I’ve bit on this trend

There was a brief moment in time–I was about four years old–when I actually stood toward the front of the in crowd.  Not the trend setter but “with it.”  It was mostly my hats, which, of course, were selected by my mother.  She had a strangely unerring sense of style when it came to three types of furnishings:  hats, shoes and handbags.  Everything else was , well, not so much.

Anyway, since that vaunted time, I have meandered between content and proud (depending, of course, both on the cause and my age) with relative style obscurity.  When feminine cigarettes were hot on the 70’s market, I was smoking Camels.

But, without plan or outside pressure, I have become deeply devoted–and only since moving to Nova Scotia from the California foodie capital–to buying local in the grocery store.  Obsessive, Bob might mutter, not just devoted.  It helps that we both love winter vegetables and that we arrived in Nova Scotia while Honey Crisp apples were still hot.

I do brake for avocados and dates,  fruits that can never happen here unimported. The venison in the frozen meat case makes me blanch.  I feel guilty if I don’t know the provenance of the seafood I eat when I’m in a restaurant, lest I be contributing to fish farming.

It is an imperfect adhesion to a trend, but at least as thorough as those rakish hats I had in preschool.

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