10 March 2008

Prom is the bomb

Strawberry picking was wonderful but for the big 2-5 quarter century mark I wanted to go LOUDER. As I thought back on the past 25 years I realized I had done quite a bit and felt little regret for even the most rash of my life decisions. One such decision was to drop out of high school the beginning of my junior year. While this was likely one of my better choices there was one thing I had sacrificed in doing so...Prom.

Well, better late then never. Chet was kind of enough to offer up a big VIP section at the Red Coconut Club so I bought a vintage dress on eBay and invited a few friends to my 80's prom! To keep things authentic, I built a photo backdrop and asked an old friend from photography class to be my prom photographer. Because what's a prom without prom photos?

With exception of some girl named after a hurricane who made quite the ass of herself falling over breaking things, the night went smoothly! Even our sketchy van service showed to pick us up! All in all, I couldn't have imagined a better night. Special thanks to Chet, ErinDuke.com, and everyone who dressed to impress and made it so super! :)

05 March 2008

Strawberry Fields Forever

For my birthday yesterday Matt took me out to Pappy's Strawberry field in Oviedo.

First there was a bit of driving. When we finally found Pappy's Strawberry field, Matt opened the car door and *BLAM*! I thought a gun had gone off. After exchanging quizzical looks I opened my door and *BLAM*! What kind of place was this? *BLAM*! I wanted strawberries but it certainly wasn't worth getting shot over. Matt said the sound was more like a pressure gun then a shot gun, maybe it was a pile driver past the field somewhere. *BLAM*BLAM* We walked up to greet Pappy and get a container for our future berry collection. *BLAM* The shots were too irregular to be a pile driver. Pappy tells us which parts of the field have berries and we're off to hunt for our little red jewels.

Beyond a small family in the back of the field and a random dude over yonder, we had the field to ourselves *BLAM*. No one in the field flinches. Are we the only ones hearing this craziness? We dig into the plants and begin the careful process of choosing our fruit. *BLAM*BLAM* And Matt figures it out, pointing to the edge of the field he shows me what looks like a potato gun attached to a propane tank. *BLAM* There are two of them set to go off at irregular intervals and I realize it must be to keep critters from eating all the deliciousness scattered through the field.

In a world where we've left the source and production of our food to conglomerate companies, it's refreshing to pick something fresh. And at $2/lb. Pappy packs a pretty SWEET deal.