I'm not pressuring myself during the workweek, but I do have a rule during the weekend that each day I have to go out and do something sort of fun. So yesterday, I went to the farmers market.
Perhaps that sounds like a giant snoozefest to you, but I just loves it. My plan was to take pretty pictures, and buy processed food as I always do at the farmers market. Maybe get coffee (processed, if possible) and watch people while I sit on a bench judgmentally.
I'm not sure what you do with these. Aren't they supposed to come with caramel and nuts on them? Or in a pie. Aren't they supposed to be in a pie? It's weird to see them naked and ashamed like this.
Apparently, pumpkins with genital warts are now the shizz.
And it was right there at the pumpkins that I looked up and...
..there was Ned. You know how you just gasped? Yeah. Imagine my shock, with all the hummingbirds flying around up in me all of a sudden. We went there ONE TIME that I can think of, in our almost four years together. ONE TIME and now heyyyy, here's Ned. All farmer-ing out.
On Friday night, some of the Alexes and I were discussing where to go for ironically named happy hour, and I had a list of Ned Danger Zones. Places he might go if he felt like drinking and not stampeding to the gym. I'm afraid I even made a "highway to the danger zone" joke, because that's what it's come to. But the FARMERS MARKET? Come on, God.
So we did what you always do when you run into the man you love and can't be with. We looked at gourds. "I don't know what it is. Ned," I said. "I'm drawn to this greenish one."
"That wavy orange one is calling to me," said Ned.
So we had coffee. And talked. I told him I'd just seen Marvin. "Oh, how was Marvin?" he asked. He'd always liked Marvin. "Did you guys have sex?" Ned has this idea that I'm out FLINGING my girl parts around all over town, like they were champing at the bit to get out all this time.
Dear Annoying Person Who Sent Me An Annoying Correction Comment Last Time and Did Not Even Bother to Look It Up, and Who Forgets Hey, June's a COPY FUCKING EDITOR. No, it isn't. It's CHAMPING. Chomping has been incorrectly used for so long that people think, oh, that MUST be right. Sadly, it will move that way and WE ARE ALL IDIOTS.
There are all sorts of things we say now that are technically incorrect, but the language moves on. I should blog in Olde English. Plus, how polished would this place be?
Anyway, I assured Ned that I did not butter Marvin's biscuits, which you guys know if I had you'd be the first to know. Similarly, if I were planning to butter ANYONE'S biscuits you'd be the first to know. Is that wrong?
I'd taken my requisite unsmiling selfie before the Ned sighting, but then he took this one and it sums me up, as well.
At least he wasn't with a girl, right? I mean, that would have been so much worse. Still. It pretty much screwed me up for the day.
Today I'm going to the Jewish Festival, and I realize my life was one big Jewish festival for 16 years, but maybe I'm having a throwback Sunday or something. Am hoping they have, like, adoptable Jewish husbands in crates or something. "Oh, can I pet this one?"
So that's my plan. Jewish fest, maybe a nice trip to the bookstore, and then I thought maybe I'd go home and open a wrist.
You?
