Buzz buzz (to the honey)

A minute to breathe, please.

Breathe...breathe...breathe....

Ah. That felt good.

Now to business: I've been swamped. No, in fact, I am swamped. Writing hasn't happened for a few days and to the two or three of you who care: my sincerest apologies. I haven't been busy like this in years and it's exhausting and it's nothing else right now: not even 9:30 and fingers and eyelids alike feel as if weighted by tiny stones. A beer and I'm flat on my face. My college self scoffs and mocks from the sidelines, but I can't help it. A month of up before 7 am, 7 days a week awaits and a week of it has gone by and I'm not (quite) complaining but I can't say I'm in tip-top shape either.

I suppose I can brag a bit though, because I'm the proud owner of a new job. This new job in addition to my other two keeps me up at night and fills the "weekend" days I'd grown accustomed to with such a lot of activity. But again, I'm not (entirely) complaining because I get to work with these cats. It's a bit silly that I was even hired in the first place but I'll happily play along until they realize that I'm really not competent at all. 'Cause I'm slightly smitten. Read their website, read their mission, and understand that they do very fine work with food.

There are two parts to this job: One is very grown-up because I do things like make spreadsheets and I'm held accountable and I have an email address. Good for me, but the other part is that I get to work at farmers' markets around New York and this is the most exciting part (we know it's exciting because I put it in bold text). Two or three times a week I set up shop at markets in the city and sell 'til my throat is sore.

One of my most favorite things to do is watch New York wake up and this job allows me to see this process in its truest sense. It's actually a kind of intimacy and camaraderie I haven't felt with the city before. A reluctant, slow build, nuanced and even slightly joyful. New York and I rub the sleep out of our eyes at 6:30 and dare each other to get on with the day. Hooray, I think.

But let's get down to it, and it in this case is the idea that I'm surrounded by food for eight hours at a time. Real good honest food. At the wonderful New Amsterdam Market on Sunday (I'll be there every week, folks!) I was stationed next to Sullivan St. Bakery and, after snacking on their strecci with roasted tomato and garlic the whole day, I was given three loaves of chunky, salty olive bread to take home. I had a shiny loaf of eggy challah set on my table and how could I refuse? A specialty dairy farm brought me a wheel of blindingly fresh, lip-puckering goats' cheese. After giving away several loaves of bread I still had to make room in my freezer...and that's only the first week. These markets are gathering places for genuine craftspeople who, proud of their hard work, can't wait to bestow it on the public (and give their leftovers to charity...and to me). It already feels like home and I'm just so damn pleased I'm able to exist alongside these people. It makes the early mornings more than bearable and it's thrilling to be busy in a way such as this.

So there I am, and I didn't even (really) complain. I will admit that I haven't been working nonstop -- one free night was spent on a steamy date with a roasted pig's tail. I probably could have just gone home and slept instead, but a pig tail hangover is one that I'll happily subject myself to over, and over, and over again.