It was a brisk winter evening in Tempe, Arizona. I had just picked up my husband from work and visions of a super-healthy-ovulation/sperm-boosting-dinner danced in our heads. I used my cellular telephone to ask Google where the nearest organic/healthy/expensive food store was located. Google responded with The Sunflower Market. We made our way to the market, and upon arriving C opened my car door, I threw on a man-size large sweatshirt to add to my appropriate ensemble of basketball shorts, an over-sized t-shirt, no bra, and dressy flats, and we marched into Sunflower like we owned the place. Our student loans had just made their way to our bank account so money was no object. $7 extra virgin olive oil? Yes please. Blueberries and strawberries, that aren't in season and are consequently terribly over priced? You bet. It's all in the name of good health, and babies. Our babies are worth a $4 gallon of whole milk and a dollar's worth of lemons that would actually be free from any of our neighbors' ripe citrus trees. Our babies are worth it. We made our way through the produce with the intent of having the most delicious shish kabobs in the world for dinner. We finally purchased everything we came for, and headed towards the check out counter. But what was that we saw? A row of every bean you can think of, in pretty little dispensers, just waiting for me to pull down on the handle and fill a bag to the brim? How could I not! So I did. Limas, pintos, blacks, navies, chick peas, you name it. A pound of this, a pound and a half of that. Brilliant! We marched up to the back of one check out line and were giddy as school children to unload our fresh food. There wasn't a pre-packaged item in our cart and we were proud! As we moved forward in the line, lots of people lined up behind us. No big deal, we'll be in and out with our baby-making food in no time. Then it happened. We made it to the front of the line! We unloaded the garlic, the bananas, the grapes, the asparagus, the parmesan cheese, and of course the endless amount of beans. I watched carefully, as my vitamin loaded foods made their way up the conveyor belt to the cute little gal with the giant calculator and a scale. Time stood still for just a minute as I relished in the moment. It was the first time I can remember not having a budget, and being able to buy whatever the heck I wanted, and choosing to spend my money on healthy food was the cherry on top. But then, just like when Zack Morris would ruin the moment by saying "time in", I was back into reality. I was indeed still in a grocery store, wearing boy clothes, with the exception of my great shoes, and I still was bra-less. And to add the the reality, the clerk then said
"where are the tags?".
Excuse me? The tags?
"What tags?" I asked.
"The tags with the VIN numbers that tell me how much everything costs".
VIN numbers? Tags?! OH CRAP!
I felt my face turn read and I knew I had 2 choices. Be a jerk, or be honest. I chose the latter.
"I am so sorry! This is our first time at this store and I had no idea I needed to put tags on my food."
"It's okay" she says, "just go grab the VIN numbers real quick."
Real quick? REAL QUICK?! There are at least 5 people behind us in line, and I don't even remember what all I bought. So I did the only thing I could. I left C there, with the cashier, and the 5 angry people behind us, to deal with my mess, and I ran back through the store writing down VIN numbers.
It seemed like an eternity for me, and I can only imagine how long it must have felt for C. But I must say, I was back sooner than I had expected. Whew!!
Then another question from the cute check out lady,
"Do you know which VIN's go with which product?"
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!
I talked myself into staying calm, and I even said a little prayer, and then I started to BS my way through assigning VIN's to products.
Little did I know, as she typed a VIN in, the name of the product showed up on her little computer, and with the exception of 1 VIN, I guessed right. Prayers are answered ladies and gentlemen, prayers are answered.
And I hope and pray that eating healthy will provide us with a child, which also would be an answer to prayer.
Because I assure you, if it weren't for our unborn children, I would never step foot in that store again.
There needs to be an orientation for stores like that.
On our way to the car C said,
"Let's just stick with our greasy, un-healthy food. It's easier."
I wanted to agree, but then a phrase used in my home growing up crept into my brain, and this is what I want to leave you with today...
I never said it would be easy. I only said it would be worth it.
And it was. Every. Last. Bite.
Happy Thursday.
"where are the tags?".
Excuse me? The tags?
"What tags?" I asked.
"The tags with the VIN numbers that tell me how much everything costs".
VIN numbers? Tags?! OH CRAP!
I felt my face turn read and I knew I had 2 choices. Be a jerk, or be honest. I chose the latter.
"I am so sorry! This is our first time at this store and I had no idea I needed to put tags on my food."
"It's okay" she says, "just go grab the VIN numbers real quick."
Real quick? REAL QUICK?! There are at least 5 people behind us in line, and I don't even remember what all I bought. So I did the only thing I could. I left C there, with the cashier, and the 5 angry people behind us, to deal with my mess, and I ran back through the store writing down VIN numbers.
It seemed like an eternity for me, and I can only imagine how long it must have felt for C. But I must say, I was back sooner than I had expected. Whew!!
Then another question from the cute check out lady,
"Do you know which VIN's go with which product?"
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!
I talked myself into staying calm, and I even said a little prayer, and then I started to BS my way through assigning VIN's to products.
Little did I know, as she typed a VIN in, the name of the product showed up on her little computer, and with the exception of 1 VIN, I guessed right. Prayers are answered ladies and gentlemen, prayers are answered.
And I hope and pray that eating healthy will provide us with a child, which also would be an answer to prayer.
Because I assure you, if it weren't for our unborn children, I would never step foot in that store again.
There needs to be an orientation for stores like that.
On our way to the car C said,
"Let's just stick with our greasy, un-healthy food. It's easier."
I wanted to agree, but then a phrase used in my home growing up crept into my brain, and this is what I want to leave you with today...
I never said it would be easy. I only said it would be worth it.
And it was. Every. Last. Bite.
