The Farmers’ Market that never Happened (But is the Reason You’re Reading This Right Now)
Since I have a whole timeline of writerly tasks I’m bound and determined to complete this summer, I did what any other obsessive planner would do and worked backward. Paramount was launching this website. But to make sure I’d stick to that goal, I contacted my local farmers’ market about getting a booth. What does a website have to do with sourdough bread, goat’s milk soap, and fresh berries, one might ask? Nothing, directly and everything motivationally.
Notes from a barf bag
Next to me, a remarkably slim 20-something is taking up all her seat and 50% of mine, a feat she manages while munching donut holes and watching Gillmore Girls on her laptop. It’s mystifying but rather than comment on her wildly swinging legs and arms that keep bumping me, I make my lg/xl frame as small as possible, smashing myself against the plane wall like I’m drywall putty. Oh, for paper! How’d I’d eviscerate her in fiction!