Farmer's Market Confession

I am going to go ahead and separate myself from probably most people who write blogs. I don't like going to the farmer's market. Yes, I like getting tomatoes that taste like they came from my parent's garden, and I do want to stop by and snag some rhubarb because I'm twenty-three going on seventy-four. Most people rave about getting to know the people who grew their food. Cool, cool. I'm sure that is fine and dandy. But! You know what counteracts against discovering that fine and dandy feeling for me? All of the other market vendors!

Besides the fact that I am terrible at making decisions so many options of strawberries exaggerates that weakness, all I feel is guilt the entire time when I'm at the farmer's market. I feel like I'm throwing tomatoes at the people when I push my stroller-turned-pack-camel right past their pints of strawberries.  I'm uncomfortable just thinking about the hurt (real or imagined) in their eyes when I don't choose to buy from them. 

Anyone else feel like this? Or am I the only farmer's market wimp out there? 
Ryan wasn't impressed, but I was ecstatic. 
This pot of flowers keeps me coming back to the market because there is no way I am paying $20 for a pot of flowers at the store when I found this $5 treasure last year. Flower vendor man, please have a $5 sale soon so I can avoid the guilt! Or I could just get over my delusional guilt? We will see what comes first.