More Heritage Days – Day 2

This is a yellow balloon. You might be wondering where Gordonville is and what it has to do with Intercourse. Intercourse, PA is actually a small town in the middle of Gordonville, which is a larger town. Erica and I live in Intercourse, but the Intercourse Post Office does not deliver mail, they only have P.O. Boxes. As a result, no one has a mailing address to their house that reads “Intercourse, PA”. This was a huge bummer to me when we first moved into town. I wanted to officially live in Intercourse, but instead I got Gordonville. You’ve got to dare to dream, right?

Here’s my buddy Nate trying to exchange his bottle of gatorade with his wife for a sippy cup full of breast milk. (at least that’s how I interpreted the discussion. I could be wrong.) You can also see the other side of the yellow balloon. It has a picture of two firefighters and it says “Firefighters are our friends”. I think local fire companies should have Facebook pages and Myspace accounts so that we could be online friends with them as well as real friends. I also think that handing out balloons to amish people that said “Firefighters are our Facebook friends” would make for a satisfying afternoon.

Speaking of fire companies, here’s the Intercourse Fire Truck in case things get too hot.

(that was a sex joke in case you missed it.)

The guy in the blue shirt is a clown with no makeup. He was cavorting around the food tent while I was trying to eat my sausage sandwich, juggling bowling pins and walking on the backs of chairs. His jokes were pretty awful, but I don’t think he really cared. My buddy Nate almost punched him when his bowling pins got too close to Brady, Nate’s 1-yr old son. After dinner Mr. Clowny exchanged the juggling for riding strange cycles. First a unicycle and then this miniature trike. In this picture he is trying desperately to get Amish Boy #2 to ride the trike. Surely a makeup-less clown can’t convince a good ole Amish boy to make a fool of himself in front of Amish Girl #1, can he?

Never underestimate the power of a makeup-less clown.

Ever wonder what’s on the inside of an Amishman’s hat? So did this guy. Turns out there’s nothing in there except hair, sweat, and a hatred for electronics.

Around 7pm a man jumped out of a plane over the park. Fortunately for him he had a rainbow colored parachute to aid in his descent. He was also smoking 40 Marlboros at once, which created a pretty cool “Wicked Witch of the West” smoke effect.

Here’s a shot of Erica and I on a blanket getting ready for fireworks. No, not those kind of fireworks. Get your mind out of the gutter. Lots of friends and family came over to enjoy the fireworks display that started after dusk. My daughter Kylie hates fireworks, so her and I walked back to the house before they started. She watched SpongeBob in the basement with the TV really loud while I drank a Killian’s and watched the fireworks from our second floor window. As always, Intercourse Fireworks did not disappoint. (and while we’re here, would it kill me to smile in a photo just once? I always have this look on my face like I’m trying to hold in a fart.)

So here’s the deal with this picture. There was a guy carving things out of twigs for little kids. Baseball bats, bookmarks, birds…you name it. His tagline was “Every twig is an egg waiting to hatch into something”. To go along with his saying, he had this board set up to show you how, with a little imagination, he could turn these twigs into animals. Rooster, Hen, Pheasant…all pretty run of the mill until your eye wanders over to the bottom right. Yeah, that says what you think it says: “Anorexic Donkey”. Honestly, I didn’t photoshop that in there. I mean, who knew an Anorexic Donkey so closely resembled a Heron? I had no idea.