To market, to marketPosted: June 7, 2011
I really don’t like going to the grocery store. I always choose the wrong checkout line, parking can be a hassle and the aisles always seem to be filled with shrieking children and the ever-oblivious slow walkers. Since patience is not one my best virtues, grocery store shopping has always been high on my list of Things I Must Do But Don’t Really Wanna. It’s sandwiched right in between getting my oil changed and poop scooping. But when we moved down the street from a Central Market, all that changed. Sure there are still the oblivious aisle walkers and treacherously narrow parking lots, but the stunning selection of produce, beers and wines, fantastic cafe and flattering lighting has made trips to the grocer feel like trips to some exotic, air-conditioned farmer’s market to the stars.
I suppose in my quest to determine whether we at the doodle house are hippies or yuppies, my unconditional love of Central Market should put another tally directly under the yuppie column.