tomatoes, cider, and gloom

Today I am gripped by a pointless melancholy, prompted by a visit to a farm stand.

There were tons of tomatoes of several varieties, and I bought a hefty bag of them. But I know, and they know, that the tomatoes' days are numbered.

This time of year, I eat at least a tomato, if not a few, a day.

Tomatoes on toasted wheat bread. Tomato slices eaten straight. Tomatoes eaten right side up, upside-down, with clothes on, naked, in the shower, in bed, chased with beer, snorted, worked into my performance pieces, etc. You get the idea. Tomatoes, tomatoes, tomatoes. I eat them. I love them.

But now it's getting past tomato time and getting into cider time.

And that reminds me that I'm really thirsty right now, and that cider seems to quench a thirst really well, but I didn't buy any today because I didn't know if I had sufficient cash in the wallet for cider and tomatoes.

The most melancholy thing of all is that, as it turns out, I did. If only I had known!

tote bag

I am in a listless place as far as writing goes - except for super cheesy country songs. The super cheesy country songs fall into my head already written, fully formed, with backup vocals and seventies-style strings already worked out. I hear them as they might sound coming out of a jukebox in some divey bar. The harmonies include one of those super deep male voices.

We had our North African dinner party last weekend (next up: South America). There was a ridiculous amount of amazing vegan food. I went to the farmer's market early, then I spent all day chopping and prepping for my Moroccan stew, only to leave it untended for a bit too long while on the phone in the other room. It burned a little. I thought, "Well, at least there's the Moroccan carrot salad," as I threw the carrot sticks into boiling water for a 10-second dip. I took the pot off the stove and was moving toward the colander in the sink when the HANDLE of the POT came suddenly DETACHED. Carrots and boiling water landed all over the kitchen, including my now-blistered left foot. So the carrots also didn't really work out, you know? And I lost my favorite pot. It was one of my grandma's wedding gifts in 1943 or 1944, so I guess it had been around. Still...

THe other ladies had made tons of amazing food, and my stew ended up being fine, really, as long as you didn't have the bad luck to get one of the crunchy burned bits, heh heh. Jen sent me pictures of our meal, which perhaps I will post a bit later. I have to go buy some Spiderman bedding for my neph right now.

School began and the kids aren't broken in to my ways yet. I'm determined not to constantly bring twenty-five tote bags* of schoolie stuff home every night, so I can also focus on the country songs in my head.



*when is the last time you heard someone say "tote bag?" oh my god. i am a person with a lot of tote bags, and not ones you'd find at some alternative craft fair. it happened to me without my realizing it. tote bags are such a teacher thing. do nashville songwriters have tote bags? how about the backup singers?