« Sunday Morning Excursion »
Sunday, July 12, 2009 at 9:18AM
;)
My BFF, Ang, and I got up at the ass crack of dawn this Sunday morning to do something we haven't done in years. We drove downtown to take in the sights, sounds, and aromas of the urban farmer's market. Nestled scenically just next to the highway overpass, row after row of vendor stalls line three city blocks of Minneapolis. A favorite activity of retired couples, lonely single men and suburban thirty/forty something women possessing thoughts of canning, gardening or anything else that might quell a bout of domestic diva induced delirium, the urban farmer's market provides a bit of something for everyone. Trundling about the foliage and vegetation trucked in from the country you almost forget you are surrounded by concrete and steel girders at every turn. It is a little oasis amidst the low income housing and chain linked fences at the base of downtown.
Our regular routine is to more or less immediately stop and pick up a couple of bratwursts and coffee, fueling us for the plundering ahead. A sign that we are both getting old, neither of us were up to the task of downing brats slathered in sauerkraut at 7 am. Coffee, yes, but pork products covered with vinegar laden cabbage was a bit too much for both of our constitutions. Perhaps, it was the overabundance of patchouli wafting through the air that turned my stomach upon arrival or the amount of tie dyed apparel closing in on us as we walked down the man made arcades.
"When did this become Tijuana and Woodstock rolled into one?" I said as I skimmed past the knock off designer glasses and handbags.
South of the border quickly became hippie central with a line of vendors selling everything from organic bamboo clothing to essential oils. Ang pointed in the direction of a dread locked coated individual of questionable sex providing neck massages. The only thing less appealing than having a hairy hermaphrodite touch me would have been allowing the pre-pubescent looking "chiropractor" who set up shop next to him/her crack my back. Both made my milky white, Oil of Olay moisturized skin crawl. Fearing we would be inundated by designer roach clips and Che Guevara t-shirts, I hustled my friend out of patchouli hell as quickly as possible.
Beyond the crystals and Birkenstocks, row upon row of vegetable and flower stands surfaced. We made the loop, inspecting green beens and potatoes, zucchini and paddy pan squash. The trip took all of about twenty minutes as our interest in creating domestic bliss by way of organic shopping and then cooking diminished ages ago. The idea is sometimes better than the reality.
Impressed with myself that I had not spent more than a few dollars on some beans and was ready to leave with a wallet full of cash, we suddenly happened upon a Sanford and Son kind of enclave in which an homage to every conceivable type of animal one could fashion out of salvaged materials had been made. My eye went directly to the flying pigs. Forty nine dollars for a heap of scrap metal twisted and melded into the shape of my cyber mascot, a tribute to my rag tag site, it was too good to pass up. I decided upon the black and white one with bi-color wings; a perfect bit of eye popping kitsch to live amongst my perennials.
Mendoza, the artist if you want to call him that, asked us, "What does this 'when pigs fly' mean anyway?"
Ang replied as I was fumbling for my wallet, "It's kind of like the expression 'when Hell freezes over.' You know, when something is never going to happen."
He looked at both of us, still puzzled by the metaphor I had just purchased. I smiled giving him the money. If only he could have seen the expression on my face when the boy chiropractor asked me if I wanted to get a free adjustment. Then, he would have understood the meaning behind his scrap metal sculptures.
dreadlocks, farmer's market, hippie, patchouli, vegetables in Weekend Warriors 
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Reader Comments (13)
oil of olay. thats good stuff.
haha. that pig is so cute!
I've been to farmers markets in this neck of the woods, but a market-cum-fleabag hippie yard sale would probably keep my interest for an equivalent twenty minutes. Especially once the patchouli scent mixed lovingly with freeway exhaust. That said, I'd have gone all out with the bratwurst. Its relevance at 7am is odd, despite the fact that it sounds delicious.
Many, many years ago I had a back problem. Seeking relief from the pain I visited a chiropractor. Big mistake on my part. I thought the "doctor" was going to snap me in half and tear my head off. Never, never again.
Finally had back surgery and have been pain free for years now, but I still have nightmares about that chiropractor...
Funny, funny post.
When Tijuana meets Woodstock. That pretty much describes a few of my neighbors, too.
Wendi
www.wendiaarons.com
Jen...I SO enjoy the way you write!
GREAT visuals!
Your hairy hermaphrodite will be emblazed in my mind forever!
(and I actually use Oil of Olay facial cleanser - the BEST!)
I love going to outdoor farmers markets. Especially in the Fall. I don't think I knew you lived in the Minneapolis area. Which is funny, because this past weekend I watched a Mary Tyler Moore DVD marathon. And by the end of it, I wanted no more than to THROW my hat in the air!
Your piggie looks like my piggy. wonder if it is from the same family.... Hubby dear got it for my b-day this year.... He knows how I like my flying piggies...Although living in the inner tier of the burbs as we do, I never go to the real farmers market anymore but opt for the tiny one in my neighborhood every wednesday afternoon and evening until labor day as the sign reads. The veggies and snacks are the same and I can get up at the ass crack of dawn and ride my horse instead.... love your posts and miss you greatly... D :O)
The Woodstock thing was really funny!
It is twice as funny when people don't "get it." I have a rather dry sense of humor and sometimes the reactions are better than what I say, but they don't get the humor in what I said nor their reaction.
Stopping by to say HI from SITS today!
when to a chiro with a bad knee, left with a bad back. I get it.
Love that piggie!!! We might have to go back and get him a little friend....the smaller orange one.
We've got to rally this summer and at least split a brat, otherwise we might as well get our teeth pulled and start eating mushy things. Besides, 50 years from now we'll take our medicare-paid-for scoorters and savage the farmers market.
fantastic. FANTASTIC! Love the writing style! Also, come on.. Che is still cool, right? Overdone? Probably. But he's still a beacon to wanna-be activists like me and Brad Pitt.. Viva la revolucion!
AND Viva counterculture farmer's markets. Anything less would've been tedium.
Fun blog, SiTSta.
Farmers Markets I love. Patchouli and Tie Dye I don't. Love the pigs though and your Sanford and Son reference made me LOL.
I heart your writing, Jen. Your use of what I like to call "Jen's English" always make me burst out laughing.
A few of my favorites from this post:
1) Ass crack of dawn (Is that earlier than o'dark thirty?)
2) Pork products covered with vinegar laden cabbage (yum)
3) Creating domestic bliss by way of organic shopping
You're a good time.
-Francesca
Wish we had something like that around here.
I have to resort to craft fairs to find anything unusual. Just not the same as an open market.
The pig is a little cutie! and Ang is right, I think he needs a friend. Orange would be good.