Whole Foods

Note: I have been suffering from spammers in my comments lately, an intensely irritating assault by texas casinos and 'online gaming!' which has bombarded all of my comment-enabled posts. IP banning will not work, as they seem to be spoofing any number of unrelated IPs. To add insult to injury, they seem incapable of spelling their comments right, repeating the same misspelling numerous times in numerous comments.

As a result, I have been forced to close down my comments to approval-only. I apologize for the inconvenience. I'm hoping this will persuade my spammers to go away. Or at the very least, buy a dictionary.

I frequently tell visitors that we live in the ghetto, and though to a certain extent it is meant in jest, the reality is that we do -- suspension of belief unnecessary -- live in one of the less desirable parts of town. Rent is depreciated where I live, and dog poop replaces concrete as the sidewalk covering of choice; the police maintain a twenty-four hour presence in the area, despite which the residents contrive to give the city a bad name, and the local Safeway puts up a yearly poster reminding people not to fire their guns in the air because Gravity -- which actually exists and is therefore not to be confused with Evolution -- will make those bullets come back down again.

There are those amongst my friends who will not be convinced. "You have two Starbucks within walking distance," they say, flatly. "What the hell kind of ghetto is that?"

To which the only reply is that poor ghetto trash need coffee as much as the rich suburb trash, and Starbucks is democratic in its patronage: they will addict anyone, regardless of race, creed, or religion, while always maintaining a minimal povery standard.

We live in a uniquely Silicon Valley ghetto, which perhaps explains the large Whole Foods grocery that opened up just a block away. When I say 'a block away,' I mean this in a very literal sense; to get to it, you walk out of my apartment, turn right at the corner, walk down the block, then cross the street and voila! Epicurean delight.

Thus far, Whole Foods is an object of momentous excitement for the neighborhood, which (as a whole) tends to stare longingly at the Mecca of this colossus, without ever coming close enough to risk purchasing something. The rest of the city is not so hesitant. The Guy and I have spent more hours -- and cash -- than we are really willing to acknowledge in Whole Foods since it opened.

Our ghetto has a gourmet grocery. Only in California. These are the things that excite us when we are older. Grocery stores. The greater the age, the greater the madness.

Consider.

The Guy has a friend from England who has moved to Vancouver, Canada. Christmas for us will be spent in Seattle, which is how it has almost always been; though we are ready and eager enough to ignore the majority of holidays, Christmas has a sentimental value in that it is one of the few times of the year when work offers us time off. It is the Guy's notion that we should invite his friend down to Seattle to share some of The holidays with us.

Why the Guy should consider this a good idea is a mystery. He has already become acquainted with the Hirata family's concept of merrymaking. I would feel more sympathy for the as-yet unmet friend if I were not more occupied in bemusement over the Guy's benevolent delusions about my mother.

"Will your Mom mind?"

Mom didn't mind. Mom was delighted. Two days after I'd asked for permission -- and been granted it, with enthusiasm -- she called me at work to tell me about her trip to Whole Foods. "Yuhri, it is so big. You can find so much there! I was so exciting!"

"Excited," I corrected, absent-mindedly.

"So excited! I liking it--"

"Like it."

"--like it so much! All day, if I having time, I spending at Whole Foods. You can finding so much! It is so big, you cannot finding anything! So many interest things."

At some point, even the most enthusiastic linguist will surrender. "I like Whole Foods," I said.

"And I am thinking," bubbled Mom, "I will taking Yan's friend to Whole Foods. He will love it."

Small pause here. Even for me, this was a little confusing. Seattle has a few tourist sights, many of them famous: Pike Place Market, the Space Needle, Skid Row. Whole Foods is not one that leaps readily to mind.

"Why?"

"There is not being Whole Foods in Canada. He will being so exciting!"

This is debatable.

"Does your friend know what he's in for?" I asked the Guy. Mom was still chirping happily about Whole Foods when I hung up with her.

"Why?"

"Mom wants to take your friend to Whole Foods."

"Why?"

"She thinks he'll find it exciting."

The Guy opened his mouth -- no doubt to ask 'Why' again -- then closed it. He has known my mother for four years now. Clinging to the illusion of sanity can only carry you so far. "I should probably warn him what he's walking into," he supposed.

"Yeah," I said. "You might want to do that."

My mother is not the sort of thing you should spring on an unwary person. That's just cruel. A real friend wouldn't do that.