Truth be told, I actually feel rather lucky to have missed the bulk of this year's festivities. Usually, we spend the week dining on carnival food and not-so-healthy trats. Since the carnival is centered just up the street from our house, it's far too convenient to simply walk up the hill and load up on fried-this and sugar-coated-that. It's enough to make you sick.

I say that only partially in jest. Tuesday evening, as is the custom, Michelle and E went with my parents up to the fair. Both my parents were seduced by the greasy aroma of a fresh-grilled hamburger at the local civic club booth while Michelle opted for the safety of a fair-sponsored hotdog. The feeding frenzy was quite enjoyable, the atmosphere of the carnival adding to the general pleasure of a greasy meat sandwich.

Everyone enjoyed themselves. Until about 2am. That's when my parents woke up, one after the other, and spent the rest of the night shuttling back and forth from the bed to the bathroom. When I spoke with them the following morning by phone, they both sounded as if they had been rampaged by a mad cow.

Food poisoning was the official call. Michelle appeared to be free of effect from her hot dog, but my parents were not so lucky. For a full two days they could barely keep anything down and they spent much of the remainder of the week simply trying to recover from their unlucky feeding frenzy.

Later in the week, Michelle's entire family came up to town to visit the fair. By Thursday evening, Michelle found herself turning ill from her continued intake of sugar and grease. When I finally got home on Friday night, all Michelle talked of eating was white toast and plain turkey sandwiches.

On Saturday, the only day I had to enjoy the Dogwood Festival this year, I certainly had my fair share of junk food. But I have to admit, I'm not entirely disappointed about missing out on the tomaine.