Thank God For Married Life.

You can buy almost anything here in Kensington, food wise that is, provided its fresh produce, pickled, alcoholic, or mineral water so dense in…well, I guess minerals, that it gives your bowels marching orders. Ice cream is not high on the needs of the community it seems. But some pickled beets cold vodka and some mineral water to flush yourself out with and I guess you’re good to go.

I was in a store on 18th Ave tonight to buy fresh produce and beer and thought I would like some ice cream. The frozen case in the Gala Apple International Foods was interesting and mostly in Russian so I looked closely at the pictures. There, in a tub, was what I was after, ice cream. Oddly enough it was “CCCP” brand vanilla. Raised on Regan era cold war paranoia I felt I couldn’t trust this “taste of the Soviet Union,” and back in the case. Begrudgingly I went to our local Met Foods. The Met on 18th Ave sucks. It has a lot of beer and Mexican soda but not much in the way of ice cream, or sanitation. Happily I found some Ben and Jerry’s and went to the register. As soon as I got there a Russian woman demanded to know where the, “Vesson korn oil vas,” and I was left standing there. Eh? That’s life. I did however giver her a look that elicited a “sorry” from the woman. (I’m counting that as a personal victory.)

As I stood there listening to Ella talk about the number 6 she had just seen a man started to unload his basket on the counter:

2 bags no sugar ice pops
2 ½ gal. generic fruit punch.
1 loaf generic white bread
2 bags potato chips
3 diet type frozen dinners

The corn oil problem was solved I was rung up and went out onto 18th ave with Ella. We stopped and looked over the EL at the beautiful setting sun. The soft pink clouds, a gentle breeze, the murmur of the outdoor restaurant. It was a nice moment with my little girl. I told her how I had seen the sun set while camping in South Dakota. “Would you like to go to the Badlands with Dad?” I asked, “Yes.” Said Ella and we strolled home.

I complain a lot here at Brooklyn Dad but not tonight. I’m happy that the days of the sad grocery basket are over. I’m married to a beautiful and vivacious woman, and we have a happy-go-lucky little girl. I may never see the glorious sunsets on The Great Planes again but I’m also not going to be the guy with the generic white bread. Thank God for married life.