5:30 a.m.- woke up about 45 minutes earlier than usual having to pee. I drank too much Crystal Light before bed while watching the film version of The History Boys. Once I'm awake, I'm awake. There is no going back to sleep. So, I let the dogs out, gave them their breakfast treats, put them back in bed with Curt, scanned some online news sources and headed off to the farmer's market.
6:08 - 7:15 a.m.- I arrived at the Minneapolis farmer's market a little earlier than usual. It was great at this hour! Plentiful parking and smallish crowds. It was also early enough that the Moms weren't there. The Moms are the annoying parents (yes, men can be Moms too) who believe that the farmer's market is a cool place to be seen on a Saturday/Sunday morning with a double wide baby stroller and the toddler who has no sense of where he/she is standing/running/whining in relation other people. The Moms rarely actually purchase anything, but they sure know how to stop their double-wides in the aisles to talk to other Moms with their double-wides about the oh-so-cute fart that little Ariel or Stone (whichever Disney or soap opera name happened to be hot last year) issued at the dinner table over take-out last night. Ha ha ha. I'm so not amused.
I like the farmer's market because I can get a cup or two of good coffee from the French Meadow Bakery, stroll around at my own pace buying up locally grown produce, and talk to the hosta vendors about what is new this week. So here is what I purchased this week: vine-ripened tomatoes, green onions, sweet basil, citrus stuffed green olives, sweet gherkins with hot peppers, two large balls of fresh mozarella, red bell peppers and, of course, the gayest flower of them all..... two large bunches of gladiolas! This week's colors- coral pink and white with a coral pink center. Last week's colors: plum and white. (If you pay close attention, you can see certain Minnesota gays with big pick up trucks who drive away from the farmer's market with bunches of gladiolas in their rear window gun racks. I can hear them now- "Ooooh, Mary, I just love our butch truck with the gladiola rack. God bless the sister sledge who came up with that fabulous idea.")
There is a reason I buy gladiolas- I'm good with matching colors, but I can't arrange flowers well. Some gay men just have a genetically predetermined flair for making stunning floral arrangements. Not me. With gladiolas, I can trim the stems, snap off the underdeveloped floppy top bit (which, by the way, helps them to bloom all the way to the top faster) and stick them in a vase. Easy peasy. There are other gay genes that I was denied: the tidy gene, the gym gene, the fashion gene, the "I can name that paint chip color at 50 yards" gene and the "I would pay $1250 to see The Barbra- what fool wouldn't" gene, among others.
7:30 a.m.- arrived at home, stored food purchases in fridge, followed gladiola prep steps mentioned above, hung up some shirts from the laundry, evaluated my checking account to see if I have enough money to maybe buy some more art at one of the three big art fairs going on this weekend. Later we'll be going to Aqualand to purchase a really big aquarium for Curt to start a discus tank. Cool.