There is always a bonus when visiting with Marianne - in addition to spending time with her. She is, what I would define as, fiercely intelligent, cloaked in a generous, modest persona. I ended up coming home with some massive organic sweet potatoes and two dozen eggs. Woot!
(Insert sound of dragging soapbox)
I want to veer off and talk about the sorry state of customer service. It has become a rare commodity. In my little town, there is a hydroponic lettuce grower who has a ginormous sign in front of their glowing greenhouses: LETTUCE SOLD HERE. Local lettuce, all year around? What's not to love! The problem is, it seems to be a secret to the employees. I have made three trips to find the door locked. It was hard enough finding the right door. The last two times, there were lights on and the sound of people talking inside. I was just able to see the lettuce table and it was fully stocked. No answer to my loud knocking (okay, pounding) on the door. Crickets. On Saturday, I was giving it one more try before peppering their Facebook page with barbed comments. I saw two employees, smoking outside of a different door. I went to the unmarked lettuce door and it was locked. I knocked. I then sashayed around the corner and said, "Hi there. Your GREAT BIG ASS SIGN by the road says you sell lettuce. Is there a secret code? Are your hours a GREAT MYSTERY? Would one of you please open the door so I can BUY THE LETTUCE YOU ARE ADVERTISING IN YOUR BIG ASS SIGN? Or words to that effect. One of them slouched, bitterly, inside and reluctantly unlocked the door. I bought my lettuce and then yelled, "HAVE A NICE DAY!" before going on my way. I refrained from slamming the door, should it lock behind me. Honest to Pete.
Same day, I had stopped at the Aldi's I always visit. The shelves were a mess, stock was low and there was only one cashier. And a very, very long line. The cashier indicated some of us could move to the next register and, lo and behold, another cashier emerged from a door, fairly bristling with indignation, an attitude she maintained throughout all her transactions. As I paid my bill, I casually suggested she look for a job she would enjoy, as this clearly was not the case. Pfft.
End of oration.
Let's look at Marianne's sweet potato, shall we? A much nicer subject:
|For reference, it was the size of my forearm!|
|My dad's school lunch tin|
|Still in excellent condition|
after almost 90 years!
|Local lettuce - worth the aggravation!|
I made up another batch of Greek yogurt (how have I been able to survive without my Instant Pot?),
|3 hours and 32 minutes to yogurt!|
|The socks fit!|