I'm OLD. I know this to be true because today, I wrote a letter to Safeway. Yes, the grocery store (that's Dominick's to you Chicago folk out there). You know where I get this shit from? My grandfather. In his day, the complaint letter was an art form, and he was a master. The end result was that he got tons of free shit. I got an automated reply.

Lemme explain...as you may or may not know, last week (ish) I took off for an elle-cation. Went to AZ to see the family, and hang out with the cousins, and then on to LA to see the Beesons. I had a good time in AZ, especially my last night there where Uncle Bob's BBQ totally included cousins Elle-n-Kell ripping out a fan-fucking-tastic (or not) Copacabana, and Dad nearly sending a pool ball right thru the glass sliding doors. (I'm sure somewhere in this blog I've discussed my gene pool and wine and how they don't mix all that well.) In any case, while that was fun, the very last day of my trip was in fact the very best day of my trip, and that day was spent in LA with Super-mom, Super-chef, Kate Beeson.

Kate rules, let's just state that. I said, "a foodie weekend is fine with me" and a foodie weekend is what I got. First: porn. Some, like, wholesale food porn place where we oohed and ahed over funky pasta, lavender sugar, and pizza peels. Oh, and teeny tiny chocolate chips. Any thing you could possibly need, to cook any thing you could possibly think of, was somewhere in this store. *Shiver*

Next, we went to Whole Foods. I vaguely remember Whole Foods from Chicago - now, I'd have to go to Portland just to find one. (Salem is a sadder city than it should be.) I certainly don't remember them being twice the size of an Ikea. After we ran around the continent of Produce picking up all the goodies we'd need for dinner that night, Kate kept shopping, and I kind of just walked around in awe. The olive bar alone nearly brought me to tears. I couldn't even go near the cheese bar for fear I'd never leave.

Last, of course, was dinner, where I chopped veggies and broke her sink, and she whipped up a feast with one hand while holding a baby in the other. I washed dishes, and she was like, fuck it, I'll bake a cake. And it was the greatest fucking cake, ever.

I like to cook. I'm not gonna lie and tell you I'm good at it, but I don't suck at it either. I'm not nearly as good as Kate, even if she did fuck up the falafel. And it used to be that I could drive 16 miles to my little Safeway (ok, passenger; CR does the driving) and find almost all the stuff I needed. But last year they "remodeled" and while I did get a bigger selection of organic produce as a result, brand after brand disappears from their shelves, usually in favor of their brand. I shit you not, the last time I was there they had TWO brands of canned tomatoes - Hunts and Safeway. Two? I can probably find more than two brands of anything at Circle K, that's just stupid. Specialty pastas? Gone. Quality vinegars? Gone. Izze sodas? Gone. They barely even carry Boca and Garden Burgers any more.

I went grocery shopping today and it had to be at least the 6th time in a row where I walked around the store (freezing my ass off!) looking for shit I USED to be able to buy there but no longer can. The aggravation was compounded by the fact that I spent 20 minutes just looking for pine nuts because nobody there knew what they were. You know, for pesto? Oh, we have pesto. No, no, no.....! Then I walked to the bakery, knew I'd spend another 20 minutes trying to find pita, so I just asked. Ah, pita...the pocket stuff, right? Yes, dear, the pocket stuff.

So yeah, I wrote a letter. Cuz I'm old and cranky. And in 4 days, someone from "customer service" will cut and paste a reply into an email and hit "send." And I *still* won't be able to buy my Muir Glen tomatoes!

Yeah, yeah, I know, time for my nap.