My husband and I don’t fight very often. But get us in a grocery store and the gloves come out.

My husband and I don’t fight very often. But get us in a grocery store and the gloves come out.


We have vastly different “methods” of shopping for groceries.

I am a list person. My grocery list has sections for produce, cold/frozen, non-foods and other. I go over my list meticulously as I walk the aisles. I’d rather go slowly and not miss something than have to backtrack five times for missed items.

Enter my husband.

He’s the speed racer of shopping. Give him a list and you’ll get three-fourths of what you needed on the first “run through.”

Sometimes when he comes home from grocery shopping he says, “They didn’t have so and so.”

Translated to women’s English, I think that means, “I was going so fast I didn’t see that item. And I wasn’t going back.”

He’ll never fess up.

Bill also tends to be more of an impulse buyer than I. I try to stick to the list, but Bill finds many items he “forgot” to put on the list.

“But it’s new honey, we should try it.”

“Rob had these the other day at work and they were great.”

And he is obsessed with certain things. He can spend 20 minutes looking at each kind of salsa on the shelves. He must read each jar, looking for just the right flavors.

He’s the same with barbecue sauces.

And pickles.

And mustards.

And hot sauces.

I’ve affectionately started calling him the Condiment King after all of that.

He also differs from me in that he MUST go down every aisle, whether there’s anything from the list down it or not.

“Bill, we don’t need anything down there,” I say.

“But we might not remember what we needed,” he counters.

This leads me to our next difference.

Grocery shopping really starts at home. It starts when you add things to the grocery list hanging on the refrigerator door. There’s nothing more frustrating than not having any garlic salt when you go to make that casserole recipe or flour when you go to make cookies.

We’ve had a list on the refrigerator since we were married seven years ago. The concept of writing something down when you use the last of it still eludes my husband. It must be similar to quantum physics or Calculus III or learning Russian — just really difficult to grasp.

Every once in a while I’ll go to get a teaspoon or so of a spice and there will be such a small amount left it’s nearly indiscernible with the human eye.

“Bill, why didn’t you put it on the list?” I say.

“There’s still SOME in there!” he defends

Enough, yes, if you were baking a cookie to feed Thumbelina.

Christine Wyrick is managing editor of The Newton Kansan. Feel free to contact her at