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Farmer’s Market and the Grump

April 16, 2011

I just woke up from a 2-hour nap and I’m groggy.

I had planned an elaborately poetic post. Something about colors and flavors and the heaven-meets-earth experience of going to a Farmer’s Market on a beautiful Saturday morning.

I had narrated in my head how I might describe the spring-fresh tomatoes, picked right off the vine. Or how I listened to French pop music on the way and how the light, sunny sounds filled the truck.

But really, I’m kind of grumpy and don’t feel like doing any of that.

I woke up early (and woke the toddler up early) and made it out the door late with both kids to meet my dear friend, Franchesca, and her 2-year-old daughter. The coffee maker broke before I left and I didn’t get my morning coffee. I overcooked my bagel. My toddler whined half the way there and I got lost.

When I got there – 40 minutes later – I learned you could only pay with cash. All I had was my credit card. Luckily, Franch let me borrow 15 bucks.

I changed my little girl’s poopy diaper in the front seat before leaving and green poop got on the seat. And my hand.

My toddler whined half the way to Target on the way home, where I fought the Saturday crowds to pick up milk and baby wipes and a new coffee maker. He also whined half the way home from Target. And when we got home from Target.

Then I unloaded the groceries, fed the toddler and put him down for his nap, turned Madagascar off the TV, fed the baby and tried to take my own nap to the lulling sound of my husband mowing the lawn. And leaf-blowing the deck.

It had all the makings of a beautiful blog post, it did. A wonderful friend. Beautiful toddlers. Spring-fresh vegetables and fresh herbs and cheese. But sometimes, life makes us grumpy — and that’s OK, too.

In the meantime: a picture is worth a thousand beautiful words, they say.

And so, my poetic post will live on…

In shiny strawberries filled to the brim of wooden baskets.

In holding a toddler in one hand and some fruit in another.

In sun-stamped bread with orange fig jam.

In decorated chalkboards filled with blues and pinks and yellows.

In herbs and flowers and beautiful babies.

In looking at airplanes in the sky.

In licking strawberries and bows in blowing hair.

In curious moths who find their way into bags of cranberry bread.

In candy red tomatoes that match my chipped nail polish.

And in a shirtless, roly-poly baby at my side, happy that I’ve awoken from my nap, blowing bubbles of contentment. How can you be grumpy looking at a face like that?

Wishing you a happy, non-grumpy Saturday.

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