So every Saturday in spring and summer, I go to the Farmer's Market down the block. It's my "thing." I get cranky if I can't go. It's just such a perfect way to start a weekend. I browse the beautiful produce, handmade soups and lotions, and cool jewelry. Then I grab a latte and The Onion and everything is right in the world and my possibilities are endless. But what I don't tell people is that I don't actually buy any of the produce or lotions or soaps. I go there for one thing and one…
