Oooooooohhh I just have to tell you about the bestest food around. Now I have eaten in a lot of restaurants around town and in quite a few-out-of-the-way restaurants in small towns in Indiana and in a few surrounding states but by and large I prefer sampling the foods at outdoor festivals the best. Why? I don’t know; maybe it’s because no one notices the way Wayne handles the food situation. He is totally dedicated to eating and he doesn’t care who gets in the way or who gets splashed on, the messy lovable little dear. But seriously, I think it’s the fresh air, smoky flavor, and the variety of foods we don’t normally find at home.

We went to the Forks of the Wabash Pioneer Festival on Saturday, September 22nd. It was at Hier’s Park in Huntington, Indiana. Now I couldn’t remember where Hier’s Park was from when we were there last year. I think I’m suffering from Old Timer’s Disease or the ‘Here Afters’, one of the two. I’ll go into a room and say to myself, “Now what am I here after?” I noticed Wayne is having the same problem but won’t admit it; he can’t remember if he just ate or is getting ready to eat.

Wayne and I were watching TV the other night and he got up to go to the kitchen. I asked him to bring me a dish of ice cream and I wrote it down on a piece of paper so he wouldn’t forget it. He argued with me and wouldn’t take it. He came back with an egg sandwich. I didn’t have the heart to tell him he forgot the ice cream. When I bit into the sandwich I realized he hadn’t forgot it after all the little mind slipper.

The literature that Bobby Stark gave me said to go to Huntington and follow the green arrowhead signs. We left early, around 9am, Wayne drove, and somewhere around noon we saw our first green arrow sign and just followed them right to the festival. It was so exciting I had to go use the potty first thing. The bathroom was nice and clean but I carry one of those little bottles of something or other that all you do is squirt it on your hands and rub it around and it kills germs. They are so handy.

Wayne paid $4 for both of us to get in and they stamped my hand with a rubber stamp that resembled a blue arrowhead so that if I had to go to the car or somewhere outside the fence, I could just show them my stamped hand and get back in without paying again. It’s a good thing I did; I forgot my medicine and had to go back to the car to get it.

Wayne wanted the girl to stamp the bald spot on the back of his head. He said that he might have to wash his hands and he didn’t want it to wash off. Yeah right! He still had the stamp mark they put on his head from last year. I think he just wanted some attention from the pretty young thing that was handling the stamp, the little flirt.

When Wayne turned around to show the girl where to put the stamp, I took the stamp from her and did it myself. It left Wayne with a long blue mark that looked like a blue demented night crawler trying to eat a rabbit. It went clear down to his collar. He just giggled like a stupid school boy; he didn’t even know what happened. After that, while we were walking around, he thought people were waving to us so he was waving back; they were smiling and pointing. He thought a lot of people recognized me from my picture in the WAYNEALE NEWS.

Wayne then commenced to eat his way from the front of the festival to the back and then to the front again. We had to try the curly potato chips. They sliced a potato with an electric drill and made one looong potato chip out of one potato. They then tossed it into the French fryer and they were so good with catsup. Wayne does put catsup on everything he eats anyway you know.

Then we had to try one of those monstrous pork tenderloins. Deed it was a foot long and half a foot wide. I just wish the bun were bigger. Wayne cut it in two with his handy dandy Barlow knife the kids gave him for Christmas one time when they were real little. He is handy, sometimes. Anyway we cut it in three places and doubled it up on the small bun halves, smeared on the mustard, catsup, and pickles and headed off to listen to the people singing and playing on the stage.

Even though we brought our own bottled water with us, we did each buy a bottle of root beer and got a cup of ice cream and made our own Black Cows or were they called Brown Cows? Deed I haven’t tried one of those since I was a little girl. It brought back so many memories. Oh dear I think I’m going to tear up. Give me a minute.

Any way we sampled some caramel corn made in a big black iron kettle by some people that represented Huntington College. I saw Lowell Tillman working his buns off again this year making corn to sell to help the college. He is so handsome and so generous with his time. Why I’ve known him since I was, well, it’s been a long time. It must be about 40 years now. Oh no it can’t be that long. Anyway we tried about every thing we saw to eat. Wayne went back for seconds on some of the food. About half way through I had to stop and take a Pepsid and clean up Wayne. He had catsup everywhere. I made him turn his sweat shirt wrong side out so no one would notice. How a piece of corn dog got in his sock I’ll never know. I may never get the mustard stains out of his underwear either. That man!

Anyway I give the food at the festival a whole hundred forks of approval and if you want to have some fun and sample a lot of good food you only get once or twice a year then check the papers for some outdoor festivals in your area. I hear the Kendallville Apple Festival is coming up so I might see you there. I’ll be the one with an Apple burger in one hand and Wayne on the other. Do stop me and say, “Hello.” Till then, Ta Taaa.

(Ed. Note: Mrs. Wayne Dale may be signing autographs at the Waynedale Bakery Friday morning, September 28, from 9am to 10am. Stop in, say hello, get her autograph, and meet her ‘tubby hubby’.)


Mrs. Waynedale

The adventures and reviews of Mrs. Waynedale are written by a mystery author in the Waynedale area. You have to love her, eccentric, truthful, and quaint as she is. She is a champion for Seniors.

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Mrs. Waynedale

The adventures and reviews of Mrs. Waynedale are written by a mystery author in the Waynedale area. You have to love her, eccentric, truthful, and quaint as she is. She is a champion for Seniors. > Read Full Biography > More Articles Written By This Writer