It’s all over. Fair season has come to an end in the Midwest and every 4-H mother is breathing a heavy sigh of relief. I’ve realized a couple of things, as our county fair concluded recently.

I finally came to the realization that I’m not as youthful as I used to be, and three to four hours of sleep won’t keep me from stating my opinion, however ugly it might be. I’ve also realized that when Mom stops hovering over her kids, they might actually step up to the plate, take responsibility and execute exactly what they’d been taught for years.

But on the lighter side of life, any kind of fair can bring out patrons you never knew existed. Walking through the crowds of people makes you stop and wonder: Where did all these people come from, and just exactly what do they do for a living?

It seems someone else was wondering the same thing, and I was e-mailed a comical list of observations.

The following is a list, compiled by a bunch of folks all over the country, of warning signs that your county fair is in full swing:
•Every Wal-Mart within a 50-mile radius is empty.

•You suddenly crave corn dogs.
•A couple named Cletus and Georgiana park their house on your street.
•Your driveway in town is blocked.
•Casino profits are down because everyone is saving up for deep-fried Snickers and turkey legs.
•Trailer parks are empty.
•A Carnie Orange-Alert is issued in the neighborhoods near the fairgrounds.
•Breathing the air leaves an oily film in your nose.
•American flag-patterned ‘do-rag sales skyrocket.
•You look at something – anything – on your dinner plate and wonder what it would be like deep-fried.
•Your mother calls and begs to see B.J. Thomas with you.
•You feel out of place because you don’t have a mullet.
•There’s a spike in Hoveround sales.
•You watch the local newscast to be entertained by all the weird people in the background.
•You realize everyone but your grandmother has a tattoo … and then you pass by the tattoo shack only to see her in the booth considering some body art.
•People dust off their 38 Special and Loverboy albums to get refreshed on the lyrics.
•The smell of grease and body odor fills the air.
•Your self-portrait airbrushed calendar is on its final month.
•Violent nights of sleep begin with alarming cold-sweat dreams of Zingo rides falling into black holes.
•Parents force their toddlers out of the stroller when they finally win that 4-foot Tasmanian Devil stuffed toy.
•Tobacco spitting is permitted only when the ride is not in session.
•Nutritionists are place on suicide watch.
The county fair is a wonderful event, but I’m glad it only comes around once a year; we need the other 358 days to rest up.

Readers with questions or comments for Melissa Hart may write to her in care of this publication.