Hello friends! We are ALMOST to the Friday finish line. Almost.
As usual, this week has been LOOOONNNGGG. Even though I took Monday off, everything about the rest of the week has been miserable: freaking snow, cold weather, nonsense at work, and to top it all off, the poor little doodle has been sick.
Like many other bloggers, I have a problem with retail therapy. There’s something about the bright lights of department stores, or just getting cash back at Ebates, that makes me want to throw my money around and buy things.
Lately, however, I’ve been very good at resisting the urge to shop–except when it comes to grocery shopping. Enter, the Fresh Market.
|via Cave Grrl|
This grocery store really is my happy place. It is basically like a Whole Foods (so I’ve been told, because I’ve never actually been to a WF), and it is wondrous. Maybe it’s the mood lighting and hardwood floors, or the line-up of delectable bakery items–whatever the reason, I’m always going to drop around $40 when I go there on food items that I didn’t necessarily need.
Honestly, most of my love for TFM is for nostalgic purposes. I may have mentioned this before, but we actually went there all the time when we were kids, because there was one located down the street from my grandparents’ house in Williamsburg.
TFM was always one of the highlights of the trip. My grandma would already have huge, fresh cinnamon breadsticks waiting for us when we arrived, and my parents would always walk over there with us and would allow us a free sample of coffee (at ten years old, getting a tiny sample of coffee was a HUGE deal). Sure, I only took one or two sips before tossing it, but it was the principle of the thing.
This past year, a TFM opened up in Loudoun, and it is conveniently located right on my way home from work. Anytime I have a long week, or I’m just stressed out, I love to stop on my way home and just walk around (and maybe buy a box of croissants).
The first time I went there was after a particularly long week. I think I had cried almost every day that week, and I was unsure of a lot of things in the future. Even walking into the Fresh Market made me tear up, because it reminded me of Williamsburg, and now that it’s been almost a year since we lost my grandma, it reminds me that trips to Williamsburg will never be the same.
As I was checking out that day, the cashier gave me a free rose–NO IDEA why they were giving out free roses, but it made me feel like it was a small sign from my grandma, telling me to stop crying already, things are never really that bad. (And as I type this I feel like I’ve told this story before, so my apologies if you’re getting a total repeat.)
Ever since then, the Fresh Market always seems to have a totally relaxing effect on my psyche (except when I agonize over which gelato flavor I should buy). Sure, I could save that money and buy one of the many items on my spring wish list, but I feel like my purchases are completely justified. It’s food (and maybe wine), and that’s something that is a need, not a want, right?
And now, I congratulate you for reading this long, rambling story about a grocery store (this is why I have a fear of writing personal statements).
What’s your happy place?