Now that is just my daughter and I alone, while my husband is out on the tugboat and my son has moved out, now when it's just us girls, now is the time for me to renew my membership at the local warehouse club. She and I treat it as an event, an outing, a very interesting thing to do, and when we go, we go up and down every aisle, looking and checking and every time in the spices I say, "If only they had red curry paste," and my daughter says it with me because I literally say it every time.
We carry our bulk food purchases into our house in armloads, because we say no thanks to our purchases being packed in a bigger box, and the counter piles high with boxes of cereal and granola bars, bags of bread and bagels, various jars and cans of soups and whatnot (yes, this means candy) and if everything goes well and it is in stock, a brick of aged white cheddar.
Then I put things away and I moan over the fact that we bought too much and I don't have enough cupboards to hold it all and worry that we bought too much. It is, after all, only the two of us.
I think I did this backward. I should have renewed my membership a few years ago, when I had a houseful of starving teenage boys and a husband who packed a daily lunch!
This almost monthly shopping excursion is on my mind because I've given her the last package of crackers for her lunch, and the granola bars are down to a handful, and there is once again space in the pantry. It must be time to make a list and then mostly ignore it!
Our nearest warehouse store is 45 minutes away and wasn't built until after my boys were mostly on their own. I've been there a few times with friends and I've found it both intriguing and overwhelming. It reminded me a little of growing up with an Army dad and my mom shopping for the whole month all at once at the commissary.
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