A story from a long time ago. When I was in college and was still needing to acquire a little “sense”

It was the morning after another wild night in the Leadenhall house. We woke up crazy hungover and craving greasy food. We lived a mile from the farmer’s market restaurant that specialized in home cooking goodness like biscuits the size of your face and creamy grits and sweet, heavenly bacon.

So because it was summer, we wore our customary uniform: bathing suit and whatever clothes were within arms reach. This particular morning I opted for a little boy’s dress shirt I’d found at Goodwill for a buck fifty.

So off we go to breakfast and the 2 minute car ride made me realize that I was really hungover. Like, hurry up and get there because I might throw up right now hungover. We walked inside and it was busy as usual so we had to hang out and wait for a table.

Because it’s the farmer’s market they have all sorts of old farm equipment and quaint “country” photos on the wall. There was also a table loaded with plastic vegetables. Right away I spotted the cauliflower. It was lying there amongst the plastic potatoes and carrots and it was calling to me “you know you want me. You know I would look awesome sitting on the ledge in your kitchen” and so I casually sidled up to the plastic vegetable display and scooped the cauliflower into my arms as if it were a fat baby or a puppy.

“I’m going to take this home with us” I shouted in a loud whispered voice to the leadenhall girls. We waited a long time while I lovingly held my new cauliflower friend.  I decided to see how much longer we had - so I went to the hostess stand and asked. The hostess was so nice. with a thick southern accent and in the customary farmer’s market overalls. She smiled at me, looked at the plastic vegetable in my arms and promised me she was going to get us a table really soon.

I promptly put the cauliflower back.  My conscious got the better of me. What if everyone took a plastic vegetable? Then there would be none left for those waiting to admire. That hostess had been so nice and there I was contemplating taking part of her Farmer’s Market Finest display. Shame, shame on me.

We were sat shortly there after and when they put that big basket of biscuits down in front of us I was overwhelmed by the smell of butter. I jumped from the table and ran outside, giving the the cauliflower the side-eye as I went. I spent the next 20 minutes dry heaving in the parking lot while my friends enjoyed breakfast. And so, as the old saying goes “Karma is a bitch” and that day, it certainly was.

Then End.

Love,

M