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crockpotcauldronI have 100% had it with this hipster hell. Every joke you've ever heard about Portland, Oregon is true for this place.
I pulled a muscle in my arm while walking goats on a leash (I KNOW), and went to the snobby little knockoff-Whole Foods grocery store my twin shops at to get some Tylenol. They told me they didn't sell it, and asked if I wanted "an alternative." Looking at the aisle of fucking mushrooms and essential oils and god knows what else, I said no. I wanted real actual medicine, not potions from someone who thinks progress stopped in the 1870s.
I found my Tylenol at a nearby Safeway, along with real ketchup (my twin has been claiming that she made ketchup, and all I need to do is stir some sugar into it. I am skeptical.) and potato chips (I deserve them). I also found the first soft tissues I have found in this dang county. My god. The recycled hippie sandpaper I have been using has rubbed my nose into hamburger.
I have been stockpiling real food. I don't know what kind of organic gluten-free granola monstrosity I accidentally bought on my first day here, but I finally threw it in the chicken yard and bought myself some self-indulgent cereal with freeze dried strawberry slices. Had to get it from Safeway too, because I spent five minutes sadly staring at the cereal aisle in my twin's regular grocery store, and it was either stale-tasting gluten-free nonsense or organic hand-picked individually-polished chunks of granola that cost a million dollars. The granola bars I bought from that store last week tasted like dust and sadness.
Unfortunately, I came home to find my special jug of Cow Juice (do NOT put coconut milk in your cereal like my twin suggested) was leaking, so I had to pour it into mason jars and spend ten minutes cleaning bovine lactation off the entire veggie drawer, and in the process I broke the stupid fridge door and had to fix it with a screwdriver while the fridge beeped at me for leaving it open too long and I know you're not supposed to cry over spilt milk, but it got pretty close. I may have cussed over spilt milk a little. I finally got a bowl of cereal in me, but fuck that was hard.
It has been a fucking day.
I pulled a muscle in my arm while walking goats on a leash (I KNOW), and went to the snobby little knockoff-Whole Foods grocery store my twin shops at to get some Tylenol. They told me they didn't sell it, and asked if I wanted "an alternative." Looking at the aisle of fucking mushrooms and essential oils and god knows what else, I said no. I wanted real actual medicine, not potions from someone who thinks progress stopped in the 1870s.
I found my Tylenol at a nearby Safeway, along with real ketchup (my twin has been claiming that she made ketchup, and all I need to do is stir some sugar into it. I am skeptical.) and potato chips (I deserve them). I also found the first soft tissues I have found in this dang county. My god. The recycled hippie sandpaper I have been using has rubbed my nose into hamburger.
I have been stockpiling real food. I don't know what kind of organic gluten-free granola monstrosity I accidentally bought on my first day here, but I finally threw it in the chicken yard and bought myself some self-indulgent cereal with freeze dried strawberry slices. Had to get it from Safeway too, because I spent five minutes sadly staring at the cereal aisle in my twin's regular grocery store, and it was either stale-tasting gluten-free nonsense or organic hand-picked individually-polished chunks of granola that cost a million dollars. The granola bars I bought from that store last week tasted like dust and sadness.
Unfortunately, I came home to find my special jug of Cow Juice (do NOT put coconut milk in your cereal like my twin suggested) was leaking, so I had to pour it into mason jars and spend ten minutes cleaning bovine lactation off the entire veggie drawer, and in the process I broke the stupid fridge door and had to fix it with a screwdriver while the fridge beeped at me for leaving it open too long and I know you're not supposed to cry over spilt milk, but it got pretty close. I may have cussed over spilt milk a little. I finally got a bowl of cereal in me, but fuck that was hard.
It has been a fucking day.
no subject
Date: 2019-03-10 04:02 pm (UTC)"Organic hand-picked, individually-polished chunks of granola" is a wonderful turn of phrase that also describes much of the stuff sold at our local 'hippie' grocery in which I cannot spend too much time because the air in there smells like what I have to assume is patchouli. Ugh. (I only go in because sometimes the Weis doesn't have tahini and the Hippie Store generally does.)
My other non-standard option is Fisher's, which sells an endless variety of flours, grains, and bulk dry goods in a no-frills, clear-plastic-bag, bulk-repackaging arrangement. The staff wears their ankle-length dresses and their little bun-covering head caps (They belong to some sect that does cell phones and electricity. Mennonites? Church of the Brethren? I dunno.) and they happily sell whatever to whomever without any judgment or eau de patchouli. Prices are straight up legit, too. It's a great store -- I have to make a special trip to Fisher's for the stuff I buy there, but it's worth it.
no subject
Date: 2019-03-10 05:53 pm (UTC)Btw, if you like tahini, there's a great Turkish dessert called tahinli çörek, which translate to tahini roll. A spiraled frisbee of deliciousness. I'm slowly getting better at making it. Tahini also mixes well with pekmez, which is kind of like grape molasses.