As y’all know I have repeatedly lauded the awesomeosity* of my Pike Place marketboys. As of last night and this morning, though, they have gone above and beyond the call of all awesomeness.
On my way home last night I sorta kinda wigged at one of ’em about my cousin Phillip and what’s going on with him. He made very sympathetic noises at me, especially when I got to the part about “and I’m kinda wigging about this because I’ve gone a couple rounds with cancer myself and why yes this is actually why I buy so much fruit from you guys: adjusting my diet to Cope”. Two of the other boys overheard me though on the tail end of that wigging.
And when I showed up this morning, I was greeted with a surprise hug, a surprise extra pear, sympathetic conversation from no fewer than four of ’em, and assurance that I’m not just a girl they sell fruit to, I’m a friend.
These are my marketboys, and I don’t think I’ll buy blackberries from anybody else in Seattle ever again. And I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again with extra emphasis today: if you’re local to Seattle, look for them. The Frank’s boys at Pike Place Market. Buy tasty things from them and tell them Angela sent you, because she says they’re awesome.
* This is totally a word. That, in my capacity as a professional writer, I just made up. Do not try this at home!