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R. Linda:
Just when I thought I'd heard it all (the contamination story and making a bakery a drive-thru), I get the next bit of news today, let me preface it all first.
Every Sunday morning Tonya gets up early and makes a brownie run to a local farm stand. Now this farm stand is not one of those rickety things slapped together with a sign overhead. No, this farm stand has graduated to an indoor market. Not large, but it is of a nice size. You would say it was more than a mere farm stand and a wee bit less than a small supermarket. Now these brownies are the most delicious we've ever tasted and that good that we have them every week after Sunday dinner (which we have at noon). We look forward to these goodies like you would never believe and we always are in such good moods after we slowly devour them.
Yes, we make a ritual out of these brown delights baked so excellently that we are sure they are the best brownies on earth. We savour every crumb, biting off delicate little pieces, slowly enjoying the flavour wafting down to our respective gullets; we smile at each other and sometimes we even do that hand thing you do with wine glasses -- I wind me hand around hers and I feed her and she feeds me, yes, yes, I know we are besotted stupids, but we can't help it.
Now it happens that Tonya be on this local library committee and one Sunday a month they feature a local artist with an open house, so to speak. You know, where they have pastries and coffee and you partake as you walk around the library looking over the artist's work. She says with the bakery not open (because of the teenage detour) she doesn't know what they are going to do. Probably bake she supposes. But I have a brainstorm of me own and an ulteriour motive, why not get OUR brownies (as we have come to refer to them) from the farm stand and I would pick up some extra for us. Well, she lights up like a Christmas tree at the idea and I get me excuse to go pick up the goodies that will surely put that muffin-top from all your fudge right back on yours truly if he keeps eating sweets.
Sunday morning I headed out, picked up the brownies and I met her over at the library. The ladies set them out on paper lace doilies and with a few fresh strawberries placed here and there and a bowl of fresh whipped cream. Looked so lovely yummy, I decided I be staying.
The artist arrived and there were oohs and ahhs over not her artwork but how delicious the brownies look and how good the coffee smells and people start to come in and meet her then over to the goodies and they plate a brownie, grab a cup of java and off they go to munch, sip, and look.
Oh I got in there too, don't you worry on that score. I had three brownies before me Tonya took me to task that I still had a whole box in the car for us later.
I will say usually I don't enjoy such things as viewing amateur artists acrylic paintings of bowls of fruit, nor flowers, nor the occasional candlestick with bottle of vino next to it. It just is lost on me, but for some reason I found meself discussing a painting of a wedge of cheese with wine bottle and candlestick rather vigourously with some women, and I ended up buying it away from a member of the artist's own family, who specifically informed me the artist painted that one for HER kitchen. So much did I want that bloody damn rendering of fine art, the best one of the lot, I offered a higher price then the $50 posted on the frame. I bought if for a bloody $125.00 I did. Me wife was appalled at first until she saw it and I pointed out the finer bits. She too, as she munched on a brownie, was extremely proud to be half owner.
When we got home that afternoon, we munched on more brownies, drank of a bottle of wine between us and spent a good two hours holding our new painting to this wall, then over on that wall, until finally we found the perfect place of honour, over the hearth in the living room. We were thrilled.
The next morning, I got up feeling like I had a hangover. I got some coffee, the newspaper and took meself to the living room where I sat down on the couch in front of the hearth. I looked up and then looked up again, at the most childish painting I'd ever seen in me life. It was horrible, bloody awful, a bollocky attempt at art that me own son could have outdone. While I was sitting there in disdain of such an abomination, me wife plunks down next to me and looks up and stares for a minute. Then she looks at me and says, "Were we out of our minds? That is hideous."
Yes, hideous that's the perfect word. We took it down we did, it was that bad. For weeks we were in denial that we had ever thought the painting was good. We bemoaned the fact that yours truly paid what he did for such a piece of garbage.
Today, yes today, I think I know why we loved that paining, and why we were in such a giddy good mood that day, and hung over the next. Seems the local headlines were these: OWNER OF FARM STAND ARRESTED FOR POT. The article went on to say, the police had shown up at the man's house on another matter and while they were there, they noticed the smell of cannabis in the air. On further inspection, they found 16 marijuana plants growing on the sun porch off the kitchen at the back of the remote house. They took the man in and further got a warrant on another property he owned at the back of the farm stand, and what did they find? More marijuana and paraphernalia that goes with it. BUT the worse part was they suspect the man used the harvested leaves as an addition to his bakery products. NOW we know WHY we were always in such fine moods, craved the tainted brownies and bought that silly painting. But we got a cold chill down our spines when we realised all the people at the library had eaten the brownies that I had bought. OH MY GOD. Tonya called the ladies and explained what she thinks might have happened. Worse, she found out that quite a few bought the artist's works and regretted it the next day. And even worse than that, all the paintings sold and the artist is extremely happy paining MORE pictures for another showing scheduled for September.
R. Linda, we have created a monster. Who be going to tell her? I swear it is NOT going to be me.
Gabe
Copyright © 2008 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
Just when I thought I'd heard it all (the contamination story and making a bakery a drive-thru), I get the next bit of news today, let me preface it all first.
Every Sunday morning Tonya gets up early and makes a brownie run to a local farm stand. Now this farm stand is not one of those rickety things slapped together with a sign overhead. No, this farm stand has graduated to an indoor market. Not large, but it is of a nice size. You would say it was more than a mere farm stand and a wee bit less than a small supermarket. Now these brownies are the most delicious we've ever tasted and that good that we have them every week after Sunday dinner (which we have at noon). We look forward to these goodies like you would never believe and we always are in such good moods after we slowly devour them.
Yes, we make a ritual out of these brown delights baked so excellently that we are sure they are the best brownies on earth. We savour every crumb, biting off delicate little pieces, slowly enjoying the flavour wafting down to our respective gullets; we smile at each other and sometimes we even do that hand thing you do with wine glasses -- I wind me hand around hers and I feed her and she feeds me, yes, yes, I know we are besotted stupids, but we can't help it.
Now it happens that Tonya be on this local library committee and one Sunday a month they feature a local artist with an open house, so to speak. You know, where they have pastries and coffee and you partake as you walk around the library looking over the artist's work. She says with the bakery not open (because of the teenage detour) she doesn't know what they are going to do. Probably bake she supposes. But I have a brainstorm of me own and an ulteriour motive, why not get OUR brownies (as we have come to refer to them) from the farm stand and I would pick up some extra for us. Well, she lights up like a Christmas tree at the idea and I get me excuse to go pick up the goodies that will surely put that muffin-top from all your fudge right back on yours truly if he keeps eating sweets.
Sunday morning I headed out, picked up the brownies and I met her over at the library. The ladies set them out on paper lace doilies and with a few fresh strawberries placed here and there and a bowl of fresh whipped cream. Looked so lovely yummy, I decided I be staying.
The artist arrived and there were oohs and ahhs over not her artwork but how delicious the brownies look and how good the coffee smells and people start to come in and meet her then over to the goodies and they plate a brownie, grab a cup of java and off they go to munch, sip, and look.
Oh I got in there too, don't you worry on that score. I had three brownies before me Tonya took me to task that I still had a whole box in the car for us later.
I will say usually I don't enjoy such things as viewing amateur artists acrylic paintings of bowls of fruit, nor flowers, nor the occasional candlestick with bottle of vino next to it. It just is lost on me, but for some reason I found meself discussing a painting of a wedge of cheese with wine bottle and candlestick rather vigourously with some women, and I ended up buying it away from a member of the artist's own family, who specifically informed me the artist painted that one for HER kitchen. So much did I want that bloody damn rendering of fine art, the best one of the lot, I offered a higher price then the $50 posted on the frame. I bought if for a bloody $125.00 I did. Me wife was appalled at first until she saw it and I pointed out the finer bits. She too, as she munched on a brownie, was extremely proud to be half owner.
When we got home that afternoon, we munched on more brownies, drank of a bottle of wine between us and spent a good two hours holding our new painting to this wall, then over on that wall, until finally we found the perfect place of honour, over the hearth in the living room. We were thrilled.
The next morning, I got up feeling like I had a hangover. I got some coffee, the newspaper and took meself to the living room where I sat down on the couch in front of the hearth. I looked up and then looked up again, at the most childish painting I'd ever seen in me life. It was horrible, bloody awful, a bollocky attempt at art that me own son could have outdone. While I was sitting there in disdain of such an abomination, me wife plunks down next to me and looks up and stares for a minute. Then she looks at me and says, "Were we out of our minds? That is hideous."
Yes, hideous that's the perfect word. We took it down we did, it was that bad. For weeks we were in denial that we had ever thought the painting was good. We bemoaned the fact that yours truly paid what he did for such a piece of garbage.
Today, yes today, I think I know why we loved that paining, and why we were in such a giddy good mood that day, and hung over the next. Seems the local headlines were these: OWNER OF FARM STAND ARRESTED FOR POT. The article went on to say, the police had shown up at the man's house on another matter and while they were there, they noticed the smell of cannabis in the air. On further inspection, they found 16 marijuana plants growing on the sun porch off the kitchen at the back of the remote house. They took the man in and further got a warrant on another property he owned at the back of the farm stand, and what did they find? More marijuana and paraphernalia that goes with it. BUT the worse part was they suspect the man used the harvested leaves as an addition to his bakery products. NOW we know WHY we were always in such fine moods, craved the tainted brownies and bought that silly painting. But we got a cold chill down our spines when we realised all the people at the library had eaten the brownies that I had bought. OH MY GOD. Tonya called the ladies and explained what she thinks might have happened. Worse, she found out that quite a few bought the artist's works and regretted it the next day. And even worse than that, all the paintings sold and the artist is extremely happy paining MORE pictures for another showing scheduled for September.
R. Linda, we have created a monster. Who be going to tell her? I swear it is NOT going to be me.
Gabe
Copyright © 2008 All rights reserved
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