it is rare that grocery shopping delivers such gloriousness. really, i would say, it is never. even though i celebrate the tiniest things – like a minimally-loaded cart that doesn’t add up to over $100. rare, like i said.
but on this day – walking out of woodmans market – into the early evening, ten minutes before 5pm on the first day post-time-change – we both stopped in our tracks.
there was another guy standing there as well – frozen – like when you used to play red-light-green-light-one-two-three as kids.
i instantly reached down and pulled the phone out of my purse, my eyes never leaving the stunningly radiant sky. we all oohed and ahhed together, incredulous at the sunset.
the horizon and the sun stared back, wondering at how this sunset was different than any other they performed.
and we…well…we remembered that – in addition to all the relationship woes this time of great division and angst brings – we could still stand with a stranger and acknowledge beauty that eclipses everything.
we stood there – in fresh thyme – tawking, tawking, tawking – for at least 45 minutes. we hugged, we showed photographs, we told stories. we laughed, we got serious, we spoke in earnest, we laughed more. delightful, it was a total social experience. a visit. in the grocery store.
and when we left, waving and still laughing, we promised to continue our catch-up. a bit later. in person. not in an aisle.
the thing is – these bits and snatches of community are important. and i, for one, am grateful to the cart.
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we grocery shop at woodman’s. on purpose. charlie says that – even years ago when he shopped there – he figured out that every third time his shopping was essentially free (as compared to other stores). i would tend to agree. they do have the best prices.
but we don’t buy everything there. we do, however, buy many plant-based and gluten-free foods there and all our non-perishables there and all our paper goods there and all our pet supplies there and all our drinks there and our wine there and and and….
even so, i checked out the other day – with nary a gargantuan list anywhere around – and noted the total: $196. 68. whattheheck??!!! this was not a big shop!!! it wasn’t like we had groceries for now till kingdom-come, as my sweet momma used to say. goodness!
every single thing we purchased had gone up. 20 cents, 50 cents, a dollar, two dollars. every single thing. in each case this was as much as a 20-30% hike in price. it was disturbing. this has happened each time we have shopped. i mean, black beans used to be 99 cents. they are now $1.19. garbanzo beans used to be 99 cents. they are now $1.29. that’s a thirty percent increase! the olive oil increase was off the charts and the gluten free pasta $2.39 from $1.99. in even bigger news, the laundry detergent isn’t even available in the larger – more economical – container.
we have noticed.
and we are worried. if things keep escalating at this rate, we will be out-priced at the grocery store. it is shocking.
we got our gas/electric bill the other day. we used significantly less natural gas and electric, yet our bill went up $45. monthly! that’s not even to mention healthcare, internet and cable, cellphones, insurance, vehicle expenses, real estate taxes…
we are really really good at stretching…meals, leftovers, budgets. we are really good at wearing layers and keeping the thermostat down, way down. but there comes a point when we look at each other and say, “what if?”
ohmygosh, we love to run errands together. we make lists and double-check them, stare into the pantry and the fridge, caverns of emptiness, glance at recipes we’ve pulled out on the table or on our phones, scavenger hunt for ingredients. and then, after several pit stops and a “do-you-have-your-mask?” we leave.
the roads in our town are torn up. it seems that they are making everything bigger…more lanes, different drainage. it takes a while to get out to the grocery store and, in the process, we lose a little impetus. if the sun is shining, the temptation to go hiking somewhere or to simply take a walk is much more luring.
nevertheless, we persist. the mother-hubbard’s-cupboards situation at home means that there is nothing left to wing for dinner.
i’ve never had a gigantic pantry or walk-in kind of storage, and i’ve never had a ton of excess to spend on filling something like that. so most of the time shopping has been tailored to what-we-need for this period of time. though we belong to costco, they sigh upon our entrance, knowing that we will not get the big spender’s trophy. it’s always been with a bit of wonder to gaze upon someone else’s pantry, brimming with supplies: gigundous boxes of kind bars, twelve packs of facial tissues, organic broth for a lifetime of soup, beverages to quench every thirst. freezers and fridges full of ingredients for meals-ready-to-be-prepared. truly wondrous to me.
so when we travel about, checking off the things on our lists one by one, and arrive home with littlebabyscion, laden with bags and boxes and assorted wrappings, it is actually pretty exciting for us. we carry it all in, slowly put it all away, relishing the bounty in our own home and excited to be about cooking together these great meals we have planned.
and then, since everyone gets ravenous when they shop, we look at each other, hunger pangs obvious in our eyes and we realize…
we are way too exhausted to cook anything at all.
and besides, somehow it feels like there’s nothing to eat.
reverse threading 