It all comes from cows! Just move!

I am the main procurer of food in my household.  And I can feed my family of four three meals a day on four hundred dollars a month. Go me!  (Making things from scratch is one of the key elements to eating cheap but that's another blog) 

Since I work from home, well, being home is sort of my job, I have the luxury of not having to go to the supermarket between the hours of 4:30 and 7:00 p.m. during the week.  I can't say I enjoy waiting in line to pick out bananas.  Or getting stuck in the shopping cart traffic jam in the condiments aisle.  And those blind corners actively frighten me. 

This week, after I attended a focus group I took my envelope of cash and went to the grocery store at 6:30 in the evening on a Monday.  There were a number of items gone from the shelves.  Just an empty display where the bananas should be.  I know they were on mega-sale, but shouldn't there be at least a few green hands of 'naners? 

I actually had the thought "Is there some kind of emergency happening that I don't know about?".  Remember the movie "Shaun of the Dead"?  How Shaun doesn't know the zombie apocalypse is happening because he hasn't watched television and is really hungover?  That would happen to me. I'd be listening to CDs in the car, watching Netflix instant at home and miss the fact a hurricane was bearing down. 

I was living about forty miles from Los Angeles when the riots broke out in 1992.  Local grocery stores restocked water three times in six hours, which I thought was ridiculous.  I knew there were bored, idiot teenagers who'd run out to riot in the streets of Cucamonga  (meaning they'd go to their high school to spray paint and throw trash cans around) , but not to the point one needed to lay in a supply of water and canned goods.

Anyway, I went to the store and remembered why I don't go to the store at 6:30 in the evening on a Monday.  People in their work clothes were crowding around the deli counter for a prepared dinner to take home.  Women in gym clothes were loading up on fruits and veggies, all of them wanting the same grapes and plums I did.  Then they'd stand in front of the black plums for a while for apparently no reason at all.  Or maybe it was to purposely keep me from getting to the plums because they thought of them as THEIR plums.  I know that's paranoid but the grocery store does that to me sometimes.  

Milk is the worst.  How long does it take to select milk?  Why does a person stand in front of the display frowning, pondering?  

I want to wave my arms around and shout  "It's milk!  You pick up a jug and put it in your cart! The difference between one percent and two percent is one percent!!  Pick it up!  PICK IT UP!  You know what?  Step away from the milk. You can't handle the milk!  Auuuuggghhhh!"   I wonder if they order a half-skim, half-whole milk latte because the milk thing is just too confusing?

I understand taking your time on bath tissue as the difference it makes in your quality of life is significant, but milk?  Come on!

I must remember to wait until after 8 o'clock in the evening if I need to get foodstuffs.  It would make me less crazy.

I did, however, get an invitation to have coffee from a very nice man named Roger. 

Amanda's beauty tip of the day:  If your skin creates a lot of oil,  a thin layer of milk of magnesia will help absorb the excess oil.  You can layer your foundation over it.  The milk of magnesia can also be used to spot treat blemishes.