Lettuce is my Wool Sweater

When I was very young (let's say seven or eight but don't hold me to it) I watched a film on Sesame Street about how a wool sweater is made.  It had a charming narrative: two little girls on a farm tell their mother they want sweaters.  The mother has the father shear sheep, she spins and dyes yarn, and knits them cute little sweaters.  At the end, the girls are wearing their sweaters and are are very, very pleased.

The reason I still remember that film is because I was struck, even now, at how it was all done at home, from start to finish.  The girls simply said they wanted sweaters and the farm, their home, produced them.  They could actually point out the sheep the wool they're wearing came from.  If I had wanted a banana, the most I'd have to do is walk to the kitchen and peel it.  The most my mother would have to do is walk to the store and carry it home.  Which reminds me - there was a commercial in the 80's for Bermuda tourism... or was it Barbados?  Maybe it was neither, I don't remember.  Anyway, it was about a two second shot of a little girl, reaching out from her school bus to pick a banana off a tree and the voiceover said something like, "...grab breakfast to go..." to demonstrate how simple and lush the surroundings were.

It's examples like these that make me wish what I wore or what I ate, or any object touching upon my quotidian activities was more basic, closer to its origins.  Having said all this, I've been racking my brain for the last hour trying to write an elegant transition to what this whole post was supposed to be about, which is, if I'm making a sandwich or something, it's kinda cool to just go downstairs and pick off a few leaves instead of having to buy a whole damn head of lettuce.

Here they are pre-pick:

Here they are pre descent into my belly: