Dont Mince Words

The same day Kelly MacLean’s Surviving Whole Foods satire went viral, I found myself at Whole Foods enjoying a similar experience.

My basket was light by design.  I can’t afford the place, but I dabble in organic and raw and they do have great fresh fish.  I got raw organic almonds because I make my own almond milk (how new age of me).  The organic dates help flavor the almond milk, so I needed a couple of those.  Oh, look, a fish special, so I picked up some mahi.  Around the corner I grabbed sprouted corn torillas for the fish tacos it appeared I’d be making.  And “they” say you should eat sprounted.  My impulse item of the night was not grazing off the olive bar.  I picked up a pack of frozen marrow bones for Dixie.  They are like savory cheesecake to her.

While checking out, the express lane boy was scanning and got to the marrow bones.  “Oh, what are you going to do with these?” he asked.  I wondered if he would of asked me the same question if it were a box of free-range, cruelty-free cotton tampons.  “Those are a treat for my dog,” I replied.  “OK, cool,” he said as he topped of my reuseable bag.

I accepted the charges, told him to have a nice night and said “Namaste.”  I just couldn’t resist.

State Street Hipster

When you put your children in the hands of others so you can go to work, you have to trust caretakers will do the right thing.  The same is true when you pay a dog walker to give your 70-pound dog a mid-day stroll.  Today I realized I never taught Dixie the “kill the hipster now” command.

My dog walker is a well-intentioned, 50-something female Santa Barbara native.  Think hippie crunchy.  Today, when she was walking Dixie, she ran across this hipster who offered to write a poem.  She thought he was “enterprising and worthy of support.”  Of course, I know no idea is new and this is Brooklyn circa 2004.  Not original.  Here’s “Lewis Lewis’” creative output (correction tape only used once!).

dixie
a lazy hourglass
watched a sleepy puppy

a sleep puppy
brown and black royal spots
grew like a shy smile

smiling puppy grew
into dixie dog
adultish wise watchful

sensing danger & safety
above and below
human register

loyal and jovial
looking forward tot he sun
and a ball to be chased

dixie’s heavy cheeks
& salivating chops
formed smiles creating smiles

Anyone that knows me knows I was raised by Archie Bunker and graduated college during a recession.  I couldn’t find a job.  You know what I did?  I waited tables.  Did I, as a writer and English major, sit on a sidewalk and show off my real manual typewriter skills?  No, that’s begging for attention.  I wanted a paycheck and my dad would of killed me.

If you can find me a hipster chew toy, I have some new training for my dog.  In the meantime, I counter Lewis Lewis’ creativity.
lewis
a lazy hipster
watched tourists pass

Pennsatucky daddy check
money come too late

Local, hardworking bitch
Smacked Lewis upside the head with a longboard
Wheels shoved up a lazy ass
Body thrown on State Street
Tourist bus finished job
End of Story.

I’ve lived in California for 10 years and I’m still not sure I’m used to it.  But like others, I’m numb, and without seasons I never know how fast time is passing.

California is everything everyone told me it would be.  “It will be hard to meet good people.”  I wouldn’t say good, but genuine.  I followed the rule taught to me by other transplants and just try to befriend midwesterners or other easties.  The natives?  They mean well.  I’ve got a decade of dating material but I can’t say dating here is any harder than other cities.  I just tried harder in California so my frustration was more documented. The good people are hard to find.

The weather in annoying predictable (LA Story) and great.  I’ll give you that, California.  But we all miss Fall.  Switching from t-shirts to 3/4 length t-shirts isn’t a season.  On the other hand, I’ve never owned so many open-toed shoes and flip flops.  THAT is freeing along with rub-on tan.  I wear pantyhose about once a year and that’s usually just to get laid.  But I do miss LL Bean field jackets, leaves and cold Halloweens.

A Brooklyn friend and I came to the conclusion that you can’t help but eat healthy out here because there are no good bagels or pizza.  With the year-round farmer’s markets and stick-thin blondes, you pay attention to food.  Being able to be outside 12 months a year to exercise is an added bonus.  Health is a focal point, whether it’s food or exercise.

So here I am 10 years later.  A little bit healthier, a lot older, and less sarcastic/east coast hardened.  Well, maybe.