the commissary

While we're on the topic of amenities offered to military personnel, let's not forget to mention the commissary (grocery store for any non-military folk out there who might not know what a commissary is, because I didn't until I married a Navy guy).

I like to think of myself as a cool hip chick who shops at the local Italian markets for all her food, but sometimes I find myself at the commissary and have to admit that, believe it or not, I'm not always that cool. Sometimes, I like to go to the commissary because the prices are good, it is easy to get to, there is always parking available, I know where everything is located in the store, the staff are friendly, and if you go in the middle of a weekday, they are not crowded. I don't like crowds, but I'll tell you about that later.

Only in the commissary could I leave my son and my wallet and all of our passports in the cart at checkout stand while I ran to grab the eggs I'd forgotten. Not to mention that while I was grabbing the eggs, the kind cashier was running to the other end of the store to find me some fresh cranberries.

Purchasing brands like Skippy and Kashi with US dollars in Italy is not exactly being hip and cool and supporting the local market, but it is comfortable, which is sometimes hard for an American girl to resist.

That's all for now.

bye bye