(thoughts out of season)
I was sure I spotted Marie Antoinette next to the sliding glass entrance yesterday. She was tossing huge slices of creamy tiramisu out in the direction of the parking lot. Inside, guys in togas were serenading shoppers with violin music. Sorry, I meant fiddle.
The word “excess” took on new meaning for me, as I combed the brightly-lit mega-aisles packed, nay bulging with more inventory than can be found in any three Eastern European countries put together. Who did they expect was going to show up? I wondered. There aren’t enough well-heeled consumers in the entire county to keep this inventory moving (especially not, given the new New Leaf, the amplified Staff of Life, the impending Safeway-on-steroids, the venerable Shoppers Corner, and any number of other groceries each with its own loyal customer bases). Were the WF managers going to duplicate the entire population of Santa Cruz, and then send in the clones?
Whoa. Here was something I’ve been looking for forever. Organic ostrich eggs. What a relief! WF had them, high on the multi-tiered rack of duck, quail, and free-range, pastured local eggs displayed not in anything so confining and usual as an egg carton. Oh no. But loose, if you will, like so many little oval Anna Nicole Smiths on ludes lying seductively amidst the faux straw………. (to be continued)