Thursday, December 1, 2011
“Ahhhh.” ……Oh, sorry. I was just remembering the day, the moment I fell in love with a grocery store.
Where good grocery stores go when they die.
It was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. I had been dispatched by my wife, relative to whom I am a 1099 employee who works for pumpkin pie, to pick up a whole turkey, plus a turkey breast and some other items. Apparently, science hasn’t been able to engineer a single bird with a large enough bust line to satisfy my family’s demand for white meat. You’d think this would be a high priority for the animal husbandry specialists at Victoria’s Secret Farms where they grow the models.
And off I went, leaving at 6 AM to drive the 32 miles to the largest of the area Whole Foods Markets. That’s “Whole” as in “whole-some.” Whole Foods, if you don’t know, is a chain of upscale grocery stores. Natural this, organic that. It’s clean. Friendly. Well stocked with really attractive food. If I was single a fruit or vegetable, it’s where I would go to meet someone. (Do fruits and vegetables have gender? If not, where do those cute little dipping carrots come from?)
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