In case you have not been following along — and how could you have, I haven't told anyone — I moved!
And am now an official, utility-bill-paying resident...
I wouldn't admit it to myself for a really long time, but I finally came to terms with the fact that I buy more berries than a single childless woman would ever need in the three days between the Wednesday Market and the Saturday Market in Santa Monica because 1) Pudwill Berry Farms has the tastiest blackberries, blueberries, raspberries, and mulberries — but not strawberries because that honor belongs to Harry — and 2) basically, I have a cougar crush on the berry boy. I think he's the son of the berry parents. He might be married, gay, underage, I don't know but don't tell me because it's my farmboy fantasy, Princess Buttercupyoncé. Also, he could be just some college student in the ag program at UCLA who works the berry stand to pay his way through school, in which case, he's still cute and I'm still twice his age and omg I'm still a cougar.
By the way, berries are full of anti-aging antioxidants!
Ugh. I am such a creep.
Is it a coincidence that the raspberries in this photo are "golden," girls?!?!