The things you think about out in the garden...

The lovely Lynne Knowlton, Designer Extraordinaire, posted a random thought on her FB page recently..."Do you have any memories about your haircuts as a kid?"

Boy, Do I!

...and this picture tells it all...

Yep, my tiny Italian grandfather was a barber.  He gave us all the same doo.

(Someone needs to tell him bangs were not intended to be that damn short!  I believe the reason being was that he hated hair in kids eyes, as did my mom.  I am certain she was behind this!)

How I loved to sit up high in that barber chair with the old fashioned leather and iron booster seat... and how I hated the snip, snip, snip of those sharp shears of his sounding way too close to my tiny ears.  

I screamed "OUCH!" on more than one occasion and I wasn't alone.  We all prayed for mercy in that chair..."Dear God, Jesus, Mary, SOMEBODY help me!"

His barber shop was in the front enclosed porch of his house with an authentic barber pole hanging outside and two cool old barber chairs he would pump up with a foot pedal.  

Playing there was forbidden, of course, but oh, so very fun!

"Spin me around in that chair some more, please!"

...Next came the strap. Speaking of ouch...

Thinking on that took me to other random thoughts of little people...and shoes.

{Just face it, women never stop thinking about shoes. Ever.}

Not "little people" as in midgets or dwarfs, but little people in, "What the hell happened that made everyone shrink?"

I saw many of my parents' friends and family in January and have been stumped ever since.  That was when my father passed away and I was totally amazed at the size of everyone in the room.  I honesty felt like the Jolly Green Giant with heels on.  I had to bend way, way over to hug and look them in the eye when they gave me their condolences.  They all said the same thing, 

"You kids have gotten SO big!"  

{No kidding! They could stand in for the munchkins in "The Wizard of Oz".  Repeat after me, people, "We represent...".}

So, what the hell happened?

Is it osteoporosis?  Is it normal shrinkage? 

What?  

Whatever it is, I refuse to let this happen to me.

So, I am never, ever getting rid of my heels.

What do you think about when you're out in the garden, huh?

The first market of the year is right on cue....aka; people never cease to amaze me.

You gotta love the general public...mostly for their uniqueness and originality.  (If you can't laugh at their antics, you'd be in the slammer for hurting one of them, I swear.)

Take the farmer's market.   

{Not literally.}

Last year I made a list of humorous and unforeseen incidents that still, to this day, keep me laughing hysterically.  (It could become a farmer-comedy-routine at the next sustainable agriculture symposium,)

Take the farmer in the tent next to me that walked up to me last fall and loudly proclaimed, "I hope you can tell me what's causing my nuts to shrivel up this year!"

What can you say to that?  Keeping eye contact was hard enough...

Then there was the sweet gal that ate my 2-day old display of hardened chiabata bread...oven hardened for hours and dried for days to stand up to my lovely display of tomatoes, basil and olive oil.  She told everyone how great it tasted as my jaw stood dropped-open trying to find the words to tell her it was not for sampling, when a really, really old guy picked up the last piece, trying to bite into that simulated brick with his dentures.  

The artisan baker next to me was literally laughing for two weeks over the very pained look on his face.

One of my favorite antics came from Chester...an adorable, very well-behaved and beautifully trained dog that has become my "good omen" ever since he christened my table on the very first day I was at this market.  He lifted his leg on my tablecloth (the one with the most delightful Italian words and pictures of fruit and olives in all the right colors for my farm theme) and he shamelessly "marked his territory'.  Apparently, I'm his from now on.

So, last Saturday, at the first market of the year, it was a beautiful 73-75 or so degree day, full sun and a record turnout...what could possibly happen to add to my list of bad, badly behaved market goers?

{I shouldn't be surprised, but every time it happens I sit here shaking my head.  No! Not again!}

A professional gardener, who has become a friend (and brings me delicious homemade breakfast bars on occasion) apparently couldn't take it any longer and came up to my table saying, "No one knows how to market anything", and started rearranging my table! 

(Hello...Did she know I was standing right there?)  She meant well, and actually, I did take her "suggestions" constructively and rearranged it myself the following week. Quite an improvement I'd say but her delivery...oh my, her delivery could use a bit of...shall we say, tweaking!
{Still, bring on the breakfast bars, my friend!}

My favorite thing that happened was a quirky little comment that Chester's master made to his lovely wife when I told her, "Watch out for the big (grapevine) balls hanging on the tent!", as she dodged her way to the table to say hello.

"I just said that to her earlier this morning..." was all he said.  She turned beet red.

It will be a great year...