camping and farmer’s markets

Like I had mentioned before, I am not a camper. The night we made banana boats, we went home before 10:30, right around the time all the bugs started attacking us. Maybe camping wouldn’t be so bad if you got to sleep on your own bed?
The next morning, we got up too early in the morning and made our way back to where our ward was camping.

This happened:

P.S. Guns are really loud, and clay pigeons do not look like birds.

On our way back from the campgrounds, we stumbled upon a farmer’s market. Suddenly, I was Meg Ryan in “You’ve Got Mail” minus the early millenium clothing, which would probably be super hip right about now. It was magical.

Tyson and I shared the most delicious blackberry lemonade, even though in this picture he’s totally hogging it.
Extra hipster points: the two person band playing in the background.

I have to admit that my most recent camping experience wasn’t at all traumatizing. Any day where I get to channel Kathleen Kelly is alright in my book.
If you’re wondering where I’ll be on a Saturday morning, try the farmer’s market. I’ll be the girl wearing a striped shirt that’s pointing and saying, “Aww” at everything.

In my head, he’s saying, “Don’t cry, Shopgirl. Don’t cry,” to which I answer, “I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly.”


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