Grocery Shopping (or, how long ago 21 was)

Last night S and I shopped for Thanksgiving Dinner. We have 12 mouths to feed, and several dietary restrictions to work around, so our menu is diverse and encompassing. I'm not a glutton (for punishment, anyway) so I compiled recipes that were delicious, but fell under the EASY to MODERATE catagory. 80% can be prepped early and slid into the oven as guests arrive.

I had compiled a list of the needed ingredients into catagories of when to buy: a week ahead, 3 days ahead, 1 day ahead. I have a gant chart identifying when each item must be prepped, compiled, and when it goes into the oven. I've verified that all the racks and casserole dishes and baking sheets will fit in S's extra-wide convection. I've noted which serving dishes are for what, so when the potatoes are ready to be split between bowls, we don't find them filled with crackers or ice.

S laughs at my micro-management, but that's because this is his first time hosting a large group for a formal dinner. I know better. I've done this before, and learned a heap of lessons.

Back when I was 21, newly engaged, and eager to prove myself as Happy Homemaker despite also being Full-Time Student/Architectural Intern/Waitress, I agreed to host my future husband's family for a holiday dinner. And my fiance and I nearly didn't make it past the grocery shopping.

Our schedules had left us shopping the day before Thanksgiving, which in itself was pure chaos. I'd made a grocery list, and we lassoed a big cart for the task and headed down the aisles. At each item, we'd pull up to the rack, and eye the options. I'd grab one, while he grabbed a similiar, yet generically branded version. And we'd face our dilemma. I wanted the brand, which to me represented quality, while he wanted the generic, which responded to the reality of our household economy. At each item, we'd pause, then cringe. At each item, we were in conflict.

This was completely foreign to me, as I'd never faced the dilemma of disagreeing over something as mundane as cream of mushroom soup. In terms of a relationship, I was prepared to debate religion and politics, but was inept at negotiating concensus over toilet paper. I didn't know how to vocalize my emotional need for my soon-to-be-inlaws to approve of my cooking - and thereby approve of me. I didn't know how to negotiate to reach a compromise - my choice for certain items, his choice for the others. It wasn't even a fight, because in all honesty, we didn't know how to. I didn't know how to do anything more than to stand in the aisle, clutching my perferred item, and be frustrated. And he didn't know how to do anything more, either.

Our conclusion on that shopping fiasco, so many years ago? We split up. Split the list and split into two shopping carts, that is, and each shopped our own way, to meet later at the checkout line and secretly grudge against the other about not getting what we wanted. In retrospect, that 'splitting and grudging' approach didn't mature much over our 8 years together, and ultimately, we reached the ultimate split.

That tell-tale episode of grocery shopping was when I was 21. Now, so many years later and hopefully so many ways wiser, S and I got one cart, one list, and defined some parameters, before even starting down the overlit aisles. Organic where it really mattered (meat, veggies). For everything else, basic was better. We turned it into a scavenger hunt, text messaged our next quest, and laughed.

Nearly $400 later (that's why they call it WholePaycheck!) we wearily carted the bounty back to his house, sorted it out, and stared at each other in a daze. And then he said some of the sweetest words I've ever heard:

Don't tell anyone, but I had fun shopping with you.


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