I Have Seen My Future And It Is LasagnaPosted: April 8, 2013
On Saturday, I went to a farmer’s market. That’s the kind of guy I am. A guy with a wild, wild life. I walked around and spoke of sweet potatoes with people who wore bib overalls. Not everyone can maintain my lifestyle and its demanding pace.
I wandered the aisles and bought…lasagna. You might wonder why I’d make that choice. It is mostly because I didn’t want ravioli as much. Pasta with squid ink was also available. I didn’t want that at all.
Yelling In A Convertible Is Not A Private Act
While I gave my dinner a ride home, my mind wandered. I found myself pondering my future. But this time, my pondering was productive. I yelled “AHA!”
I’m not certain why I yelled. I was alone in my car with the lasagna. Yelling about my breakthrough wasn’t sensible. I already knew I’d had a great idea. The lasagna didn’t care and the woman in the next car looked at me as if I was insane.
Maybe I shouldn’t think with the top down on the car. I have no reasonable expectation of privacy.
While I drove, I realized that my future was sitting right there on the passenger seat. The lasagna. Farmer’s market lasagna. I could become a lasagna farmer.
Twenty-eight years of police work has taken a toll on me. Fresh air, sunshine and quiet time are the best medicine for repairing the damage the job has caused me. Spending time in the fields tending my lasagna would heal my spirit, keep me occupied and supplement my retirement income.
Only a fool would think that the life of a lasagna farmer is always idyllic. I am not that fool. I understand that wolves would prey on my flock. The lasagna are especially vulnerable while they’re tending their young in the spring.
Poachers would cut into my profits too. And then there are the futures markets. Some commodities trader’s error could deflate the price I’d get when my flock was ready for sale.
What Kind Of Guy Am I?
Despite the pitfalls, lasagna farming appeals to me. I’d love the chance to sell my product at local farmer’s markets. I’d proudly tell my customers that my lasagna was free range and organic. I’d assure them that there were no added hormones and that the lasagne were processed in a hypoallergenic facility.
One day, I’ll consider branching out into raising ravioli. The lessons I learn on my lasagna farm will make my ravioli ranch an efficient money-maker from the start. But my heart will stay where my farming life started, in the lasagna fields.
I’m glad I made my trip to the market. I didn’t get any vegetables. I left with my future in the passenger seat.
That’s the kind of guy I am.