There is a fair setting up across the street from my house. The Ferris wheel is set up first and will run for two days before the rest of the fair is set up. I go over and meet a man who is sort of an agent or associate of the man who runs the Ferris wheel. He and I talk and it is clear that I write and he does, and he is interested in maybe marketing stuff. I get on the Ferris wheel with Boomer the cat in my arms. We start going up and the cat gets scared and I wonder if this was such a good idea. I notice I'm not scared by the height, which I usually am. Then I turn my body more so I face full front and we keep going up and I get scared too. I hang on to Boomer hard, hoping he won't scratch me badly, and soothe him. We go around and around and then it stops and I get off. The man who runs it is interested in me and the agent comes over to tell me the other man would like to have a date with me after the fair closes. I say, "But how old is he?" The agent says, "30 or so." I say, "Well, does he know I am much older? I'm 53." He smiles and says he knows but it's OK. He lives with his mother, and besides, he likes that I am a writer. We can talk about writing. I hesitate and then say OK. I walk home now to wait, but am very aware of how tired I feel and how I would rather go to bed and sleep than wait up to go out late at night. Now I see a woman who is the mother of a young woman. I say hi and we talk. She is interested in writing too. I tell her she reminds me of a vegetable. She has a green cast to her pudgy face. This does not sit well with her. She is insulted and tells me she doesn't appreciate being compared to a vegetable. I try to explain myself saying it was a compliment and I didn't mean any particular vegetable. I didn't mean a tomato or a potato (I have trouble deciding which pronunciation I should use, like that song "You say tomato, I say tomato"). I list carrot as well, saying I think the carrot is a fine vegetable. But I know inside I am not complimenting her. Her writing is stodgy, no energy, unthinking, like a vegetable. Now I hear a very annoying sound and look over to see her younger daughter flicking her finger tips and nails together over some food thing. The mother is nagging her to stop and doing the same thing. The young woman who is my friend sits between them, quite distressed and powerless at stopping these two from their power plays. I feel sorry for the young woman and want to help.