Tie-dye misrepresentation

I was standing in line with a guy behind me who looked as if he had frequented bars during the seventies and still dressed that way.  He said to the cashier, "What's with the organic soap? Does soap really have to be organic?  Isn't it already clean?"

A friend told me, referencing the last blog post about the curmudgeonly gentleman complaining about hippies who hoard:  "I think I know who that was!  I was at Hard Core cafe a few weeks ago and there was this older man complaining about people recycling.  I couldn't believe I was in Sebastopol and somebody was railing on recycling!  Then I realized it wasn't recycling per se - but people who think every plastic fork and tissue paper gets recycled.  He went on about it for a while!"

From a soon-to-be ex-Waldorf mom:  "We are going to go home and eat sugar and do something really crazy like watch a Disney movie!"

I was at the Sonoma library and made a comment to a librarian about the assortment of teas they have available.  I noted that is not the case at the Sebastopol library.  Somebody said, "What's available for patrons there?  Wine?"
(There is no shortage of wine or wine-tasting in Sonoma, so I'm not sure why this was amusing.  But a number of individuals around me laughed.)

"There are a lot of temples around here, a lot of unconsecrated temples..."

"They do not have Burger King and Round Table in Sebastopol.  That is not true!"
Me:  "They do - I promise."

This was a status update from the Sierra foothills, but it could have so easily happened in west county.
(thank you Ken, Sebastoblog suppporter):

Bereft of energy this morning, I put the least effort possible into dress and grooming. I opted for a rainbow tie-dyed tee shirt I picked up as a souvenir of theatre camp, and my usual pair of khakis. My cheeks unshaved, my ever-lengthening silver mane untamed by hair product, I gave my appearance no further thought, and staggered to the cafe, hoping against hope for the strength to get a modicum of work done.

At day’s end, I sauntered home along the main street of my new hometown, past the shops and the innumerable wine-tasting rooms, when a stranger approached me hurriedly and waved me down with both arms. He was tall, lanky, and young, with a knit cap, a scruffy beard, and both his upper front teeth distinctly missing. He seemed relieved to see me.
“I’ve been looking all over for somebody to give me a nugget of weed so I can go home and forget my troubles.”

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled awkwardly, caught off-guard, “I don’t have any.”  I didn’t add that I never do.  Not my thing.  He wasted no time in wandering off, muttering over his shoulder, “You shouldn’t wear a tie-dye shirt.”
My comment:  "Oh I wish that had happened in Sebastopol, would have been such an epic entry..."

Ken:  "In Sebastopol you wouldn't have to limit yourself to people wearing tie-dye.  You'd just go stand out in front of Whole Foods and ask people."  :)

Me:  "You can stand outside the *library* and ask people."  :)

I was speaking to somebody who used to work as a receptionist for a spa in Sebastopol.  She remembered a woman coming in and saying, "I'd like to get a massage.  Not a healing." Enunciating:  "Just. A. Mas-sage."

Another Ford Focus:
FOCUS
    on
Kuan Yin

Sebastopol bumper sticker (thanks Emily):
Goat ropers need love too*


License plates:
2 NERDS
ANIMUSE
TREE TOP




* from Urban dictionary:  "Goat roper is a wannabe rancher or cowboy poser.  Goat ropers have the 4x4 pickup and the cowboy hat, but no cattle, horses, brain or land."



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