Reflections on art, fitness, family, politics and literature that hit me like bricks as I chauffeur my children from place to place...
A pink taxi
January 2, 2011
During this vacation, my husband and I have been partaking in suburban activities such as long mall hang outs , which we never do in Dubai and our stops at Whole Foods became daily.
Enter the green overprivileged world of Whole Foods. Everything organic under the skies is shelved here. I walked in the first morning I arrived in California and I was blown away. It wasn't my first time but each year seems like it is. The fruit and veggies, all perfectly assembled. I got all my range of berries and kept returning from more.
Visualize the aisles. I wanted some granola. There were 100 different types in boxes and another 50 to pack. I went to the protein bar section and found every flavor I liked and more. I am importing so many Think Thins!
The dairy has milk, goat, soy and all the works, in all the percents of fat. The cheese section has a larger selection than a whole French town. We came in the mornings, bought our fruit, sat for coffee, had our muffins and scones. I sat and watched people treat themselves. Whole foods is a treat: it isn't cheap and people come, hand-picking their favorite healthy foods. We even came back one night and bought the yummiest home made soups from their salad bar.
Right about that time I was reading David Foster Wallace and I found a quote to end my happy thoughts:
"Anyway, you finally get to the checkout line's front, and pay for your food, and wait to get your cheque or card authenticated by a machine, and then get told to "Have a nice day" in a voice that is the absolute voice of death, and then you have to take your creepy flimsy plastic bags of groceries in your cart through the crowded, bumpy, littery parking lot, and try to load the bags in your car in such a way that everything doesn't fall out of the bags and roll around in the trunk on the way home, and then you have to drive all the way home through slow, heavy, SUV-intensive rush-hour traffic."
David Foster Wallace from "What the hell is Water?"
The pink taxi runs from 7 am to 7pm. It picks and drops off my 3 kids at school, ballet,judo, aikido, violin, climbing, riding, squash, basketball, skiing, skating, swim team, friends, grandparents and teachers. The car, not pink, but a black SUV, drives to Carrefour and Coop. To Club stretch for pilates and Aviation club for weekly workouts. It is driven by a woman who navigates on the radio, gets DJed by her 4 year old or sometimes quietly reflects. The thoughts are about politics, family, humor, literature, art or fitness. Sometimes they are excruciatingly longwinded, other times they are gossipy and hot.
I hope you will all enjoy!