A Sunday with my BFF's

I was honored by my BFF's this past Sunday.  They took me to the farmer's market.  As far as I can tell, this is a tradition that goes back years and it's usually only the two of them.  Because they are wonderful, caring folks, they asked me to come along.  You see, they are worried I'm not getting out much since the layoff situation raised its ugly head.

They are right of course.  I don't get out much.  I spend hours on the computer looking for the next great job.  What I find however is not the next great job, but the next job I am not qualified to apply for.  It's almost like if I'm afraid if I leave the computer for a bit, the perfect job will pop up and disappear before I get back to sit down.  This is not going to happen of course, but you never know right?  So back to my BFF's....

I get myself over to their home ten minutes late because my back is talking to me.  "Back talking" again and it's giving me the raspberry.  I apparently carry my stress in my back.  Kind of like that ugly purse you carry because you don't want to clean the thing out.  In any event, they do not complain that I am late:  they are visiting with the lovely woman who cleans their house.  They do not speak to her like she is performing a service for them.  They speak to her like she is a friend.  They ask about different family members and have clearly been keeping up with what is happening in her life.  No mention of tasks to be done as she has already started cleaning while they are visiting. We leave the house in her capable hands and we are off to the farmer's market.

I get my lame self in the car and there is an offer to fasten my seat belt for me since the lateral movement pinches a bit.  Thanks guys, you are the best, but I'm OK for the time being.  We finally get to the farmer's market, find parking and we are off to find treasures.  What a surprise!  They seem to know every vendor there.  And again, they ask after others and know enough about them to be specific with their questions.  One of my BFF's buys things because, "Although I can buy this somewhere else, I like these people and I want to support their business."  It is important to him that this person continues to do business because this is how he is.  He cares about everyone.

My other BFF is a collector.  He knows his stuff and can't wait to get the next treasure with a great story behind it.  Although this BFF is quite the raconteur, he also likes to hear the stories about the things he pick out for one of his many collections.  He hears what the exotic item is made from, where is was made, sometimes how it was made and how old it is by the time the purchase is completed.  He does not forget the details and now has a new story to impart.  It's a win-win situation.

The day is not finished.  Not far away is a thrift store to scour for used treasures.  It's a very eclectic place filled with a combination of used clothes, furniture, household items, books and then oddly some new furniture as well.  They of course find a couple of things to buy and I have had fun making fun of them looking at everything.  I still have a hitch in my giddy-up but some how the distraction works as well as medicine.

Now we are off the Hispanic market to find things I have never seen before: fried pork rinds that are clearly the size of, well, half a pig.  I eat these things, but having it actually look like what it is gives me pause.  The BFF's are everywhere looking at everything and one finds some things to buy of course.  You can't have enough of Herdez Salsa Verde can you?

We finish up the adventure by going to a hamburger place I've never heard of, but they of course know all about it, where the chain started and the like.  Good food, good company.  By the time we get back to their house, my back has let me know it's time to go home and lay down a bit.  Hugs all around and I'm off.

I got to nap about two hours and something wonderful happened when I got up.  I felt great: the old back was a little sore, but that is it.  Although I had taken a substantial dose of ibuprofen, I don't think that's what has done the trick.  No, I think Reader's Digest wasn't quite correct: laughter is good medicine, but friendship is better.  Life is good.