I Am a Hippie Farm Co op Member

No, not weed.

At least, I don't THINK so. Ask me Saturday.

I have just ordered my first basket from the Bountiful Baskets Food Co Op. On Saturday, I will get in my car that runs on used banana peels and head on down to the pick up.

What will I get?

In my imagination, I am standing there in braids and a tie dye skirt, with a baby tied to my body. I am holding a wicker basket literally *BURSTING* with fresh fruits and vegetables, and fresh bread made by monks. The sun is shining brightly and there  is goodwill everywhere.  I hug the other Co op members goodbye. I go home and can some of the  offerings and use the bruised fruit to make some lovely jam. Then, I smoke a medical marijuana doobie, to help with my TMJ and/or glaucoma.  Then, we will gather 'round for a bit of singing. I will play the tambourine.

This would be my life partner, Hans. He would accompany me
instead of stay home and watch Poker Stars.

In reality, we will be racing all over town that day, burning gas and energy, attending consumerism based birthday gatherings, eating processed food, and using plastic bags. At 2:45, I will be racing across town to get my vegetables, and will forget boxes. I will be stuffing the goods in a series of containers that are still in my car like my briefcase, a shoe box from a recent animal hide purchase, and an empty Starbucks cup. It will be snowing, and there will be a gale force wind. There will be a line, and I will wish for wine. I will drag all of the loot out of the containers and stack it on the counter. There will be a lot of odd shaped vegetables and fruits and some I don't recognize. The Baboos will yelp at the sight of the bounty and point at all of the things "there is no way {they} are eating". I will order the kids a pizza while Special Agent and I go out to an elitist wine-paired dinner where we will consume half of a bloody hormone-enhanced cow. And wine.

Ok, ...I am certainly exaggerating here. I might have the tuna.

It's free range tuna - don't judge.