Which Bacon, Dear?

(Ok, my friends I realize this blog is becoming a sob fest and is, frankly, beginning to worry people. :) Lest you think I have lost of of my pluck....here is an entry inspired by Sunday's grocery trip.)

Grocery shopping for me has long been the bane of my existence. I would enjoy it if it didn't take so many blasted steps. Pick out the food, put in cart, unload cart, bag food, carry to car, carry to house, unload...you know. I enjoy cooking and it is fun to pick out ingredients and wander (given the right store---another entry entirely.) I get how it could be wildly fun to wander about aimlessly looking for the freshest ingredients for an upcoming party or get together. I get it. I'm just SO not there right now.

Right about the time I began to enjoy cooking, I also had kids and food gathering became a necessity rather than an activity to savor.

I had a bit of a generational clash on Sunday at the grocery store. As it is with grocery shopping, the people you walk in the doors with is usually the gang you are going to shop with from produce to check out. Sure I may skip some of the aisles they hit and vice versa but some how we'll end up offering a passing smile to each other and saying, "Oh, excuse me..." a good five to ten times before bagging it all up and calling it a day.

I knew I was in trouble shortly after I grabbed a cart. I don't mind the elderly, or the young aimless twenty somethings and I empathize with those shopping with their kids...it is the dreaded empty nester's or 50 to 60 year olds that drive me crazy. Usually they show up together--husband and wife--after probably a good twenty years of one of them doing this task on their own. They are just beginning to figure out the rules of this new stage of life and decide to involve all of us in the process.

I bet these things are true:
Whoever use to do the shopping knows exactly what brands he or she likes to buy.
Whoever use to do the shopping had a set pattern for how he or she moved through the store.
Whoever use to do the shopping is a mite tired of it.

Now in this new territory, the one who use to be in charge of shopping makes concessions to the other or frankly no longer cares. There may even be a shift of job assignments, with a new kid trying to find ownership over this task and the other one trying to bite his or her lip as they watch the "new" way emerge. Or the one who hasn't done the shopping finds these aisle full of choices novel and exciting...their joy and glee may be endearing to the one who loves them but I find it just plain exhausting to work around.

The other option for their meandering is that they are looking for ways to spend time together now that they aren't running off in 20 directions. Sunday morning ambling over coffee and...broccoli. ??? Seriously folks, I can think of 100 other ways to be together.

Food is a basic need, and some of us need to get a move on.

On the day in mind, I followed a lovely couple. They paused to reflect on berries, on the lettuce, on the bananas. "How's this one?" "What do you think of these?" "Is this enough?" The biggest problem was they liked to stand apart from one another...she'd push on ahead with the cart and he'd be behind running back and forth to show her the goods. Or they'd stand on either side of the aisle and chat.

I thought I lost them around the deli cheeses, only for them to take a shortcut to catch me by the bacon and deli meats. He had moved on up the meat aisle and she was back selecting bacon. "Maybe we should try this bacon?" "Well, Hon, we've never had that one?" Her passion for the pig drew him in...leaving his cart mid-aisle he took off back to be with her. "Or look over there, another brand--do you think we'd like this one?" "How many do we need again, dear?"

Oh, for the LOVE of nitrates...pick one.

It was when she deferred to his opinion on which MILK to buy that I had to find away to leave them behind for good. It is milk people. Yes, there is a WIDE variety these days but I bet you know exactly what kind you drink.

So I hid with the peanuts for awhile (long enough for the guy stocking the shelves to wonder about me...) and then I inched back out to get my oatmeal.


I understand, I really, really do...transition is tough. But take the meandering and 'hem and hawing' and the "getting to know you again" stuff to Barnes and Nobel, (or therapy) some of us are hungry.


(Mom, and all the other wonderful 60 year old who read this...I know..I know. We'll understand someday. Forgive the rant of this mere 30 something.)