Write a four line poem about: the switcheroo.
It rained steadily all the way from loading up the truck this morning until our arrival in Penticton. Then I get to our usual spot and find that the casual vendor to our left setup too close to the permanent vendor to our right and there is absolutely no way in hell I could fit the truck in there.
Like, not even if the wheels could go totally sideways could I have squeezed in there. I'm admittedly not that great at parallel parking but this was physically impossible.
So I found the market manager and she found us another spot to use this week. At this point I was not, to say the least, in a very good mood.
But then as we were finishing setting up the rain stopped. And people started showing up. And the sun came out. And we ended up having a much, much better market than we'd been expecting (the forecast had called for showers all morning when I checked at 5 am this morning and usually they're pretty accurate that close to the time they're predicting).
We sold out of Ambrosia, potatoes, carrots, green beans, and cucumbers, while also selling most of our onions, Aurora apples, garlic, and tomatoes.
So yeah, I headed home in much better spirits than when I arrived.
Mini-vacation tomorrow night, so I'm going to try to schedule Sunday's post tonight. See you back here on Monday.
What in the hell is going on?
This is our spot! Right damned here!
Well, I guess this other one is all right...
Could we keep it for the rest of the year?