The 24th of July was Pioneer Day in good 'ol Utah. We watched the local parade in the only way parades should be watched: in our pajamas, on the couch, in the air conditioned house, on the television.
Oh yeah, baby, I got Pioneer Day spirit. Rah rah rah.
The emcees made quaint comments about the local floats and festivities, as well as letting the audience know about the other festivals going on around the state. Each city in the area has a special thang they do for summer: Strawberry Days, Rodeo Days, Pony Express Days, etc. (Not sure why everyone suffixes with "days" rather than just calling it a "festival." I've never asked. It's quite probable that no one else knows, either.)
I wasn't paying that much attention, I'll admit, but I did perk up when they mentioned the Orgy Festival coming up.
O.O
Say wha-?? I've never heard of this before!
Much to my disappointment, the emcee was actually referencing the Orchard Festival.
It figures. Our county isn't exactly a prime example of a simple little thing known as diction.
It's too bad I didn't figure it out before asking my husband if you had to register for that sort of thing or if you could just show up. It does explain the strange look he gave me, though...
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