This evening at the Lexington Co-op on Elmwood I bought some hot bar for dinner – battered fish, scallops, hush puppies – a 6-pack of organic cola, a bag of baked barbeque potato chips, and a chocolate mint-frosted brownie.
I shop for food like a 12 year old.
I buy the groceries that Josh Baskin would in Big.
It just struck me a few weeks ago, standing in line at the Co-op, with my usual armload of salty snack baked or not, giant cookie, Lexi-made organic fudge, rich hot deli selection or Lexi pizza. Here is a place filled with healthy vegetables, fruits, roots, grass fed meat, sea caught fish, carefully, maybe even lovingly, selected. From local farmers, from world spanning cooperatives, from people who would want me to eat healthy. I see other people, even young men, place on the checkout belts carrots and onions, leafy tied bunches of things I have never eaten yet, yeasts in packages and miso in tubs and bottles of agave. Guys who apparently know healthy, and know how to cook.
My diet is a throwback to my parents’ romanticized 1950’s. I haven’t had the willpower to really bust out of it.
Sometimes I feel so old and so young at the same time.