This weekend was the first weekend in recent memory that I haven’t had to go anywhere or do anything, and man, did I ever need it. The past few weeks have been packed with flights to catch, meetings to attend, races to watch and places to go. It wasn’t all 5am meetings and flight delays; but even the sunny, summer-like days in Occoquan watching Joel’s regattas started to get exhausting when all I wanted to do was be at home for more than a few hours at a time.
We went apple picking on Saturday on a farm about 40 minutes from our house, but it felt like we were about three galaxies away from the city. The place was pretty packed, but we managed to wrangle up a few bags of apples, spinach and broccoli before all the good stuff was gone. And by that I mean, there was so much fruit hanging off the trees that I felt like we should take more more MORE just so that all those delicious apples wouldn’t go to waste. Luckily for the bees, we could only carry so much.
I also wanted to get a pumpkin, although I wasn't sure what exactly we were going to do with it.
This isn't actually the pumpkin we got, since I found a much "better" one about three seconds after this pictures was taken. I thought I was going to have to push a four-year-old out of the way to snag it, but she got distracted by A! Baby! Pumpkin! SO! CUTE! and I made off with The Perfect Pumpkin. Sucker.
Some other random pictures from the farm:
Some blooming broccoli...
A very fall-ish scene, despite the summer temperatures.
This picture I took to prove to my brothers that blue corn DOES exist, a fact they didn't believe even when I showed them where it said "no artificial colors or flavors" on the bag of Tostitos Blue Corn Chips. I realize that the corn Tostistos uses is probably not exactly like this, but my point is: corn can be blue. Blue corn makes blue chips. Que milagro!
I also managed to find a novel ways to successfully lock myself out of the house. The yoga studio I go to has these adorable little lockers with cute mini-padlocks for those cynics among us who can’t trust fellow yogis not to steal our shit while we’re trying to get our asana on. Personally, I think that most of the people who come to this studio would be more likely to eat an entire non-organic cow doped up on hormones than steal from a fellow person, but after having my wallet stolen from my office desk drawer (TWICE), I’ve decided that an ounce of precaution is worth a ton of headaches (and we all know that standing in line at the MVA for a new license is equivalent to twelve migraines). I was actually giving myself a mental pat on the back for locking up my purse when a little light went off in the recesses of my brain. SOMETHING IS NOT RIGHT, it said. WHAT, PRAY TELL? I asked, and it did not respond. Just as I clicked the adorable mini-padlock shut, I realized, shit, there is no matching adorable key dangling from this tiny padlock. I have just prevented myself from stealing my own purse.
Eventually I was able to get my stuff back, thanks to several panicked phone calls to every “emergency” number tacked on the instructors’ bulletin board and a junk drawer full of paper clips, water bottle caps and, lo and behold, spare keys to mini padlocks.
While I was simultaneously trying not to freak out and impress the importance of the items in that locker (HOUSE KEYS), the instructor told me a story about this one time she locked herself and her son out of their house and they had to wait a whole 45 minutes for her mom to come and open the door. Thanks for trying, I told her, but I have you beat about twenty times over. Let me tell you about a fine day in history, a day I like to call The Worst Day of My Life. Or perhaps you’d like to hear about something a bit more recent? Of a tale from the Windy City?
You’d think I’d have some safeguards in place for this kind of thing, since it happens so often, right? I DO. My first line of defense also doubles as my significant other, but he was out in the ‘burbs and not expected back for many hours on Saturday. My second line of defense, my friend Liz, is always ready and willing to come over and open the door with the spare key I
let her forced her to keep… except she was in St. Croix this weekend.
It’s not easy getting into jams like this, but someone has got to do it. What else would I blog about?