So, yeah, summer is coming to a close. I have been busy. There are projects. But nothing monumental. You know, I painted the hall ceiling (needs a second coat), I re-patched the wall in my bedroom from the plumbing disasters, I swept the patio. And I fully intend to hem the living room drapes. Soon.
None of this really requires photographic documentation. So the camera has laid idle.
I might take a picture of miss thing's first day of school outfit. Probably will. I have a few iPhoto snaps of her (two!) missing teeth, and of her summer spent learning to swim. Oh, sure, add me to the slew of mommies blogging "oh, how did my baby grow up so fast!" It's kindergarten. I still got time.
But, all that aside, what's on my mind is the little scene at our house last night. It involved the CSA Farm share I split (somewhat illicitly) with 2 other local women. Yesterday was our pick up day, and JWH did it admirably, picking raspberries with aplomb, aided by very enthusiastic young assistant. Kid loves her some farm share. And I'm happy to have the two of them do the pick up and picking. Last time, and I swear I am not bragging here, I got hit on in the bean rows. Yeah. I may not be as young as I once was, but I still, apparently, have something that someone finds interesting.
Not that the bean row at the CSA farm is a place with a lot of hot ass competition. I had, this time in question of the hitting on, even gone home to change into suitable farm share clothing. Other times I have picked in heels. And I'm old enough to not give a damn what those hippies think of me in my BMW and red Cole Haan peep toes. I mean, really, they are no different than me, even if they are posing in their Keens next to their Prius. It's all artifice folks, I just have a different audience.
But, see, this is kind of my point. I am totally ok with who I am, inappropriate red heels or no. You want to be a hippie? Great! Vegan? Have a ball! Super athletic and eating only Paleo? Fabu. But let's all recognize that Jr. High was a long time ago and we have all found our cliques or clans or whatever, and it's just not relevant to me what group you are "in." Okay, we will all just get along.
Okay, back to the scene at the house last night: the CSA stuff was all over the island. 15 lbs of tomatoes, mind you, takes up a lot of space. I had gone to the gym, and then to McDonalds. Yes, you read that right. The gym. And then McDonalds. We were a living and breathing Mickey D's commercial where a healthy, fit, happy family has a farm share's worth or veggies on the island and is eating Chicken Selects and Filet 'o Fish with a side of cherry tomatoes and raspberries.
And then my phone rang and it was one of my farm share sharers. She was calling before coming over. She always does that. I never do that. I see her text that the veggies are on her porch and I stop by in my own damned time. She calls. We are different. We are very, very, very different. Pick a metric, any metric, and we differ. She lives not a mile from me, but her house is what you would politely call "warm" and "user-friendly." She home schools her kids. She is going naturally gray. She wears practical glasses and drives a 20 year old car (assumedly only when she cannot walk or bike). And, last night when hurrying in to pick up her veggies so was so clearly stressed and rushed and freaking out. At last she came out with "I want to sort these veggies but I'm in a rush because my kids need me at home." Her kids, mind you, are like 8 and 10. And there is a dad on scene. But the lady was overwhelmed. I did not judge. I helped her sort.
But, as I then helped her out to her car with the food it hit me that she had judged me - each time we meet she's twitchy and makes a comment about her kids being nearby to help, or in need of her attention or some such and then usually a comment about how I'm "getting home late," "coming from the gym?" or some such. She thinks I'm yuppy scum.
Chill, lady, chill.
*Please note that the McD's dinner was a first. And it was really just the protein course. And a Filet 'o Fish is under 400 calories. I actually thought it was semi-brilliant to just get the sandwiches and Selects. Practically health food. And it was 8 pm. My yuppy scum kid needed to eat and get to bed, damnit. Oh, and everyone else in the McD's was getting 20-piece nugget meals. I did not know that was a thing. It is not a thing I think is a good thing.
