Live Blogging the Market

May 2, 2007

While real music bloggers are talking about Coachella, I’m still stuck in the grind of my week-to-week routine. On Tuesdays, that means I’m behind the table at the Houston Farmers Market, passing out the same answer (every Tuesday, 3:30 til 7pm) and trying to sell amusingly named cookies. Since there have been some requests for a more detailed description of the market, and because it’s the only interesting thing that I feel like blogging about right now, here’s a hastily recalled live blog of yesterday’s market:

3:30PM – I’m still at work. I can only imagine what’s going on at the market at this point. I’ll assume that it involves hippies and brocolli, because the cool people only show up when I’m there.

4:30PM – I head over to the market. It’s five minute from the house, but I get bogged down with a work phone call that makes me a bit late. The booth is over-manned (or over-womaned if we’re being technical), but my arrival allows Sol to go do her shopping. Good for her, good for me, since the whole “standing around doing nothing” thing sucks.

4:31PM – Her?!? Hide. Possibly burrow.

4:45PM – Looks like rain. Very windy. Since moving to Rice’s campus more than a month ago, there’s been a decided lack of rain while the market is going on. Will our luck hold?

5:10PM – Michelle (the market manager) had set up a motorized bubble machine near the entrance to the market. An enterprising four year old boy let his natural curiosity get the best of him, and in his effort to examine the inner workings of the machine, he manages to spill out most of the bubble compound. His mother arrives a couple minutes later and proceeds to go Jack Bauer on her son for his offense. (God only knows what happens around their house when he hits his sister. Can you send someone to timeout in Gitmo?) She forces Michelle to take five dollars to compensate for the bubbles (who would refuse her anything at this point? If she’d told her son to kiss our feet, we would’ve all lined up our tootsies for fear of the consequences of non-cooperation.) But seriously, five bucks for bubbles?!? You could probably buy a controling interest in the world bubble market for five bucks. Again, the punishment does not fit the crime. Props to me for keeping a reasonably straight face the whole time by pretending to check my email on my Treo.

5:25PM – Hmph. No email.

5:40PM – Michelle hands me fifteen bucks and tells me to go pick up her mother’s cheese order from the Dairymaids. Michelle is trying to set me up with one or the other of them, which led the following exchange regarding their usual Tuesday uniforms (brown tee shirts, self-crocheted khaki hats, jeans, & aprons):

Me: They both seem nice, but I’d like to see them out of those outfits.

Michelle and the rest of humanity: …


Rob Hays, still the ladies man after all these years. Provlone is acquired, and awkward wooing follows. I used to be smooth, I promise. My heart isn’t in it, though.

6:10PM – Dangerously late, I head down to order new meat from the pork chop lady. Every time she and I talk, she notices my Aggie ring for the first time and asks my class year. I think I need to go the Dairymaid route and wear the same outfit to the market each week so that she’s recognize me. I order baby back ribs and bacon. The ribs will eventually become blueberry bourbon glazed. Or at least that’s my idea at the moment. Also, for the record, the pork chops were ridiculously good. Marinaded ’em in a sauce containing bourbon, champagne vinegar, spices, honey, and olive oil and grilled, served ’em with cheese grits (with a spot of truffle oil) and asparagus. Good times.

6:11PM – Almost spilled the beans about a birthday surprise.

6:15PM – Michelle F. shows up. Debate the merits of Mute Math vs. Son Volt for a Sunday concert. Mute Math it is. Eventually I’ll be a Son Volt fan (I think), but Mute Math’s live show is a not-miss.

6:32PM – My favorite part of the evening: time for Michelle M. to recommend a post-market restaurant. We settle on Lemongrass and I call the Hon for backup. Turns out that Thai shrimp and scallops served with green beans and a mushroom mix are the tonic for the weary soul.

6:43 – Free (ish) gelato!!! Who knew that chocolate orange wouldn’t be a big seller. I would’ve bought the whole stock if I’d known.

6:45 – Rain drops.

6:46 – I’m outta here early to put on some more Lemongrass appropriate clothes. Michelle M. sends me on my way with free cookies.

So that’s pretty typical for Tuesdays. Sometimes we’ll have the random tin-foil-hat types dropping by the info booth. I’ve discovered that nodding along knowingly while someone wears a War Profiteers/Oil Profiteers t-shirt is an underrated skill.

Hopefully I’ll post again this week, either something about music or my car. I’m kinda in a rut, huh?



  1. I think you should grill some of this amazing meat for me at some time. I know I know, I am not a date possibility, but I am a good friend!

  2. Is there a LaRouche booth there? This seems like a good place for one.

  3. No rut is worth staying in for long, good sir, so good on ya for getting out of this one with a nice post.
    Maybe you could send me some of those cookies, eh? Or whichever of the Dairymaid girls you’re not interested in…

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