This being “non-weight bearing” on my ankle really sucks the big one. Everything is made much more difficult. How do you get a cup of coffee from the coffee maker to the table without spilling it all over the place when on crutches? You get really innovative with “containers” and bags and I’ve even scooted around the house on a computer stool with wheels once or twice. It’s not as easy as it sounds, the wheels really aren’t designed for rolling too far.

I am blessed with great friends, though. R came by the day of my surgery and made me dinner, loading me up with yummy soups and salads that lasted for days. SRD and her girlfriend, T, came by and brought an incredible salmon dinner grilled by T. (She’s a keeper for sure!) They even stopped at the smoke shop for me since my local two markets had beens old out for a week prior to my surgery. M has pitched in as well while at home and made my life as a gimp so much easier. My brother came by as I was ordering groceries from New Seasons to be delivered, and went to the store for me instead. I saved the $10 delivery charge, but what is about men? I printed out my cart and one of the things I chose was 4 Anjou pears for 40 cents each (a steal) and he spent $6 on some red pears that really aren’t that wonderful tasting. But bless him for doing the shopping for me and then putting away the groceries, taking out my garbage and doing the dishes that were still in the sink. Gotta love a guy like that, especially considering it was snowing and he lives way across town. L has, of course, been a constant support and making calls for me to sort out such lovely things like short term disability from work and insurance issues getting a knee scooter.

This Christmas, by choice I am hanging home alone. It’s been nice and quiet and I have been doing a lot of sleeping, still recovering from surgery, I think. There is still a beautiful layer of white fluffy snow outside, and the hardest part has been staying inside and not playing in it. I keep trying to con everyone into pulling me on a makeshift sled, but so far there have been no takers.

I hope that when L comes up to Oregon to visit that we can go play in the snow on the mountain, and maybe bring Fiona with us. Fiona (the Shiba Inu) loves frolicking in the snow. It’s my belief that everyone should have a good dose of ocean and snow in their lives.

Merry Christmas to all. Count your blessings, for they are plentiful even when things are hard.

My brother, 4×4 and snow chains at the ready, dropped me off for surgery last Monday. I was so tired by the time got there, having had a whopping one and a half hours of sleep the night before. I know they say you should go into a surgery “well rested” but in this case, I think the exhaustion ended up being a good thing. It meant I was too tired to get too nervous.

Almost immediately after checking in and sitting in an empty waiting room by a raging fireplace, I was taken back to the pre-op area. Since this was at a specialty surgery clinic and not a hospital, the pre-op area consisted of a small room where I sat on a very comfortable leather chair and had my feet flipped up as hot blankets were plied to my torso. I was poked, prodded, measured, had my vitals taken and peppered with question after question from three nurses who appeared to my addled brain to be worker bees in a hive run by a Queen Doctor hidden from view.

The anesthesiologist looked like he just hopped off his Harley and into surgery, complete with hair so thick on his arms that he looked like a bear. More questions rattled off. He ran off and flirted heavily with one of the nurses.

As I looked to the corner of the room, I saw an empty chair and thought to myself, “That’s where L is supposed to be sitting. We would be chatting right now, and she would make some joke to take my mind off of the surgery…” Maybe I was extra emotional that morning, but I had tears well up in my eyes. It’s just not fair in cases like this to be 1,000 miles away. It can’t be helped, but it still isn’t fair. I had to move up my surgery to take place in December, but had I stuck with the January date, she would have been able to be here with me through the surgery and recovery.

Snapped out of my L daydream: One of the nurses handed me a super thin sockesque thing that was supposed to go from my toes up to my groin on my good leg. It had ruffles on the top and a hole at the bottom for my toes to poke out. All it was missing was candy cane stripes in order to pass for a prop on Pippi Longstocking. I am not as young and spritely as I once was. Who of us are?

I looked at this thin tube of a sock and thought, “There is no way in hell this is going to fit on my ‘robust’ thigh.” I gazed at the piece of material in disbelief. Did they seriously think this would fit everyone? Again, I decide the size is “One Size Fits All But Me”, just like the pantyhose in England used to be. The nurse comes back in, and says some words of encouragement, stating it will stretch. I’m sure it will, but how much? Surely the material has its limits.

She fiddled and futzes with the Pippi Longstocking thing for a few minutes, then gave up. She leaves and brings me a shorter one that slips on perfectly. She tells me that God made two mistakes with the human body, one is conical legs and the other is sinuses draining from the top instead of the bottom. I’m not sure if she meant it would be more practical to “blow your toes” instead of your nose… The pills were starting to kick in.

Everything after that, other than the IV catheter hurting like all get out, is a blur. A big, heavy blur. I remember some laughing from an outrageous surgical tech guy listening to his walkman. I remember the doctor and surgical tech doing the tango to music that was piping through. I remember thinking the surgical nurse who took me back was a little irritating when compared to the three other worker bee nurses prepping me for surgery. I was starting to get nervous and anxious despite being slightly doped up and tired.

M picked me up from surgery and the surgical center is on a hill. We have been having snow/ice weather lately, and we tried to exit going up the hill, but kept getting stuck and slipping back. Somehow M got the car back to the exit of the parking lot and a guy gave her some tips on how to make a run for it. Meanwhile, I decide to call the surgical center to see if we can exit going downhill instead. The very bottom of the hill looks like a dead end around the corner, but you never know.

The receptionist tells me that yes, indeed we can exit by going all the way down and making a right turn at the end. It should take us past some other medical buildings and then out to the main road. Sounded easy enough… What she failed to mention was that somewhere between the exit and the dead end, there was another entry to a different parking lot and we should turn there, not at the far end as she stated.

But we went down, turned, and promptly started fish tailing out of control and ended up in a snow drift that sat to cover a ditch. Stuck in a snow drift with 3 wheel only touching the ground is not an ideal place to be after surgery. Frantic, on the cell phones, making calls to see how we could get out of here. Meanwhile, a good Samaritan who lives nearby helps up get out of the ditch and somehow we end up with the car at the bottom of the steep hill facing the hill itself.

My brother, bless his cotton socks, takes off of work and stops to buy a tow rope on his way over. He ends up towing us all the way up the hill and to a safe place. Sigh, my hero… Again…

And to think, we only had to be stuck in grumpy-snowy-ville for just under three hours. Meanwhile, through all of that, the post-op pain meds were wearing off…

The rest of the trip home was fairly easy considering how bad it could have been. I spent the rest of the day sleeping off everything, icing my ankle and plying myself with pain meds.

This surgery has brought some surprises to me. Some good, some not so good. Stay tuned for the updates…

I have been preparing for my ankle surgery all week (and beyond). It’s scheduled for Monday. S, sorry I haven’t called. Really I have been swamped working out logistics and trying to kick this coldish fluish thing. Love me anyway?

L can’t be here for a variety of reasons, but most pressing is her own recovery from surgery in October. It’s all been quite maddening, but you have to deal with what you have, right? I know she would rather be with me than any other place on earth…

Portland had a storm warning. They are calling it “Arctic Blast”. Thanks Sarah Palin… I mean, you’re near the Arctic, right? You can see Russia from your house, after all…

It was supposed to start snowing Friday night, and by Monday warm up a bit. That would have been ideal, since snow and ice tend to melt pretty quickly here. Per usual, the weather folks here got it wrong. The storm did not land until Sunday, which means we have a few days of predicted snow, some respite and then a projected huge storm in a week. Then again, keep in mind these people calling the storms and weather are wrong more than they are right. Anyone wrong so much in any other profession would be a laughing stock. I imagine a big spinner in the news room. Whatever it lands on, that’s what they call. About 5 years ago, we had a huge snow and ice storm. The weather person was saying how the snow stopped and how it was sunny. I look outside my window, less than quarter mile from their weather camera, and it is snowing so thick I can’t see the tree in my front yard. Go figure.

SRD called me this morning. She was my ride to and from surgery, with R bringing by lunch, ice (not on the street, but for my ankle) and dinner. SRD lives in the foothills southeast from where I live. That means all the cold winds coming off of the Columbia River Gorge hit her pretty hard. I had hardly enough snow to cover to the grass, she was snowed in. (At least T was there too, providing most excellent company!) R works nights, so would be working on no sleep, which is never a good combination for snow-ice driving.

I don’t want to make it sound like Portlanders are wimpy when it comes to snow, though we probably are. I lived in Colorado for a year and a half and driving in the snow was normal and easy. When it snows here, usually ice layers underneath and sometimes on top, so powder is not an option for long. Couple that with the fact that it snows for maybe a week a year in the metro area, so the investment in the latest greatest snow and ice removal equipment isn’t too great, and you have a cauldron full of a whole lot of yuk. Today, it is so cold that the de-icing gunk isn’t working because it is lower than 20 degrees in some places. Sand and gravel aren’t too much help, but gain a little bit of purchase. That means as the temperature continues to drop this evening, the roads will be slicker than the slickest slick. There is a chain requirement in Portland Metro on highways, and that’s rare.

Normally I would be like a kid in a candy store. I love the snow, and the fiercer the storm, the better. Fiona, the little Shiba Inu, loves playing in the snow. She chases snow flakes and has a blast.  But I am not looking forward to Monday under the best of conditions. Couldn’t the snow have come last week? Or been a little giving in the morning?

So, how to get to my surgery at 7:15 in the morning?

At first M was going to drive me, but as weather reports came in, that was no longer an option. I called to make sure the surgery center would be open on time and that surgery would continue as planned. Sure enough, doctors are die hards. I looked into TriMet public transport and I could get close, but still would be a two mile walk away. That would get me there about an hour late IF everything runs to schedule, which isn’t likely due to the “Arctic Blast”. At any rate, walking two miles in the ice, snow and wind with a bum ankle doesn’t seem reasonable. I looked into buying chains for my car, but every place within driving distance is sold out. I looked into taking a cab to surgery, and having someone pick me up later when road conditions improve. Can you believe every single cab number was busy for at least an hour? I gave up trying after that. I even thought of trying to drive myself, and then figuring out how to get my car back later on. Again, no chains.

M called her girlfriend to see if the gfs ex, a tow truck driver, might be able to take me. Haven’t heard back on that one, but that may end up being my way home if road conditions do not improve. To top it off, M’s phone isn’t charging and I think it’s the plug on her phone, not the one going to the wall. How to call for pick up?

To the rescue comes my brother. My brother who was brainstorming with me all along the way because he lives far across town, with more snow than the average bear, and has to work on Monday despite the weather. He ended up calling me back after I confirmed surgery was going forward and was hitting dead ends left right and center, and said he would take me. Success! SUV with 4 wheel drive AND snow chains! I still need a way home, but that seems easier than getting there at this point.

So after three hours of frazzled nerves and frantic calls, I can now allow myself to get nervous for surgery. As of now, unless things drastically change overnight, everything is two frozen thumbs up.

UPDATE: The 11 o’clock news didn’t look too promising, but we can only re-assess in the morning. If I can’t make it, then at least I know I tried everything and it just was not meant to be for Monday.

I have an addiction. No, it’s not alcohol, pot or other street drugs. It’s something that seems rather harmless, in fact… Most of the time. I am addicted to CraigsList. Particularly I check the barter pages a lot. I love bartering for things that I no longer need and someone else wants. Sometimes the trades are good, sometimes not so much.

I’ve been keeping my eyes open for a new bed. Preferably a nice comfy futon so it can do double duty. I saw this ad: Teak Futon Frame for 30-40 minutes work

I figure that I have 30 or 40 minutes before my surgery on Monday, so I check it out. Absolutely ridiculous comes to mind, but see for yourself.

I have a teak double futon frame (some scratches, but still not bad).

You: willing to clean 10 spots of cat vomit from my basement floor and move 2 dressers from one room to another (same floor, no stairs).

I did a double take. Yes, they want someone to clean their ten spots of cat vomit. How long does cat vomit need to be “laying around” for there to accumulate ten spots? Unless you have a seriously sick animal, quite a while.

This brings me to a few more questions to ask: Do I bring a mop? Or a spatula? Or perhaps a snow shovel? And when I am finished what exactly am I going to do with a cat-scratched futon frame? I can only assume the cat also vomited on the futon mattress and that is why it is suspiciously absent.

I also saw a really nice, fair and equitable trade where a woman wanted to trade 6 containers of expired enfamil, breast milk baggies and a jerry-rigged breast pump for brand new, very specific beds and bunk beds (shown with pictures). Or the one with some used and dogged copies of US magazine, 4 CDs, 2 DVDs from the $1 pile at Walmart in exchange for a new iPod Touch or Wii. Are these people delusional?

In the spirit of things, I decided it was time to revisit one of my favorite places to find off-the-wall stuff. eBay. These are some of the things I found tucked between the tasers, leg bindings, supposedly haunted items and psychic readings.

			Foamboard and sharpie map showing the Aftermath of 9/11

This guy has far too much time on his hands, and far too much ego. He says he did this drawing, and then explains his symbolism. And to think, he is only asking $270,000 starting bid.

9/11 Foamboard Junk

U.S. Citizenship for sale Including Social Security Number / Account

Condition used. Asking $1.5 million because he is lamenting the state of America with Obama as President. He wants to buy an island to live out the rest of his life… What has me puzzled, is he is almost done surviving Bush, and now he wants to leave? WTF?

			A Cap From a Pen | Owned By My Ex Girlfriend No RS Your Wife or Husband Would Love This Gift!

Only a meager $49 gets you a plain Bic pen cap… But maybe this guy is onto something. He also sold these silly things (while running the “Road to Riches” website):

A Ball Of Paper

$102.50
Awesome! Best paper ball I have ever received. Thanks! — royaltreasury ( 261)


One Packing Peanut

$41.00
A pleasure to do business with! — lastdetailwd ( 15)

An Empty Water Bottle

$31.00
Overall highly satisfied — breckart1018 ( 10)

Who knew?

			HAUNTED POWER PAK 1000 GENIE DJINN KHODAM &/or DRAGONS* U PICK* COMMAND YOUR WISHES TRUE* THIS LIFETIME & NEXT!

This one is actually pretty creepy. This “secret organization” promises to dance around fire with cauldrons or some such and “bind” a bunch of none-to-wonderful-sounding spirits to you. Supposedly the entire thing takes about 44 weeks. And it’s yours for just over $1000 per week. A deep discount of their usual charge of $500,000. If you change your mind and decide you don’t want these “powerful” none-too-wonderful-sounding spirits any longer, they also offer Exorcisms. Karmic Disclaimer: As a side note, let me just say it’s not that I do or don’t “believe”, it’s that these are pretty frightening things to screw around with.

HOW TO FCUK A WOMANS BRAINS OUT ebook learn the ropes now

The book is published by Peepi Press written by Daddy Thorn and Dolli Lama. By the way, it’s fuck, not fcuk you silly peeps… Yup. Sounds like great reading. They even give excerpts. This is what Dolli has to say, ever so eloquently:

As for being Daddy’s play doll, Daddy’s dirty little cum toilet, I am proud to say that and more…

I had to stop reading right around there, no matter how intriguing the chapters on “Fucking your Bitches with Respect” and “How to Fuck a Woman’s Brains Out - Holy God of Fuck!” sounded.

Seriously, it is no wonder that they can’t sell the crap for their $1 bid even though it’s posted about every third entry for three pages. I think in this case, less is more and they shouldn’t give any more information than just the title. So many more people would buy it. Needless to say the cover art looks like a 70’s insert from “Our Bodies, Ourselves”.

These folks should have bought the “Silver Tongue Influence Spell” about 5 listings after their spam listings stop…

Read more…

I wanted to formally introduce Flopsy and Mopsy to you. I have mentioned them here and there on this blog, and they have had their own category, but they have never really been properly introduced. I think it’s finally time to break the silence.

Flopsy and Mopsy are my breasts. Flopsy is on the left, and a bit of an attention seeking diva. She has dreams of being a movie star. If there is a camera around, she will be sure to get herself in the frame somehow. Mopsy is on the right and more reserved and intellectual. Mopsy enjoys snow skiing, long walks in the park and watching the sunset over the ocean. She also directs Flopsy in her featurettes. Together, they make a great team and hang around together all the time. They are inseparable.

For example, both Flopsy and Mopsy plot things together. I swear, it’s true. The past few nights, I have woken up to whispering. I know it’s Flopsy and Mopsy and can see the light from a tiny flashlight under my shirt. It reminds me of the days as a child when I would cuddle under the covers to read a book after ‘lights out’. I found it so odd and charming that I didn’t have the heart to let them know I was listening to every word. Never mind how they got a flashlight, or managed to turn it on with no hands or fingers. Did I mention that Flopsy and Mopsy are very resourceful?

They both miss their best friends, who live in Southern California with L. What did I overhear Flopsy and Mopsy plotting? Their getaway. How would they run away and hitchhike to SoCal to meet up with their best friends and have a play date. Of course, Diva Flopsy was the instigator.

I swear, they had a small notepad with scribbles on it. Diagrams I assume, but when I searched for it later, I couldn’t find it. Don’t ask how, but they were definitely referencing a diagram of sorts. Did I mention Flopsy and Mopsy are clever as well? When the question came up how they would hitchhike without thumbs, they hit upon an interesting solution. Flopsy said, “I don’t need any thumbs to stop traffic.” But Mopsy was the real solution finder, stating, “Why not glue a cut out of a thumb onto a stick and use that? We could tape it on.” This didn’t sit well with Flopsy the Diva, who complained of left over tape goo and how it could ruin her profile and subsequently her career.

Could you imagine seeing two breasts hitchhiking along the side of the highway? I worry about them sometimes. Either they would be, at best, picked up by a flat chested woman looking for a more ample bossum or they will be picked up by some letchy pervert.

I guess it’s time to have that conversation with them… It goes something like this:

“Flopsy. Mopsy. You are both valuable members of this family and of my body. I love you both very much. I know that sometimes you really get tired of hanging around all day, and you yearn for more adventure in your life. Just know, I and my bra, support you 100% in anything you dream of doing with your life. But please promise me, you will not put yourself in dangerous situations. Not everyone is a nice person, and you are more independent than most boobies. Some people might take that for being “easy” or “loose” and get the wrong impression.

“I will always do everything in my power to protect you, but in order to do so, we need to set some ground rules. No hitchhiking. No more midnight brainstorming sessions, even though you do your best thinking when I am sleeping. No more plots to run away. I am not trying to restrict your ample growth, but simply want to be sure you are in a nurturing and protective environment so you can thrive. You might think that you are worldly breasts, and that’s partially my fault. But I guarantee you, there is a whole world out there that you know nothing about and it can be dangerous for two breasts alone.

“I want you to be safe because I love you both, and also because I would miss both of you if you weren’t here. I need you, Flopsy and Mopsy. It would break my heart to see you two on the back of a milk carton.”

I don’t know if it will work or not. They are pretty headstrong about certain things. Maybe I can bribe them with the offer of surf lessons to prepare for their next trip to California.

(*) (*)

Like this post? Spread the word by buzzing me up!

I flew to my parents house for Thanksgiving. I traveled with my brother and his wife, who also live here in Portland. They are such a sweet couple! I am so happy for my brother. He truly waited for the absolute right match for him.

My brother booked the flights, on the command of my mother. For some reason he felt that a 6:50 am flight was a good choice. For me, this is practically the middle of the night. I also could not entice any of my friends to drop me off for the flight. Who wants to get up at 4:00 am on a holiday day off?

My brother dropped off his wife and I, then went to long term parking. This is my brother who is most supportive of my being gay. I could not believe my ears when he was lamenting that McCain lost, and what an asset Palin would be… Where did this man come from and what did he do with my brother? But, I love him anyway, just as he loves me anyway.

J (his wife) and I went through the security check point where she had jam intended for my parents confiscated. The jam my brother was carrying also was confiscated. You know, I have heard of incidents of death by Huckleberry jam. It’s tragic.

We met my brother (T) at the other side of the security check point in Starbucks, where we waited in a hellishly long line. It’s amazing how determined people get when it comes to their caffeine. I decided I needed to put something in my stomach so I got myself an oatmeal. By the time my order was up, T and J had found a table and were almost finished with their breakfast. I open my oatmeal, add my nuts, stir, take a bite. It was just hot enough.

My brother finishes and stands to check the gate number. Our flight was not scheduled to leave until 6:50 and it was only 6:10. I see a blur heading towards us in a panic. My brother is raving, “The flight says DEPARTED…”

In mid bite, we now have to pack up our gear (and my breakfast) and high tail it to the gate. Despite my reassuring him that certainly it is a mistake since boarding doesn’t even start until 20 minutes before flight departure. There J and T are, traveling at high speeds through the terminal towards our boarding gate. There I am trailing behind, limping like a lamed horse, taking my two bags, oatmeal and chai latte, moving like a granny with my air cast on my bum ankle…

Needless to say, we got there on time. I was even able to sit and eat my now cold oatmeal. It was actually very sweet even though my oatmeal was by this time cold and clumpy. My brother was so excited to get to see the parents and the rest of my family that the thought of missing the flight sent him into a panic.

For me the flight consisted of sleeping the whole way. Even the free drink and pretzels passed me by, and that usually wakes me up. A few seats behind us, a rather loud and obnoxious man tooted his own horn so loudly it kept my brother from sleeping. I told my brother that he should have woken me up. I would have said to the man, “You have such a wonderful, rich warm voice, but really, could you keep it down a bit?” He talked incessantly to the point where the two men who flanked him could hardly get a word in edgewise.

Eventually I looked behind me, and what do I see? The man in question was one of the orthopedists from the same practice of the first ankle specialist I went to.

Not only is it a small world. Apparently it is also one really small plane…

I caught a bad cold or flu a few days ago. I think I caught it after I went into the office to pick up a few things. As many of you know, since coming down with pneumonia earlier this year, I have had a battle with cough and being susceptible to everything and anything going around. I am trying to kick it before my scheduled ankle surgery on the 15th, but only time will tell. For now, I feel pretty miserable.

Absolutely miserable. L, in her generous, loving way, hooked me up with a New Seasons gift certificate and suggested I shop online and have everything delivered. She is 1,000 miles away and still trying to take care of me when I am not feeling well. Is it any wonder why I love her so much?

New Seasons is a local organic and natural foods market here in Portland, and also the place I usually purchase my cough goo. I love my local store. Their selection is great and their philosophy and business model with focus on local vendors, farmers and growers is something that I like to support. Someone once told me the best place to pick up a lesbian is at New Seasons. I know several people who work there and across the board it is a good place to work. You feel this in the atmosphere of the store, where employees focus on helping you and seem happy in their jobs. This is a stark contrast to my local Safeway where most of the employees seem somewhat miserable.

With L on the phone to be my “brain”, reminding me of the things I would have forgotten, I placed my online order. It was a little quirky so I had to call as well. I talked to them several times. To add items not online, but in-store and to see if I could still make the cut-off for delivery tonight despite the fact that I left it for last minute and it should have been delivered after 3:00 pm tomorrow. They not only agreed to push my order through for delivery tonight, but as they were pulling my order, they called me to confirm the additions and stayed on the phone with me as they were pulling it to be sure it was right. Now that is customer service.

As I was finishing up this post, my delivery arrived. It was fabulous. The fruit and vegetables were expertly picked. I was worried about that because even when I pick my own sometimes things aren’t as stellar as they could be. These were primo. Ripened just so. No bum piece in the bunch. They even added a few “feel good” samples like vitamins, lotion and facial cream. Since it was my first order, they also threw in a gallon of organic strawberry ice cream from Eugene, Oregon. It’s the little things that make the world go round… And did I mention I didn’t need to dig through my change box because they happily do not accept tips.

I am on Twitter (follow me on Twitter here). I have my Tweets set up so that a small number of those I follow come through as a text message to my phone. One of those Tweeters is New Seasons. Through a Tweet, today I discovered that Whole Foods, where I also shop from time to time, is a big old bully. From now on, I will not step foot in another Whole Foods until their behavior changes.

As you know, Whole Foods took over Wild Oats Markets. This all took place years ago, but changing the name to Whole Foods took some time. Apparently the FTC (Federal Trade Commission) has filed a suit against Whole Foods regarding the merger stating that it gives Whole Foods an unfair advantage on par with a monopoly. Whole Foods is using this to subpoena records from New Seasons who owns and operates a handful of local stores, and other local competitors in various markets. Interestingly enough, Whole Foods did not request information from another local competitor, Zupans Market, which has 5 stores in the Portland area.

Some of the things Whole Foods is requesting smacks of trying to use their lawsuit with the FTC to gain unfair proprietary business intelligence. The request includes information on market analysis, week-by-week-by-store-by-region income and profit reports, any store renovations, marketing plans, future growth and expansion plans and a list of vendors and pricing structure. The simple breadth of the request, from a company who has nothing to say about Whole Foods or their merger with Wild Oats, seems excessive. Remember, New Seasons has nothing to do with the FTC lawsuit in the first place.

Not only does Whole Foods expect New Seasons to comply at their own expense, which is estimated at $250,000 to $500,000, but they are requesting confidential information that once shared would give Whole Foods an unfair advantage as to vendors, markets and strategy. New Seasons is trying to fight the request, but there is a chance they may lose and be required to provide it. In an email regarding the Wild Oats merger, executives at Whole Foods stated they wanted to “crush” the competition and become the “Microsoft” of natural and organic grocers.

Around the time of the merger between Whole Foods and Wild Oats, I had both as customers. When I asked about the merger, it was clearly stated that Wild Oats wouldn’t really add substantial revenue, but it would add business information, specifically on vendors and local suppliers. That information would help Whole Foods gain an edge. What is the greatest business commodity? Information. You have the knowledge, you rule the market.

Surely there is enough market research from outside companies to show that the Whole Foods and Wild Oats merger did not make the organic and natural food market collapse, but that it is by all rights expanding and thriving. Surely they do not need to get so deep into proprietary information to prove a point. These market research reports are widely available and well known. Also, why target New Seasons and not Zupans as well?

Read More:

New Seasons Blog: We’re Just Trying to Mind Our Own (Local) Business and Update to that post

Portland Food & Drink: Whole Foods Gall Reaches New Levels

Blogging Stocks: Whole Foods Playing Dirty Pool Against Local Competitor

Truncated Thoughts: Marketing Research: Whole Foods gets very nosy