adagio for violin and oboe

i think this is one of the reasons why i decided to play the oboe.

and SORRY to those that can't make the magic link between yesterday's blog and the op-ed in the nytimes..... gaw.

farmstand is o-ver. piss off to all and to all a good night!


ok, a little acerbic. a funny juxtaposition between the music playing in my headphones and evil lurking inside. perhaps sweet shley will return tomorrow. perhaps not! bwa ha ha!!!

i'm on havel's team

it really doesn't matter what the article was about- did i even read it? not really. something about north korea being baaaaad. but it was WRITTEN by the triumvirate of humanitarian badasses: vaclav havel, some dude from norway (ya, who knows anything about scandinavia...) and elie wiesel. ...i just looked up middle character- he was the PM of norway and took leave of his office due to mental illness- ah, depressive episode, which is undoubtedlly linked to the meeting with pres. bush pictured directly below mention of depression. not particularly well-written, to be honest, but rather effective only because of its authors. i'm now willing to campaign for human rights in n. korea, just as soon as i go back and find out why i ought to be concerned about the situation there.

i'm deep into mozart. again. it happens every few months.

i'm also about to fall asleep.

"how long are you guys going to be out here?"
"till halloween"
"oh, is that all?"
"um.... things don't really grow that much in the winter. and um, it's 40 degrees out here. november starts in two days... think about that. oh, you don't like to think, you just like cruising around in your cadillac escapade (or is it an enclave?)"

i have no costume picked out for tomorrow. piss.

mozart k466

cold weather and dark evenings mean shley listens to music in minor.
one should be able to search songs by major/minor in itunes.

beer for breakfast

actually it's beer at noon, but ACTUALLY it's beer at 1 in the AFTERnoon because we've got this time change bullshit that's supposed to HELP farmers. no. don't help the farmers. just makes the farmers get colder earlier in the day.

so here comes the moment when shley bitches heavily about the farmstand: i went there this morning and stayed for a total of one and a half hours, most of which was spent cursing at the craptastic contraption others might know as a tent. piece. of. shit. it's a 10x10 foldable thing that does not want to fold or unfold. broken! i almost ripped the thing apart out of frustration at one point- a sort of daffy duck moment of tearing something to shreads while screaming, then standing their with chest heaving while holding little shreds of tent in his hands. that was almost me. so we had only one functioning foldable tent that didn't serve any purpose because the sun is too low in the sky to necessitate 10x10 roofs, so there's only a sliver of shade and a pissed off shley.

and WHY do i have to continuously have to deal with the shortcomings of impermanent structures?? the FIRST tent blew away. the SECOND collapsed because of the snow, which, by the way, has turned into a twenty-foot-long rotten squash muddy slip and slide zone that i get to slop around it every now and then. the once great piles of beautiful pumpkins and butternuts froze and thawed a few times, resulting in sickening muddiness. yesterday i had to use clothespins to hold up my jeans whilst slopping through the pile because they wouldn't stay rolled up by themselves. farmstand fashion at it's best.

so the people trickle in, complain about things, leave without buying anything and expect me to provide some explanation as to why we don't have tomatoes and basil and goddamn honeycrisp apples anymore, as though it's a personal decision i've made to deny them these things- or maybe i've got bushels of them horded in the trailer and if they're bitchy enough i'll decide to sell them some. i'm thinking of making a science fair presentation of the solar system so that people can relearn the reason behind the SEASONS. tilted axis!!! that means we have winter! things die! cycle of fucking life, come back next year please, thank you. just because king soopers has tomatoes doesn't mean that the rinky-dink little farm on the corner has tomatoes. we're all out. and we're fresh out of TENTS too.


ok..... feeling better.

now, a moment with farmer dan. last night at the end of season potluck he shared with us the tragic story of how his reading glasses broke (cause dan is older and needs reading glasses to read his howard zinn). i'm not sure where dan was when his glasses broke, but it was somewhere where resources were fairly limited, because his solution was to employ electrical tape and a drinking straw. he retrieved the glasses from his car and much giggling ensued. farmer dan and darth squash are now the only things that bring me joy at work.

disturbance in the force

darth butternut has been slain by the emporer's new apprentice, darth spaghetti. dark times lie ahead.

need a piano

are there any original members left in pink floyd? they all look really young-

snow, slow, and so
it snowed, i was slow, and routed for so. SO taguchi. he's the smallest ballplayer ever.

i should really start writing on this thing earlier in the day when i'm actually thinking coherently instead of waiting till nighttime when my thoughts have turned to squash.

the farmstand has apparently collapsed from the snow, so we'll be exposed for the next four days in tentless pumpkin world. how many calamities can the poor place sustain? we already lost the tent once! it's strange how quickly i've lost interest in the happenings there- as have the owners, it seems. they could've gone out to knock the snow off the canopy but didn't, for some reason. i think it's largely to do with the lack of activity and end of season laziness bearing down. (not to say they're lazy, but i certainly am). today i guess they harvested in the snow, but in farmstand world- which i've been relugated to since the farm is too slow to warrant shley help- there is really nothing to do but sit around, restack squash, remove rotten pumpkins, stack gourds, and wait for it to be over. which is depressing. it seems like all i do is sit there and wait for the occasional customer, and when they come i have to explain to them that it has snowed TWICE (three times now) and therefore we no longer have tomatoes and basil. it seems absurd, having been so close to the farm for these past two months, to imagine that EVERYONE isn't as in tune with the weather and it's effects on local agriculture as i am. aren't people paying attention, or are they that far removed from their food that they don't realize that the SNOW killed the tomatoes?? it's october!

ed is entranced with the pink floyd light show on tv. i myself am not.
but i'm secretly jealous of the back-up singers on stage. i've always wanted to be a back-up singer, with a little synchronized dance. or the horn section!

ed is also astonished with the fact that high fructose corn syrup is in a number of his favorite foods. fat free half and half- HFCS!! we've switched back to regular full fat deliciousness. oh, but his beloved bran flakes have the stuff in them- his expression upon hearing this news was priceless! like someone shot his dog, poor guy.

tonight over dinner and searches through ingredient lists of pantry products we joked about me being kicked out of his apartment once my job is over (which obviously won't happen.... but i can't help but be paranoid that he's getting sick of me crashing on his couch.) i can just see him tossing out all my un-ed items: and take your food dehydrator! and all those beets! out with your giant kettle and muddy boots! and those books on poland!! nooooo, he loves the baby shley and her food preservation and HFCS alerts. and, according to him, "if the soviet union suddenly comes back into existence and bombs us, we'll be prepared."

jacques chiractober is almost over!

paint the moon

have just purchased the three liquids that i hope will ward off the cold i feel is setting into my system: orange juice, hot chocolate, and red wine. i'm so excited about the tastiness of all three that i want to drink them all at once, but know that could be potentially disgusting, even if i drink them in close succession. which first.....

the nws has been forecasting serious snow accumulation all day and i fear that it's all hype and i'll really have to sit with teh pumpkins tomorrow.


and now.... brokeback mountain, ladies and gentlemen. i could very well be snivelling soon.
let it be known that i'm drinking NONE of the aforementioned beverages, but have instead opted for a beer.

prova d'orchestra

dorkestra. huhuhuhuhuh.
thus is the soundtrack for tonight's posting.

my bearded brother-in-law says that if all posts mentioning squash were removed from my blog there would be precious little left. what. ev. i have things to write about other than squash! you wait!

....... i had some orange juice earlier.
and....... my hair is getting long.

oh, i can't stand it, i must write about squash!! tonight i had pumpkin in my burrito, which was odd but tasty. and.... SQUASH! i love squash!!

i missed obama's visit to the rockies today. but i didn't miss the cardinals! they elected a new pope!

farmer dan smells like funyons.

stock raving mad

i think i've finally succombed to farmstand insanity. i just used the excuse, while chatting with my friend in NYC, that i was "too into my pumpkin" to do look something up for her. meanwhile, a huge pot of rooty stock boils away on the stove. ed is afraid, but pretends to be interested in the turnipy concoction and stirs it occasionally with eyebrows raised.

while throwing onions and turnips into the compost at work today i had an epiphany- i should collect the composting rot and make stock to freeze for the winter! yum! ok, not rotten stock- i took the questionable-not-good-enough-to-display-cause-they're-holey veggies, not the squishy moldirific ones. and then i got all kinds of excited about my project and picked every conceivable vegetable that might be yummy when boiled and piled them into a box to take home and stockify, which included a stemless pie pumpkin. i baked it and ate half of it yum! because i'm pumpkin crazed!! there are two known truths about me that i've come to accept in the past month: one, that a day of work isn't complete unless i move at least 500 lbs of pumpkins around, and two: that this activity doesn't repel me from squash, but rather makes me want to eat it all the damn time! my hands are turning orange and today i horded some choice squashes for the winter. no, they're mine!

the plural of squash seems like it should be squish.

ok, i had some really important things to say about seasonality, but can't be bothered to go into them now cause i'm tired and still need to shower. lazy shley!

hearts of space humor

just switched to the hearts of space channel to find "a tinge of sadness" playing.

BBC sense of humor

"Former Serbian president Slobodan Milosevic has been invited to vote in an upcoming referendum, despite having died while awaiting trial in March."

i can't wait to take a vasarnap.

blog blog blog
tomatoes froze, people, didn't you notice the snow?

ickle pickle picker

the quest to find an apple corer entered day two today. who knew it would take so long to find such a thing? it seems like it's one of those utensils that's in everyone's drawer that never gets used, but once you need it, it's elusive. i didn't heed my own advice this afternoon and went to bed bath and beyond on an empty stomach- it was an act of desperation! once inside i was daunted by the high walls of repeating oxo utensils and smell of christmas potpourri. in the 'fruits and vegetables' section they had everything BUT an apple corer- including such useful items as the "pickle picker" (cause you can't use a FORK to select your pickle from the jar), and the "artichoke holder". i don't know what this is for.... ok fine, it's to hold the artichoke while you steam it, but really. there were also several "butter carvers", "avocado slicers", and TWo different kinds of canoli wrap things, but no bloody apple corers. on my way out some cheerful bed bath and beyond worker asked if i'd found everything all right, to which i replied a singular "nope!" lest i stopped to give him an earful on why it's stores like these that are bringing the decline of the american economy AND family values. ya, that's right, i get radical when in big box stores and make giant leaps in rationalization. i have no corroborating evidence, but i'm sure that the 'beyond' is referring to the coming depression and return to medieval tactics in household coping techniques. i'm not even sure what that means.... it means that people won't be able to buy pickle pickers less than two miles from their home and will resort to ridiculous behavior because they've lost the resourcefulness required to take care of themselves.

anyway.

so i have a bushel of slowly rotting apples in the garage waiting to be turned into yummy winter snacks, all because i slept too late today, then spent waaay too long trying ot find the one little utensil that would make my apple-drying project a bit quicker (cause i HAVE to have apple rings- no other dried apple shape will do!). really i'm just procrastinating because i'm just as lazy as the next big boxer and prone to consumer distractions.

it snowed!

farmstand gods are with me! and the best part is that it's all melted now- but i'm still not at work! bwa ha ha.

someday the waves

oh please oh please let it snow tonight so i don't have to sit around at the farmstand tomorrow. don't let it go from sparta to stockton. pleaaaaaaase.

today was loooooong and boring, with only occassional diversions from the stinky squash pile and stupid customers- both annoying things to deal with. i discovered a layer of rotten squash at the bottom of the butternut pile today and..... ew- puts me off my butternut. lesson learned: don't put squash on the grass. cause it gets wet and ROTTEN and gross yuck ew! when i wasn't moving rotten butternuts i was telling customers, no, you cannot have a free pumpkin. there is some end of season phenomenon wherein people start asking for free or radically discounted produce. sure, take a gooey butternut squash. it's free.

at the end of the day i drove a tv to shrill's house and stunk up her kitchen with my rotten-squash-knees stank while wolfing down the end of her kung pau chicken.

snow! please!

burping vs stomping

i'm secretly at war with our upstairs neighbor, who is THE stompiest woman i've ever heard walk around. she stomps at all times of day, beginning at 4:30 in the morning sometimes and going till midnight. what is she so upset about that she has to stomp everywhere in her apartment? and who is walking around that much so early in the morning? who has such a complicated morning routine?

so i was watching the baseball came tonight and drinking beer and thought i'd challenge her noise with the loudest burps i could muster. i hope she heard at least one.

dropping the hubbard

i think there's a group of senior citizens hanging out in the back of a lafayette church sharing secrets about their hubbard squash connections. they come in pairs sometimes to buy the giant hubbard squashes, and the go straight for them without glancing at anything else in the stand. it's weird- why do old ladies like hubbard squashes so much? one crotchity old bird came in today clutching an empty trash bag and i thought she meant trouble- she picked out a 10lb hubbard, paid for it, then stuck it in the trash bag and asked me if i'd get on the table and drop it on the ground for her. "cause that's how they used to do it." i didn't get on the table, but busted it open pretty good anyway and she was delighted.

which was going to segue into writing about my frustration at not being able to remember the doop-di-doo rhyme the english girls used to sing, but i can't remember how.

doop doop di doo
the cow was in the loo
blah blah blah blah
blah blah blah blah
and you're a stinky POO.

or something like that- it was a loo fav but i refrained from showing my interest in having them repeat it because the mom would get right uppity about them saying such 'crass schoolyard rhymes'. whatev. i've googled to no avail- "cow loo", "cow loo poo", "english loo rhymes". nothing.

i have no respect for the mets. i mean, who is a mets fan? what kind of people are they? if you're from NYC, why wouldn't you be a yankees fan? it seems like an obvious team choice.

pujols! oh, they walked pujols. chicken shits.


oh- so i looked up the old mother hubbard rhyme (which is evidently about cardinal wolsey and henry VIII) and momentarily thought i might be hot on the doop-di-doo trail.

puking pumpkin

stolen from www.extremepumpkins.com
that's all i have to say for the day.

darth butternut and competitive gourd stacking

just in case you were wondering, yes, i am a weirdo. here's what i do when it's slushing at work:




it's true- i dressed up the bunk butternut in mr. potato head/darth tater attire, placed him on the galeux d'eysines moony squashscape and took pictures. the mask fell off just as i was snapping another photo, resulting in fits of giggles and then hiding darth buternut in the trailer for some unsuspecting farmstand worker to find.





at this point i decided i was bored enough to see how many gourds i could stack. five! my recently acquired mad jenga skills came in handy.




then my gloves got wet and i descended quickly into grumpiness. it was 34 degrees and snowing, so i opted to close le farmstand and take my funny pictures with me.

seussy squash

hoorah for people with a seussian flare (and, possibly, too much time on their hands? too much reading of seuss to small children? i'm no one to talk, i wrote 'the grinch who stole valentine's" last year). here are two excellent examples of the human ability to be goofily poetic:
(i might request deadwood-inspired squash prose next, for my enchantment with squash is waning daily. there's so fucking much of the ball-breaking shit)


In the far-away farmland of the red wheelbarrow farm
Sat Wyatt, self-anointed, seed slinging king, short on charm.
A nice little farm-stand. It was clean. It was neat.
There was plenty of sunshine. There was PLENTY to eat.
The farmhands had most everything farmhands might need.
And they were all happy. Quite happy indeed.

They were…until Wyatt, the king of them all,
Decided the harvest was much too much small.
“I’m ruler”, said Wyatt “of the crops that I see.
But I’m way too uptight, that’s the trouble with me.
With this squash for a throne, I look down on my farm
But I can’t see beyond, thus I am quite alarmed.
This squash that I sit on is far too close to the ground.
It ought to be higher!” he said with a frown.
“If I could sit high on a custom posh and squash thrown
What a king! What a ruler! All my farmhands would moan.”

And Wyatt, the farm king, barked a command.
He bade to his farmhands, bring him more squash
And, pile them high with aplomb and panache.
He made each farmhand slosh pumpkins forward and back
And pile them precariously in a big pumpkin stack.
And then Wyatt climbed up. Placed his rump on the pile.
“I can see all of Denver!” he said with a wry smile.

“Mine O mine!” Wyatt cried. “Behold all that I rule!
I’m the king of all produce! Good lord I am cool!
I’m the kind of all turnips! And all organic food!
Of all things delicious both sautéed and stewed
I’m Wyatt the farm-king! Oh, marvelous me!
Perhaps the next season I’ll plant sugar snap peas!”

And all through the morning, he sat on his perch,
Giving sermons to patrons in his produce like church.
Until just about noon, then he heard a faint me-ow.
“What’s that?” snapped the farm king and he stared down to see
Way way down at the bottom a farmhand named Shley.
Just one of his farmhands, who, would no longer be quite,
Looked up, and said, “um, beg your pardon, king Wyatt
You’re a pain in my ass, my back, and my knees –
How much more squash must we slosh through the mud, tell me please?”

“SILENCE!” the farm king barked mercilessly
“I’m king, and you’re just a farmhand named Shley.”

“You slosh through the mud, I’m the king of produce!
I’m the almighty turnip and zucchini Zeus!
I’m the king of all veggies and organic food!
You just slosh through the mud, there is no time to brood.
My squash throne shall be higher!” his farm-fresh voice thundered,
“So pile more squash! I want more then two hundred!”

“More squash! Much more squash!” he hollered and yelled.
And the farmhands worked harder and sweated and smelled.
Just so the farm kings shrill voice would be quelled.
From all over the farmland, the farmhands they came,
Each carrying squash – their poor joints were aflame
And all of them sloshed mud all over poor Shley.
As they piled the squash to three-hundred-and-three.

Then Wyatt, the farm king, was seated so high,
He could see past the mountains that just touched the sky!
“Hooray!” bellowed Wyatt. I’m the king of field greens!
I’m the king of the squash! I’m the king of green beans!
I’m the king of the bees, as they buzz through the air!
Oh, joy! What a wonderful pumpkin throne chair!
I’m Wyatt the farm king! It is great to be me!
I’m the splendiferous squash god! He said with great glee.

Then from far down below, came a disgruntled plea,
From that plucky young farmhand, whose name it was Shley.
“Yo, farm dude, beg pardon…but I think you’re insane,
Do you know that you are causing your farmhands great pain?
I know, up on high, you are our great farm-stand king,
But we have enough squash here to last until spring!
We farmhands can’t take it. Our arms are like brie!
And besides, we need food!” said the farmhand named Shley.

“You hush up your yap!” Snapped the mighty king Wyatt.
“You’ve no right to talk, pile squash and be quiet.
I rule from this mountain of squash, all I see!
There’s nothing, nay, NADA, quite as high as me!”

But, while he was howling, he realized with surprise
That the full harvest moon was now on the rise
And its perigeal light would soon fill the skies.
“What’s THAT?” chortled Wyatt. “Tell me what IS that thing?
I just don’t have the time for celestial bling!
I can not allow it! I must go much higher!
Heed my words lowly farmhands, lest ye be fired!
Get the led out you farmhands, stack these squashes to heaven!
It should only take five hundred thousand and seven!”

But, as Wyatt, the farm-stand king, lifted his hand
And started to bellow and give the command,
That plucky young farmhand who had let out the plea,
That plucky young farmhand whose name it was Shley
Decided she’d had it. And had it she had.
She was tea kettle screaming and boiling mad.
And that plucky young Shley did an uncouth little thing.
She burped!
And her burp squelched the pumpkin squash throne of the king!

And Wyatt, the self-proclaimed-farm-stand king of produce,
That zealot organic-mad zucchini Zeus,
That king who sat high on his posh squash pumpkin stool…
Well, that was the end of the farm-stand king’s rule!
For Wyatt, the farm king, that king short on charm,
Fell off his squash throne, with a thud, to his harm.

And today the great Wyatt, that splendiferous he,
Is king of the mud. All because of the Shley.
And the farmhands, of course…all the farmhands are free
As all farmhands and, perhaps, all squash should be.


*based on yertle the turtle, or so i've been told



That Josh!
That Josh loves squash!
That Josh loves to nosh on squash!

That Josh knows not that I don't like squash
Josh knows that I like corn and peas
and occasionally macaroni and cheese
Still, that Josh thinks that a meal needs squash
But for me, that sort of veggie meal won't wash!

Josh learned to nosh on squash when he was a frosh
a frosh at Drury, ain't that posh!
He ate it in the Commons at noon, and while researching Daniel Boone,
in the library, and under a full moon, while traipsing across
the 40 acres so dear, while on his way to a party, we hear,
his squash obsession was plain to all, they talked about it at
Sunderland Hall

"He likes pumpkins, gourds, zucchini and more! Summer squash, winter
squash, acorn squash, Hubbard!
This Josh is a little weird, I think, he's sort of "out of the cupbourd"
Perhaps a little therapy would do, a little love of other veggies too.

So Josh was given only spinach from then, sometimes an occasional
tomato.
But his palate cried for squash, you see, and occasionally a potato.

A potato? What's this? Has Josh found new love? A new culinary
obsession?
Latkes, fries, mashed or hashed, will these be his new possession?

It seems our Josh has learned that tastes will come and go
but squash, dear friend is drawn on our hearts,
and he will always love it so.

goat heads

i've just noticed that i've posted three cartoons in the past week.

the farm staff is seriously considering an employee invasion of the goat dairy in boulder county. we're all coming to the quick realization that our jobs are ending soon (i only worked 35 hours this week!) and are entering into a panic over what we'll do without farminess in our lives. many of us have developed the habit of roaming the field in the down time- which there is suddenly a lot of- and looking for that last little pepper or eggplant that has somehow escaped frost damage. my preservation needs have not yet been filled- i'm thinking about drying apples and secretly stock-piling squash for my upcoming winter of being broke. i also gathered about 30 lbs. of squishy tomatoes at the farmstand today with canning in mind, but wyatt whisked them into the back of his truck as part of the great compost collection project. let me say this: rotten squash isn't nearly as attractive as bright fresh squash. it be stinky. so the farm crew is talking about getting winter jobs at the goat dairy, because apparently we're so addicted to this lifestyle that hanging around with a bunch of stinky goats sounds like a good thing to do. at least we'd learn how to make cheese. or hate cheese. hard to predict. goats are funny little animals that like to stand on top of things and eat inedible items. they also have creepy, goaty irises. could i hang out with goats for a season? i made the mistake of walking barefoot over a patch of gravel this morning. hidden, sharp, evil goat heads! ow. i could take this as a divine hint that i shouldn't deal with goats... much like i take cues from newman's own alphabet cookies. ask a question, choose three or four cookies, interpret cookie acronym to your liking.

farmstand humor

sharpened fartichokes

for those about to rock we salute you. i am no longer in need of a wall-mounted pencil shapener, so if you were about wrap one up in pretty bows to send to me, save your ribbon. gots me a pencil sharpener. do not, however, hesitate to send discarded library card catalog drawers or any other random piece of schoolroom furniture. i'll take them to bars with me for a PBR toast, too.







everything is coming to a grinding halt in the world of fresh produce. which is not really true- we have lots of lettuce and other greens (yes, spinach, goddamn it), and loads of root vegetables, including the ever popular fartichoke. aka jerusalem artichoke. pretty flowers on the plant but that's about all i can say about it that's discreet. here's a picture (of the damn fartichoke flowers last month, not of the english tiny-diesel-car-filled wiht-four-fartichoking-people discomfort last december- story available upon request).

stacks

the librarian said, "i hope you ate your wheaties" after she made two trips to the hold shelf for me. ya, i'm going to need all the vitamins and minerals i can get to plow through titles like "when nationalism began to HATE" and "between dignity and DESPAIR". i have the grad school bibliography in my possession once again and am not sure how i feel about it. it's at once satisfying to be on track with this thing and reminiscent of wanting to throw my books down my stairs on clark street. so far no books have met their violent gravitational fate, but there's still plenty of time. and i havne't even opened any of them yet. maybe tomorrow while i'm bored at the farmstand i'll dip into the problem of polish modernity and see how i feel.

distraction

i slept for three hours last night and slopped around ineffectively in the mud at the farm as a result. not that slopping wouldn't have occured anyway- just a little more prone to slop. my boots turned into big discs of mud and on the drive home i couldn't decide whether i was smelling myself or the turnips- both had kind of an earthy aroma. i then took a big nap that was dominated by big leaves of purple and orange chard that i was trying to find a home for. i think maybe i dreamt about pumpkin legs, too. that means legs made out of pumpkins.

my dad showed me pictures of his trip to germany and i was quick to spot the produce on the street markets. and dream people have pumpkin legs.

snow snow snow!

it's going to snow tonight!! i have an apple pie in the oven and two pumpkin breads cooling on the counter, all in preparation for snowy comfort. there is the crappy chance that we'll have to cut lettuce and pull beets in the snow tomorrow... but there's only supposed to be a couple of inches and i think it'll turn to sluch pretty quickly, which will make it al the more fun! slushy beets! hence the need for baked rewards. trying to be positive about the likely suckage that will be work tomorrow.

bring me the workhorse

the musical/metaphorical horse theme continues. i keep running into songs that are about the white horse on 96th. today when i drove past he was standing with his two front legs in the tractor tire that holds his food and looking like he needed a drink (of.. horse whiskey, guess). i think he's the tired workhorse.

s.q.u.a.s.h.

i am the founding member of the Society of Quartered and Unused Acorn Squash Havers. as in, people that have. have lots of squash. this proud organization was formed on october the 7th, 2006 and all who have baked squash leftovers, acorn or otherwise, are welcome to join. so far there are two members... will YOU be the next?

harvest moon

today is the harvest moon and i missed the harvest. i usually work fridays at the farm but got today off for being the farmstand-wonder-queen dutiful worker for 11 days in a row. it was blissful to sleep a bit but i feel left out of the farm fun.... it's probably the last warm sunny harvest day we'll have and, you know, it's the harvest moon and all. not that we'll be out there at moonlight, but we could be if we wanted. and i want another turnip.

i am seriously preoccupied with pumpkins and sqaush and am getting a little worried about it. last night on my DATE i found myself talking about squash a lot and then took the poor guy to my car and gave him two squash. cause i drive around with squash in my car. and today i chopped one open to bake and it was so beautiful that i considered going out to buy a disposable camera because mine is broken and i simply HAD to document its beauty. i stopped myself, but almost regret it and might get a camera to document the next squash i hack open. and yesterday, while sitting at work and loathing the moment that 5,000 lbs of pumpkins would arrive, i found while moving them that i loved each and every one and didn't care that i was, once again, moving tons of squash around. hey're so pretty and orange and round!

i've got problems.

moo shu pork

had a date had a date had a date date date

but not until i steal this cartoon to use as an example of how easily i can be cracked up when i'm tired.

mleh

tired. going to bed early.

packageses

another package slip received today! could it be the pencil sharpener? socks from australia? an expanding cake? nope- it was a notebook used in the berkshires. not pencil-sharpener exciting, but interesting to look at all the same. notes on how to make ice cream and various drawings of million dollar t-shirt slogan ideas:
"i live vicariously through heterosexuals"
"sober, caffeinated, confident"
"gay, austrian, anthropologist"
yes, that last one will make me millions. millions, i tell you!
also in the notebook was an attempt to list 200 words that start with p. (i think there are about 80). and notes to self about what life direction to take, none of which mentioned moving to colorado to work on the farm again. that's what note-taking gets you!

i am now in high demand for my squash-handling skills. a restaurant in boulder that we sell to asked if i could come over and fill a mining cart in their front yard with our beautiful edible autumn decorations. pretty soon the housewives will be calling!

men at work

the band. not the size and shape of walt's asshole.
i caught the end of a men at work song on the radio while driving home and it reminded me of an evening, waaay back in the days of original saab and working at clary's, that a friend called abe and i got lost in southern hills and drove around for what felt like hours listening to the same men at work song over and over again. we loved it. and.... i can't figure out HOW a men at work song could ever have gotten so much airtime in my car. what was it that we liked?? i can't figure out what song it is, but think it's the first track from "cargo"... and that's just a dumb song. surely not the one we liked so much. there is no explanation for this.

i'm about to eat a pumpkin for dinner and feel like this is something i'll be doing a lot of this winter. there's too much damn winter squash and there;s no way we'll sell it all. no way. no sir.

walnuts.

someone DID buy a 25 lb. hubbard squash today, though. impressive. 25 lbs down, 9,975 to go.

no hulk

today has been totally boring in comparison to yesterday's day of exciting hulk sightings. i've worked too many days in a row and have grown impatient with most customers, to the point that, when asked fort he 100th time what you do with roasted chiles today, i started quoting raiders. "you eat 'em!" no one got it and my diversion to shley humorville was short lived. really people, be resourceful. look up a damn recipe and stop bothering me. and if you must ask a series of questions, at least let me finish my response instead of interrupting me in mid-sentence to ask me another question. manners!

the chile roaster hinges finally broke today, so we have four weeks of wire-rigged roasting fun to look forward to. i was especially proud of my keychain-engineered replacement hinge system, though. working at the farmstand is like being on a permanent camping trip- constant resourcefulness in the outdoors is required. natural implements! someone left a collection of keychains (i can't explain....) and i ringed them together to re-fasten the little chile-dispensing door on the roaster. paper clips were also employed. ok, it's not really like camping, but a new level of dirtiness has long since been accepted (i wash off most of my tan at the end of the day) and eating habits are more macgyver than culinary. i toy with the idea of bringing a crockpot to work to make some soup....