Alyse In Words

A Year of Practicing Contentment

Let Freedom BOGO

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2.3.17 – 34 days into this:  I woke up today and discovered that breakfast could be either ketchup or a can of black beans.  I have been trying to learn to grocery shop for one and it’s pretty much been a disaster.  I buy  too much.  I buy prepared stuff at the deli, put it in the fridge and then toss it out 10 days later when it has become a science experiment. And, worst of all, sometimes I go through a drive thru.  I had not been through a drive-up window in a decade and found myself talking to a speaker about fried fish.  No. Just no. So this was it.  The no-whining, I-will-figure-this-out excursion.  I showered, put on lipstick so that I might look good scraping the ice from my windshield, remembered to grab my shopping totes and was off.  At the grocery I  took deep breaths and asked who or whatever might be listening to help me figure this out.

Because I’m still firmly attached to my procrastination umbilical, I bought stuff for the wild birds and squirrels.  I bought dog food and deicer, paper products and soap.  Then I wandered the aisles and took in my surroundings.  I was amazed by how many people in my age range were there shopping.  There was the side-eye matron with single-serve ‘lite’ dinners who looked askance at me as I checked out the ice cream.  There were a half dozen old guys with half baskets looking about half confused.  The one I felt sorry for was listening to his wife pick over every little thing before she put an item in the cart.  I am pretty sure he was wearing a tee shirt that said ‘Kill Me Now.’ I had to stop myself from yelling, ‘Run, be free..RUN!’  And that’s when I realized the truth about shopping single: It’s awful if I say it’s awful, difficult if I embrace difficult and okay if I say it’s okay.  I bought some food.  I stared at some things long enough to realize that I want to learn how to cook small portions of risotto and Asian stir fry. I felt a little inspired.  At the checkout copies of TIME Magazine with pussy hats on the cover were stacked in the bottom corner of the display.  I swapped the front-and-center copies of Southern Living with TIME.  A young woman in the next aisle gave me a thumbs up. Outside, I silently rejoiced that Old Guy in SUV, honking his horn with the intent of making his wife a quick shopper, was not waiting for me. I came home, put stuff away and decided to read and nap for a while.  Two hours later I woke up feeling warm and lazy, the middle of a big dog sandwich.  Outside, the breeze was warm and the ice had finally begun to melt.  And the moment felt good, free, energized and just good.

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