bulk food section

David’s full of insight lately, let me tell you.

If you haven’t been won over yet by his theories, be sure to check out his thoughts on what makes a news story go viral.

Next up: the most dangerous section of your grocery store.

First, I’d like to note that Dr. Oz has a most informative article on his site about the Supermarket Secrets that Can Make You Sick, and while he does address the bagel bin (don’t even get me started on what is often found at the bottom of the bagel bin), he did not address the bulk section. So David feels it’s incumbent upon him (meaning me) to let you in on this.

“Old people in the bulk section at Sprouts are more dangerous than unattended children,” he declared as he hoisted 4 bulging recycled grocery bags onto the kitchen counter.

I kind of tuned him out. Because I thought that was just kind of a mean thing to say. Right?

But, apparently, I misunderstood.

“You don’t understand,” he clarified. “They eat right out of the bins, and they push carts through the store simply so that they can have the handle bar to rest their teeny tiny cup of complimentary coffee on, so the carts take up the entire aisle while they test stuff and then put what they don’t like back in the bin.”

I suppose the silence had him concerned that I wasn’t listening. But I was listening. Just unable to respond. Because I was trying to process the fact that my days enjoying the bulk section were over.

“Do you realize,” he continued, clearly taking advantage of the fact that I was indeed listening, “that I had to forgo purchasing my almond clusters because I looked in that bin and thought, ‘What if that one was touched?’ or ‘What if THAT one made it to someone’s MOUTH and then they decided they didn’t like it and put it BACK?’

“And then, I thought, ‘Well, I could do what Liz does, and grab the item from the back or, in this case, the bottom. But what if the person before me did that and so now what was on the bottom is now on the top and vice versa and I’m just unknowingly contaminating myself?’”

“It matters not,” I flatly stated. “We are done with the bulk section. At least, we are done with clusters, nuts and trail mix. And if you ever see anyone eating almond flour or sea salt out of their hand, we’re done with that too.”

This whole situation has kind of ruined us. But I’ll look on the bright side: after 13 years of marriage (I think it’s been 13), it’s comforting to know that we still have that one germaphobic thing very much in common.

red panic button

There’s a New Yorker cartoon that’s so fantastic I’ve framed it. It features a guy lying on a couch in his therapist’s office, worrying, “But if you cure my hypochondria I won’t have any hobbies.”

I understand his concern. Perhaps too well.

When I came into the kitchen this morning, David said, “Your children are learning some wonderful lessons from you.”

Sensing his sarcasm, I asked, “Oh, to which quality of mine do you refer? My drive to run a marathon? Or perhaps my disdain for cookies?”

Rolling his eyes, he continued. “Grace came down this morning and said her stomach was sore.”


“She then immediately wondered if her stomach area is where her pancreas is.”

I saw where this was going.

“Did you remind her,” I asked, “that she did a lot of sit-ups with me yesterday as I suffered through Jillian Michaels’ 20-minute Shred?” (Which, by the way, should be renamed Jillian Michaels’ 20 minutes of pure, unadulterated hell.)

“Yes, I did. But I think that the bigger issue is that she did remember that…and then asked if a pancreas can explode.”

“Where is she?” I asked.

“Well, I think she’s consulting with your favorite person, Dr. Google.”

So my finest traits aren’t the only ones my oldest has adopted. But she does like to eat cookies with me.

What personality traits have your kids picked up from you that you wish they hadn’t?

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