Off the Wal: More Food

This is not an "I Hate Wal-Mart" blog. This is a chronicle of my family's attempt to escape the riptide of consumerism. In August 2005, we moved to a rural town in the Mississippi River Delta region of Arkansas, a part of the world that has literally forgotten that it is possible to buy groceries, underwear, and school supplies without going to Wal-Mart. Here, Wal-Mart embodies convenience, selection, and value. It also embodies the death of local entrepreneurship. Yet entrepreneurship is essential to sustainable, self-reliant communities. Wal-Mart has perfected a business model that satisfies short-term, individual desires at the expense of long-term community needs. Other businesses have replicated that model, to compete as well as to survive, and local economies-not to mention the environment and the international workforce-are paying the price.

This blog is based on the assumption that there is an alternative. Consumers can meet all of their needs and most of their desires by looking close to home. Wal-Mart and other multi-national corporate outlets can make a profit while supporting sustainable local economies. Here, I will describe my spending habits on a daily basis and rate each day's spending according to how well it promotes my community's recovery from codependency. Shopping at Wal-Mart in its current incarnation is the ultimate shortcut, the equivalent of dumping your garbage in your neighbor's back yard, and so it is the choice to be avoided above all others. The red stars will tell you at a glance what sort of day it's been.

Monday, August 29, 2005

More Food

TODAYS RATING:

Total expenditures: $0.00

Tonight we had fried catfish, baked potatoes, and orange slices, and I just made homemade chocolate chip cookies. It was so good, I can even think of sushi without salivating... almost.

I did have a moment this evening when I was browsing my bookshelf and I thought longingly of the Half-Price Bookstore in Kansas City. But it's a little difficult to covet material possessions when you're still tripping over unpacked boxes on your way to the bathroom.