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The Making of Golden Hill Farmer's Market

If you lived Kevin Six's film Golden Hill Farmer's Market, you're going to love The Making of Golden Hill Farmer's Market even more.

 

Golden Hill Farmer's Market

Doushey Basket productions

presents

a film by Kevin Six

This time the Trees (the r and the e are silent) go to the Golden Hill Farmer's Market and meet all kinds of wonderful people.  But of course they are superior to all of them.  This is because they drive a Smart Car, film with a GoPro iHero and carry their free-trade produce in a sustainable (doushey) basket.

  

Better miracle than the last

So I had a horrible Tuesday, or so I thought.

Some pople didn't do some things I assumed they did; I assumed and you know what that makes me; and the person who ended up on the wrong side of it chose to be the victim instead of aprt of the solution.

Like being in the dishwasher with all the dirty dishes.

But trying to solve the problem allowed me to look in on a friend and it turns out that this friend needed help.  And we were in a position to provide it.  And that was good.

Another wat miracles can happen. 

Pretty damned cool!

More Doushey Basket Tales #dousheybasket

So Jennie and I are involved in V-Day which, among other things, is a real good reason to bring the Doushey Basket.  Jennie is in charge of concessions and the raffle.

The Doushey Basket is just big enough for a cash box and a large roll of tickets.

It's also too big to fit under the table when you go to True North (which at any given time is full of basketeers but their basketry has to do with new clothes made to look old).  That way, every time I picked up the Doushey Basket to refer to it (I count five), it either hit Jennie in the leg on the way up or narrowly missed the waitress who was skittering by.

When Jennie pointed this out ("Everytime you lift that thing, it hits me in the leg.  Last time you almost hit the waitress with it.") I said...

"As it should.  It's the Doushey Basket!"

And all must bow down to its Doushey-ness.

The Origin of the Doushey Basket (#dousheybasket)

The hashtag #dousheybasket can be used to refer to anything you pay too much for, especially if you pay too much for it in order to look better to the people who shop at the Little Italy Farmer's Market.

Besides, no matter how hard you try my wife and I are the doushey-est people there.

It all started on a normal Saturday afternoon at the La Jolla Farmer's Market -- oddly the second doushy-est farmer's market in the county.  Jennie wanted one of the robo-baskets that a nice European-looking woman was selling.  We asked the price.  $40.

After her pitch (it was made in Germany with strong materials and Eurpoean design touches and better engineering), we thought it was worth the price.  Especially because it would complete our doushey traveling-to-farmer's-markets-ensemble: a Smart Car.

This became apparent when we went to the Little Italy Farmer's Market in the Smarty (only we can call it Smarty; because you don't own one, you have to call it The Smart Car).  We tooled past all the Range Rovers, Fiats and Priuses; we popped into an impossibly small parking spot and -- the piece de resistance?

We opened the back window (you can do that with the touch of a button in a Smarty) and pulled out the $40 basket. We knew it was cool because people didn't look at us until after we'd passed. It was such a pleasure paying extra for things and putting them in out too-small, over-heavy and exorbitantly  expensive Doushey Basket.  How do we know we paid too much for it?

The only thing we do that hipsters don't do, apparently, is shop at Safeway, where we saw the very same basket for $9.

It's still worth it, though.

The Origin of the Doushey Basket (#dousheybasket)

The hashtag #dousheybasket can be used to refer to anything you pay too much for, especially if you pay too much for it in order to look better to the people who shop at the Little Italy Farmer's Market.

Besides, no matter how hard you try my wife and I are the doushey-est people there.

It all started on a normal Saturday afternoon at the La Jolla Farmer's Market -- oddly the second doushy-est farmer's market in the county.  Jennie wanted one of the robo-baskets that a nice European-looking woman was selling.  We asked the price.  $40.

After her pitch (it was made in Germany with strong materials and Eurpoean design touches and better engineering), we thought it was worth the price.  Especially because it would complete our doushey traveling-to-farmer's-markets-ensemble: a Smart Car.

This became apparent when we went to the Little Italy Farmer's Market in the Smarty (only we can call it Smarty; because you don't own one, you have to call it The Smart Car).  We tooled past all the Range Rovers, Fiats and Priuses; we popped into an impossibly small parking spot and -- the piece de resistance?

We opened the back window (you can do that with the touch of a button in a Smarty) and pulled out the $40 basket. We knew it was cool because people didn't look at us until after we'd passed. It was such a pleasure paying extra for things and putting them in out too-small, over-heavy and exorbitantly  expensive Doushey Basket.  How do we know we paid too much for it?

The only thing we do that hipsters don't do, apparently, is shop at Safeway, where we saw the very same basket for $9.

It's still worth it, though.

Voir dire

 

From Wikipedia:  "Voir Dire is the process by which attorneys select, or perhaps more appropriately reject, certain jurors to hear a case."^[3] As noted above, in the United States (especially in practice under the Federal Rules of Evidence), voir dire can also refer to examination of the background of a witness to assess their qualification or fitness to give testimony on a given subject.^[4]

I was not chosen for a jury and the lawyers had a very well-worded phrase: "We would like to thank and excuse (in this case, me).  I felt great.  Not only did I not have to sit on a jury but I was thanked and asked, very politely, to leave.

This, I think, is a good practice in the real world too.  I have done this numerous times with people in my life with people who weren't cutting it as friends.  I didn't thank and excuse them to their face because it just seemed like it would have been needlessly cruel bit I wonder what our society would be like if it were an accepted norm.

"How's life?"

"OK, I guess.  Kevin thanked and excused me."

"Hey, I've been Voir dired before, it's probably for the best."

I don't know if this will catch on but there are things and people and even whole organizations I'd like to voir dire, to thank and excuse.  You're really doing no favors to anybody by allowing them not to measure up to your standards. I think we need to know what those standards are, and enforce them.

Mine are simple: be kind and considerate; hear what I have to say; don't bring alcohol to my house; respect me, my property and my friends.

If you can't do that, I'd like to thank and excuse you.

Kevin's Annual Valentine's Day Story

Cameron’s Chocolateria The New Chef

By Kevin Six

Cameron Sweet fidgeted in his seat.  It was Friday afternoon and Miss Price was droning on about geometry.  But all Cameron could think about was his exciting after-school task.

As the namesake of the town's best candy shop, Cameron had borrowed his Uncle Antoine's surname for business purposes – and it didn't hurt his popularity.

"Hey Cam-uh-Mr. Sweet," said former bully Donny Twittle, as the final bell rung, "what'cha doin' after class?" A group of kids was descending on Cameron, as they always did at this time, to accompany him on his weekly taste test at Cameron's Chocolateria.

"Not today, guys," announced Cameron, "we're interviewing a new chef."

It seemed that every dessert chef in a 100-mile radius had sent samples for the Sweet family to taste. The three finalists were to be interviewed at the shop today. Uncle Antoine was busily arranging candies in the cases when the bell over the door rung announcing Cameron's entrance.

 "Are we ready to make our most important decision to date?" asked Uncle Antoine.

"Yes," said Cameron as his mother entered from the kitchen.

"I'll be happy when we get a new chef," said Darla Sweet, "I had no idea how difficult it was to make-"

 "The world's finest chocolate!" chimed everyone.

"That's why we're hiring a new chef, dear sister," said Antoine.  "We need you in the office managing accounts!" Though the store was closed for the afternoon, there was quite a crowd gathering. A change this monumental was quite exciting in this small town.

 The first two interviewees looked like dessert chefs and seemed rather boring to Cameron's mind. The third and final chef to be interviewed was different in many ways. Firstly, she was a woman, second, she didn't look like a chef but more like a high-fashion model -- and third, she was considerably more attractive than any woman Cameron had ever seen, except his mother.

The discussion continued over dinner at home. Ms. Kinsey had what Uncle Antoine called "an almost radical approach to chocolate making," and Cameron's mom wondered aloud if the rest of the staff would be distracted by her. But Cameron liked her – mainly because she treated him like a member of the management team instead of a child, so he spoke up.

"I think she's neat.  She doesn't treat kids like they're dumb and she's nowhere near as pretty as you, mom."

"Her chocolate sample was the best," Said Darla. Antoine noticed a growing diplomacy in his nephew, which would be good for business as the years progressed.

"Then it's decided," he said.

The proof of Ms. Kinsey's success was in the pudding, and the pies and of course the truffles, which were selling better than ever in just one week on the job. She kept her recipes secret but the list of ingredients, which Darla had some difficulty ordering, were nothing if not strange: paprika, raw cocoa leaves, nettle and wormwood were some of the ingredients. And the names!  Ms. Kinsey suggested the strangest names, which, after tasting seemed to fit perfectly.  Names like, Avarice, Burning Desire, Man Back, Die For, Zowee and, Cameron's favorite, Tough Stuff.

The strange names, ingredients, and higher prices (shipping was to blame) actually increased sales.  So much so that the Sweets and a fleet of clerks, assistants and kitchen helpers just to meet demand.

Ms. Kinsey ran the shop like boot camp but no one seemed to mind.  She was just so nice about it.  Ms. Kinsey also had an odd habit of dabbing sweat off of the worker's foreheads.  "We wouldn't want that in the mix," she'd say after surprising someone with a swipe of her red handkerchief.

A strange thing was happening in the neighborhood of Cameron's Chocolateria.  It could be said that there were more dates beginning, culminating and, in some cases, taking place at the chocolate shop than ever before.  And it seemed like there were just more people going on dates.  Even Mr. Miller the butcher and Miss Groaning the librarian were dating.

Most of the marriageable bachelors, however, were seeking ever bolder and more ingenious ways to gain the attentions of the new chef Ms. Kinsey.  There were almost daily deliveries of flowers, perfume and ham (it was a small farming town after all), which Ms. Kinsey always accepted graciously. But she never seemed to do anything but, cook, eat and read cookbooks. Her evenings were spent creating ever more ingenious and strange creations.

It had to happen and finally it did. Mr. Abernathy, a man with a good complexion who seemed to know how to dress himself asked Darla on a date and, after a family conference, she accepted.  It had, after all, been three years since Mr. Smith had passed on in the war and Mrs. Sweet was the second most eligible woman in town.

Uncle Antoine agreed to accompany Darla on her date. "But who will watch Cameron?" asked Darla.

"I'm old enough to take care of my self!" said Cameron, who was to turn 11 next May.

"Almost but not quite," the voice of Ms. Kinsey startled the family conference in front of the Dine, Dance, and Delight display.

Ms. Kinsey's comments usually startled.  It was either because she was announcing some new concoction featuring pineapple, pepper and plumeria (a best seller), or finishing someone's thought. "Actually I need Cameron's help on a new, top secret recipe." The silence was thick. 

Finally Uncle Antoine broke it with, "Capital idea!"

The shift changed promptly at six on Friday. The night crew did a huge business until midnight selling sweets with names like Naughty Neighbor, Sneak Away For a Bite and some others that Cameron didn't understand but that Uncle Antoine always snickered at when he set them out.  At 6:05 p.m. a nervous Mr. Abernathy came to pick up Cameron's mother.  Antoine and his date Miss Price arrived a few minutes later and all were off for a ride to the next town.

"I think you handled Mr. Abernathy quite properly," said Ms. Kinsey back in the kitchen.  They were under orders not to be disturbed; Cameron was the first and only person allowed to witness what Ms. Kinsey called "the creative process."  It seemed boring and even a little painful to Cameron who'd been stirring a thick dark melange for a long time. 

"What do you mean, Ms. Kinsey?" 

"I think you let Mr. Abernathy know that you are, or soon will be, a man to be reckoned with.  You were polite but showed him that you wouldn't stand for him mistreating your mother." 

"How…how'd you know that?" Cameron was indeed feeling exactly that same feeling when he met his mother's escort, "and how did I show him that? I just shook his hand." 

"It was the way in which you shook it.  I'm sure he got the message," said Ms. Kinsey.  Cameron wondered what he'd just heard but it made him feel pretty cool so he let it go. 

"Cameron, it's almost time for the secret ingredient.  Are you ready?"  Cameron was actually a little nervous as Ms. Kinsey took a large beaker out of the refrigerator.  He was more nervous because the beaker seemed to be smoking.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Only the most important ingredient of the most important recipe I shall ever create." If this were a movie, thought Cameron, I'll bet the music would be a little spooky right now.

"What's in it?" he asked when he regained his composure.

"First, wouldn't you like to know what I'll call it?" Cameron was getting strange feelings running up and down his spine.  "It shall be called The Opposite of Fear," announced Ms. Kinsey.

"What is the opposite of fear?" asked Cameron.

"Don't you want to know about the secret ingredient?" Suddenly, Cameron's interest was on the beaker, which Ms. Kinsey was tipping into Cameron's bowl. It turned the mostly chocolate a dark, passionate red.

"Yes."  Said Cameron.

"Recognize the color?" asked Ms. Kinsey. It was an oddly familiar color, thought Cameron. 

"Can we taste it? 

"No.  Not until I'm gone," said Ms. Kinsey.

"You're leaving?" Suddenly Cameron didn't feel so well.

"Let me tell you about the secret ingredient. But you must swear to tell only the love of your life this secret I'm about to impart to you." 

"How will I know-" 

"That you've found the love of your life? You will know."  "Now, continued Ms. Kinsey, "Cameron, you may have noticed that I have a silly habit of wiping the brows of the workers-"

"The red handkerchief!" Cameron couldn't help interrupting but it was the exact color of the concoction he'd been stirring.

"Excellent, Cameron. The secret ingredient comes from the handkerchief." Cameron was looking a little pale at the thought of many months' worth of sweaty brows. "Don't worry, Cameron, I distilled it. I believe you told me you read about the distillation process in school."  Cameron nodded and his color returned.

"Distilled sweat?"

"Not everyone's sweat, Cameron.  Sometimes people don't have fun at work."

"Like cranky Mr. Jackson and unhappy Pearl Sweeney?"

"Exactly. I never dabbed their brows.  Only those who were happiest, those who love their jobs." 

"But what-" 

"What is the distillate?" finished Ms. Kinsey. "Love, Cameron. When you produce sweat from a labor of love, it can be brought out, magnified and used to make-"

"A love potion?" Cameron was horror struck.

"I will leave soon and soon after that you will change your mind about love, Cameron. Besides, no one can make a person love someone they don't.  But one can increase the love that is there." Cameron was even more horror struck.

Cameron's Chocolateria had a record year for sales and the whole town seemed happier and healthier, which was something considering the amount of sweets they were ingesting. There was a grand party to send off Ms. Kinsey, who entrusted more than one secret recipe to Cameron Sweet. At the party, Cameron could have sworn that Jessica Cooper was looking at him strangely. Ms. Kinsey just smiled and winked. 

The days grew into weeks and months but every so often, someone would ask Cameron about the bright red batter in the freezer and every time Cameron would answer, "Maybe Christmas, maybe New Year, probably Valentines Day."

Help Raise Money For My Play By...

Um... Giving some. All gifts are tax deductible and there are a number of benefits to donating. One of them includes tickets to the show. Thanks!

Repurposed Vinyl, Recycled Records

Repurposed Vinyl.  It's about time.  How long have those records been collecting dust?  Want the song on Mp3?  You can find it!  Want something cool to hold stuff?  Made out of retired records?  Look no further! Record Holders!  (http://coolrecordholders.blogspot.com/) sells, well, cool record holders. Records made into boxes, bowls, pencil holders and... well.  It's just a really coo concept. See for yourself!  Click a photo and go crazy!