Bleah

My boycat got me up; he just wanted me up, yowled me awake. There's a spider holding court in one of my living room windows, over the air conditioner, just perched there. It's overcast this morning -- the sky looks like periwinkle soaked in gray. The lake, a darker shade.

Went to some farmer's markets yesterday, the obligatory yuppie outing, right? Picked up a couple of pints of raspberries. I always like the market raspberries way better than the icky ones in the stores. Jewel, one of the large chain grocers, has what I call "insta-rot" produce -- I don't know what they do with it, but it molders so quickly. I usually go to Treasure Island, instead, which bills itself as a "Euro-style grocery store" and kinda looks like it. They have Napoleon on the side of their grocery bags, so maybe it's French-owned or something. No idea. The other chain is Dominick's, which are probably in the middle, quality wise, between Jewel and Treasure Island, at least from my perspective. Not counting some of the fancy boutique grocers out there, of which there are a few. Of course, there's Costco.

But anyway, that's why I hit the farmer's markets -- I like the fresh produce.