[going] to the country, gonna eat a lot of peaches...

Ok, the lyric really goes "movin' to the country, gonna eat a lot of peaches" but we're not moving to the country anytime soon.

We did visit the country yesterday. We'll be visiting the country in two weeks. And then I'll be taking my favorite blondes out to the peach orchard after their school is out. Woot!

So here's the story of our saturday:

We eat some lunch and then we grab our bags and hop in the car and head east. To Terrell. Not far - about 40 miles out on 80. We leave the city, drive past some small towns, through downtown Terrell and then find ourselves in the bona-fide country. Like something that most people only see in movies. Two lane roads, rolling green, pastures with grazing livestock....and because it's spring there was a lot of nursing baby animals and twitterpated adult animals going on. At one point I said to Steve: "you know, that guy in that movie was right -- there's the city and the country and everything in between is a wasteland." "Wasteland" in this case refers to those horrible tract developments that are happening on what used to be farmland. You know what I'm talking about -- the ones where every house looks the same and they have no regard for the nature that used to exist there. I'm inspired to become Beatrix Potter, minus the tragic loss of her fiance, of course. I do plan on being published...if only I were a little bit crazy, too....oh wait.

Anyway, we found Akin Farm and pulled in. About halfway down their little road I noticed that my car was making a high pitched noise that was distinctly not there before. We parked, and I checked it out but found nothing amiss. So we hiked out to the snap pea rows and started picking. Not too labor-intensive and over a pound later we decided we were finished with the peas. One of the owners, Mr Akin, drove out on his solar powered golf-cart with his two dogs. A dark male whose name I have forgotten, and Misty the Grand Pyrenees who instantly became Steve's New Best Friend. She was pretty shameless about the amount of love she expected and Steve didn't let her down. There was much rolling in the dirt and scratching of the belly. It was very funny. Next time I'm taking pictures of *that.*

Next to be picked - masses of spinach, a turnip (yes, only one because we're not sure if we even like turnip), and leaf lettuce. Leafy greens don't grow well in Tx because it gets too hot, but if you plant them early they'll be ready for harvest in late April early May and then you can have yummy salads. I did take pictures of Steve being Super Mario 2:

Turnip in the ground. (Yes, those ladybugs are making more ladybugs.)
And below is Steve pulling it. I should have made him throw it over his head, but that might have hurt:



And here's me with the lettuce (I took my digital camera and it's hard to see the screen in bright sun so Steve was having a rough time getting me in the frame....luckily I have many photo-editing programs...)



And yes, that is just about the dorkiest smile ever on my face. I blame the (ridiculously free of pollution) air.

So then we rounded up our haul and headed out...grinding noise and all. When we got to the "main road" I decided that it was not going to miraculously cure itself and I didn't want my brake pads (the location we decided the noise was coming from) to catch fire. So we pulled over and I jacked up the car and pulled off the tire. It all looked to be in order. Steve called Duc in case he had an genius ideas but no such luck. So I put the tire back on and we try again. The noise is even worse. Think of the worst brakes you've ever heard in your life and then make it happen when the car is moving and the brakes are not applied. So we go ten feet and I pull over again. And take the wheel off. Again. And then, while Steve is on the phone with Honda I slide under the car and see the source of the noise: a tiny-ass fucking pebble has lodged itself in between the brake disk and it's housing, so when the disk rotates with the wheel it was grating across it - fingers-on-chalkboard-style. I threw the pebble very hard into the bushes, replaced the tire (again) and cleaned my hands with the wipes and anti-bacterial gel that Muffin so thoughtfully provided me with when I purchased my new car (Thanks!!!!!) and we got back in the car and moved forward (again) noiselessly (yay!)

I know what you're thinking: "Emily, doesn't changing a tire twice in 15 minutes fall directly under 'strenuous activity'?" Yes. Yes it does. But the fact of the matter is that while I could have - with the right tools that were distinctly NOT in my trunk - repaired the brakes had that been the problem, my sheltered prep-school husband has never changed a tire before. Ever. Hence, Emily's physical activity. My manicure is shot.


Today is Mother's Day. We had brunch at La Cubanita with Mom and Richard and Kris and then we hit whole foods for the things the farmer's market/farm can't provide (cheese cloth, cream cheese, bread flour) and are now lazing around vaguely doing chores.

I've decided I'm going to learn how to make bread from scratch. We're in the midst of "How To Cook Your Life" which is like Zen and the art of Bread Making and I'm all inspired. He (the subject of the documentary) talks about how important it is to bake bread from scratch because of the moving meditation and the connection it gives you to your nourishment and a bunch of other Zen edicts....which makes a lot of sense. When I'm stressed (and not injured) I bake. From scratch. Copiously. So if you just add bread to that and consider that bread dough needs to be punched down from time to time...you can imagine the catharsis a single loaf might provide. ;)


I'm also inspired to get my yoga teacher certificate (once I'm healed, natch) and do something about that. Not only because I could teach a few classes and make some dough on the side -- teach ANYWHERE, even -- but because the deeper knowledge will help me get more in touch with my body so that I can stave off further complications (not that there will be any - I've hit my weird ailment quota for this life and the next).

Also - how cute would it be to conduct yoga classes with 6 year olds?


Now, one of the seminal videos of my high school years...fruit and ninjas :-)