23 April 2002

I had a childhood flashback last night.

When I was a kid, we'd all pile into the car and go to the grocery store at once. My parents always got two carts and split up. I'm not sure how they divided the store or the list, though, because they handled the restless energy of my brother and I by sending us to far aisles for things.

"What next, Mom?"

"Um... Go find your father and ask him if we need peanut butter."

Like that. We probably drove other shoppers nuts.

And, of course, there was the obligatory begging for food that I'm embarrassed now to admit I ever actually wanted, like vienna sausages and Spaghetti-O's. "Please, Mom, pleasepleasepleeeeeeeease?" Sometimes they'd even give in.

I can't imagine why my mom hates going to the grocery store. (That was sarcasm.)

And then there would be the interminable waiting in line - interminable for my brother and I because we were full of the boundless energy of youth, and hyped up on the promise of all those things we'd begged for and gotten; and interminable for everyone around us because we made it that way.

Then we'd get home, where we were a well-oiled machine. My dad and brother would bring the groceries in, my mom would put them away, and I would fold the paper bags and store them. And then - because we usually went to the grocery store late Saturday morning - it was time for lunch.

And the house was bursting with possibilities. It was a problem. Did I eat the Spaghetti-O's I'd begged for? Or have one of the sandwiches my dad was making that smelled so good? Or make soup? Or get my brother to make me one of his famous omelettes? Or dive into the fresh vegetables and fruits? Too many choices - and even if I wanted to, I couldn't eat them all right away!

That's what happened to me last night. It's not a sensation that I've had often as an adult. But last night, as I was gearing up for the Hall, I decided I wanted a snack to munch on while I played - and was overwhelmed by the choices.

Cookies? Chips? Popcorn? Carrots? (Okay, okay, I didn't really consider the carrots all that long.) A glass of wine?

For just a moment, I was frozen. I wanted it all, and knew I had to pick - and couldn't. It was like being a kid again, standing in my parents' newly-stocked kitchen and not being able to figure out where to start.

Only with the added frustration, now that I'm an adult and can buy my own groceries, I should've got the pickles...

--Liz