Profanic Organic

I went up to the counter, plunked down my four items. The cashier said "that'll be twenny-three dollas." Then the silent screaming started.

"What are you doing, you moron," the voice yelled at me. The voice was so high pitched that only I could hear it, not unlike a dog whistle. It was emanating from my pants, so that ruled out my alter ego.

The cashier stood patiently, waiting for her twenty three bucks, blissfully unaware of the battle raging before her very eyes. I reached into my back pocket and grabbed my wallet. It bit me. Not a little nip; it opened it's jaws and clamped down on my hand. I winced. My wallet let out a garbled shriek, "No, it's too much money. Don't do this to me." It's voice was muffled by a mouthful of fingers.

I had to do it. I was standing at the checkout and I didn't want to make a fool of myself, though I already had. I wrestled my wallet open and took out a twenty dollar bill, one loony and one toony. There, it was over. My wallet sighed.

I had just paid twenty three dollars for two tubs of yogurt, a dozen eggs and a pound of butter. All of it was organic and, apparently, it costs a lot of money to make organic eggs, butter and yogurt. You may have noticed that I didn't spell yogurt with an 'h' . Had I done so, the 'h' would have stood for 'holy f___ this _h__ is expensive'!

I bought all of my organic items at the health food store in Fredericton. I didn't look at the price of anything, I simply grabbed what I wanted, then proceeded to pay for it. I discovered, upon returning home, that I paid eight dollars for a pound of butter and five dollars for a dozen eggs (they were small eggs, by the way). The yogurt was five clams a tub.

Now, had I gone to the Stooperstore, I would have paid three-fifty per tub of yogurt, three dollars for a dozen eggs and four buckeroos for a pound of butter (roughly). That's fourteen shekels according to my abacus. You do the math. Okay, I'll do it for you. I paid and extra nine doll hairs just to buy organic items.

You might think that I'm anti-organic, by the tone of this blog posting. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I want to eat organically. Why would I want to ingest bovine growth hormones, chicken antibiotics, pesticides and herbicides? I don't want to eat a steak for supper, only to wake up the next morning with hooves and an udder.

I want to eat food that is as close to natural as is humanly possible. I love organic food. I want my chickens to run free, peck at the ground, hang out, have a social life, chat. I want my cows to roam in the meadows instead of laying in a pile of their own poo. I want my yogurt to have real culture.

But...

I don't want to pay eight dollars for a pound of frickin' butter! The other day I put a little pat of butter in the frying pan. My wallet, from the other room, yelled out "that's three dollars worth, you know." My wallet was right. Now I'm treating my pound of butter like it was gold. I no longer dip my lobster in butter. I now dip my butter in lobster. The world has gone mad!

Sadly I've decided that I can't justify eight bucks for butter, or five for eggs. It's a shame that organic goods are so expensive because I want to eat them, but I'm not prepared to spend that much. I hope that my health doesn't suffer in the long run.

Speaking of running, I'd better put my hooves in motion and get on with my day. I'll just swing by the barn on my way.

Got milk, Ian?