I'm trying to make better food choices for us, so we head into Raleigh once a week to hit the Whole Foods store for hormone-free milk, cage-free, all natural eggs, butter, chicken, veggies (all organic or all natural), etc. Its worth the 25 minute trek, because not only is the food better for us, but its cheaper than the regular stuff in the regular grocery store. I love Whole Foods!
Here, the Bohemian (left) and the Professor (right) are caught in mid-ennui in the lucious produce section. I am over to the left, out of the picture, stocking up on Nittany Apples - an incredibly hard, not-too-sweet, kind of pear-ish apple from West Virginia that is only around for a few weeks in November, and only at my beloved WF. (Photo by Big Gorilla Man)
I asked Big Gorilla Man (a term used with love, by the by) to shoot a few casual shots while we were at the store; sort of a slice of life kind of vignette. Here I am in my favorite section of all: the cheese section. A moment of reverent silence, please...........Right after he took this picture, some guy came up to him and told him that you can't take pictures in the WF.
Do we look like infiltrators from Piggly Wiggly, trying to scam a few secret pics of their store, in an effort to compete? Do infiltrators generally take kids with them on their infiltrating missions? My mind was teeming with questions- It also interrupted my profound and deeply spiritual reverie of cheese tasting, and there were some pretty good cheeses to nibble. I am surprised that the Bohemian isn't in this shot - he lives to go to the cheese section, so he can try all the samples. (he's getting a pretty sophisticated palate for cheese in the process)
Just a bit of silliness, really, the whole No-Photos thing, but it IS Cary that we were shopping in - the land of Insane Uber People, whose immaculate kitchens are never used for cooking, everything can be resolved with throwing a tantrum, and who cannot get off of their cell phones long enough to inter-relate with the world right under their noses. There is a saying around these parts about the canker-sore that is Cary (Center for All Relocated Yankees, and it ain't no joke, chile) - Find A Cure For Cary - I hear there were even bumperstickers available at one time. Unfortunately, there hasn't been a cure discovered yet.
It isn't that folks around here don't like outsiders - hell, I'm from NY (though we moved down here before the dinosaurs were extinct). It has more to do with moving in and, instead of embracing the place and culture you have moved to, trying to recreate the ugly urbanism that you left, replete with the ugly manners.(and yes, I am using the word Ugly in its finest colloquial form - ie; "ya'll are acting UGLY!")
OK, I have potentially stirred up the hornet's nest for the day - my work is done here!