Artichokey, Finockey

Last night I had this artichoke and a pretty buttery/failed Hollandaise sauce. When I went to the grocery store I knew that this artichoke was definitely in its spring time prime. But I didn't care. It was good enough. When I went through the checkout process the boy ringing me up had to ask me what the artichoke was! I said: 'it's an artichoke'. And he said: 'yeah, I'm produce challenged'. And I said something that made very little sense but got us through.

This is example number three of people in the south not knowing about their vegetables. Example one happened three or four years ago when I was getting my hair done and the son of the lady doing my hair could only understand what onions were when put in the context of a Krystal burger. Example number two happened last month when a neighbor of the ebf came to have a few tomatoes and cucumbers...he seemed to think there was only one or two varieties of any vegetable. Astounding. Astounding because it's so wrong and I always associate the south with veggie know how. I need to get a new world view.

I am in the University library right now. It's hot outside. I have been kindly invited (by a bunch of my mother's pals) to some kind of sing-along, environmental poetry reading. It sounds, very much, like something I wouldn't really enjoy. But sometimes I'm just a jerk who thinks I don't like things. But really, I think I wouldn't like it.