Don't Poupon My Parade

Contrary to popular belief, the act of hunting and gathering is alive and well in modern America. Any stroll down the well-stocked aisle of your local supermarket will confirm this.

Granted, the activity has changed over the millennia, but the objective is the same: bring home sustenance for the clan. Fortunately, weapons are not required. Although I have been tempted from time to time when faced with the indecisive deli-orderer. Or the 10-items-or-less-items line cheater.

But I digress.

Shopping is a sporting activity. The object of the game is to spend less than the supermarket wants you to. Of course, we all know it's like playing blackjack in Vegas. The odds are stacked for the house. But every now and then, you find a buy-one-get-one of something you actually use, and it's a win.

One of my frustrations is the endless re-packaging of processed products by food distributors. For example, spaghetti sauce used to come in 32 ounce jars. My old recipes call for this much sauce. But now, many of the jars are only 24 ounces. Sometimes this works out, because the spaghetti noodles used to weigh in at 16 ounces, but are now 13.25 ounces. It makes my head hurt. The worst part is the feeling that the food companies are trying to sneak one by us. Attempting to make the box LOOK bigger when it's actually smaller. Understand, Mr. Big Food Conglomerate, we know what you're doing, and we don't like it.

Unfortunately, we know there's not much we can do about it, so we grumble and roll the cart down the aisle. And adjust the recipe when we get home.

Reading labels is also a large part of the sport of shopping. Do they really need to put all of that stuff in there? I sigh with pleasure when I pick up a can of kidney beans, and the only thing in it is beans and maybe a little water. Searching for carefully hidden trans fats and the dreaded high fructose corn syrup can be a full-time pursuit. I do my best, but I'm not rabid. I still let my kid eat cereal bars, I just close my eyes, wrinkle my nose and hope he gets enough good food to counteract the seemingly endless list of mysterious additives and chemicals.

When people say we have it easier than our ancient ancestors, I suppose on some level they are correct.

But there are days when I think I would rather try to nail an antelope at 20 paces than roam the supermarket in search of the food that is slowly killing me.

On the other hand, while the big plastic kiddie-friendly shopping cart that blocks my way aisle after aisle is certainly annoying, it won't kill me. It may even make me stronger.

After all, patience has always been a big part of hunting, right?