Sunday, September 12, 2010
Grocery shopping with my husband is an art. It takes a certain strategic intellect combined with a determined poker face (both of which I am still perfecting) to shop with him. If the peace treaties in Paris took place in a grocery store and diplomat’s haggled over produce instead of war crimes, it would look something like a Fontenot shopping trip. One time we were in a grocery story for almost two hours! Recently, we moved from Texas to Illinois. In many ways we are experiencing learning curves, one of which is with grocery shopping. Growing up, I can not recall my father paying attention to the fluctuating price of a tomato. Therefore, I was surprised when I first shopped with Jon. He pays close attention to everything from the unit price to the brand name. His meticulous behavior reminds me of Raymond in Rainman. “Look, the tomatoes are cheaper this week than last week,” he will excitedly report to me. Recently I insisted that we buy a carton of grapes. Before I can place them in the cart, he says to me, “Do you really plan to eat those grapes?” “Of course!” I say in an exasperated tone. As if he had a super discernment power, he was right. While I ate most of the grapes, I found them to have an old taste, many were thrown away behind his back. I wonder, did his comment or the old tasted spoil my enjoyment? Maybe both. I did not bite into the grapes, enjoying their succulent taste, like I normally would have done. I ate them whole with a determination to prove him wrong! A week later we set out for the store. I mention wanting to buy some carrots, to which he reminds me of the grapes. I claim that his judgment was wrong and that I fully intend to finish all the grapes…. Which, a week later, are still in the fridge. I probably will throw them out tomorrow while he is in class.