I was in a health food store in search of barley flour as opposed to regular wheat flour.
The main reason for my visit was that conventional supermarkets do not appear to carry barley flour, presumably because most barley products are usually the special guest of honor in a cold beer.
So I was forced to visit an Earth Mother store to get the barley flour, the kind of place where young and old hippies can find the perfect blend of holistic recipes for the body and soul. These places are not a part of my normal routine and I am not an ideal candidate for the frequent flyer program in these stores.
To me, the people in these health food stores have kind of a Granny-from-the-Beverly-Hillbillies-embraces-Woodstock vibe to them. Health store visitors are typically people that want a natural cure for everything from cancer to bad karma, while guys like me simply want somebody who is a wizard with four barrel carbs- not food carbs.
Seriously, I don’t condemn the health food store people for their belief that organically produced eye of newt will make a better person for a better tomorrow; I just don’t buy it in my own life.
I get the lion’s share of my good vibrations from the rumble of an old school big block rattling molars at a car show.
That unbridled sound of horsepower is my personal Hari Krishna chant and it always puts me in a good place in the Zen department.
Most of the people in the health food store are probably pretty nice people with a decent life philosophy as it applies to them. The problem is they and I have little in common because I see the inner beauty in an un-restored survivor car and they see the inner beauty in a rainbow.
The only common denominator is that we are better people when we see these things that get us excited about life.
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