Sherpa Training

Every Friday evening during the summer, my husband makes the trek from up north , to join us on the Island. Every Friday evening, we get a call from our driveway, when he arrives. His message never varies, "send the boys down." My three sons hurry down the steps to help him carry in his things. One son lugs in his suitcase, which I have a feeling he lives out of all summer. Another brings in the leftover tomatoes, lettuce and bread, from his go to dinner meals of BLT's. The last one brings in the mail from up north and any other odds and ends .   My husband brings in himself. He would never make it as a Sherpa, but I think many of us moms would, we are the "Sherpettes."

Many of us have homes that employ the "reverse" living configuration. Kitchens being located on the uppermost floor. These are excellent training grounds for our Sherpette lessons.  You know who we are; the ladies pushing the overloaded shopping carts through the local grocery store. We are the hunters/gatherers for our families.  We load up on milk and orange juice, bread and cereal. Sacks of fruit, and packages of snacks. Barbeque fixings, and a variety of dinner ingredients. I can't vouch for anyone else, but I'd say easily 20 plastic bags of groceries enter my home weekly. This is not counting the cases of water that disappear like hot cakes.

How do you transport those overwhelming loads up to the third floor? You might ask. In the least amount of trips possible! The children always seem to be curiously absent when I return from a food run. So it's' up to mom to put on the Sherpette hat and get to it. I drape as many bags as possible down the lengths of my arms, while carrying a case or two. I have been known to toss dry cleaning over my shoulder, and carry my purse with my teeth. I slowly make my way up three flights, precariously balancing my load. Occasionally I run into an avalanche, when a bag or two breaks, and scatters the contents. This is when I get to practice uneven terrain maneuvers while  dodging rolling cans and apples. I am a Chiropractor's dream!

Once the supplies make it to the top floor, I set up base camp. Frozen food gets stowed, fruit gets washed, and the cartons with one millimeter of fluid taking up the shelf space in the fridge, get tossed and replaced with full containers. Apparently the mountaineering folk I live with, are emotionally attached to empty food containers, as that is the only plausible excuse I can think of for returning empties to fridge and pantry.

Mission accomplished, I sit back, and catch my breath. Miraculously my children reappear, and my newly purchased stores disappear.  I know tomorrow I will embark on yet another supply run.  I am  queen of the food aisles, master pack mule extraordinaire ! Happy shopping to all my fellow Sherpettes, see you at the grocery store.