Maybe I’m overstating it. Maybe it simply takes planning. Doesn’t really matter. I find both pretty hard – philosophy and planning.
My grocery method is a non-method…I fall into the category of ‘oh-look-pretty-shiny’. If it’s gorgeous, or on sale, my cart wheels its way over there…then over there, then over there…and then it gets parked, and I find myself just wandering through the produce. Which drains $100 from my pocket pretty quickly. But it’s good exercise.
I don’t know really what I want to buy. I probably need milk, tea, bread, tea, salad greens, tea…that’s what my shopping list looks like, if I get as far as a list.
My brother in law and his wife came across the country for a visit a few weeks back. And I pulled in all kinds of food for the week. It was a joy – from hummus and tabbouleh from my favourite place, to the fish from my favourite fish place, to the meat and eggs from my favourite place…that was a good day.
But it was their grocery shopping that had me mouth breathing
for a while. When we visited them about eight years ago, we went to the market with them one weekend morning. Before we went, there was a conference to determine the menu…for the whole week.
I was in awe.
We went. We shopped. Bing, bang, boom. Done.
As Sam explained, they live a ways from the nearest store so
it’s a pain if you’ve forgotten the quinoa…We live three blocks from a main
street. We can shop every day if we want – and often do. She also said that when she shopped without a
list of menus, she threw a lot of food away…um…guilty gulp. Only yesterday I threw out a box of organic greens that smelled more like organic sewage. And old watermelon chunks. And biggest crime of all - furry Rainier cherries. Guilty, guilty, guilty.
I guess there are personalities for shopping – or philosophies. And they can collide. Right in the aisle.
When Bill and Sam visited us a few years back, we went to a local grocery store to pick up stuff for dinner. I pushed the cart and wandered as I do from aisle to aisle in the produce section.
I saw stuff. I stopped. I’d put stuff in the cart. I’d walk over
to the other
side, around the corner and back…zig, zag…meander…and Sam snapped
a gasket. She looked like a mother goose herding goslings. She got the cart
back, got me/us focused on what we were doing there and off we went – bing,
bang, boom…done.
My eyes were twinkling a bit as they do when I realize I’ve annoyed someone and I find it amusing that we have completely different approaches to something. I laughed…I think she did too…later…
Grocery shopping is something of a pleasure for me – I know
it’s part of drudge work for some people and I get why. Even when I rush in for
a litre of milk (yes, I’m in Canada, so it’s a litre), my feet brake suddenly
as I pass the fruit or vegetables displayed near the door. I pull out my phone
to take pictures of the beautiful eggplants or radishes. And if I'm visiting anywhere, I must, must, must, find my way into a grocery store - foreign food stores are fantastic adventures.
It’s a thing for me. What is it? It’s not a philosophy and it certainly isn’t planning…it’s a visual pleasure – maybe it’s bounty, plenty, health, joy. And it slows me down. That can't be bad. Now all I have to learn is how to honour the best of that food that ends up in my cart before the rot sets in…And that’s veering dangerously near a philosophy… and a plan.
