So many scary things are not scary anymore

Spring semester, summer semester, my first self-chosen and scheduled crop, my first business event wherein I sold my farmers' produce as originally imagined over a year ago, my first licensed sales of CFO goods - all of these scary ass things are not scary anymore because they're done.

WON AND DONE - as I keep nerdily saying to myself in my head.

As you know, I got The Straight As in spring semester and, as of yesterday, I got The Straight As in summer semester.

One A is still straight As so shut it.

Which isn't as hard to do when it's just one class, it's only six weeks long and 67% of your grade is either farmwork or visiting farms.

And that 67% isn't a randomly generated by my brain number either - that's the way the instructor structured the class. 67% participation in and notes from farmwork and field trips, 33% final exam. Which I aced.

I assume.

I actually have no idea what my score was on the final, but I am going to imagine a big fat 100% on the top because that's the kind of delusional fantastical nerd that I am.

So yay for that - my streak is still alive. And for Bubba taking me out to celebrate my A-ness, which is reason it itself to keep getting As.

THEN, though - OH THEN - there was my first self-chosen and self-scheduled crop: the wily pak choi.

If any vegetable can be wily, it's pak choi. I guess.

See, my instructor/boss/department head who gave me this supah fun job growing hydroponic basil, decided that I should (after one solid week working on the basil process) SPLIT the system and grow something else.

You know, because school + small business start up + grower job with two crops (remember the hops?) isn't enough - I need something else to occupy the 35 seconds when I'm not freaking my shit out over one of those other things. Or my garden. Or the front yard meadow that's now also growing four kinds of squash. Or my many bruises and wounds from this newly discovered mountain biking business.

You know - whatever on those things - let's learn something else. I NEED ANOTHER CHALLENGE NO.

But alas, when one's instructor/boss/department head throws down a very relevant challenge, who am I to reject it?

No one, that's who. I can't do it. I must attempt the challenge.

Thankfully, the challenge wasn't too terrible even though it involved math AND science to some degree and involved the potential for failure to some other greater degree. Like, if I fuck it up, we'd have 1/2 as much basil to sell at the market and ZERO pak choi and that would be boo.

Plus, the clucking hens at the market would be all, "You know, other person who used to grow all of the crops, when you were growing all of the crops, we never went a week without all of our hearts' desires. This new girl must be a fucking idiot." or whatever.

But who can be bitchy around such cute produce? NO ONE THAT'S WHO.

They're crazy, these women, and I don't want to enrage them.

And I did not.

31 2 pak bundles went out and only 4 remained. Good show, my pretties.

The #1 pak choi harvest was glorious and very nearly sold out (there were only a few paks left and we split them up among ourselves at work) and also very good.

This is a Thai peanut stir fry that I made last night and GOOD. If you're nice, I'll share the recipe SO BE NICE.

Then, on the heels of my first pak choi harvest last Friday, I had my first business event in which I actually sold produce sourced from my farmers' gardens (plus also mine - which, thank gawd because this place is crawling with fucking produce).

Why, hello there beautiful fresh produce from so many different yards and gardens! You look purty.

See - my vision for this business was to amass and train enough home farmers so that I could patchwork quilt together enough backyards (and front yards, fronts are good, too) to create an urban farm. Because you know there's not shit for space in Silicon Valley beyond that which we pave and park cars on or on which we grow many many stores and freeways.

Thus, the idea for crowdsourced farming was born and BAM! last weekend, it came to life. Albeit on a small just-getting-started-up scale and while standing back to back with a real life farmer who works one piece of land like a normal person.

Also, this guy is super nice and obviously adorable. I will be visiting his farm on my way to the greenhouse and I will help him in those fields as promised. Because I'm obviously flush with free time BUT WHATEVER. I'm a sucker for a farm - this is well known.

OOH - and I made and sold my first food stuffs thanks to the blessing (and financial ass raping) of California's new Cottage Food Operator License.

Lil' Jam Jars. It's a thing. A single fruit, small batch thing.

Yeah. I will say that while being able to make and sell my jams, jellies, herb mixes and honey is great and people like it and totally buy it and it makes smiles appear on their faces, I don't really appreciate the price tag of the permit itself.

Or those of the food handler's course I had to take and the health department's inspection fees and all of that nonsense.

AND OH IS IT NONSENSE. It is. Bureaucracy makes me want to scoop out people's eyes with snow shovels.

Really now.

But whatevs - I sold lots of my Lil' Jam Jars and I'm taking my show on the road to other events because, again, not enough to do...I must do more things...more scary, scary unknown until I do them things.

This is my life now.