Strawberry Flavoured Insanity

Yesterday we went strawberry picking, and it was pretty much one part insanity (K and I goofing off in the back seat and going ape shit in the fields), one part appreciation (hey, I'm just glad I didn't get any mosquito bites on my ass, from bending over to pick up berries!) and one part awe (endless fields of yellow canola, blue sky for days and fresh strawberries waiting to be picked, what's not to love?)

I woke up at 6 am and managed to wear a little white just to piss off my mother. Then we headed to the fields about half an hour or so from the city. When we got there, a redheaded teen assigned each of us to a row of shrubs and told us to pick on our left and right (what, no up and down?) The people there are such marketeers, of course they told us to start picking on that end first, because the berries up there were crappy compared to the big juicy ones near the end of the row. If I'd known any better, I would've picked all my berries at the far end and not waste my time scouring through the sour crap. Grr!

After the berries, we drove around the small town we were in and stopped by a gift shop. The only thing I liked was this novelty bathroom toilet rug, otherwise known as the 'potty putter'. I normally detest golf, but I had a laugh at this. Also related to poop, I bought some "Polar poo" which is apparently "gourmet truffles". It tasted crappy (aha), and it wasn't even made of real chocolate, I'm actually eating sugar coated sugar over here. Bleh!