A NEW LOVE . . .

I've fallen in love ... with the Whole Foods Market.

Granted, I would never purchase half the things there: I don't drink soy milk, and I have absolutely no problem buying unrecycled paper products or drinking processed coffee or eating bread with preservatives in it. I'm alright with unorganic fruits and vegetables (wait ... aren't they ALL organic? Doi.) and I enjoy really greasy potato chips that are bad for me.

BUT. I like Whole Foods because if I wanted to eat these "healthy" items and live this "healthy" lifestyle, I could. Also, they have more and weirder products than your average grocery store, and of course, I love to ogle weird things.

AND. I got suckered into buying a Whole Food canvas bag. This, however, is not a fluke. I actually DO bring my own canvas bags and backpacks when grocery shopping. I can usually carry more items more comfortably, and I get to pack the grocery bags myself, which is actually a big deal because a type-A nerd like myself absolutely cannot stand it when the supermarket clerks put one bag of potato chips in one plastic bag, but turn around and stuff another plastic bag with a jug of milk, a loaf of bread, a bag of grapes, a carton of eggs and a box of fabric softener. God forbid the potato chips get crushed, right? I pack incredibly well, whether it's a suitcase, an overnight bag, a box of books and supplies, or a canvas bag of groceries. Leave it to me.

So, see -- I'm not TOO much of a poseur. But feel free to shoot me if I ever ingest a tofu-dog.

***

BACK OFF! . . .

Have people gotten meaner, or is it just me?

I remember the days and weeks right after 9/11: the times when we as a society stopped saying the trite words "don't waste a moment" and "you never know" and actually started LIVING these words. People smiled and said "excuse me." They let the elderly sit down on subways and buses. They tolerated long lines at the airport, the market, the McDonald's drive-thru. They let other drivers cut in front of them, with a smile and a mutual wave.

Three years later, we're back to our bad selves.

Twice today, I was called "a f*cking bitch." In my fervent defense, I must say that both times, I DID NOTHING WRONG.

The first incident arose when I loaded my car with my Whole Foods groceries (see above), then, in a burst of good citizenship, turned away to return the cart to the market's entrance. The crowd had thinned out and the rate of cars exiting was far greater than that of cars entering the parking lot. Nonetheless, some crazy person decided she HAD to have MY parking spot (instead of the one across from me. I swear. There was an open spot across from me. I'm not kidding.), and incensed when she saw me walking away to return my cart, she rolled down her car window and screamed "WILL YOU LEAVE, YOU F*CKING BITCH?!" Stunned, I could do nothing but ... smile and stick my tongue out at her. It's so hard to gauge maturity these days, I figured I couldn't do any worse than she ...

The second unsolicited "f*cking bitch" came when I left the parking lot and took a right turn to get to the highway. I had a green arrow; all pedestrians had "DO NOT WALK" signals. Regardless, some jerk decided he HAD to cross the street before anyone else did, and tried to ignore his signal. Dude, take it from me: man vs. 4Runner = man loses. Why even bother? Outraged that I would obey my green arrow and commence movement into his crosswalk, he smacked the passenger side of my car and yelled "GO, YOU F*CKING BITCH!" How many more times could I be stunned in the span of fifteen minutes? How many more times could I be gratuitously insulted? How many more times could I be just doing my thing, according to the green arrows directing my path? And why the hell did he think he could spank my car? What is up with THAT? What else could I do?

I slowed down to a pathetic roll and flipped him the bird with a broad smile on my face.

Then I lamented the state of humanity all the way home.

***

NERD . . .

I have lots of books. I finally unpacked my boxes of books this afternoon, and realized ... I have lots of books. More jarring is the realization that what I brought with me to the condo constitues a mere third of the books I own. Lord knows where the other two-thirds are festering ...

Eyeballing and arranging and placing the books on my built-in and free-standing shelves, I felt like an artiste. Do I place the books according to size, author, theme, alphabetical order, readability? A place for every book, every book in its place. The fact that I have about forty books still without a place, lying on my study floor, dismays me.

On the other hand, I rediscovered a few books that I would like to re-read. "The Aeneid" ... Montaigne's "Essays" ... "Anna Karenina" ... "Little House on the Prairie" ...