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Yes, indeed, I have decided to take on the challenge of a triathlon – (a competitive athletic event involving a swim, a bike ride, and a run). For those of you who know me well, you may have the same reaction as Chris: “You do realize you have to swim, right?” OK, so I don’t know how to swim, minor detail… I had swimming lessons, once – for two days when I was like seven, which I’m pretty sure involved not a whole lot more than hanging onto a kickboard and splashing my legs as wildly as I could. This vital, coming-of-age instruction was abruptly cut short and possibly scared me from learning how to swim for the rest of my childhood.

But a bit of background first: The nearest public pool to my home is in the small town of Chatsworth, IL, about seven miles west of my house. C.A.P.S. (which I honestly don’t know exactly what it stands for… Chatsworth Area Pool (for) Swimming? is as good as I can come up with…) was the only pool I’d ever known. Living that sheltered, I-only-know-of-what’s-inside-my-own-bubble kind of life, I didn’t realize how amazing this pool really is. It’s huge. It’s ginormous. It’s every other synonym (using real or made up words you can think of) for large. It’s actually the biggest pool in the United States containing 1,300,000 gallons of water (yes, that’s ONE MILLION) – well, it was the record holder until just a few years ago when another one was built to hold 5 gallons more so that they could boast instead. (By the way, this pertinent data was gathered via one quick phone call to the dear old establishment this evening, since there is, of course, no info about it online.) Per capita, though, I bet it still takes the cake – Chatsworth has a population of approximately 1200 residents. That’s more than 1,000 gallons of water per person! It took Chris’ reaction upon first drive by back when we were dating for me to realize that this was something impressive.

Anyway, back to the suspenseful end of my swimming lesson days. Since the pool was “so far away,” the school district apparently decided to offer transportation using the school buses in the summer. There was a morning session for the younger kids (which I was in), and a second session later on for the older kids. Two days into the intended week long event, the bus carrying the second group to the pool crashed. My cousin was on the bus, so I watched the noon news intently, relieved to find out that no one was injured. This did, however, cease the free, school-provided transportation, and thereby ended my swimming lesson days. So it’s not so much that the swimming lessons themselves were horrendously scary – I just have a traumatic memory associated with the idea of learning how to swim – and I guess, therefore, never learned in a formal setting.

Some of the people I would have called my best friends growing up had pools – Brandi, Shannon, Dawn Lee (have to use her last name because of the same name issue. She was Dawn Lee, and I was Dawn T. – That was cool when I was nine.) So any other form of swimming education took place from my peers in nothing more than a 4 foot deep, 16 foot round backyard pool. I learned I wasn’t supposed to open my eyes underwater or else they get really red; I learned how to do a pretty killer handstand in a pool; but beyond that, I didn’t really learn a whole lot about proper swimming technique.

Which (finally, I know) brings me to my recent venture into learning how to swim and my official triathlon training! Soon after arriving here, I saw a couple of advertisements for the Ramblin’ Rose Women’s Only Super Sprint Triathlon. My very first passing thoughts of it were fleeting, since I know I’m a terrible swimmer. But I kept seeing these advertisements in different places, and then I had that God-is-speaking-to-you-LISTEN! moment. The first Sunday we went to church, there was an announcement in the bulletin about a pre-race triathlon meeting. (I found out that that group in particular was participating in an entirely different triathlon, but it still prompted me to look into it more.) I got online and researched the Ramblin’ Rose. I found out it involves a 250 yard swim (in a pool, thank goodness, I couldn’t even tackle an open water course right now), a 9 mile bike ride, and a 2 mile run. Run – piece of cake. Bike – fine barring any technical difficulties. Swim – haven’t even been in a measured pool to have a clue as to how far that is…

Upon further research, I learned that one of the running/fitness apparel stores in town, Fleet Feet, was hosting a Beginner Triathlon Clinic for 6 weeks and the first meeting was that night! My heart started racing. Was I really going to make the decision to commit to doing a triathlon in the ten minutes I’d spent looking at the info online? That’s a little too spontaneous for me!

When Chris got home, I told him of my idea. He had the aforementioned reaction, and then tried to graciously backpedal and be supportive when he realized I was serious. And just like that, I was signed up for a six week training program with five structured workouts per week plus group clinics on Tuesday and Thursday nights. There’s nothing quite like 45 women from their mid-twenties to their early sixties riding their bikes through town, taking over the Hanes Park track, and swimming laps at the YWCA pool. It’s been fun getting to know these women, and interesting to see the different connections and opportunities that unfold from this gathering. (Perhaps more on this in a later post). Our training group has been in the newspaper, on the local NBC news station, and Genell (our oldest, but probably spunkiest member) was even featured in the magazine Forsyth Woman.

Our coach, Emily, has been fantastic! She and her husband, Keith, own the Fleet Feet store, and are both triathletes. Keith (in the white shirt) has done 7 full Ironmans (2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mile run), including competing in the World Championship in Hawaii once. Emily has done one full herself, plus several of the other distances (halves, Olympic distances, and several sprints). They’ve been awesome at encouraging us during the workouts as well as getting us prepared for all of the logistics of the race.

Last night, they had an after-hours party at their store for us, so that we could see the latest triathlon apparel via a fashion show. Emily (in the blue shirt) also got her favorite massage therapist to come in and do brief assessment massages for us to work out any of the kinks.




There were appetizers, chocolates, and wine – and lots of women trying on lots of skin-tight, swimsuit-like material, which I might add, is a workout in itself! The “tri-gear” has some chamois material to help you dry faster after coming out of the pool. By wearing this kind of outfit, you don’t have to worry about changing clothes somehow or (as bad of) chaffing if you tried running in wet cotton. Since participating in a triathlon is not exactly the cheapest entertainment around, I actually purchased my race day outfit last Friday during TAX-FREE weekend! (What a great idea, North Carolina!)

The race is on Sunday, August 24th, so I only have a couple more weeks to figure this swimming thing out. I can now swim 50 meters in about 45 seconds, but then I have to stop and gasp for air! (But that is an improvement since I could barely make it one length of the pool (25 m) three weeks ago). It makes no sense – I can run forever (well, not literally of course…) but swimming sucks the life right out of me! It’s horrible! But, it’s also good – I’m looking at this experience as a huge challenge, a fear to face and overcome, a growing opportunity.

While swimming is a skill I never learned as a child, I’m coming to appreciate the activity in ways I never imagined I would. It will definitely remain my weakest sport of the three, (and I’m pretty sure it will always involve the dorkiest looking pictures as evidenced from the three selections above! Plus, that one could have looked infinitely more amusing, but I wouldn’t let Chris take the picture with my NOSE PLUGS on!) Anyway, I’m trying to convince my head that swimming is the most relaxing activity in the world. It’s like jogging at a super slow pace. It’s like floating on a moving cloud. It’s so easy my grandma could do it (no offense, grandma)… If only my brain would believe it and my body would follow suit! Wish me luck – Aug 24th – I’m sure I’ll let you know how it goes!

First Friday Gallery Hop

So on the First Friday of every month, the art galleries and associated eclectic shops in the downtown arts district (6th and Trade Streets) are open from 7-10 pm. Again, the city closes down the streets and there are live performaces of all sorts - from African drummers to belly dancers to a harmonica and blues duo. Many of the stores have free wine and snacks including the predictable cheese and crackers, but also things like black bean and corn salsa, sun-dried tomato and olive relish, various flavored fresh baked scones, etc. Roasted red pepper jelly over cream cheese with crackers was probably my favorite sample of the evening.

My favorite part of the night was when a woman asked me if I worked in the store we were in - it was the Bubbling Well Tea and Tonic Bar / Golden Flower Tai Chi Center. I can't figure out for the life of me what in the world made her think that I would work there. I don't even know what a tea and tonic bar really is, and all I know about Tai Chi is that it involves slow thought-related movements and breathing . I was merely reading an article in a magazine near one of the tall tables off to the side, and she thought I worked there?! Unbelievable - and hilarious to me!

In terms of stores, there is everything from a fine tableware and stationery store, to the traditional paintings on a wall art gallery, to an earthy all items handmade in Winston-Salem (and the smell of patchouli is so strong it knocks you over as soon as you open the door) kind of shop. (Side note: In case you can't tell, I dislike patchouli immensely. My first encounter with it was my freshman year of college when a let's just say, "more than mellow" senior fell into me in passing. Seriously, in that split second, she transferred the scent to me and I couldn't get rid of it for the rest of the day despite multiple showers.)


And, if you've been reading previous posts, the mermaid in the window made a repeat appearance tonight - this time with her bubble-blowing friend - so I had to break down and take a picture of it as well. I'm still not 100% sure what she's promoting, but I think the store sells beach-themed art perhaps.

I told Chris that we have to go back next month because I definitely didn't get to take in all of the stores like I would have wanted to. Plus, there's a vendor who sells fresh apple dumplings that I feel inclined to try. (Next time I'll know not to eat as much for dinner so I have room for more of the samples!)

NC Nascar

For you race fans reading this blog, we took in our first NASCAR race at Bowman Gray Stadium here in Winston-Salem on Saturday night. For your trivia knowledge, Bowman Gray is NASCAR’s first and longest-running weekly track where Richard Petty won his 100th race. The Allisons, the Myerses, and the Earnhardts have all raced here (of course, I only know the last name in that list, but apparently the others are impressive as well, since it made the program highlights.)

It was ladies night - $1 admission - wooo hooo! I was pretty sure Chris was going to get kicked out of the place when he pulled out his baggie of ear plugs. (I appreciate my hearing and ear health just as much as the next guy, so I just used my fingers as nonchalantly as I could.)

Growing up, I had some connections to the races, albeit on a smaller scale - and a dirt track, so I was pleased with how clean I was at the end of the night! My uncle (and now cousin as well) drive a street stock car; A distant cousin (grandma's sister's grandson) was pretty phenom in our area back in the day; and some high school friends worked in the pits for some drivers as well. Saturday night though was more big league than those experiences of course.

The highlight of the night was definitely the chain race at the conclusion. I mean, who wouldn't be excited when two cars are chained together and racing around the track in a no-holds-barred frenzy. And to make it even more interesting: The back car doesn't have an engine - and the front car doesn't have any brakes! If the pair disengages, you are disqualified). I knew we were in for a treat when the two 8-year-old girls who had been playing hand-clapping games all night stood up and started hopping on the bleachers in excitement when they introduced the event. It was hilarious, to say the least. We even had a hold-your-breath finish as the leaders got caught up in a forced crash in the final turn as we waited on the edge of our seats (figuratively, of course, since we were standing and maybe even hopping a little in excitement as well) to see who could maneuver out of the tangle first.

We were definitely able to experience a different side of North Carolina culture – let’s just say it wasn’t a diverse jazz concert downtown. We even got a little bit of political inculcation during one of the winner’s speeches as it concluded with a resounding, “And vote Republican!”

All in all, a pretty fun experience - I’d say we each got our money’s worth!

A Big Test, a Bit of Nature, and a Little History Along the Way

Early Friday morning, Chris and I drove to Greensboro (about 30 miles to the east), so that he could take his Family Medicine boards (a regularly scheduled 9-hour test that officially makes him a board-certified Family Medicine practitioner). While he went about his test-taking fun, I went for a jog. Not knowing the area, I decided to just run up and down the driveways and parking lots of the building complex where he was testing. I'm not sure what other businesses were in any of those buildings, but apparently no one came to work before 9:30. There was virtually no traffic and the parking lots were nearly empty the entire time. It was also nice that it was a cloudy morning and the area was lined with lots of trees, so the temperature was very comfortable. When I was done, I found a lovely niche (under a stairwell actually) to do some stretching before heading off to the nearby mall.

As many of you know, I'm not a huge shopper, so I took a book and read in the lovely amphitheater, which was complete with a calming waterfall. I had a practically perfect morning, sipping on my carmel latte, seemingly unaware of the shopping mall surroundings thanks to the sound of falling water - until four juveniles decided to use the amphitheater as a leap frog course. Luckily, the game didn't last all that long before the adult responsible for them showed up and informed them that it was time to go (darn). She did, however, have to spend the next five minutes yelling at the youngest one from up above before he followed the rest. He had dropped the penny he had wanted to throw in the waterfall and was determined to find it. Unfortunately he never got to make his wish - but if he would have, I think he should have wished that the punishment he was about to receive from his mother would be bearable.

I did have one mission while I was at the mall: to pilfer two plastic forks from the food court. (Stealing seems like such a harsh word.) We had packed a picnic lunch for a mid-test break that included huge salads, but I forgot the forks! As I made the sweeping circle before any of the restaurants were even opened, I became utterly concerned that I was going to be eating lettuce with my fingers. Arby's...Sbarro...Sakura Express...nothing. Sonic...gasp - a gray four-slot plastic tray.... filled with salt, pepper, and sugar packets upon closer review :( Aaaaha- Flaming Wok... little plastic baggies filled with sets of utensils and napkins piled high on plastic trays - with two little Chinese guys standing guard over them from behind the counter. And then, the last stop on the circle...Moe's Southwest Grill...silver canisters with plastic utensils right out in front! The worker was busy scraping the grills (with his back to me), so I nonchalantly grabbed two forks and kept right on walking. Mission accomplished - finally! I thought about tossing a quarter on the counter to cover the cost, but the thought of having to explain the whole situation was too embarrassing. Don’t worry though – before our year is up, we’ll definitely eat at the non-shopping mall version of the Moe’s Southwest Grill here in WS and make sure the company gets their compensation.

Chris actually finished the test around 12:30 so the picnic turned into a celebratory conclusion instead of a mid-test break. (The nine-hour allowance must be pretty gracious – but then again, who would ever think Chris would be able to sit in front of a computer for that long anyway?) We ate our salads (with our contraband forks) at a picnic table in that same building complex where the testing center was. Except for the few stray cats, it was a surprisingly pleasant place to enjoy a picnic.


With the rest of the afternoon in front of us, we decided to check out the Greensboro Arboretum. The park was filled with all sorts of identified trees, shrubs, bushes, and flowers. The butterfly garden was beautiful with the fountain in the center, and the coniferous section had some of the most amazing trees in it. Unfortunately the roses on the huge trellis-like structure were not in bloom, but it was still quite beautiful!

After taking in some nature, we decided to take in some of Greensboro’s history as well. It is the home of the short-story writer O. Henry, so there are some great statues in a park downtown. I read a modified version of his “Gift of the Magi” every year with my fifth-graders, so it was really great getting to learn more about him as an author (like the fact that he spent three years in jail for fraud!). One of the stories on the giant book in the park even mentions Illinois! Of all the stories they could have picked, and of all the words that could be on that statue…

We went to the three-story Historical Museum and saw many more displays related to him, including his aunt’s schoolhouse where he went, and his uncle’s pharmacy shop where he worked as a teenager. (Hence the pictures of our interpretations of partaking in our respective professions in a different time period).



The museum also included a room devoted to Dolley Madison, another area native, and a section relating to the 1960 Greensboro Sit-In at Woolworth’s that sparked the Sit-In movement around the country during the Civil Right Movement.


Chris’ favorite part was the entire wing devoted to Confederate firearms, which all came from the collection of one individual collector apparently!






One last stop on our historical tour included the Guilford County National Military Park, which is the location of one of the largest Revolutionary War battles that took place in the South. While Nathanael Green and the Patriots lost the battle to Cornwallis (even though they outnumbered the Brits by nearly double), it did lead up to Cornwallis’ surrender just 7 months later. The park, which interestingly enough, was the first national park established at a Revolutionary War site, includes 220 acres with an amazing path around the loop of markers, explanations, and statues (so I’m sure we’ll be heading back with our bikes someday.)

As you can see, what we thought was going to be a long day of nothing but test-taking, turned out to be quite the trip! From history to nature to a mission at the mall, the day left us utterly exhausted…

But – not too tired to head down to the jazz concert at Corpening Plaza that happens every other Friday night! With it being just a few blocks away, we can actually hear it from our apartment, but we decided to check out the event in person. It’s yet another way the city of Winston-Salem (whose nickname is the “City of the Arts”) is really promoting downtown. Great music, great setting, and ohhh –we had our first tasting of Cheerwine, which is really just cherry soda, but is apparently a very Carolinian item.

And - after that, we went to Foothills for a surprise birthday party for a guy who lives in our building. He was the one who actually invited us (so much for surprise)! I must say - it is very awkward showing up to a surprise party hoping that you don’t have to explain how you know about the party. It becomes exponentially more awkward when the other guests there are all employees of The Rush, the fitness complex where I had just interviewed for a job the day before! Considering the circumstances, I think the night went well – but I guess that will be reflected in whether or not I get a job! I’ll keep you posted!

As you can see - a very, very busy day! As I said, utterly exhausted! In fact, I'm exhausted from just writing this all! (Sorry it was so long! And maybe someday I will remember to bring the camera so we can stop taking pictures on Chris' phone!)

Habitat for Humanity - Women Build

Being the farmer's daughter that I am, I'm pretty sure one of my first toys was a tool set. I say pretty sure, because I remember clearly dark blue plastic bolts (which I recall that I ruined by chewing on the ends of them). But I can't remember what the hammer looked like, so I could be making this introduction up completely...who knows. (I tell my fifth graders a little "creativity" usually doesn't hurt anything when you're writing. Your readers won't know if you're telling the exact truth - unless you tell them, of course).

Anyway, my father, the farmer, has a plethora of tools, including several hammers, arranged perfectly in drawers upon drawers of tool chests (which is probably where I get my organization OCD from :) I must admit with shame that growing up, I never really picked up any of those tools, unless it was to get them out of the way when I wanted to shoot baskets in the shop. I certainly never used them for any sort of industrial purpose - unlike my brother and sister, whom I admire for being such hands-on, helpful children. (Wait - I do remember one time: I built a birdhouse with my grandma once [yet another tool-toting hardworker I adore.] I think it was a bluebird box…or maybe a blue jay…it could have even been for an indigo bunting – I just remember it was for a bird that was blue. As you can tell, I wasn’t exactly the outdoor naturalist growing up either. And, there probably wasn’t a single bird that ever lived in that six-sided wooden creation due to some sort of mechanical default of my own, I’m sure!)

However, I got my second chance with a hammer on Saturday morning at my first-ever “wall build”. I saw an advertisement for a Habitat for Humanity-Forsyth County opportunity and decided to get involved with the upcoming Women Build. Not only is this house going to be built by (primarily) all women, but it’s also going to be a “green” home. I’m not exactly sure of all of the details that afford it that title; hopefully I will be able to expand on that idea later on. (I really wanted to use the word extrapolate right there instead of expand, but then I remembered I’m not writing a college essay; I’m writing to friends and family. I think it’s that 5th grade teacher of writing in me. Always encouraging better word choices and all…)

So, after basically zero introduction into the mechanics of what we were doing Saturday morning, we divided up into two groups and began building all of the interior and exterior walls of a house. I’m pretty sure the instructions from the leader in my group (interior walls) went something like this: “OK. If the wall has a door in it, you start there. Two nails on top. One on the bottom. If it doesn’t, you start at the corners. Three on top. Two on the bottom.” Right….I leaned over to another woman and whispered, “I think I’m going to need a little more direction than that.” And she simply nodded her head in confusion and admitted it was her first time too.

After watching some of the veteran volunteers, we figured it out, got into a rhythm, and cranked out all of the walls for a home in just under three hours! There really is something about a large group of women working with hammers and piles of lumber. Some are wailing away; others are more like tapping. Some are swearing under their breath; others are laughing when they swing and miss. When the product is completed and the loading phase begins, some are sweeping up the sawdust; others are carrying and lifting the walls onto the trailer. Some are bleeding (two of those misses ended up in lost fingernails); but, ALL are sweating.

In those moments when the hammer head strikes a nail and causes a spark to jump, you feel like a little jolt of that electricity shoots through you. To think that all of these women (including me who can’t even remember if she had a toy hammer or if she’s just making that up), are building a home – a safer place to live – for a family who may not have anywhere else to go, it’s uplifting, to say the least. To be able to serve others with your physical labor and sweat, is a beautiful and rewarding experience – and we haven’t even broken ground on the home site yet – we’ve only just begun (anybody breaking out into Karen Carpenter song right now?) If you’ve never had the opportunity to get involved with Habitat for Humanity International, I highly encourage you to check it out. Maybe there’s a hammer somewhere with your name on it too.

Happy Building!

*(Hammer image: http://www.pacifistaff.com/)

Parties, Parties, Parties

The last two weekends have been filled with all sorts of great entertainment. Our building hosted its annual summertime luau on the rooftop last Saturday night (7/12), complete with tropical inspired food and fun. It was great getting to meet some of the other people who live in our building. As the pictures will attest, there is a wide a variety of people - from young, business professionals, to retired CEO's, to college students, to ... well ... an international finance / actuary who also happens to dabble in nuclear physics. This "genius" (which is how he described himself to us - without a hint of joking) informed us about all sorts of nuclear reactions, including one that involved a by-product of only helium. Chris was very disappointed when he didn't even crack a smile at Chris' joke about having high-pitched voices.

*(I couldn't post this one earlier because I was waiting on some pictures from the office staff.)

(Chris and I are slivers on the very left side of those first two pictures...)



This weekend, we were also treated to another rooftop pool party on Friday night - this one of a very different nature. The United Mind Conglomerate was sponsoring a SkyHigh Rooftop Party (called SkyHigh probably for more reasons than one)... The group's purpose is to support a revolution of underground hip hop and other artistic styles in WS. We definitely chalked that up to "experiencing new things", as we were some of the only people without tattoos or who weren't chain-smoking, and there was slight concern that the drinks were going to be laced with something.


My ear is not all that attuned to identifying lyrics in freestyle rapping, so my brain hurt just trying to figure out what they were saying. Apparently the party got shut down shortly after 10 anyway because enough people on the upper floors complained about the music being too loud. But the two hours we were there, were definitely quite the experience!

Then, last night, after an amazing afternoon bike ride out to Salem Lake followed by relaxing in the pool and meeting some more people from the building, we went to Downtown Thai for dinner. My first experience with Thai food at Taste of Thai in Peoria (which I don't even think is open anymore) was not all that great. However, I'm now hooked: Pad Rahd Nar - Stir fried large rice noodles with Chinese broccoli, eggs, mushroom, baby corn, and carrots with a special house brown sauce (I went with the chicken) – absolutely delicious!

Anyway, Winston-Salem is really promoting downtown right now, so we went to this great community street dance. Every Saturday night a different band plays on this trailer stage for “Summer on Trade.” The streets get closed down, people dance, kids get their faces painted, they sell drinks, popcorn, cotton candy, etc. Oh – and there are women (ok, one woman) impersonating a mermaid in a store-front window with some sort of interpretive dance actions. (It seemed weird to take a picture of this spectacle, but there were definitely plenty of people doing it.)

[Oh yeah – jumping back to the Hip Hop crew – I just about died when we saw three of the people from Friday night bopping down the street at Summer on Trade 24 hours later in the exact same clothes, hair, etc – clearly going strong from where they had left off the night before!]

After the band finished up, we sat at an outside table at one of our favorite places – 6th and Vine – and listened to the live music they had going on inside, while trying two new beers (Purple Haze and Magic Hat’s Circus Boy) and eating our favorite appetizer: Duck Quesadilla made with goat cheese. (Did I mention this year is all about new things?)

Anyway, we’re trying to enjoy all of these party-like opportunities now because once the sports seasons get underway, we probably won’t be doing a whole lot else. Come fall, our forms of entertainment will primarily involve athletic events – the only variety will be which sport.

(*P.S. This weekend's pictures were taken on Chris' phone, so we apologize for the lesser quality photos.)

Downtown Farmers' Market

Growing up on a farm, with a monster garden out our back door definitely spoiled me when it comes to fruits and vegetables. As Chris likes to tell everyone, (and I suppose I'll admit), I'm a "corn snob." I can't help it that no corn on the cob tastes as good as what comes from the field at my house. (My family plants so much sweet corn that it gets its own section of field behind the shop as opposed to being in the actual garden). We did have a miniscule garden in Washington that produced lots of tomatoes and peppers (neither of which I have ever been able to convince myself to like - not for a lack of trying though...) and some zucchini and green beans. But, over the past years, I've begun acquiring a (forced) taste for canned or frozen vegetables (although oddly, I've always preferred canned peas over fresh - I know it's weird...).

But now (until September).... I have access to an amazing Farmers' Market that is two and a half blocks from here every Tuesday and Thursday! It's quite the show! Tons of fresh produce, (some organic, some not; some heirloom varieties, some not), fresh flower bouquets, free-range chickens (plucked, skinned, and on ice, of course...), eggs from those chickens, local honey, and more! One of the local bakeries sells some fresh-baked pastries and today they even had some live, jazzy synthesizer music.

On Tuesday, I went to the same spot I had gone on the previous Tuesday and picked up some sweet potatoes, green beans, zucchini, yellow squash, and peaches. (By the way - in reference to my first posting suggesting I would never have to cook: It's been completely the opposite! I've actually been using my cookbooks - planning menus and making dinners (with dessert even - healthy ones so Chris will eat them, of course)!

Interestingly, at that table was not the same lady from whom I had purchased my goods the week before, but I gathered they were from the same place (what with the matching shirts and all). I stopped by the table selling blackberries on my way out, and as I was paying I noticed this (very) old man on the opposite side of the aisle straightening his produce in this seemingly forlorn, nobody's-picking-me-for-the-kickball-team sort of way. I suddenly had this overwhelming, heart-crushing feeling because I felt so bad for this octogenarian who was just trying to sell some veggies from boxes scrawled with "Home-Grown" in the dearest old man handwriting. I'm not sure why I was so emotional about this, but it nearly ruined my whole day!

So, I've been anxiously awaiting this Thursday morning for the last 48 hours so that I could go back and buy something from the poor guy! Of course, we aren't out of what I purchased on Tuesday, but I decided I could buy a bunch of green beans and freeze them for the winter. (Yes, I know, freezing green beans is not as good as canning them like my mom and grandma, but I'm working with what I've got - boiling water and freezer bags.)

As soon as I got there, I felt better as he was already helping one person, and another one stepped up before I got around to his side. As I was selecting my green beans, we started chatting – His name is George. He doesn’t have a “farm”; just a 5-acre garden at his house. He’s been gardening for over 60 years, but just decided in the last few years to start bringing some produce up to the market, which he loves to do because he gets to meet some great people. (Which I immediately interpreted as his wife died and this gives him something to do with his time and with the amount of food that is entirely too much for one man to consume! Why must I be so pathetically cynical?!)

George is the friendliest little man, albeit conversations are often punctuated by a questioning look and a pointing to his ear due to his elderly, hard-of-hearing issues. For those who love corn on the cob (wherever it comes from), I’ll pass along his tip of the day: Simply shuck it, silk it, and put it in a freezer bag. Suck out all the air from the bag with a straw (or if you’re hard-core and have a vacuum sealer, that works too), and freeze. He swears he’s got corn on the cob from two years ago that will still taste great whenever he wants it.

I just might have to break down and purchase some corn on the cob from him next week. We’ll definitely have to see if it will pass the “corn snob’s” test before we decide about freezing a bunch of it – but if anyone’s going to be able to convince me, it’s going to be my new friend George.

(Side note: I use the word friend, but I’m not sure we’re to the point in a friendship where I could ask him to take his picture yet without being socially awkward. So, no picture of George – for now…just imagine a little old frail man with a big smile. And speaking of his smile – I imagine he must have dentures (because my grandpa has false teeth, and so every grandpa must too, right?), which must present one heck of a problem trying to eat corn on the cob… We’ll definitely have to become better friends before I'm comfortable asking him that question!)