Packing up the car for a trip is always my husband’s job. I gather; he packs. I grimace; he grimaces more. With all our loco local grocery shopping, tomorrow may even result in some gnashing of teeth.
We leave with way more than we brought…
There are the 20 pounds of fresh shrimp, last Saturday’s catch from the Gulf; aren’t we lucky the “Shrimp Man’s” call on my friend Wynona’s parents coincided with our visit?
Then there are the 20 pounds of fresh grapefruit from “the valley” that Randall’s grocery store was selling for 20 cents a pound; one of Don’s co-workers just happened to advertise the special at Monday night’s business dinner.
And if our Gulf Coast grocery luck holds, we will also have 20 pounds of freshly made tortillas; our plan is to stop at Central Market tomorrow morning on our way home.
Buying 60 pounds of local groceries to carry with us 500 miles north is probably not in the spirit of buying local. But sometimes it’s so worth stretching the boundaries of trunks and slogans.