Deconstruction

lamb meatballs with rhubarb chutney

salad and meatballs
Deconstruct. I find the action behind that word quite frightening. It’s hard. Construct. Construct is better. Building is much easier. There’s a start and an end goal. But evaluating, breaking things into pieces, and adapting as a result—well that’s just so much more difficult. Important but arduous.

I vividly remember my least favorite task in elementary school—second and third grade to be exact. Storyboards. Instead of writing a report, analyzing at the beat of our own young-minded understanding, we had to break up a story into parts. Concrete parts. I am now an ardent maker and follower of rules. But to me then, nothing was concrete. We were required to fit a story into distinct categories and subcategories, from “exposition” to “climax” to “dénouement.” The “scenes” that represented these categories were drawn carefully in Crayola colored pencil within clear lines and boxes. Rigid. One scene could not mean or be or act as two things. We had to identify a protagonist and antagonist. Well, that just wasn’t me. I wanted the protagonist to be the character who was compelling to me. And this character was often not the technical protagonist. And in third grade, what if I desperately wanted the story to be my story and what if when character X walks to Y wearing Z, it was me who I envisioned in her place? I’ve changed. I am more practical. I do see aspects of life in concrete terms now. But deconstruction can still be a struggle.

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Sunday Afternoon at SoWa


(photo: SoWa Open Market)

Those around me have probably had enough of my incessant whining about summer’s tragic departure (one day left!). Despite my complaining and the fact that I’m internally and eternally cold, I do fall hard for fall. I would happily trade the humid New England air, which creates the frizz in my hair and the grease on my brow, for the cool, crisp breeze that is famous in these parts, but which gives way to winter far too quickly. During the heat of the summer, I passed on spending a Sunday at the SoWa Open Market. I’m a compulsive weather-checker, and it seemed that each Sunday that passed was either too humid, too cloudy, or too rainy for my liking. Last Sunday, though, was perfect. Mostly sunny, dry, with a high of 70, the perfect in-between season temperature and the best for browsing.

SoWA is a great venue for all of our local artisans out there. I highly respect and admire each and every one, no matter his or her craft. If I weren’t cash-strapped, I gladly would have purchased that understated necklace with the beautiful amber stone I spotted or a set of hand-painted wall-hangings. But what should come as no surprise, is that I do go to SoWa particularly to peruse the farmer’s market and to get a nice lunch.

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