Peaches and other red rounds

It’s been a couple of days in the new world of eco travel and traverse and I must have missed the fine print. I am getting closer to nature daily because my butt looks like a red baboon’s. I have gotten on my bike with a vengeance, or a mission. And, it really has been great and I can finally sleep really well at night. I didn’t know how quickly it took to ride to the local farmer’s market from my home, although the hill on the way back is the one responsible for said butt, it was faster than I expected. On Monday, my girl and I rode together, I, to hunt, gather and do comparison-shopping at our local market; She to her appointment nearby.

Local goat cheese from happy, frolicking, neighboring goats-check. Shipped, not flown, organic pineapple from Costa Rica- check. Truck driven, polluting my planet, organic tomatoes from Mexico – forgettaboutit! Oy, so many choices, so much to investigate and learn. I did feel like I was getting back to the old ways because I was using my body to gather my food. In fact, I discovered local, organic and FREE produce right off the bike path. Yep, apparently, the cities of El Cerrito and Berkeley plant cherries, plums, blackberries and loquats all along the long and meandering path. I carry plastic bags wherever I go and, sure enough, my girl and I hopped like bunnies from fruit tree to fruit tree and collected their yield. Que Romantico! I am now searching for a bike for one of my boys, so we can have a family outing. My kids already think that we are hippies, (which shows you what inaccurate history they teach in school today!), this should fit right in with their confused perception.

Anyway, my cat needed food and I was petty determined to go to our local, friendly supermarket and compare items, so I did that as well. Their labels indicated that almost all of their products came from Monrovia, CA - Yogurts and beans, tortillas and pepperoni. Where in the heck is Monrovia?Apparently they have acres of farms. No, it’s just their warehouse factory, so I can’t actually tell where the food is from, so I‘m not buying it. I did however buy about 60 lbs. of mostly local, some organic food, and realized that I needed a bike rack and I needed my partner’s help, just so my back wouldn’t join my butt in an uprising. So that was trip number two up the hellacious hill towards home, but I had a blast, while working on my thighs and tan.

The next day I vowed to only walk not ride, and try to calm my radiation colored behind. But alas, my girl forgot the shirt that she changes into after her vigorous walk to work, so guess who got to ride and give it to her? Yep, it hurt a bit, but then I stopped at the farmer’s market and just handed over my last $6 of the food budget to the peach lady. Ok, these are not .89 cents a pound, but I am so sick of eating fruit that tastes like cotton fuzz. This morning, I had an orgasmic candy on my plate. A sweet, very drippy real peach that made my whole mouth break into an operetta. The hill was worth it!