22 October 2006

Two toasted sesame seeds in a bowl of white rice

Preface: it was a great end to a beautiful day, one of the best concerts I've seen in a while, and Carrie Rodriguez and Chip Taylor are wonderfully kind people.

Went on a date with the husband last night. Had a delicious platter of sushi and glass of sake. Forgot to order octopus (tee hee). Then we met some of the husband's co-workers at Packard's for their bocce league season wrap up party. I admitted to one of his co-workers that I still have Ingrid's placenta in my freezer (gotta do something about that...) I went home early, because we had a new babysitter. An awesome babysitter! Anyway, I stayed up late, and woke up late the next morning.
Went to the farmer's market 1/2 an hour late and set up my table. Had a great time, saw the usual suspects, lamented with many folks about how much we're going to miss going to or working the market. Beautiful weather, made $26, and met lots of nice folks. I even got to give a couple of herbal product schpiels. Later, a woman came up to me and asked one of the hair FAQs I get asked: Is that all your real hair? Yup. "Wow!" She said, "If I could grow hair like that, I'd throw a perm in it and make it nice and straight." Um, uh, yeah. I smiled and nodded. Not even worth it. I took it as some sort of compliment, and wrote what she said since it tickled me so much. Lord bless her and help her.

Went to the toy store with Bea to get birthday presents for her friends. We have 2 parties this weekend. Whew! We missed a harvest party at Meg's sister's farm in Plainfield, but for good reasons. I can't be two places at once, and I was to cook for the bands at our coffee house, gave up on the idea of crock pot curry (or anything else from scratch), and resorted to fine frozen lasagne's from BJ's, salad, breadsticks, and grapes. Went over just fine, and many praised my cooking, or rather my ability to pick out good frozen entrees, and not burn them when I cook them. The concert was great, I got my CD's autographed, heard a chillingly beautiful version of "Angel of the Morning" that took my breath away, adored Carrie Rodriguez's fiddle playing, her cool mandobird playing, and her awesome red boots.

And somewhere in all the fun I realized Bea and I were the only black folks in the entire crowd (at least 250 people). I really hate it when that happens, and it really bummed me out. Not enough to ruin the night, but enough to wish we lived somewhere like Atlanta for the rest of the evening. Alas.

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