I Feel the Earth (and Petunias) Move

My favorite thing about the earthquake? People's cell phones were useless.

Sadly, I was not in J-Ward to experience the quake in my 1876 house, which would have also made it through the last big Virginia quake of 1897.

No, instead I was standing in line at the Lowe's garden center in Carver waiting to pay for petunias.

As the "event" started up, the couple in front of me looked at me, their eyes as wide as saucers. I'm sure I looked just as confused.

We stood there with the cashier as the concrete floor underneath us shook violently.

Since the front and one side wall of the garden area are open, we felt like we were experiencing the quake both inside and outside.

None of us dared utter the "e" word because we don't have earthquakes in Virginia. Right?

Leaving with my petunias, I went on to Kroger where I saw plenty of puzzled people rooted in place trying to get their phones to work.

Bemused look on my part.

Back at home, nothing seemed askance. No books had fallen of the wall of bookshelves. Candles and picture frames were still upright.

Only the art on the walls told the true story. Every single picture was askew.

Art righted, I went to the Byrd House Market where everyone had their "where were you?' story at the ready.

In between checking out Amy's Garden pre-made salsa baskets (assorted peppers, onions, tomatoes) and tasting Soul Ice (mango flavor), everyone wanted to talk quakes...or hurricanes.

I stopped by the Triple Stamp Press table to say hi to friends and got their stories. At the Pizza Tonight booth, we didn't bother with quake talk and went straight to pork talk.

While looking at the dried chicken fingers at Dog Town Lounge (knowing how much the beagle would have enjoyed them), the owner told me about her research into the seismograph map of this afternoon's event.

Gee, it had only been two hours, but I guess you have to do something with your time when your phone doesn't work.

I arrived home to a message from a county-dwelling friend saying, "I feel kind of ripped off." He'd been getting gas and never felt so much as a twinge.

"There better be another one soon," he said hopefully.

No, no, silly. Next is the hurricane and then the plague of locusts.

Seducing Al Gore at the Byrd House Market

I frequent the Byrd House Market because it's the farmer's market nearest J-Ward, so I can walk or ride my bike.

I like the fact that it's on Tuesdays and not the weekends when I tend to have lots on my plate.

But I hadn't been in weeks and with only four hours sleep under my belt, I was looking for an easy, pleasurable and unchallenging activity for the afternoon.

Buying veggies and fruit? Even the sleep-deprived can do that.

In the intervening weeks since I'd last been, so much good stuff has ripened that it was hard to narrow down my selections to what I'd realistically have time to eat.

But it's tough not to let my eyes rather than my head do the buying when everything looks so ripe and ready.

After multiple laps around the field, I kept it real with apricots, blackberries, yellow wax beans ("try them with blueberries and balsamic," I was advised), beets, squash (how could I resist after my recent reminiscing about squash fritters?) and micro-greens.

Lots of good stuff for the next few days.

Heading out, I was stopped by an eager young man on his first day of canvassing for Repower America, the movement for clean energy and the subsequent jobs to be created by developing U.S. sources rather than continuing our reliance on fossil fuels.

Explaining a little about the movement, the guy told me that they were recording videos today of real people explaining their desire for a shift to clean energy sources.

To demonstrate legitimacy, I think, he said that Al Gore had started the movement.

"The newly single Al Gore?" I inquired.

"The same," he replied. "Make a great video with me and maybe he'll call you for a date."

Well, with an incentive like that, how could I say no?

Of course, I've seen Al's iPod playlist so I would already guess that we're not musically compatible, but I'm sure the conversation on other topics would compensate to some degree.

At least for one date.

So I made my video, trying to be earnest, just an everyday sort of person (who was glad she'd worn a cute dress to the market today) making her online appeal to lessen our dependence on the Middle East and create jobs in the US .

I even threw in the part about my own job issues, just for good measure.

And I smiled with every syllable.

Actually, I do that anyway, but Al wouldn't know that.

After we finished, I signed a release and the guy thanked me.

I then spotted a girl I know who works at the Byrd House Market and went over to talk to her.

We had an awkward moment when she first realized she didn't know about my single status, but we segued right into their upcoming benefit dinners and the sound of cannon fire, of all things, in the distance.

As I was finally leaving for real, I passed Canvasser Guy one last time.

Clipboard in hand, he leaned over toward me, clearly intent on saying something.

"Has Al texted you yet?"

Hard to say who would be more surprised, Al or Canvasser Guy, to discover I'm not textable.

Being a Renegade at the Byrd House Market

I wanted to get as many local foodstuffs for my Thanksgiving feast as possible, so I went to the renegade Byrd House Market this afternoon to see what I could score.

I had no real idea of how many vendors would be there or what they might have, especially given the gloomy, damp weather but it was worth a shot.

I have to say that I think I would get the locavore stamp of approval for my purchases.

I found several bunches of carrots for glazing with butter and brown sugar, potatoes for mashing, sweet potatoes because it's T-day, and perhaps yummiest of all, Brussels Sprouts and beets (and local goat cheese) for roasting.

I know a lot of people are not fans of Brussels Sprouts, but when they're roasted in bacon fat and then mixed with the cooked bacon, walnuts and a little salt and pepper, they're magnificent, whether you're a fan or not (rule of thumb: bacon makes everything better).

Given what a local meal the first Thanksgiving was (and we all know it was at Berkley Plantation and not Plymouth; the Pilgrims just had better P.R.) I thought I did pretty well in gathering a terrific representation of Virgina's finest for my Thanksgiving table.

And, yes, even the bacon is Shenandoah Valley local, from Polyface Farms.

Plymouth?

Bah! It's Virginia's bounty that will define my Thanksgiving meal.