My ridiculous day, by June Gardens. Or, Lucy in Sky with Diamonds.

Yesterday, I went to the farmer's market.

Yousaytomato

I am seriously the only person you know who goes to the farmer's market to buy processed food. I bought cookies, little snack crackers, honey. I guess honey isn't processed. I mean, it is, but by bees. That doesn't count, right?

Turnipeyes

Now, why didn't the other June tell me to turn my one turnip so both of them had pupils? That would've been funnier. Clearly I have to art direct all my future photography.

I kept waiting for this particular booth-renter to tell me I had to buy the turnips, since I placed them on my eyeballs and such. And what was I gonna do with an actual fresh vegetable? "Is there a way I can get this processed and pick it up later?"

Fleurs

There were pretty flowers for sale, too. My mother always says that. Well, she doesn't ALWAYS say that. Sometimes she says things like, "Oh, honey, your hair." and "Do you think Marvin ever has any regrets about marrying you?" but she often says "pretty flowers." And really, do you ever see any ugly flowers?

Orangepink

I bought some pretty flowers, although technically they are pretty blooms on a plant. They will hang in the front of my house, to go with the other hanging plant in front of my house, which I similarly bought at the farmer's market.

Lantana

I seem to be photographing these hanging plants at weird angles, as though I were seven inches tall, or strung out on LSD or something. I have no idea what it's like to be strung out on LSD. Is that even the correct slang? Aren't you strung out on heroin? Can you even be strung out on LSD? I am so not street.

Milky

I understand that we bought our hanging plants and left the farmer's market already, and now I am returning you there, but I am strung out on Vicodin or whatever. I've got a whiskey on my back. I'm chasing the white kitty.

There is a nursery at said market and apparently they have a cat who lives there, either that or I am hallucinating. This is the kind of cat who gets petted and bugged all day, which was evidenced by the fact that I went over and petted and bugged it, and it kept right on sleeping on the sack of seeds, there. I loved this big drink of milk kitty.

Meethen

After I returned from the market, Emily from Chatting at the Sky came over with her girls so they could all meet Henry. Because it turns out? Little kids? Fascinated by kittens.

Squeezy

I would like to point out the part where I don't have kids, and so clearly know nothing about them. As you may or may not know, I also have an old, cranky cat named Francis. Francis has been lying on my left arm the ENTIRE TIME I have been typing this post.

Fran

(I just moved my arm to take this photo, and now he's back on my arm.) Francis is not what you'd call a child-friendly creature.

So I warned Chatting at the Sky's kids (I know how you guys like it when I call her Chatting at the Sky and not Emily) about Francis. I said, "There's another cat who lives here. He is in the back room. He's the meanest cat in the world, so just don't even look at him, or touch him, or go near him."

Okay, who is an idiot? Were they then COMPELLED by this story? Why do I forget everything there is about being a kid? Of COURSE they wanted to go in the back and see the mean, evil Francis. And sure enough, they went back there and looked, and Fran's eyes got huge, and his tail got whippy. He totally lived up to his wretched reputation. I should really give up my dream of being a child psychiatrist.

I must tell you that after those children left this abode Henry and Tallulah both fell into an exhausted sleep such as I have never seen, and if anyone is interested in renting me their children, I will gladly take you up on it. They were both in REM for several hours, giving me much time to enjoy Eleanor Roosevelt (Well, not literally. Her book), and also Winston's cute feet in the sun.

Winfeetz

There were a lot of cats in this post. Particularly that one with the hookah that keeps asking me, "Whoooo are youuuuu?"

18 thoughts on “My ridiculous day, by June Gardens. Or, Lucy in Sky with Diamonds.

  1. Oooh, that hanging plant! That’s lantana! That is SUCH a noxious weed over here in Australia. My family used to think a good afternoon was measured by the amount of lantana we could rip out, using chains and a 4wd (my family is awfully classy).
    Did you notice that the acronym for Chatting at the Sky is CATS?

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  2. What? No pictures of any of the farmers you hoes were shopping for (and yes, I know ‘for’ does NOT need to be at the end but I opted for that instead of a stiff rephrase)?

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  3. I will likely be the only person who notices or cares but I must ask…in the picture with Emily and her two daughters is that a napkin dispenser in your floor? I like that it is turquoise. It looks like it should be in a really cool diner.

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  4. Culpepper,
    It is. It is being used as a doorstop because that one door swings open. I’m sure my Aunt Mary, who got us that cool napkin dispenser, will be thrilled.

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  5. who who who? I really want to know who are you?
    Ok sorry. Now about the farmer’s market. Did you get one? A farmer I mean. You didn’t take a picture of any of them.

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  6. This doesn’t sound like a “ridiculous” day, June. It sounds like quite a lovely day.
    Much like my day. Except for the farmer’s market. And the little snack crackers. And the turnip eyeballs. And the lovely little girls. And the (one, two, three) four cats. And the LSD. And the heroin. And the Vicodin.
    Oh, and Eleanor Roosevelt.
    Never mind.

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  7. I know about that Farmer’s Market. Our friend that lives in W/S makes his way there every weekend. One of the purchases is always some fresh flowers.
    Loved the photos of the fur babies. Poor Fran gets a bad rap, she is old and deserves to be crankie.
    Those flowers in the handing basket are lantana. My Aussie friend tells us they are weeds in Australia and are hated. I have six on my patio right now waiting to be transplanted into pots.

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  8. Lantana is the only thing that grows well during the summer here in North Texas. 100 degree days (again and again and again) kill everything! One mans weed is another mans lovely plant.

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  9. My 2 cranky cats nearly have nervous breakdowns when my granddaughters visit and after the kids leave you can almost hear the sighs of relief from the cats and they too sleep like the dead. (They pretend to hate the girls, but after they are asleep, I find them at the foot of their bed.)
    The flowers are beautiful.

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  10. I must try some Lantana here in the desert after reading all your comments!
    My husband loves your cat pictures. He is a cat person. I am an allergic person.

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  11. the turnips are perfect — your left turnip (on our right) looks like it is winking its purple lidded eye. Good thing the other June didn’t take your directing tips!

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