The excitement of buying groceries

This morning I woke up at 5. I’m not sure why. Maybe because Glen was coughing. Couldn’t get back to sleep so we got up at 6 and went to the gym, which was a pretty good move. Got it out of the way.

After breakfast, I went with Glen to his work as I was going to Sick Kids’ Hospital to see what their farmers’ market was like. I’m glad I don’t have a 9 to 5 job at the moment where I have to be at work by a certain time and get across the city, navigating my way through all these people.

The farmers’ market was pretty small, made up of only about six or seven stalls, of which only four were selling fruit and veg. I was there a little before eight, when it was due to open, but half of the stalls were setup and people were buying things, even from the ones that weren’t fully setup yet. I quickly went in search of toilet inside the hospital, walked for miles, found one, walked back. It was eight. Now I could buy things and not feel bad for interrupting people’s setup.

I wanted to buy kale. I saw the kale. It was at a stall that wasn’t fully setup. I spoke to the guy and asked if I could buy some kale. “I’m not open yet.”

I think I blinked.

“OK, when will you be open?”

“Ten…fifteen minutes.”


I didn’t go back. I could understand if it was 7:30 and the markets hadn’t officially opened. I could understand if there were throngs of people waiting impatiently to buy all these delicious goods from Ontario farms. But I really can’t understand someone being so blind to customer service, to making a sale (even if it is only a couple of bucks), that they’d not serve you. People are weird.

I bought some pumpkin and some sweet potatoes from two stalls who were only happy to take my money. One of them was even in the middle of unloading corn when his partner called him over to serve me. That’s the kind of service I like. He was cute too.

Even though I’d bought two things, neither of them were actually on my shopping list. I’ve planned out the meals for the week so that necessitates shopping. Ugh. Off to Loblaws where I was able to buy most of it, then caught the subway back home. And it was only 9am. This getting up early thing certainly makes for a productive morning (but a sleepy afternoon).

I edited some more work the rest of the morning, ate lunch, then went to Chinatown to get the last remaining ingredients from an Asian supermarket. They had everything I needed, including fresh galangal (was worried you couldn’t get it here) and fresh turmeric.

In the afternoon I did some more editing. Trying to get as much done and sent back as possible before the weekend because we’re going to be away for a few days into next week. This evening I made Balinese prawn curry, which meant making the curry paste. It’s a recipe from the chef at Must Winebar, in Perth, using the Thermomix. It makes a tonne of curry paste, of which you only use about a sixth. The whole thing turned out ok (though I forgot to prepare some vegetables to go with it) but it was lacking a bit of kick. Maybe I needed more chilli. Will use the rest of the paste down the track.

It’s cheap movie night tonight but we’re staying in as it’s decided to rain. Hard. We had downpours coming from the balcony above and splashing on to ours. Glen got wet while he went out to move the plants. Plus, the movies we want to see aren’t on until after 9 and I’m not sure I’ll last until then. Never mind. Tomorrow night we’re going to Second City so that should be a laugh.

Oh, and my postal vote papers for the Australian federal election arrived. Glen’s haven’t though, which is strange. Better get it done and posted.

4 Replies to “The excitement of buying groceries”

  1. I once had similar ‘service’ from a woman in the ABC Shop at Garden City. It was after 9am on a Saturday and she locked the door and walked away just as I got there. I asked if she was open today, she said yes at 9. I said it was after 9, she said, about, and walked off. I went back a while later and was ‘served’ by her equally grumpy workmate, so I was irritatingly cheerful and smiley.


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