Today we went into town to do some laundry. We meant to go into Woodstock, and were very excited to be going into the town that hosted the free love of the sixties. Unfortunately we ended up in a city and it turns out that Woodstock didn’t even happen in Woodstock.
We went to The Big Bubble to wash clothes. In order to use their facility we needed to sign up to buy a card to put money onto in order to put the card into the machines to turn them on. The card would have cost us $2 so the manager loaned us her card and we ended up over charging it and leaving money on it. The people there were far worse with their children than any Walmart mothers I have had the displeasure of shopping near. One woman at The Big Bubble stood chatting with her friend the entire time we were there, about an hour, while her 8-10 year old pushed her 1 year old around the place in one of those raised carts meant for transporting a load of laundry from the washer to the dryer spilling juice EVERYWHERE. After I slipped in the juice I told the attendant, who told the mother, whose response was, “Why don’t you tell them to sit down!” So the attendant chased down the kids and told them to go sit down. Then another yelled at her kids repeatedly to “sit your A$$ the F&*K down.” I had Gary wait in the car with the kids…we are just not city folk!
On the way back into the mountains we stopped for ice cream at a homemade ice cream parlor. Gary had to ask some other customers to step outside because they were so happy to see each other that they couldn’t contain their “how the F&*K are you!” and “It’s so F&*KING great to see you!” The ice cream was out of this world. The best ice cream that we have ever had. I know that I have said that same thing recently, but I take it back. This place had the richest ice cream, so rich in fact that Noah couldn’t finish it and dubbed it “just TOO chocolaty. Certainly not a bad thing in my book!