V is for... vegetables?

Last night, on our way to Von's (yes, we should have shopped somewhere else, but it was eleven p.m.), i spotted a perfect "V" in the form of a plastic zip-tie, folded back over itself at the halfway point and likely run over. Not sure the letters are spelling anything at this point. Will have to give this more thought.
When we got inside, we each grabbed a basket and then realized that perhaps it was time... for a cart.

Now i don't know about y'all. But i have a thing with shopping carts.

When i was little, my dad used to make me push the cart (sure, no problem) at the grocery store. Then he would walk slowly in front of me down the produce aisle, occasionally stopping on a dime, at which point i would bang the bottom of the cart into the backs of his ankles. He would always yell out and admonish me, probably for walking too closely behind him. This nerve-wracking process has forever ruined cart-pushing for me, but thankfully not shopping for food, which is the only kind of shopping i enjoy other than buying music.
It's just always been a no-brainer for me. Grab a basket, fill it to the brim. That's usually all that will fit in my tote bag anyway, so no big loss. But for 8 or 9 years, i have been shopping for just two people. Last night i realized that this will probably all change when (and if) we have kids. My mom used to take my brother, sister and i to Safeway and we'd freakin' fill up the cart, often resulting in a staggering bill, not to mention produce rotting away in the crisper while boxes of instant mashed potatoes and Pop Tarts were scarfed down in one day (sorry, Mom!). I can't believe parents manage to deal with this. I guess you just do. I still feel awful for not being a better child. I try and make it up to her these days, and i also never ever waste food; the last time was a week ago (a half loaf of moldy bread), and i felt lots of guilt about it afterwards.

My dad was one of those kids in the UK during WWII, where they were lucky to eat food every day, had to walk 18 miles to school, uphill both ways, etc. etc. We were not allowed to leave the table as kids unless we had cleaned our plates. This often resulted in long drawn-out standoffs. My sister used to put cooked carrots (her personal nemesis) in her mouth, go to the bathroom, and flush them down the toilet. This worked until one day my dad found a few of the tell-tale orange coins still floating in the bowl. And apparently, when i was little, i used to take my cooked spinach (which was my personal nemesis) and carefully stash it behind the television. One day my mom was cleaning the house and reached around to dust behind the TV. The story is, she emitted a bloodcurdling cry as her fingers made contact with the large mound of cold, slimy goop.

(have i mentioned how awful i feel about being such a bad kid? Yeah. There're reasons.)

Anyway, Nat pushed the cart last night, bless his heart. We were buying food for 20 people for this weekend, the PhilSci retreat in Idyllwild (god that's such a lovely name), where Nat has been given the task of making lunch for everyone on Sunday. We decided it should be tacos, and everything (avocados, tomatoes, beans, cheese, tortillas, cilantro, sour cream, hot sauce, veggies, fake ground chuck, etc.) ended up being $93.58. That's slightly less than $5 a person! Pretty good, if you ask me. It would have been less had we planned ahead, and shopped at the smaller places. Ah, well. At least i got a little bit of that damned cart phobia off my shoulders... baby steps!