What is it about the State Fair -- is it the people-watching, the grease on a stick, the debauchery of the midway, the odors of the animals? I'm not exactly sure what the magic recipe is, but it calls me back every year. I have to get my fair fix! This year was like most others. Finding and navigating to my secret parking spot, grabbing a fresh chocolate malt in the dairy building as a princess gets her mug carved into butter, then a quick spin down Judson Avenue through the haze of charbroiled smoke and into the Miracle of Birth Center. Bonus! A sow was delivering her piglets in front of a small army of gawkers, LIVE! With one miracle under my belt, it was off through the coliseum, to admire the soft-sided hot tubs, past the rodeo practice and children sleeping with cows and back out to my first stick treat, the Pickle Dog. I needed blades for my Miracle Kitchen salsa chopper that I purchased last year, so it was off to the bowels of the grandstand. One hundred dollars and three Christmas gifts later, I was out the door. Back to my car to drop off the loot and then the long walk up to Machinery Hill. I'm not exactly sure why. I didn't grow up on a farm, but I have this urge to hear them fire up the old double-piston John Deere tractors, grab a slab of turkey jerky in the North Woods and hike to the midway for a foot-long corn dog and an evening extravaganza of lights and sound. Something about taking a spin on the Sky Flyer with a belly full of deep-fried pie and cheese curds to end a perfect day at the fair.