Welcome To Arm Pit, Illinois

Mother called me because she found a "cute little farmers market!" a few blocks down the road from Kroger's. Did I want her to pick me up some fresh vegetables or fruit? Sure! I love locally grown food. It's fresher and tastes better than store-bought produce.

Mother: "Here ya go! I got you some tomatoes, corn and onions. I also picked you up some kiwis!"

Me: "Kiwis? Locally grown...in Illinois?"

I pulled the corn out of the bag - which looked fine - but as I pulled the tomatoes out it dawned on me why the "cute little farmers market" sold kiwis.

Me: "So, was there just one 'farmer' at this market or were there more?"

Mother: "There was just one guy. He didn't really look like a farmer but he had a pickup truck with everything in the back."

Me: "Ma. He wasn't a farmer."

Mother: "How do you know? You think you know everything BUT YOU DON'T."

Me: "Ma. His tomatoes have PLU stickers on them. And I don't know about you but I'VE never seen a kiwi tree or vine or whatever hell else they grow on in Central Illinois."

Mother: "Well."

Me: "Is this where I've moved? That a 'farmers market' is actually a dude named Randy who steals produce from Kroger's and sells it out of the back of his truck?"

Mother: "YES. AND I'M PROUD TO LIVE HERE!"

I think I need to be put back on my meds. Or on an IV drip of chardonnay.