Wowser. Editing the piece for today, I was surprised to see I started this not five years ago, but back in 2009. Time flies… fun… yeah. My apologies, Aunt Cecilia, but I cannot remove all the potty-mouth words. Guess I’ll not make your holiday fruitcake list again this year. Dang.
This little exercise about the fun and frolic of grocery shopping brought a deathly serious question to my mind. I’d not considered this before, but this is of great concern.
Somebody asked what brand of coffee I preferred. Note, they didn’t ask what coffee I preferred based on what I am willing to pay for coffee. Now, as much as I grouse about the insane cost of a cup of hooty-tooty coffee at the sit at your computer on our WiFi while a barista manufactures your brew, they do make a good cup of open-your-peepers. Rather than pay for that cup, I’ll make another truck payment.
For home brew, there are several good coffees, many bad ones, and more than enough terrible ones. And, but of course, there are a few, a very few, really great coffees. Grab one of the really great ones. Sneak it home. Take your time in prep. While it ain’t gonna give you a cup like Shauna or Ephraim can put together, if you close your eyes and pretend as you fire up your computer, you’re gonna be okay.
Not gonna give you a comprehensive list, but right now, I’m partial to Seattle’s Best.
Here’s my worry.
With all the unrest out on the wrong coast, what if the new Socialist or Governtmentless government in Washington (that’s where Seattle is, right?) suddenly freezes exports? Raises prices to cover the costs of constantly rebuilding buildings unbuilt by brick parties?
Go ahead. You snicker. This is serious.
Now, about the “tease” for the first of three parts of the piece I mentioned yesterday:
Senior Day – Part 1: Getting There
Twice a month here in town, a local store has “Senior Day.”
It should be “Senior Geezer Day.” It affords folks over sixty years old five percent off their total purchase price. (Tobacco and alcohol sales excluded, before local and state taxes). I hate grocery shopping. I certainly do. Especially on Senior Geezer Day. I avoid it whenever I can.
Forced by a complete out-of-stock situation of one or more kitchen essentials, there are times I cannot avoid shopping Senior Geezer Day. For example, panic-mode for an item necessary for the evening meal makes a trip an unavoidable evil. It is my hope, my foolish hope, that any time I’m part of Senior Geezer Day in emergency mode, it will be an exception and I can get in, get my groceries, get checked-out, and make my retreat quickly with minimum fuss.
Certainly, I might hazard a trip to one of the local drugstores selling grocery items. Um. No. First, drugstores (and gasoline, bait, and lottery convenience stores) have a limited number of items, very unlikely they will have Spanish Saffron or Insta-cook Quinoa. Second, their milk in spite of what looks like a safe sell-by date, probably is rotated out for freshness less frequently than the pharmacy’s stock of Pookie Bear slow-release dengue patches. Finally, on a lucky day, say I find Purple Rooster eggs at a buck fifty-nine a dozen at the drugstore, that’s the same week the real grocery is hawking Left-handed Leghorn eggs at seventy-nine cents a dozen. I understand some people will with some justification take me to court on this last one, arguing price-to-convenience ratio. That’s a metric almost impossible to quantify, and there is the matter of economic principle. The iffy metric makes their argument dismissible; principle is undeniable.
Shopping for me is fraught with trials and tribulations. Check-out comes after careful selection of as many items on my list as I can find before my legs give out and I’ve missed two meals. I do come with a list. And a full stomach, knowing that could be a matter of survival, not necessarily to protect against impulse purchases. The “list” has usually been co-authored by my wife. This list of course, comes with explicit instructions for proper selection of some items:
Here’s the link to the full first episode and a reminder it is NSFW for language and social recklessness.
I’m gonna say it again. If you do not believe Americans speak this way when frustrated or in fear of what they assume to be their entitlements being under assault, climb out from under your rock. Incidentally, we had an us an election while you were below-rock, and if you’ve a mind, I can tell you about it. The reality show to end all reality shows.
Ya’ll be good. Aunt Cecelia is surely watching now.