Well, the Ann Arbor Art Fairs are here again.  While many townies might boast of avoiding the insanity at all costs, or even of pointedly leaving town on that same week every year, we have a tradition of attending the first day of the festivities, rain or shine.  This is a tradition we come by honestly, one that was passed to Jon through his family and his family's family.  Though the size of the group has dwindled over the years (the first year I attended the shindig we were upwards of 15 people  for lunch in the basement of the Cottage Inn on campus, this year we were only 9), its persistence has not.  Calvin's day was made in the shade.  His Gram dropped us off one block away from the annual rendezvous lunch spot, and after he'd enjoyed a fantastic pizza lunch to the tune of so many people loving him up, she picked him up again to take him home for an air conditioned nap while we stayed behind to make our way through the crowds like driven cattle.  In ninety degree heat we perused booth after booth, each coming away with our own treasures - jewelry for some, posters or shirts for others, or items snatched off the sidewalk sale tables that businesses lucky enough to abut the thoroughfares set out.  Most of the art we truly enjoy, we truly cannot afford.  Before Calvin was born we bought ourselves two pieces of actual fair artwork, both of which keep prominent places in our home, but now if we stop to look at anything with the intention of bringing it home it's more family oriented (we're partial to wooden toys and to kitchen items).  And, thanks to shopping under grandparental influence, Calvin came away with two Art Fair pieces this year - a wooden tractor and a reading tent - all while sleeping comfortably in a cooler clime.  That's as many pieces as we have to show for all of our years of tradition.  Lucky boy.