I’ve always thought, in a very narcissistic way, that I’m a fascinating person who should have her own reality TV show, wherein I become a millionaire and become even more interesting. Because it is a fact that your level of intrigue is proportionate to your bank accounts. However, most weeks, I am left scratching my head for new blogging ideas. This post is dedicated to requesting my readers to leave a comment with a suggestion. What would you like me to blog about? I can write/photograph on any subject you choose.
On a different note, I finally scurried my butt to the grocery store after a three weeks of procrastination. I despise grocery shopping by myself. If I could afford it, I would have my groceries delivered to me. I used to not always feel this way. Growing up, I always went to the grocery store with my mom. I went thinking I could finally convince her to buy me pop tarts, and she always let me come along because that meant she didn’t have to tip the baggers for bagging her groceries or carrying them out. Having children, in many ways, is like having free labor source. After all, this was the reasoning behind large families during the agriculture boom.
phentermine manufacturers lucky if I remember to scratch down the essentials on a sticky note to help focus my field forays in the many aisles of Wal-Mart. Free samples in the bakery section or the abundance of prepackaged foods that I don’t buy often sidetrack me.
The problem with knowing how to cook, is that it doesn’t make sense not to. You save money (although not time), and you eat healthier (but who doesn’t want the fatty stuff more?). I enjoy cooking. I like the aromas of caramelized onions in a simmering wine sauce. I like the creativity cooking requires. I like tasting the fruits of my labor. I love food. I love cooking. I hate grocery shopping. The only redeeming quality of grocery shopping is the end result of my dinner, which is the entire point. Yet, I can’t seem to explain this to my mind. Therefore, my mind cannot explain this to my limbs, and weeks always elapse until I’ve pantry shelves bare and are forced to concede its necessity.
I wonder if my feelings about grocery shopping would be different if I cooked for someone else, or if I lived in a foreign country where the markets are fresh and you buy only for the day?
P.S. Readers, don’t forget to leave a suggestion for future posts! You could see your post as soon as tomorrow if you comment quickly!