I've decided to start blogging more!! I love writing and being able to reminisce. And since I have the memory of a goldfish, I really should have been doing this all along. Some days I won't have much to say, but some days will be worth recounting.
Like yesterday.
Like yesterday.
Roberto had six consecutive days of 12 hour shifts---which meant if he wasn't running miles or working under the sun, he was dead to the world at home. Finally Monday rolled around and we got to spend the whole day together. Sunday night we fell asleep on a tacky horror movie about a bear that attacks a minivan stranded in the mountains (my pick). I woke up early the next morning to get ready and make our breakfast. We headed to Dallas to buy a gun, which we've been meaning to do and of course which Roberto was very happy about. On the way there we stopped at the Dallas Farmer's Market.
It looked like a cute little must-see online. But now that I'm thinking about it, I realize I must have gotten it confused with something else somewhere far away because there wasn't much that was cute or must-see about it. We had a good time strolling up and down under the empty shaded rows of vendors, though. Stand after stand of farmers with loads of fresh fruit and vegetables, which they would desperately offer as samples. I feel bad for them and in fact I'm still wondering how they make a living. I think me and Roberto were the only customers there, and we weren't even there to buy! I couldn't bring myself to try anything they peeled and offered with their rough and dirty extended hands, or buy their pesticide-ridden (none of it was organic) goods, in bulk at that. (Generally I'm a quantity-over-quality kind of gal... except when it comes to my produce.) But oh, poor lil farm-farms. It made me and Roberto reminisce about Paris, and daydream about someday living in a place where food wasn't all about qauntity quantity quantity, people value fresh produce enough to shop for it on a daily basis, and there isn't a WalMart to be found. Sadly, I can't even say if there is such a place in this country. I wanted to buy something before we left though, so I picked out a little bushel of asparagus for $2.
It looked like a cute little must-see online. But now that I'm thinking about it, I realize I must have gotten it confused with something else somewhere far away because there wasn't much that was cute or must-see about it. We had a good time strolling up and down under the empty shaded rows of vendors, though. Stand after stand of farmers with loads of fresh fruit and vegetables, which they would desperately offer as samples. I feel bad for them and in fact I'm still wondering how they make a living. I think me and Roberto were the only customers there, and we weren't even there to buy! I couldn't bring myself to try anything they peeled and offered with their rough and dirty extended hands, or buy their pesticide-ridden (none of it was organic) goods, in bulk at that. (Generally I'm a quantity-over-quality kind of gal... except when it comes to my produce.) But oh, poor lil farm-farms. It made me and Roberto reminisce about Paris, and daydream about someday living in a place where food wasn't all about qauntity quantity quantity, people value fresh produce enough to shop for it on a daily basis, and there isn't a WalMart to be found. Sadly, I can't even say if there is such a place in this country. I wanted to buy something before we left though, so I picked out a little bushel of asparagus for $2.
The gun shop was SO BORING. Like, I was looking for a loaded one. I'm pretty sure we were there for eighteen hours. I stood next to Roberto for awhile as he went back and forth over whether he should get an ugly black glock or an ugly black glock. Eventually I collapsed on a grungy couch there that some bachelor must have donated. Which, I might add, was every bit as comfortable as it was an eye-sore. I have since decided that bachelor couches are where it's at.
Later that evening we went to the bookstore to pick out one we could read together. We would both like to work on our observational skills and becoming more aware of our surroundings, so we thought we could grab two copies of something to that effect in self-improvement. (Don't hate; self-improvement mumbo-jumbo is my fave.)
We scanned the shelves until our necks were sore. There were probably 400 books in the self-improvement section alone, 392 of which we enthusiastically stated we would read. In the end we found our own separate selections, which of course had nothing to do with what we started out looking for. After flipping through a few bogus books (is it me or are there a lot of those to be found?), I settled on one called The Last Lecture. Like most books I read, it kinda caught my attention because it had a cute cover (hey, I'm honest), but it was actually right up my alley.
We scanned the shelves until our necks were sore. There were probably 400 books in the self-improvement section alone, 392 of which we enthusiastically stated we would read. In the end we found our own separate selections, which of course had nothing to do with what we started out looking for. After flipping through a few bogus books (is it me or are there a lot of those to be found?), I settled on one called The Last Lecture. Like most books I read, it kinda caught my attention because it had a cute cover (hey, I'm honest), but it was actually right up my alley.
We left the bookstore, Roberto complaining about how he was only going to get four hours of sleep. Yet as soon as we got home, he showed me everything there is to know about how to shoot a gun... Gotta love him.:)
ROFL! Sooo funny and just plain fun to read.
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