Don't Let Daddy Go Shopping Alone

Unless it concerns the buying of a new car or a wide-screen TV, most men hate to shop. If I do manage to drag my husband along to the mall, he usually plants himself on the first comfy looking bench we come to, and tells me to look for him there when I am finished with my shopping. By an amazing coincidence, he also just happens to have a mystery novel in his back pocket to keep him occupied until my return.

At least that's the way it used to be.

Since his retirement, my husband walks for exercise, often in a nearby neighborhood park, or, during inclement weather, in Walmart or a large grocery store. I ride a stationary bicycle at home for my exercise, so I seldom accompany him on his early morning jaunts around the park or up and down the aisles of nearby stores.

Just recently, he has taken a sudden interest in what is on the shelves of the stores where he walks, and will come home to ask me if I know that Campbell's Soup is cheaper at Walmart than at Safeways, or what is a bean sprout anyway? For a while I thought it was just natural curiosity, but then he began to ask if I wanted him to pick up a loaf of bread or a quart of milk. This is going to be nice, I thought, and, for a while, it was.

But then, slowly but surely, my husband began to think of himself as some sort of shopping expert, and strange things began to show up in my kitchen cupboards.

"What is this?" I would ask, holding a can of asparagus up for him to see. "Oh, I bought that because it was cheaper than the fresh kind," he replied. When I pointed out that neither of us even liked asparagus, he reasoned that my point just proved that he had made a good choice. We do serve asparagus about once a year when a particular relative who loves it comes for dinner. According to hubby, if he had bought fresh asparagus, it would have spoiled before she came again. This way we would have it on hand just in case she dropped by unexpectedly.

Another time, I asked for a 50 ounce box of Cascade dishwashing powder. I mentioned that they were on sale at two for $3 at our local Bi-Mart store. He arrived home with two huge boxes that wouldn't fit in the shelf near the dishwasher; boxes that cost several cents more an ounce than the size I had requested. His reply when I pointed this out, was that I shouldn't make mountains out of molehills. I poured the powder into the old empty container and stored the extra in the laundry room.

We have used the same brand of bread for years. Everyone in the family likes it; it's healthy; it's inexpensive. Last week, I asked my new shopping expert to pick up a loaf of bread after his morning walk. We don't have a regular freezer-just a large freezer section that takes up the bottom third of our refrigerator. When I went to take some hamburger patties out of the freezer for lunch, imagine my surprise when I found 6 loaves of bread stuffed into my already slightly crowded freezer. What didn't fit easily, had been squished until it did. And worse yet, it wasn't even the kind of bread we usually buy. When, biting my tongue, I asked, "Why?" my super shopper said because they were on sale, and because they looked healthier (browner) than the bread we usually ate. I struggled through the first loaf without comment but quickly agreed when he said the dark brown bread must have been on sale because it was out-dated or something. Anyway, two loaves of our regular brand appeared on the kitchen counter the next morning after his walk, and the birds and squirrels in our back yard have been feasting on the healthy looking brown bread ever since.

The list could go on and on. I could tell you about the small curd cottage cheese that came home as large curd; the golden raisens that replaced my usual dark ones; the "healthier" brown rice that is now sitting on a shelf in my kitchen instead of the requested instant rice; and the kitchen garbage bags that only come half-way to the top of the containers, because no one bothered to tell him they came in different sizes.

I have two suggestions for you ladies who are suffering from a similar problem.

1. Do all the shopping yourself.

Take my word for it ladies. It is much easier to do the shopping yourself, but if your husband insists, or if you think he can be trained to do it the way you want it done, proceed to suggestion number 2. I wish you the best of luck.

2. Write down in great detail anything you ask your husband to buy when he shops alone, and I really mean great detail.

Example 1:

Two (2) quarts of Minute Maid Orange Juice. Make sure you get the kind with vitamin C added. (The one with the blue top.) It should say "made with concentrate," and at the very top where you open it, it should say, "Low Pulp." If you can't find orange juice that fits this description, don't buy any orange juice today.

Example 2:

One (1) head of Iceberg Lettuce. The kind that looks like a child's small ball---about 8 inches in diameter. It will probably be wrapped in clear plastic. Try to get one that doesn't show any brown places on it, especially around the flat place on the bottom. If they don't have any lettuce that fits that description, don't buy any lettuce today.

Example 3:

Six (6) Fuji apples. They should be firm and not wrinkled. Check to make sure they aren't bruised or soft by turning each one over in your hand. Don't buy any other brand. I don't care if Fuji sounds foreign to you, or if Delicious apples sound yummier, or Granny Smith apples sound friendlier. I want Fuji apples---please. If they don't have any Fuji apples, don't buy any apples today.