Today was my work shift at the Park Slope Food Coop. I am on a food processing crew which means that, every four weeks, I make my way across Union street, pull on an apron and start bagging spices, grains, nuts – whatever is missing. I thought this was only means to an end so I could shop there, but it’s become something that I look forward to every month. I love the easy, early morning chat that transpires between a handful of people with only dried cranberries and brazil nuts in common. It’s a nice lull before turning in my apron and heading upstairs to jostle with the tatooed yoga mommies for organic mangoes, green peppers and Spanish cheeses, another shift completed.
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