I don’t even know how to start this.
I love Whole Foods. I love the premise, I love the cause work, I love the selection, I love the idea, I love the food and the deli and the market and in fact, it used to be a favorite date night for Hank and me. (Yes, I know. Weird that date night was at the grocery store, but don’t judge. They have excellent food.)
I really, really, really do not like going to the one in Boulder.
I knew it was awful to go there on the weekends or in the evenings. And I thought that I had lucked into a gem of a time to go by shopping there in the mornings, which for a small snippet of time was better, but no.
It used to be a drag because of the parking lot, but now they’ve redone it and it’s fine.
It’s a drag because of the shoppers. They’re rude. They don’t ever make eye contact yet park their cart right in front of you. And they butt. Like a first grader, dude. They butt intentionally and butt hard.
I don’t like to butt. I don’t like to shop aggressively. I like to gaze and smile and joke with people and ooh and ah over their babies and have them in turn smile at my children who get excited about funny things, like soap or being able to make their own almond butter out of that cool machine.
Good grief. It bums me out. Maybe this is why I was a sucky suckerson at competitive sports for…forever.
Rant over. (But if anyone out there knows how to help fix the sucky attitudes of WFBO shoppers, get on it.)
Check this out, speaking of butty buttersons.
Hank got “moonshined” at the Goldfish’s basketball game this weekend. It was hilarious. He kept trying to watch the game but a certain spectator kept flashing the ol’ whale tail when she’d bend over in his line of vision. It nearly sent him into the fetal position.
I think I’ll get him some of those horse blinder thingies to wear next time. That won’t be obvious or anything. Not much more obvious than “the hand shield…”
The Terror didn’t know what was happening, but he knew it couldn’t be good.
The Fish played his heart out, as usual. Had a lot of good play time during this game.
I think it was the Converse.
They put a little zip in his step, that’s for sure.
Man. I watch him sometimes and I think about what he’ll be like in his teens. I can kind of see glimpses of that every now and again. I’m excited for it, but sometimes, a lot of times actually, it makes me a little sad, like his being little time is slipping through my fingers. I don’t want him to stay little, but goshdarnit why does it have to go by so quickly?!
But then I see him doing this and all is well. He’s still just a measly little five year old punk who’s supposed to be sitting on the bench and cheering on his teammates.
Look at this little sweetcakes. I tried my very best to get her to smile at me. She wouldn’t look at me for a while.
And when she finally did, she wasn’t too happy that I was pointing the camera her way.
But good grief, just look at her.
She kind of a cutie. But she can already stare ya down like a teenager. Whewee. See? They’re all, like, six-months-old-going-on-fourteen or something. What’s in the water around here?!
The little guy was truly engrossed in the game. He kept trying to army crawl out onto the court. Not sure what his strategy would have been had he made it…
And this pic? This would have been an awesome photo, had I set my exposure and ISO correctly. Grainy or not, though, what a little stud. Even though he nearly took me out, I still love him a real lot.
They did great. Only one more game of the season, and then…there will be pizza. And trophies. Although I have no idea why there will be trophies, since no score was kept. Ever.
What was I saying about not being competitive? I might have lied about that part. But I won’t be a butt about it. Take that, Whole-Foods-in-Boulder-shoppers.