Adelaide and Mommy at Trader Joe’s in Monrovia.
Now that the power’s back on and the internet is back up, I can show you a couple pictures from Thursday morning’s wind storm. This is our neighbor’s huge pine tree that was uprooted and fell, blocking the street.
What gets me is that this was not an isolated incident—Kyle and I found big trees like this uprooted on just about every block, and the same thing happened in all of the cities along the San Gabriel mountain foothills.
Wanna see more? The Los Angeles Times has some good pictures here.
There was a big fire in Monrovia last night at a machine parts manufacturing building. Fire crews came out from Arcadia, San Marino, Alhambra, Pasadena, Burbank, San Gabriel, and Los Angeles to help. Thankfully, no one was injured.
Adelaide at the Monrovia Library fountain tonight.
At least someone is.
This little house is so cute! The sign says “Welcome Home Momma” and I think that red blanket is supposed to be a red carpet.
Every Friday night for most of the year, there is a big street fair-slash-farmers’ market in downtown Monrovia. I love to go—it reminds me of going to the fair. There are lots of booths with people selling jewelry and crafts, but I usually skip all that and head to the back where the food starts. I usually don’t buy anything to eat, but I love smelling the smoky barbecue and the funnel cakes and freshly roasted peanuts and—perhaps the most fair-conjuring scent—mini donuts. I don’t want to eat the donuts, I just want to smell them.
Right past the food is the farmers’ market. I try to go every week to pick up fresh vegetables and support local produce. It makes me feel like a good person. But to tell the truth, I don’t know what the heck to do at a farmers’ market.
First of all, the growers are standing two feet in front of me, watching me touch all their produce. Obviously, I am a rookie, timidly picking up a piece of squash and trying to figure out a) what it is, and b) if I want to eat it.
Lynne Rossetto-Kasper from NPR’s The Splendid Table radio cooking show tells me to be adventurous, get something new, be curious, ask questions. So upon seeing some small tomato-like things in husks on a table, I asked one of the ladies, “What are these?” “Tomatillos.” “What do you use them for?” “Salsa.” Hm. Do I want to make salsa? No. “Okay, thanks.”
Growers often put out samples of cut fruit, and I always try some. Who knows when you might stumble upon the most amazing fruit hybrid ever? But after taking samples, I feel weird just walking away. It’s like saying, “That’s right, I tried your fruit. It was good. But not THAT good.” I feel like a snob.
I also feel like a snob when I ask if the produce is organic. Actually, I’ve never come out to ask someone if it’s organic, because I’d feel like a snob doing that. “Excuse me, is this organic? Because I only eat organic produce.” Sometimes they will have signs like “not sprayed with pesticides.” Is that the same thing?
Last awkward thing—I went to an organic fruit stand, sampled a pluot, liked the pluot, and decided to buy some pluots. “I would like three, please.” “Three pounds?” “Uh, no… just three.” “Just three?” “Okay, maybe four? Like a pound? I dunno, just give me a pound I guess.” I felt like Charlie Bucket from Willy Wonka where Charlie’s teacher is discussing percentages. “Two? Two! I can’t do just two. So let’s say you did 200.”
I’m sure I’ll get the hang of this farmer’s market thing. So far, I feel like it’s overrated. But I still like going, if only to smell the mini donuts.
Here’s what I came home with tonight:
What we have here is some sort of chile, some sort of Thai chile, some sort of stripey squash (zucchini?) some sort of weird looking lemon/lime squash, a cucumber, and two avocados.
I also got some nectarines and the aforementioned pound of pluots. Incidentally, when I told the dude what I wanted, he started picking them out and he said, “Do you want good ones?” “Nah, I want bad ones.” I smiled. “Just kidding.” I think he didn’t appreciate my sarcasm, because he didn’t do a great job picking my nectarines. On the other hand, he seemed like he was a kid on summer break who got pulled into helping out at the family fruit stand, so maybe he’s just a rookie like me.
I also brought this home:
She fell asleep literally five seconds before we walked in the door. And she’s been sleeping ever since… I should probably put her in bed.