Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Farmers Market

After the hubs gets off work he comes over and meets me. I am sitting (naturally of course, as would any one with two broken feet and no crutches to use be) on the the steps of City Hall, but apparently it's not really City Hall anymore because there are waiters and such going in and out of the front doors carrying tables and other restaurant kind of things. The waiters are probably looking at me thinking, "what does this girl think she is doing just sitting on our steps?! Doesn't she know there are benches and other perfectly good places to sit?" Or maybe they aren't thinking that, but that's the impression I get from them when I glance over and see one of them giving me the death stare. Good gracious. I just want to sit down, can't you see I am crippled?! I decide if they do come over to try and shoo me away I would look at them like I can't understand what they are saying, I would play dumb, or deaf. Then maybe that'd show em. Then they would feel all bad and stuff and leave me alone. Thankfully they have more sense then to come over to shoo me away. Plus, my cover might already be blown because I was just talking on my phone to someone, and if I was talking on the phone it obviously means I can hear perfectly well and I can also speak. Good thing I didn't have to think of a new excuse.

When the hubby comes over he asks if I've gotten my bike from the bike shop yet. Nope. I am making them pay! They are the ones that have to suffer now. ...though, I'm not quite sure how much suffering they are actually in just because I haven't picked my bike up yet. Still, I reassure myself they are completely miserable because I haven't been over to get my bike yet. Before I stand up to walk over and get it I look around me for a stick, a cane, a crutch, a cat, something, anything, to help me along. Sadly, there are none. So I limp pathetically over to the bike shop, happy it is only a block down the street. I think I have never been so excited in all of my life to see a bicycle. Seriously. I even think I was more excited to see the bicycle than my sister was one Christmas when she actually got a bicycle of her very own and jumped up and down and danced all around. I was way more excited. It's true. Only, I couldn't dance to show it as I was crippled.

Once outside I immediately sit on the bike and ride. Ah. Now, that is much better. My feet are happy again. We ride around for a while looking to see what there is to see. I like that there are bike paths Everywhere! I'm actually not terrified to ride in the 'bike lane' on the road. It makes me feel all cool and hip. Except not really. Because as I continue to pedal around town, my bike continues to become increasingly louder. SQUEEEEEEEEEEEK! CREEEEEEkk. eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!! It screams at me as I push the pedals. Just perfect. Now everyone can hear me coming from five miles away. And I'll also really truly loose my hearing from riding this bicycle. At least then I won't have to pretend with the waiters at the City Hall restaurant any more. This time it will be for the reals. I will have to scribble on an bit of napkin, "Sorry. I can't hear. I lost my hearing due to the fact that my bicycle squeaked and groaned so loudly that I lost my hearing. I would probably still be able to hear you if I had been able to sit right next to the speakers at a concert, as the loud concert speakers are nothing in comparison to my bike. Unfortunately, I wasn't given that option. There it is, my bike. Ride it and see for yourself." At which point I would point to my bike and nod my head vigorously with a big fat smile on my face. "Yes! Yes!" I would think, "Ride it! Ride it!" and an evil smile would slowly stretch across my face. But they wouldn't ride it. They would just go on and about their business and leave me sitting in silence. Pity.

After an hour of riding around town, we stop to look at a map of the town. While the hubs isn't looking, I take his backpack off his pack, he didn't even notice, that's how discrete I am, and set it one the ground. I take the 30 pound laptop out of my bag and shove it in his. By the time he's done looking at the map, I had made a successful switch. "Whatcha doing?" he says to me.

"Nothin." I smile and hand him his bag. He throws it on like it's empty. oooo..... I feel my face tightening in a glare.

He turns to me and says, "Ready?"

I quickly convert my glare to a sweet smile and say, "Yup!" How is it that carrying 30 pounds is nothing? How does it have no affect on him? I wish I could do that. Though, I think it's probably because he came fresh from work and not limping 20 miles into town and another 5 miles around town while hauling 60 pounds on his back like some of us did. Yes. That's it. He is just fresh and pain free. That's how he does it. ...And also it's probably because he is a lot bigger than me and he actually has muscles, where as I don't have a single one. Not one. If I had muscles it would probably help. I'll have to work on that. Right. Well, it's very sweet of him to carry the computer around. I'm glad he has muscles even though I don't.

We're not super hungry so we decide to go to the farmers market to see what all the commotion is about. "The World's Favorite Farmers Market" to be precise. Or something like that. They have it posted all around the designated farmers market area. We park and lock up the bikes (even though I'm pretty sure no one would want mine, and even if they did take it for some reason, they would bring it back straight away because of the deafening screech it screams at you unceasingly. Yes. They would return it in a heart beat.

We walk along, well, he walks, I hobble. There are people everywhere. There is food everywhere. There are little tents set up that are makeshift kitchens. People are in them fixing food and shoving it through little holes in the tents for people to take from. There are lines of people waiting to get their food. People are wandering around looking for seats, looking for their friends. Walking through the market we see countless amounts of yummy looking fruits. Peaches, cherries, strawberries, blackberries, plumes, and other fruits I don't know. There are bunches of veggies too. Lettuce ($6 a pound), carrots, beets (I think... it's really huge and kind of round, and purple, and anyway that's what the sign above it says so it must be a beet), onions, garlic, ginger, herbs. There are jams and honey, sauces, and handmade towels, there's meat too. 1 pound of chicken for $7. Fresh, hormone free, cage free, grain fed, range roaming chickens and cows for sale. Well, parts of the chicken or cow, not a whole live cow. That would be too much trouble to fix for dinner. Thankfully they keep the meat in a cooler until you want to buy it. Men are shouting, "Fresh, organic cherries! Come try em!" and "Fresh, locally grown peaches! Come get some!" Well, shoot, I'm never one to pass up an opportunity of free anything (food, clothes, rent... you get the idea) so when they shout to come and try their goods, well, I'm all over that. I try a cherry from each stand (because I can). As I taste each one, I pretend to be comparing it to the cherries from the other stands. Then I try the peaches. They are all the same... well, pretty much. I keep going, from table to table, trying each and every fruit I can. yummy! Free food!!! What a great meal! Well, I guess it doesn't really quantify as a meal, but it is pretty good and very fresh tasting.

After we are full from sampling all of the fruits we go and sit. People are playing games, eating, setting up picnics with their families, babies are running around naked. Three guys come over and plop down right in front of us, pull out some instruments and start jamming. They think they are soooo cool, just cause they can play the guitar and bang a drum. They are trying to attract the chicks (well, that's what we speculate at least). But ha! It back fires on them. Instead they attract old men and toddlers. Sorry guys. You are out of luck tonight.

I quite enjoy the sitting. My feet are happy and relatively pain free. I could sit all night and not move. I would be happy to do just that. As I'm thinking these happy feet thoughts, the hubs says, "I might like to go get some food." And of course, I don't want to be left out of the endeavor of hunting for food, so I get up and limp along side him. The quest begins. Soon we are surrounded my people passing by with plates of food, all different types of food. Ooo that looks good, wonder where they got that? That looks good too. Huh. Well, how do you ever decide? As the hubs is a lot more decisive than I am, he has found what he wants and goes to wait in line. I don't want to hobble around all night trying to decide what I want to eat and starve to death even though I am surrounded by food, so I just pick a line and stand in it. Then I find the menu and try to find the cheapest thing on it. Perfect a salad.... with Organic spinach (I like how they felt the need to clarify that on the menu, I guess people wouldn't buy a salad it if it didn't say "Organic Spinach" next to it. I'm just going for it because I'm cheap) walnuts, dried berries, and some fancy name cheese I can't even say, let alone know what it is. Maybe I picked the wrong line. But no. I'm staying and I'm getting that salad. I don't even get a drink... even though I'm dying of thirst. The menu said they had free tap water, when I asked for some, they said they didn't have any. Liars. So, naturally, I refuse to buy water when I could have gotten it for free. I take my salad and hobble off to find the hubs. Yes. He got a water. What a smart guy. Maybe he'll share it with me. He will. We sit at a table and he opens his amazing looking burrito. Why does it never fail that whatever he gets, no matter where we are, his always always looks better than mine. All I have is a bunch of rabbit food to munch on. super. But I eat it because 1. I paid for it and 2. I'm not going to let it go to waste.
The hubs shares some of his water (I told you he would, he's just swell like that) and even lets me try some of his burrito. I offer my bunny mix to him and he tries some. I thought the sign said there was dried berries in the salad, but I only got one. Glad they are so generous with their fruit portions. And the cheese is too dry for the salad. Maybe if they put more dressing on the "Organic Spinach" it would be a little better. Or if they would have used an actual real cheese, it probably would have helped heaps. Eh. Well, at least I feel really healthy eating this mixture of greens and one dried berry. We sit around for a little longer, finish our food, and decide to get some stuff. We venture back into the market with all the loud farmers yelling that their produce is better than the other farmers' because theirs is organic or locally grown... We look at the prices. Which farmer has the cheapest peaches, cherries, and plumes? That's the one we pick. Because, it's like I said, we are cheap. We find a few yummies and then head back to the bikes.

My bike is right where I left it, (told you it would still be there) as it should be. Oh... but what if it wasn't still there? What would I do if someone had taken my bike. I'm sure I would have walked (I mean limped) the 7 miles back home with a perfectly sweet demeanor. Naturally. I wouldn't have started hobbling off saying nasty things under my breath... about how I hate bicycles, or how this day is just a complete rotten crap day. Nope. I would have been the sweetest thing, all smiles. No complaints would be coming out of this mouth. Nope. Not one.

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