Sunday, October 10, 2010


It's terribly interesting what one finds they truly desire to do should they have the opportunity to do anything in the world.  OK, not in the world, but on a nice LA day.  Specifically on a Saturday morning.  Since both my run and my hike were canceled this weekend, I asked Gina to go with me to a farmers market.  Yesterday morning I woke up fairly early, got dressed in my finest weekend uniform (running shorts, t-shirt, running shoes), and picked up an iced coffee before we took a 30 minute drive down to a farmers market that I'm absolutely shocked nobody talks about.  It was fabulous!

We ate papusas, homemade lemonade, fresh donuts and sausages.  I bought some amazingly tasty pluots, some basil (fresh pesto anyone?!), a baguette, peppers and tomatoes.  And I even picked up a nice little mint plant to go with the two pots of basil Gina gave me a few weeks ago. 

After we watched some Big Ten football and napped briefly, I stopped at Home Depot for some potting soil.  Now you're probably wondering why exactly I'm giving you a complete run-down of my day.  It's because it has finally hit me; I've become my mother. 

Early mornings, farmers markets, Home Depot, potting plants... these are Klodd's favorite things. (Klodd is my amazing, supportive, hilarious, perky and blond mother - short for Claudia.)  And ones that I absolutely despised when I was younger.  My idea of hell as a kid was getting up early on the weekend to go to Eastern Market or the nursery to look at trees and plants. 

Now I don't know if it's because I'm homesick or because I've had time and space to discover what I like outside of my parents' taste, but the apple just doesn't fall that far from the tree.  And in a way, that makes me really happy.  It's reassuring that after six years and thousands of miles away from my family, we've managed to grow together. I didn't leave the Midwest because I didn't love or even like my family, but because I needed my independence.  From running and finance to farmers markets and hiking, I've discovered so much about what makes me tick, and I might just be ready to go back.  Someday. 

1 comment:

Michael said...

Becoming like your mother? I call that maturity.