Last Thursday, I wound my way to the farmer's market. It's always my favorite day of the week. I get called cranky and weird by Adam and only cranky the joke. As far as that goes I already knew. I got Adam to smile for the first time since I met him in early July. In his own words, it makes him adorable, in my words it made him simply handsome with his brown hair, matching eyes, large and tall frame and his neat and cowboy themed dress. (Thank god, he hasn't worn hunter's red plaid I hate it on anybody.) Anyway, it was quite an accomplishment because he showed up looking like someone stuck a tap deep inside and dragged everything ironic, determined, and opinionated into the ether. He may be working in the Crust & Crumb bakery right now to complete his education, but he's more scientific and enthusiastic about regular cooking, whereas I'd rather bake. He tells me stories about his family, and then turns around and says no relationships,  family, friends, or romantic ones last like he really believes it.

The cookies, bars, and scones, are so good. He and his boss Alison, made these apricot crumb bars, they made me close my eyes, and nibble, oh so slowly on it. I know you can look up a recipe and make anything someone else makes with experience, and skill. But I still like having someone across from me, who likes serving others, and doing it well. Even though Adam doesn't like baking, he is good at making others feel good about what they are purchasing.

Then there is Kearsage Gore Farm. The young woman sets up her stand so the fresh produce she sells for her boss, and friend, can get shade and energy from the tree in the community square. As we set up she no longer has to warn me that things are heavy as she lifts and crawls over everything easily, and somehow I struggle LESS with them. She more than talks to everyone, she laughs, and jokes, (physically and verbally), she genuinely likes them, it's not my mojo. I have a group I'm loyal too. The customers at the market talk to her about Kale, her long, starting dred hair, and skunk invaded teepee. I personally, listened and traded with her, I liked it better than talking.  Her major fault from my point of view is that's TOO generous, everyone at the market likes to share equally, and she shares too much like dandelion greens, five broccoli heads, and radishes all with a hidden bug guest.

Then there's the boss, I think I needed to warm up to him, not the other way around. I'm not aware sometimes that I'm adult I still act very respectful, and very distant. Then he and I started laughing our asses off over my stupidity over lifting up a bucket and wondering out loud what the hell vegetable could be that heavy and it turned out to be maple syrup. I guess I'm accepted. Which is good because he acts and looks the classic old man farmer, and being accepted means I'm less than a stupid city folk.