41&1/2 years and here's partly why

We had occasion to both patronize the mighty Canandaigua Weggers yesterday, (Wednesday, July 1, 2009).
Usually it’s just me; a visit in conjunction with exercise at the vaunted Canandaigua YMCA.
My Wednesday Weggers visit is to buy spinach for our evening meal.
We gave up on frozen boxed spinach some time ago.
It looked like seaweed, and was often brown.
What we get now is fresh spinach-leaves jetted in from California, pre-washed in cold water.
I’ve gotten so I buy it in clear plastic containers instead of bagged; two if 11-ounce, three if smaller.
It gives us a lot of spinach, but we like it.
So here we are eyeing the spinach.
“What I usually do is look for the date farthest out,” I say.
“Yeah, but if it’s organic, it probably costs more,” Linda says.
“Actually it’s cheaper,” the clerk says. “$7.63 per pound versus $10.67 for the chemical laden stuff.
And these plastic containers work extremely well. The spinach stays fresher in there.”
“Not necessarily,” my wife says. “We’ve had spinach in those containers, within the sell-by date, and I’ve had to throw half of it out.”
Leave it to a “liberial” to question the almighty wisdom of a venerable icon like Weggers.

—Similarly, we’re in mighty Wal*Mart long ago, looking for dish-towels.
“Hey Jack!” my wife snaps. “Is this all they got? I thought Wal*Mart had everything.”

• “We” is my wife Linda and I.
• “Mighty Weggers” is Wegmans, a large supermarket-chain based in Rochester we often buy groceries at. They have a store in Canandaigua.
• I work out in the Canandaigua YMCA exercise gym.
• “Jack” is my loudmouthed macho brother-from-Boston. He noisily badmouths everything I do or say.
• “Liberial” is how my brother-from-Boston noisily insists “liberal” is spelled. (Recently it’s “liberila” or “libieral.”)
• All my siblings loudly declare Wal*Mart to be the greatest store in the entire known universe, and the fact I don’t shop there means I’m rebellious and of-the-Devil. I don’t patronize it because it’s inconvenient, and I’ve had bad shopping experiences there — particularly being kissed by a urine-smelling greeter. I once asked a store-associate where something was, and got snapped at for interrupting their day-long donut break. —My brother-in-Boston particularly badmouths my avoiding it. (My siblings are always saying “Wal*Mart has everything.”)