'Tis the season, so naturally it poured down with freezing cold rain yesterday. I've found work is already getting calmer and quieter as everyone has visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads and are preparing their lists to Santa. I took the opportunity to go to Sainsbury's yesterday afternoon, as Angus' daughter Melissa was coming in on a late flight for a long weekend visit.

I am one of those strange creatures that, if I am provided with a no-rush situation, loves grocery shopping. I love it. I have no problem going to the grocery store and planning out meals for the next four days. Said menu will invariably get fucked up by Day Two as it's revealed that we already used the red onions in the goats' cheese tart and so have to make some kind of weird dough-oriented meal unless we scrap the whole plan and cook up a curry. The grocery store, to me, whispers a world of opportunity, bags of things from the shelves are whispering of things that I can make with them, to help them fulfill their culinary destiny.

Because I am one of those people, too. Just like Phoebe with all the dead Christmas trees on Friends, I too believe it's up to all of us to help these inanimate objects that surround us to complete their destiny. If there is one bottle of a certain type of wine left on the shelf, I will always buy it, even if it looks like it's not going to be very good, as I have to help it fulfill its wine destiny. A drooping orchid will come home with me, as just because it's going through a down cycle doesn't mean it can't fulfill its floral destiny. And our toilet paper backup contingency shelf in the bathroom upstairs accommodates four spare rolls of toilet paper. If there is one roll left and I need to refill the shelf with three other rolls, then I must be fair and push the one lone roll to the front of the shelf so that it will get used first as, according to my theory, the toilet paper can't wait to meet the business end of my beaver as a way of settling in with fate.

Yes, I am that screwed up.

So grocery stores, to me, are great fun. I have found that as I get older, I get less focussed about the food. I always have a list bu that doesn't stop me from thinking that Yes, we could use another bottle of maple syrup!, when I conveniently forget that we already have two bottles of the stuff sitting unopened on a kitchen shelf (not fulfilling their Canadian destiny, obviously). The list must be followed, and I am one of those people who crosses things out on the list once it has been retrieved.

I am also a grocery list stalker, in that if there are a choice of grocery store carts to pick up, I will always choose the one that has an abandoned grocery store listed in it. Often hastily written on the back of an envelope or piece of junk mail, these crumpled items are like archaelogical finds for me.

Camera zooms in and focusses on Helen's uneblievably wrinkled face.

Helen: After leaving Dream Job and becoming a professional achaeologist, naturally I never imagined of a world where the Prime Minister of New Zealand would accidentally lean on the flex capacitor in the nuclear plant, thereby wiping most of the modern world out, not unlike Dark Angel, but with better acting. Since becoming a professional in a career that would have had most people wondering when I'd be getting a real job, I have been studying the not too distant past. One of the great losses to modern civilization was of the common grocery store, and here's a magnificent find from a local site.

Snaps on rubber gloves and holds up tattered piece of paper.

Helen: It's a grocery list! We used to write down the things we wanted to buy, as some people are forgetful, or too organized, or menstruating and unable to think past the Midol. Isn't this amazing! This person wanted to buy beer, flowers, and rump roast. Obviously a romantic dinner in that house, as the next item is "condoms"! Someone must have gotten lucky that night, before the nuclear meltdown sealed their orifices shut!

Why yes. Sometimes I do live inside my own Mitty World, thank you very much. You should see the scene where I rescue my colleagues from Argentinian bad guys. That's a good one.

I walked around the shop picking up small Christmas gifts. I bought a nightgown for Melissa (Sainsbury's, believe it or not, has a great clothing range called Tu. I love it. It is comfortable, cute, and decent prices). I buy levitating pens for Melissa and Angus' Jeff (work Jeff nearly got a Weight Watchers calendar for Christmas, but I have decided I don't want to play his game. I'm going to be nice if it kills me, which-with his behavior-it will.) The levitating pens are so cool I resolve to go back within the next few days and see if they have more, as it'll make a good gift for my project manager. Well...ahem...for my project manager and for myself. I think I need to quality test them. You know. OSHA and all that.

On my list are folic acid and pregnancy vitamins, as well as Omega-3 of the flaxseed variety. Since the IVF clinic wants me on folic acid and prenatal vitamins now, to try to get my body ready for the Spring, I find this a dreary chore-is it all for nothing? Will it help? MUST these companies all have really pregnant women looking they've smoked too much of something and are in a blissful coma on the front of the package?

I head to that section and am naturally overwhelmed by the sheer volume of vitamins. It turns out ClearBlue Easy makes prenatal vitamins now. Isn't that a weird thing? Prenatal vitamins. So, they make the preganancy tests, the vitamins, what's next? Diapers? A ClearBlue color chart (Is it a pink line or a blue x? Hmm, little Harvey? It's what? Oh my God, give me that. Fuck. I knew I shouldn't have had all that chardonnay and let Daddy mount up that night. Screw him and his "It's ok, I'll pull out darling!") for the burgeoning toddler? A Hooked-on-Phonics ClearBlue for the growing child? ClearBlue college for those dreaming of a career in Planned Parenthood?

Strange. I steered clear of the ClearBlue vitamins. A little too creepy for me. I was reading the back of the prenatal vitamin options-iron supplements make me wildly ill, so I have to avoid them like the plague.

An old woman comes up next to me, looking at the Omega 3 vitamins. She smiles kindly, and smells like apricot jam. She holds a bottle in her hand.

"My GP recommended these, he tells me that they are good for the joints."

"Indeed," I say, smiling back. "I saw that on TV as well."

"It's perhaps a bit too late to try something like that, but I'll do anything if it helps the arthritis!" she says happily, with anefficacious giggle. She sees me holding a bottle of prenatal vitamins and indicates them with her head. "Good luck, my dear. I'm only getting my Omega 3, I'm not pregnant of anything!"

I watch her walk away and think: Neither am I.

-H.

PS-Many thanks to Polichick, who was my 11,000th comment yesterday.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 08:05 AM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
Post contains 1284 words, total size 7 kb.

1 Yeah, don't get Jeff a Weight Watchers calendar. It's way too obvious. Get him something irresistably tasty that is loaded with sodium, fat, and sugar. Even better is if it's something that's normally eaten by one person so he'll know he's supposed to eat the whole thing. And you can put that on my karma account - I've got a good bit saved up. For the iron - Lovely Wife has similar problems tolerating it. Turns out there is a monstrous huge difference between "iron" and "iron". Look into FeoGen - it's made an incredible difference for her since she can actually take it.

Posted by: Jim at December 02, 2005 10:46 AM (oqu5j)

2 The shopping list and nuclear disasters combune with archaelogical findings of a shpping list in a great book: "A Canticle for Liebowitz". Cngrats on you promotion, even more on yout fellowship.

Posted by: FOGGY at December 02, 2005 01:54 PM (Ah2V/)

3 I never take a list when I grocery shop, unless there's something very specific that I have to return with. While this has led to some interesting impulse buys, I generally keep my kitchen filled with some basic staples that I can whip up many different recipes from.

Posted by: ~Easy at December 02, 2005 02:23 PM (LN5gS)

4 I am like you. A compulsive lister who likes to deviate. Mostly as I never remember to put everything on the original list

Posted by: caltechgirl at December 02, 2005 05:32 PM (/vgMZ)

5 You forgot the word "Yet," darling. As for me? I can carefully make a list, color-coded and arranged by department -- and I LEAVE THE SUMBITCH on the kitchen table!! Arrrgh.

Posted by: Margi at December 02, 2005 05:44 PM (nwEQH)

6 I think I saw a program once where they were trying to analyze people's grocery lists - even in the order they would write things down or organize them! Pretty funny.. I, too, agree that you forgot the word "YET"... you have to get that mindset going, too, H... I love grocery shopping. Just hate carrying it all in the house and having to put it all away...

Posted by: sue at December 02, 2005 11:46 PM (U5g5D)

7 We were separated at birth. I, too, give inanimate objects emotions and sympathize with the last, forlorn anything on the shelf! When I stock up on goods, I move the last roll up, the last towel, the last box of dryer sheets so it gets its turn before the new stuff. I thought I was the only one... But I don't like to think of it as "that screwed up." I like to think of it as...a heightened sense of empathy. Yeah, thats it...

Posted by: Serena at December 03, 2005 01:37 PM (jU/ey)

8 Hi, Helen. I just got here via "Aussie Wife". Read some of your archives and recent posts. you are quite entertaining. I'll definitely be back. =)

Posted by: Amanda at December 03, 2005 03:01 PM (wWL8L)

9 I thought I was the only freak who did stuff like this. We should start a support group. LOL

Posted by: Chelsea's mama at December 04, 2005 06:25 AM (xvK0/)

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