We missed our Thursday night CSA veggie share pick-up this week so instead made the 40 minute drive to the farm itself to pick our own veggies this week.
Here's where I'm supposed to say earthy spiritual things about how wholesome and grounding it is to pick one's own food right from dear old Mother Earth but, dear reader, don't hold your breath. Mostly I'm really concerned about my gorgeous sparkly mermaid pedicure being utterly destroyed. Oh right! Now I remember! One is not really supposed to farm in flip flops.
I remember because I was once the child of a man with many big, lush gardens and I was forced to pick those gardens. And recently I've felt fairly nostalgic for those gardens and that time and the knowledge I could've gotten from my parents that I didn't because I was a prissy brat. Well, guess what? I'm still pretty damned prissy, as it turns out. Good thing that today my son had the whole brat thing covered so I was forced to control that particular portion of my adorable self.
Of course, I AM thrilled to be able to cook and eat (with love) all these lovely organic locally grown green -- SO green -- veggies! But...I'm just saying that today, this second day of my rebirth taught me something important about myself. I love local, organic produce but someone else can pick it, thank you very much. And that works just fine because my husband and my daughter (except for the bugs) like picking just fine.
Know Thyself, right?
Yesterday, I celebrated my rebirth with a wax, a pedi, a new outfit & a night on the town. That's just the sort of thing a prissy QueenPrincess likes. Now...look at this mess...LOOK AT IT!
And this was not the first lesson I learned about myself today. The other took the better part of my morning to learn. When one is looking for a specific cheap item, one should not waste their time attempting to find it at garage sales. Because here's what happens: one buys a lot of shit one absolutely does not need then realizes one has wasted one's day driving through every neighborhood in one's small mid-Michigan town while one never found the original item one was seeking in the first fucking place.
And this is another nostalgia thing. My mother LOVED garage sales. Good gravy, truly truly LOVED them, my friends. A day spent yard-saling was a perfect day for my mother. It used to drive me CRAZY! Now I think it's darn cute so I think I had it in my mind this morning that perhaps my mother had some hidden wisdom with regards to garage sales. I was ready to take advantage of that hidden wisdom this morning. But, um, no, there was no hidden wisdom. The woman just loved yard sales. Period. I love pedicures and big obnoxious earrings and Rob Lowe and reimagined fairy tales. There's no hidden wisdom in any of those things. It's just the weird little shit that makes me who I am, at least in part.
Two valuable lessons in two days ain't too shabby. I don't do the picking. I don't do garage sales.
I highly recommend doing a few things you've always romanticized and thought might be cool, or fun, or whatever and do them. See if they are as awesome as you thought they'd be or if there's a really good reason -- like it doesn't fit with any part of who you are -- that you haven't done it all along.
Tonight, our children are both hosting friends (another brother/ sister pair) for a sleepover. I'm guessing tomorrow's lesson is going to be "I don't allow both kids to have a sleepover at my house on the same night." We'll see.
Happy rebirthing, Team QueenPrincess!
Cook, eat, look for everyday magic, celebrate your newness, and know yourselves WITH LOVE.