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(OR, How I conveniently managed to look like a total dweeb next to all of the “real” farmers and eat cookies that were awesome.)

Earlier this afternoon, we went off to a Farmer’s Market. In the parking lot of a museum, about thirty or so vendors were selling their wares- mostly small organic farmers selling vegetables and meat.

I will admit, was a total dweeb. I said nothing to anyone about my interests. My shirt kept hitching up over my pants, I almost tripped, and generally looked like a fool when I voted for the dilly bread instead of whole wheat.

We got several things- Napa Cabbage, Kale, applesauce, apple butter, cheese, dilly bread, and…

Spelt cookies.

Wonderful, delicious cookies that tasted just perfect with a drizzle of dark chocolate and gosh, I wish I could give y’all a cookie through the computer screen right now, they were that delicious.

Anyway, about the dweeb-iness of myself. Remember a few posts ago when I wrote about fitting in? Oh yeah, totally feeling the “I’m a total stranger here and I have no clue what is going on.” I think the mix of farmy-looking and the hippy-looking people threw me for a loop, but who knows, I still didn’t say anything.

I wanted to ask the lady selling grassfed beef if she supplemented their diets at all or if she was straight-up-and-down grass and water.

I wanted to ask the dude selling those funky little curly eggplants what you really make with them.

I wanted to ask the bread lady if she had a storefront.

But, no. I let my nerves get ahead of me and I totally botched it. I was around real, actual factual farmers that knew what they were doing, and I was a nervous chubby kid in an ill-fitting shirt carrying several plastic bags.

I think at this point, I should just become a hermit.

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