Senseless Sunday Sarcasm : Date season

California – where law abiding citizens live behind bars, and if you shoot a criminal breaking into your home, you go to jail.

Then again…you’re already in jail.  The difference is, you’re in charge of the keys.

This is what the same mountains look like when you can lift the camera over the 7 foot fence

Did I mention that I can’t quite reach over the fence?

Today, my sister and I went out looking for dates.  Get your head out of the gutter!

These are the kinds of dates we were looking for:

There were two places my sister had found.  One she’d never been to, and another one that was famous.

I would have taken a picture of the date farm we went to first, but they might not like it, since it was a quaint little place.

Chickens owned the porch, a few roosters ran around the desert sands under the shade of acacia trees, and a peacock found solace under a table.

To me it looked like “home.”

Before you become too nostalgic, it would look a bit like this to someone from New York City:

Only with date palms in the back ground, a swing set and slide on the right, and a table filled with handmade artwork when you walk through the gate that has a bell to ring so that the residents know you’re coming.

After I purchased 2 pounds of dates and sampled a few of them,  my sister and I drove to this place:

We enjoyed listening to the pre-recorded presentation about the sex life of dates (hint – they don’t have one) and how labor intensive it is to produce the deliciously moist round nuggets of culinary pleasure.  But if the samples are any indication of the product, I’m not into sugar flavored cardboard.

Soooo…..  back we went to the San Marcos Date Farm, a trip that took 30 minutes. The sign said “Open” but when I arrived, no one came out to help me this time.  I did what any insensitive person who had travelled an hour in an air conditioned car across the country would do – I used my phone to call the number that was on their sign out front.

Personally, I think they were afraid I was there to complain about their dates, and they didn’t want to hear it.   I have to admit that a skinny person in shiny pink pants (hey they fit and they were cheap — ditto the blue shirt with white polka dots) doesn’t scream “sanity.”

They were rather surprised to find that I wanted 10 more pounds of the fruit I simply can’t stop eating.

I have to wash my fingers before typing or risk having the tips permanently glued to the keys.  I think about the sweet flavor, and moist fruit begging to be eaten and…OMG!  I think I’m addicted to dating!!!!

A half pound is already in various stages of digestion as I write.  Never did I think that anyone could love a fruit this much!

But alas, I digress.  Back to my order of 10 pounds.  They threw in an extra pound and they’re shipping it to me for $20 less than Sheild’s dry and tasteless variety.

I would feel very sorry for San Marcos Date Farm, if I could stop eating for a moment.  This is the end of the season. Yes, date season starts again in September and – if I’m not mistaken – I just cleaned out the remainder of their Medjool date crop for the year.

I’m so…chomp…chomp…chomp…sorry…chomp…

Anyway if you like dates and can wait until September to order them, the website is www.sanmarcosdatefarm.com

And, no, I’m not getting one penny for writing this.  I just like to pass along excellence when I…chomp…chomp….what was I…chomp…saying?