Fresh and cheap. No, those aren't words people use to describe me (well, usually). Rather, they're two adjectives I'd use for the farmers' market in my town. As mentioned in my earlier post, my condo purchase has left me drowning in debt and cranky more days than I'd prefer, but one perk of living in my building is the weekly farmers' market that is literally across the street and open every Tuesday afternoon during the summer months. Since June I have taken great pleasure in strolling through the maze of produce stands, watching little kids and older folks dancing to outdated music in the small performance area, and flirting a bit with the attractive gentleman who works at the pizza booth. If you are ever in town on a Tuesday, Jason, we'll have to skip over to the booth on the corner that sells giant bags of sweet-smelling kettle corn, snag some tacos from the folks a few feet away (their meat is cooked on a giant vertical spit - awesome!), and polish off our meal with a scoop or two of homemade ice cream from the gracious gentleman by the fountain. If you want a souvenir of your visit I would recommend a $5 bouquet of fresh picked flowers or a cute kitten from the Humane Society van that occassionally docks at the curb to guilt parents into adopting a family pet - those ASPCA folks are so devious. Maybe you can even use your suave people skills to chat up the pizza guy. Is there such a thing as a farmers' market wingman? If not, I definitely think you should be the first.
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