On Sunday, we decided to haul our hineys to the farmer’s market, which was really more of a craft fair with food. Not that I’m complaining, mind! Arts and crafts like these charming signs that let you know that you are an open-minded, forward-thinking individual, right on the outside of your home so as to better warn passers-by, potential friends, and Amway salespeople that you are likely armed and trigger-happy. My favorite is “God created a few perfict people. The rest of us are right handed.” Given ‘perfict’, what are the odds that the woodburning master was himself right-handed? Aaaand then there was this: Poll #1578480 Nom or Vom: Cocktail hour Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 27 Would you eat this?

Do you find the ‘meat…’ disconcerting at all? Like perhaps it’s circus-grade mystery meat?

When you hear meat cocktail, do you think:

    Further down the street, we ran into a caramel corn vendor who believed in the nigh-lost art form of themed headwear for their employees. Emily approached and asked the vendor ever-so-sweetly if it was possible if we were able to get pictures wearing the hats, and he promptly handed over two. We promptly engaged in corn-hat battles on the street, drawing in so many onlookers that we were offered corn-shilling jobs, but this unicorn can’t be tamed, baby. When I saw that a vendor was selling rattlesnake on a stick, I knew it was my solemn duty to eat it. We have already learned that food tastes better when impaled upon a stick, and this was my opportunity to try something new AND at maximum tastiness, given the presence of said stick. I’ve gotta say, I was a little underwhelmed. The flavor was good, but it was entirely too difficult to eat. That seven dollar and fifty cent lump in the photograph was nearly 90% bone, I shit you not. No wonder the woman taking my order smirked at me! I firmly believe that if we can engineer watermelons to be square and seedless, we can make delicious foods boneless. Don’t try to contradict me with science and facts. On our way back to the car, we bought marshmallow guns. So very many marshmallow guns, and bag after bag after bag of marshmallows. Is it really so important that one gets cremated with a scenic view? Isn’t it past the point of mattering? Just a thought. After the market and picking futilely at bony meat products, we decided it was time for a late lunch at the Bridgewater Bistro. Apparently, no one in the history of time had ever shown up for a late lunch, as they were utterly flummoxed as to what to serve us. First, we were told that for the next ten minutes, we could order off the brunch menu. Or, in ten minutes’ time, we could order off of a much smaller menu. Or, we could order from the dinner menu, but no entrees and only some of the other dishes. I fully expected to be presented with yet another menu with the disclaimer that you could only order from it if your birthday was between December and April and your favorite color was puce. It’s also to be noted that they don’t serve fish at the Bridgewater Bistro, they serve “fish”. God only knows what “fish” might be. I pressed my luck and ordered from two menus, getting the dungeness crab escargot-style with hazelnut butter, and a cougar burger, with cheese from real milked cougars on top (dangerous with any definition of the word cougar), and cranberry-blueberry mustard. Everything was delicious, but beware of showing up at 2:50 on a Sunday lest you have to run the gauntlet of menus yourself. After lunch, it was time to head back to Long Beach and the wondrous Marsh Museum… to be continued