I was able to pick up a gorgeous fresh flower arrangement for only 6 bucks! And pumpkins for 5! The best part, though, is scoring the goat cheese. LOVE it. Like, can't get enough of it, I'm-going-to-throw-up-when-I'm-done-but-it's-so-worth-it love it. I was familiar with the farm and all of their lovely assorted cheeses, which were being doled out in one delightfully dairy-smeared shingle of goodness at a time. We have a history.
Last year, we actually took the kids and visited the goat farm. This place and their cheese is so popular that a couple of times a year they hold an open farm day, where they allow everyone to tour the farm and gardens, taste the cheese and learn a bit about farming. Yea for goat cheese...and yeah, farming too. We took our kids (human) to see their kids (goats), and I think--at best--it was an awkward introduction:
We moved on to the area of the farm where they had a pottery wheel for the little ones to throw a pot--errr, a small, lopsided ash-trayish looking bowl. We thought it would be a nice distraction for Ethan and allow him to have time to process his recent life-changing event. All in good fun, right? My crew was excited. Apparently, so was every other person visiting the farm that day under the age of 16. The line was forever long. So while the older three each waited their turn, Ethan found and threw walnuts, which made him feel that the world was good and right afterall.
Needless to say, when he was done with this involved and explicit how-to, everyone in the crowd turned and had the same look of confusion/slight terror that Ethan had earlier displayed. There was no chatter. Only stunned silence. Now, who wants some cheese? Straight from the goat's teet. Anyone? Anyone?
Actually, I did! I didn't care about that behind the scenes storytelling. It's farming for pete's sake. It's not all pretty, right? There's a process before the food ends up in cute little containers in the store. Most importantly, I wasn't deterred because I LOVE CHEESE. And goat cheese in a variety of flavors is especially wonderful. Yes, please. My husband and I almost ran to the area for samples, which was laid out as a huge spread. I'm telling ya, I stepped in and a ray of light shone down and illuminated the room with a glittery golden haze. I could almost hear the Hallelujah hymn.
You get by now that I love cheese, but what I haven't yet mentioned is that I'm especially fond of soft cheeses... and that they usually make me sick. Maybe it's because I overeat them to the point of distension. It's such a gross display, but I can't help myself. And I pay dearly for it later. Sigh. It hurts so good.
I feasted on samples smeared over every cracker imaginable. Happy days. We bought a few tubs of our favs and headed for home. About a mile down the road, we realized we had accidently left behind the clay creations we had waited forever to make. The small, lopsided ash-trayish bowls had been abandoned. The large, lopsided agitated(ish) abdomens, however, were all coming home. And not quickly enough.
It was sheer panic setting in as my stomach twisted and churned and gurgled. Uh-oh. Not good. Something wicked this way comes. I had just adopted the Ethan look of confusion and slight terror, as I turned to my husband, breathy and with strained and pleading voice, "Damn, how far out is this place anyway? No, really. How much farther until we're home? Seriously, I don't think I'm gonna be able to make it. Okay, not far? Okay. But like, minutes, we're talking just a couple of minutes, right? Oh, no." One hand pressed into the roof of the car and one hand stretched out and grasping the headrest of his seat so tightly that my knuckles were white, I willed myself not to lose it. The second---THE SECOND--we pulled into the driveway, I had my car door open and was running for the door...one hand over mouth and one hand over ass.
I told you this farm and I had a history. A tumultuous one. Should I have kept walking when I spotted the booth at the market? Maybe. Instead, I winked, the cheese winked back, and we were in love all over again.