Fear and Loathing in the Farmers' Market

It's funny, in that unfunny way: thinking about going to Farmers' Market tomorrow sort of stresses me out. I mean, shouldn't it be a sort of soothing experience to browse through tables of produce, tasting stuff and feeling all earthy? Maybe that's just some sort of deluded pipe dream, but it's my Farmers' Market ideal.

Ferry Plaza is another story, though. I'm seriously considering dragging my sorry self out of bed at 8 tomorrow just so I can get there early and avoid having to do battle with all the Mercedes SUV drivers who are determined to find close parking at any cost and who, once parked, use the market as a see-and-be-seen venue. Sure, yeah, everyone has the right to partake of fresh produce on a Saturday morning, but can't you at least be nice about it?

I digress.

If I do manage to screw my courage to the sticking place and make the trek down there, I'll surely make a stop at Mariquita Farm's stall, because it's awesome, and they have great stuff. I'm mildly impatient for strawberry season to be upon us, because their berries kick ass.

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