Grocery Lists

This Boy:


Is the love of my life.


This Boy: 


is amazingly talented, incredibly wise.  He is trustworthy and dependable in many ways…


But one.


This boy cannot grocery shop.  

I actually LOVE to go grocery shopping.  When my boys were little, it was an exciting outing.  On the rare chance that I get to go by myself, it is a small respite from the hectic day’s work.  On the few occasions that my day has been too crazy to get out, and Randall has very lovingly offered to stop by the store for a few items, it has been less than helpful.


Like the time we sent him to the store with a quick list of dinner items needed at the Lake.  I wrote down “1lb ground beef” to make spaghetti.  Misreading my request, he came home with 11 pounds of hamburger meat.


So I learned to write clearly and be specific.  One of my notes asked for (in actual quotations) “Pace Mild Chunky Garden Salsa.”  Randall came home with “Tostitos Hot Picante Sauce.”

He saw the quotation marks and thought I meant something along the lines of “Pace Mild Chunky Garden Salsa.”  You know, as if I had rolled my eyes and said to him with air quotes in my low, ironic voice, “Pace Mild Chunky Garden Salsa.”

Because that’s exactly how I talk about my groceries.

Even when he infuriates me, he makes me laugh.  

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