I don’t like grocery shopping any more.
I used to.
I used to love looking at ALL the choices. So many.
So much colorful produce.
So many cuts of meat.
So much seafood.
So many different kinds of…everything.
But now I eye this all with suspicion.
I have become distrustful of this jar, that package.
That’s the problem when the penny suddenly drops and you realize that so much of what’s out there is, despite the good-for-you promises on the label, poison.
I almost reneged on the word “poison,” but no, I’ll leave it.
It’s all just hitting me hard now. All the fake food. All the cruelty of feed lots. All the genetically modified crops. All the insanity.
As usual, I’m a bit late to the party. (Actually, no, I’m usually EARLY to parties and things…just slow on the uptake.)
Or maybe I just didn’t want to face it all.
It’s so overwhelming, isn’t it?
There was a commercial maybe a year ago, sponsored by whoever sponsors high fructose corn syrup. A guy and his wife or girlfriend were having a picnic, and she brought out a popsicle or something like that, and the guy said “wait, don’t you know that’s made with high fructose corn syrup?” and she wrinkles her nose at him and says “so?” and he says “well, you know what they say about that” and she says “what? that it’s fine in moderation? that it’s the same as sugar” or something along those lines, and the caring guy is reduced to looking like a gasping fish.
Well you know what, wrinkled nose girl?
You know what gasping fish guy should have said?
That HFCS is fake.
It’s a fake thing.
It’s not a food, it’s an ingredient, and it was made in a lab, not in a field.
And, frankly, I’m so tired of it.
So, I’m quitting.
Slowly, but surely, I’m quitting.
And I’m bringing my family with me.
One step at a time.
Of course, being me, I don’t want to do it in steps.
I want to go through the house and throw out all the bad, evil, wrinkled-nose-girl approved foods. I want to throw away anything made of plastic.
I want to wave my arms and re-make our whole way of life.
But that’s not going to work.
So…I’m reading labels more than I ever used to.
Shopping consciously and with conscience. (I’ve been repeating that phrase to myself a lot lately. It’s become my new mantra. So much better than “Pick up your socks!” – which isn’t so much a mantra as it is a waste of words because apparently no one but me ever hears it.)
But I digress.
I’m SO looking forward to when “my” farmers market reopens for the season next week.
I’m SO in love with our gardens.
I’m SO glad I have both a sister and a friend who have chickens, and that they kindly give eggs to me. Wish I could have my OWN chickens, but that’s not happening right now.
I also wish I could just pull up stakes here and have a farm. Justlikethat. I know, it doesn’t work that way. “Have a farm.” There’s so much more to it than that, of course. I know that. I still can wish, though.
I am reading. More on that in another post.
I’m making a list. A list of producers of foods that I can and will buy from.
It’s hard not to feel overwhelmed.
In fact, I spend a good chunk of time feeling that way.
And then the pendulum swings the other way and I feel…like I’m on a crusade.
I even found myself discussing this stuff with Alex this morning.
Bill and I were talking about the estimated value of the asparagus we picked yesterday (chopped it up and put it in a salad, raw. So good.) See, we’re keeping a sort of balance sheet with garden-related expenses and estimated value of the foods we consume. We’re using estimated farmers market prices for the food, which is the most realistic.
Anyway, Alex asked why we were always talking about how much money a vegetable was worth. (Disclaimer: we don’t ALWAYS talk about it. Just sometimes.) And I started explaining the why…and that moved into a discussion (okay, a monologue) of how the stuff we grow, or buy at the farmers market, is SO much better – and better for you – than stuff that’s grown, say, in California or Chile or wherever, and has to travel thousands of miles just to get here. And then THAT morphed into the beginning of a talk about how SOME companies put bad stuff in foods…like injecting chemicals into cows so they make more milk…only the stuff that ends up in the milk isn’t good for us…so WE buy milk that comes from cows that DOESN’T have that stuff in it.
The conversation sort of fizzled out, though, when I felt big long words creeping in, and knew I’d have to spend a lot of time figuring out age-appropriate definitions so he’d understand.
So I told them it was time for breakfast, poured them bowls of organic cereal with some rBGH-free milk on them.
Baby steps, right?
Hard, though, when I just want to leap.
Anyway, that’s my rant for the morning.
I feel so much better.
Well, sort of.