Farmers Market and Fresh Oranges from the Tree

So, I felt like Eve today, picking succulent fruit from the orange tree in the backyard. I expected them to be dried out, or somehow not authentic (you know those California oranges), but they were quite juicy. I promptly offerred one to Ozzie and though skeptical at first, he took the bait. Mysteriously, I felt a bit dirty afterwards. Something just feels off kilter.

Yay oranges in the back yard! The first person who visits me out here has dibs on the juiciest ones!

Every Wednesday and Saturday, there's a farmer's market about two blocks from my house. If anyone wants to know who's driving up the population, look no farther than Davis, CA. There must have been 200 children under the age of 5 running about. They were playing in fountains and having a grand time. I'm always amazed at the resilience of little kids. Several of the 200 fell flat on their faces and after about 45 seconds of hard, sustained crying, they were running around as if nothing at all had occurred. It was a bit like watching the Indy 500. Anyway, Ozzie and I both have a surreal feeling about living in Davis. It's very Stepford Wives. Everything is clean and perfect. It's seems a bit too...everything. I guess I'm just used to the constant threat of being stabbed and the sport of making it home without getting a rock thrown at my head. There was this little band with three or four people singing classic rock, but like harmonized and stuff. This, unfortunately, added to the surrealism. Davis is beautiful and friendly, however, so don't get me wrong. It's just strange to be in such a different place.

Sorry to mention it, but there's a conspicuous lack of gayness here. And unfortunately for Ozzie and I, the first gay person outside of my mentor and another grad student we met happened to be a complete wacko. We were strolling through the farmer's market when a guy with a bright lime green shirt walked up to Ozzie and asked him is his belt was the same color as his shirt. Okay, no biggy. But then he proceded to ramble on for 10 minutes about himself and how he was just elected to some art council in Sacramento. I'm sorry, do I look like I care? I thought I'd been projected back to DC's little who's who scene. His mannerisms were conspicuously Stewart Smally (played by Al Franken on SNL: "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and doggonnitt, people like me"). Ozzie thought he had been drinking, but I'm pretty sure he was just crazy. I can't quite capture what it was about him, but trust me, it was destabilizing, to say the least.

Oh crap! I forgot to mention that Ozzie and I both won money at blackjack in Nevada on our way here! Ozzie started with $18 and left with $34, and I started with $0 and left with $30! Some excited woman gave me three chips worth three dollars and somehow, by the grace of goddess, and perhaps with ozzie's help, I turned that into 30. Needless to say, I left before my luck turned (or the casino decided it was time for me to loose).

Wildlife Update: Apparently, there are both barn owls and grey horned owls living in the trees near my house. Occasionnally, a grey horned owl shocks the Davis community by tearing apart a barn owl in mid flight.