shopping for food

I ran into my friend Carl quite unexpectedly when we were both doing our food-shopping earlier this evening. Carl is a philosopher, author of several books on the interplay of Eastern and Western spirituality. We met some eight years ago and are part of a monthly discussion group where we set each other and the world straight on matters political, social and religious. He also, through his fifteen-year marriage to Toni, has become an adept shopper for food. I, on the other hand, look at that task as one of the more unattractive duties of my week.

Getting Started

True to his organized and critical mind, Carl immediately tried to straighten me out on how to shop. He decried the fact that I lugged around one of those shopping baskets on my arm and urged me to avoid future arthritis by pushing one of the store-provided carts. But, even there, he had rule 1b, so to speak. You leave the shopping cart at the foot of each aisle as you shop so that you can nimbly dart down the aisle, select what you want and then take it back to the cart. When I asked what he did when his cart tended to get in people's way, which it invariably did, he said that he would return towards his cart and if someone was complaining, he too would join in the chorus regarding how inconsiderate the person who left the cart was and then, when the first complainer had departed, would swiftly move his cart to the next aisle.

Lists

Then he decided to look disapprovingly in my basket and said, "Typical bachelor fare." And, I have to admit, in this particular time that Carl caught me, I had cookes and peanut butter, along with bread, which made it look like I eat nothing more than peanut butter sandwiches and nibble on Mother's cookies. He then showed me his list, which would have made any systematic theologian proud. The items on the list were divided into two large categories: one which they purchased at the local health food store and the other, consisting mostly of paper goods and cleaning products, which they purchased at the store where I was buying all my food. Occasionally they would buy mustard or other condiments at my food store if there was a special or a brand that Toni particularly liked.

But then I looked more closely at his list and saw that some of the items were in bold print, some in italic and many in CAPITAL LETTERS. There seemed to be no rhyme nor reason as to why the items were listed in the order they were until Carl told me they were listed according to the shelf order of the various aisles. When I cleverly tried to point out that there was no "Aisle 1, Aisle 2, etc." written on his sheet, he admitted that that was a failing, but would soon be rectified. My food store had undergone a massive renovation in the past year, and moved the items around, thus causing havoc with Carl's system, and they hadn't fully gotten the new one into working order. He patiently explained to me that the different fonts and boldness of the items related to the day of the week he was supposed to buy those items. Today, I suppose, was a bold day, and Carl was only getting those items.

I took some devilish delight, of course, in the fact that life doesn't work out even for those who have it all together. Carl does the shopping, but Toni calls the shots. And, sometimes Toni calls the shots in such a precise manner that Carl feels, on the one hand, like an automaton and, on the other hand, like a jerk if he cannot find the item. So it was tonight. Carl was just about to go get the specialized mustard (which Toni had indicated, in pencil, MUST be "Annie's" and must be the "7 oz" size with the "blue ribbon" on it) when he happened to stop by my aisle, where we met, because he was looking for some kind of furniture polish. He was, uncharacteristically, nonplussed. He told me that Toni had gone over with him several times that it had to be "Howard's brand," that it was clear, that the shape of the bottle was "so" (as he demonstrated it to me) and that he would find it in this aisle. I helpfully tried to point him to a clear solution nearby, but he deftly observed that I was trying to direct him to floor wax and not furniture polish. He couldn't find it, and so we walked down the aisle together to where I dropped him off at his cart.

Conclusion

I truly admire Carl and Toni, and I firmly believe that their conscientiousness and care with respect to food will contribute to their living to age 200. And, even though Carl probably has food to eat of which I do not know, to quote Jesus, he still ends up eating a good deal of things that I eat, too. But I did silently resolve, thanks to them, that when my son goes off to college in a few weeks, I will re-organize my food-shopping life. I don't think, however, I will be asking Carl and Toni for help.

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