Something old . . .

I just ran, swam and polished off a chocolate coffee banana smoothie made with health nut-approved soymilk and yogurt. If you want to experience this goodness in your own life:

1 carton coffee yogurt + 1 banana + a healthy dollop of plain yogurt + a generous splash of chocolate soymilk + enough ice to make it refreshing but not watery

Whirl together until perfection ensues. 

***

Today I spent deep in the rural hillside of North Alabama, delving into the family trunk of great-great-greats on my PaPa's side. My grandfather's cousin Marie is eighty three and lives in the same small white farmhouse her mother grew up in. I love it (apart from the rather hideous old clock in the back bedroom). It's the kind of house jammed with so many old things you're almost afraid to sit down. And most of the old things manage to avoid being creepy/nasty (as in, that is encrusted with the grime of who-knows-what and I just want to burn it). There is the lovely, solid old table that my three times great-grandfather (the venerable Thomas Thornton) made himself and is still table-ing along today. There is the pretty blue and white china, the scary carved walnut bed, and a gorgeous old kitchen hutch that Marie's father made for her mother. It even has a little board you pull out to roll biscuit dough on (I want it. Sigh.). 

But the best part - Marie and her brother, Herbert (I know), had tiny yellow tomatoes from their garden. Now, I do not eat raw red tomatoes. In ketchup, sauce, stir-fry, anything else, fine and good. Sliced on a plate: No. However - yellow tomatoes are a different thing entirely. They are what red tomatoes try to be and can never achieve. They are sweet and not too soggy and I will defend their cause with every tastebud that I own. 

Apart from lusting after antiques, I tried to gather ideas for the Great American Novel I plan on writing in oh, twenty years. I looked through a kind of journal kept by a great-great grandmother and giggled over entries like this:

"To J.T. McCaleb 1861 -

If to love is a sin, then I freely confess

that every short minute I therein transgress."

Family names I might conceivably use: Isaac, Eva, Thomas.

Family names I vow never to inflict on an innocent child: Bathsheba, Hopwood, Felenburg. (Felenburg?)

***

And tomorrow I have fun things planned. Like - Pepper Place Farmer's Market! And - Birmingham Folk Fest! I was explaining to my mom that I think I am so excited about this day of veggies and banjos because it is akin to a rejection of our synthetic culture. In a world of plastic and screens and smooth industrialization, it is good to buy a cantaloupe and know that it came out of the ground yesterday, and to listen to music that is real and lovely, not electronically ironed out. 

Song of the Day: "I Disagree" - Act of Congress

In honor of aforesaid folk fest on the morrow. Act of Congress, the up and coming, closest thing to musical happiness since Nickel Creek, and you, yes you, can also follow their rise to stardom! Step up today and claim your status as Original Fan. 

"Love is something I believe in 

'cause it makes lonely disappear.

I'll paste these pieces of my broken heart

and build an altar just for you."

***

P.S. And my mother just promised to brew Stumptown coffee tomorrow morning (!!!). I reacted, um, very enthusiastically. "Will that make the perfect day even more perfect?" she mocked. She sees right through me. I build up this perfect ideal in my head ("I'll get up, and drink Stumptown and go to Pepper Place and go to the folk fest and wowitsgonnabesooooperfect!!!") and before you know it I'm wound in a ball of expectation so tight that the slightest interference with my "perfect" day sends me into a spiral ("oh no, I can't control things!). Breathe, Anna. Just breathe. And drink some Stumptown coffee.