Saturday, July 23, 2005

 
I said it was sunny yesterday. Today is HOT. Very few clothes on the rooftop and the cat, the big one, has been melting into the hard wood floor. There's not much we can do for her now. I clipped off a bunch of her fur just last week - maybe I sensed it would get this way. But I don't think it was enough. This isn't a weather report, though, is it? And I'm certainly not a meteorologist. Yet.
The Yogini (my most constant companion) and I took a bike ride this morning. To the ferry building for some organic veggies. And fruits. When we arrived, there weren't many people there yet. I really do get up early. So it started out nice. Chatting with the farmers, or, as I suspect, the pretend farmers. Actors maybe. If they were really farmers wouldn't they be farming? I'm not saying this is bad or wrong. I get it. You gotta do what you gotta do for sales, if that's your business. So they get sinewy acting folk, spray on some tan and soil, and put them out there. The tourists dig it, but I think the locals need the make-believe more. It's kind of like when they help out at the shelter on Thanksgiving. Getting real. Almost. Anyway, The Yogini had her coffee and I had a peach. Not as ripe as the taster they connived me with, but sweet as honeysuckle on the vine. Or a peach. One depressed looking tot pushed a stroller in circles while his aunt kept asking if he wanted to push it all the way to his uncle. He never even faced that direction, and like I said, he was going in circles. I suspect any kid in this situation would look just as dour. At the same time, a slightly older tyke put her Barbie bag on the ground and proceeded to fold herself into it. I wonder when was the last time I knew I could fit in a bag? While I sat, the crowd had grown, so it was definitely time to get what we'd come for and get out. I am not fond of crowds. Mostly it's the people. We filled up our bags with basil and green onions, beets and beans, strawberries and peaches. And red butter lettuce. And dried apricots. We were on our bikes, remember, and I didn't really have a recipe in mind. Then we weaved and bumped out of the snug bustle (dance craze or ladies undergarment, you decide) and rode off into the sunset. Not really. It was nine in the morning and we were headed to...The Mission.

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