clean baseboards.

The boys now enjoy those rickety rides at the Florida State Fair and the more dangerous, the better. Yet, like everything else that once horrified me, I've accepted that we will go and actually enjoy ourselves.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still uncomfortable with several aspects of the experience.

For example, I've learned to avoid certain groups of people, specifically the ones handing out pamphlets. Missionaries clearly enjoy these opportunities to save souls. They mean well, trying to offer me the gift of eternal life, but I can't help thinking these particular God-lovers look strangely related and should have cooked just a little while longer. They're handing out books that show the results of a sinful life, eternal hellfire, while sucking on chili dogs and flirting with teenagers manning the John Casablancas Modeling tent. None of it makes sense.

Once, I had to watch a cow give birth, live, with people who are a little too comfortable wearing Confederate flag belt buckles.

During my last visit, I wandered into a barn that housed about a hundred pigs, learning tricks that hopefully will take people's minds off bacon. They smelled horrendous. My kids and I picked up the pace, breathing through our mouths, and came out the other side to a consortium of pork product manufacturers. They had pork burgers, chops, ribs, and plenty of sausage to sample. I peered at one table digging into a giant hog and thought, "Wow. That poor guy must've been a slow learner."

For the most part, I do recommend staying away from fair food. Take a look at all the people who need Medicare scooters and haven't been able to remove rings from their fingers since 1948. They love this shit. But unless you want to end up like them, perhaps a turkey leg with a side of cheese on a stick topped off with deep fried Oreos and washed down with a 40-oz. cup of beer is not the best idea in the world.

But my kids did enjoy their very first Ferris wheel ride. They gazed out over the Tampa Bay area and we could finally stop smelling those pigs.

The looks on their faces made every uncomfortable moment worth it. For sure.

This article appears in Feb 17-23, 2011.