Temptation around every corner at ag show

A few weeks ago, my husband and I went to the agricultural show in Spokane. Attending the biggest agricultural event in the area has been a dream of Lee’s for many years, but something always comes up at the last minute and we don’t go.

So, this year, I wasn’t surprised when on the morning of the ag show, Lee came into the kitchen with a slump to his shoulders and announced that we couldn’t go. Apparently the brakes on the pickup needed work, the cows needed to be separated and he wanted to finish the lumber rack he was building. That familiar look of self-pity was creeping into his expression.

No way! Not again! I refused to go one more year hearing about how he never gets to go to the ag show. I narrowed my eyes and gave him “the look.”

I already had done my hair and makeup, psyched myself up for a day in the big city and could taste the meal I intended to wheedle out of him at Applebee’s. And now he wanted to stay home and separate cows? Right.

I grabbed my coat, purse and a couple of sodas and shoved him out the door. Within minutes, we were on our way to Spokane.

To tell the truth, even if the ag show had been closed, we would have enjoyed the hourlong drive. It was a rare chance for us to get away from our teenagers for a few hours and visit with each other.

But taking my husband to any kind of trade show is risky. Agricultural show, tool show, machinery show, boat show – they’re all dangerous.

His eyes glaze over, and that other Lee comes out – the one I don’t know. Remember Sybil? Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde? Suddenly, the sensible, just-above-poverty-level man I know and love is replaced by a … a money-spending oil tycoon.

He gazes longingly at farm implements, guns, power tools and skid steer attachments until he can’t figure out how he’s made it through life without them. The next thing I know, he’s making payment arrangements.

As we wandered through the ag show, Lee kept himself under control. But after a while, the sodas I had brought kicked in. Knowing I was tempting fate, I ran to the restroom while he continued browsing.

I was back in mere seconds, but as I skidded back into the showroom, I felt it. There was danger in the air. Call it a sixth sense, a premonition or women’s intuition. I felt an urgent need to hurdle tables, chairs and combines to reach my husband before it was too late.

I hurried to the aisle where I’d left him, but he wasn’t there. An uneasy feeling crept over me as I wasted precious seconds scouring the aisles. And then at last, I saw him. He was half-hidden about 30 feet away, talking prices with some cute little gal in the cattle-chute aisle.

Out of breath, I barged in, held his arm possessively and glared down my nose at the woman who dared to tempt my husband with a $6,000 cattle chute.

Granted, it was a pretty shade of burgundy, but I can buy a $5 can of spray paint in the same shade and paint the chute we already have. I mean, good grief, we have only three cows!

The cow-chute temptress appeared completely unaware of my hostility, so I gave her my “devil-eye” stare. That should have had her sending Lee on his way, but it backfired.

She whipped out a sales pamphlet with color photos of cattle chutes in all shapes and sizes, some with built-in scales, and dared to write her name and number on it so he could contact her with any questions. Jezebel!

I tugged Lee away by pointing to the Oxarc booth filled with all sorts of welders and welding supplies – a booth I normally would steer him away from at all costs. On the way there, I threw the offending pamphlet in the nearest trash can.

We made our way through the rest of the show without incident. We browsed the tractors, collected as many free pens as we could get our hands on, sampled barbecue sausages and watched a shoeshine guy polish a rancher’s alligator boots. We entered raffles to win a newspaper subscription, a kiddie four-wheeler and a carousel horse.

We ended up spending $100 on a fencing tool. That’s it. No welder, no cattle chute. It was a good day, and Lee managed to control the spending beast within except for that momentary lapse when I was forced to leave him unattended.

But that was my fault, and I’ve learned an important lesson. The Home and Garden Show will be coming to Coeur d’Alene soon, and I’ll treat the outing just as I would major surgery – I won’t eat or drink anything for 24 hours before the show.

Next time, I’ll be ready.