Good morning. Can we get something out of the way early? This weather sucks, and every time I’m confronted by some beaming dolt with a grin ‘cross his gob saying, “Isn’t this a refreshing change?” I cordially invite him to go back to whatever frozen hell he crawled out of where he can enjoy icicles on his testicles year ‘round. Oh, and Merry Fucking Christmas, too.
It’s too cold to sit in front of a computer. Guido had the windows sealed shut by 4:00 yesterday afternoon, and found an excuse to fire up the oven (I better take a head-count of the cats, come to think of it). A steaming hot shower followed by wrapping up in a sweat suit, then diving into a bed with two heavy blankets. And so to sleep, perchance to shiver.
This being Art Basel week, I share my lack of visual artistic acuity with these two photos, united by their rural theme. The first is a sign in the window of Stiles Farmers Market in Pembroke Pines. You may say toe-MAY-toe or you may say toe-MAH-toe, but Stiles spells it their way, take it or leave it. Their produce is usually quite good, by the way, and their prices beat Publix easily. Publix signs are usually spelled correctly, though. I guess hiring people who can spell costs more.
The second photo is from the newly opened Yellow Green Market on Taft Street in Hollywood, just west of the RR tracks by the YMCA. That’s a cow up there. Not a real one, fortunately, or the rain of cow flop would be even more off-putting than imagining the genius came up with this design concept. Egad.
The Yellow Green Market is a great idea but its execution is disappointing: there are insufficient numbers of produce vendors, too many flea market style booths, and the overall ambiance is flat and dreary. We were unable to find such staples as sweet potatoes, Italian peppers, escarole, and romaine. And where was the bar? How can a man be expected to shop for an hour or two on a Sunday afternoon without a beer or three?
I suspect this place will improve, however. We’ll be back.
Meanwhile, I impatiently await the rising sun to get to work and warm the earth properly, godammit. If I wanted crappy winters, I could have stayed up north in the City of Bodily Harm and at least enjoyed scrapple for breakfast now and then – something the farmers markets up there offer in great abundance, but absent here.