How did I happen to move into the desert? 

First off, let us define the desert I mean:  a food desert.  While I live in a mid-sized city in the state of Washington, I moved a few months ago into a neighborhood with no grocery store.  I have to drive miles and miles to get real food.  There isn’t even much in the way of fast food around.

WHAT WAS I THINKING?

Honestly, it wasn’t intentional.  I didn’t even notice until moving day.  I had spent 6 weeks looking for a new apartment, and there were a variety of issues with the move that I won’t go into at this time (although probably later).  On move in day, for the first time, I realized I had no milk or eggs, and there was no grocery store nearby to buy such items at.

Crap.  Crap, crap, CRAP.

There is an AMPM mini mart and a 7-Eleven across the street, where I can buy chips, prepackaged salads, apples, bananas, lemons and limes.  Milk is available, but I am picky—I drink organic milk, which they do not sell.  And both shops take SNAP benefits (the new name for food stamps).  I don’t use food stamps, but how do you make a real meal out of this stuff?  Oh course you don’t—the lemons and limes are probably meant for beer drinkers (THAT they have plenty of).

Spring was a bit away, but I checked two things: would there be a farmers market in the area (depends on how you define area.  There is a farmers market come spring—June 3^rd.  But it is still several miles from me at something called the Star Center (I have NO idea what this is or where it is except for the map quest map).  And I email the community garden program (again, several miles from home) to see if I can get a plot come spring.  

  

Which begs the question—how do the lower income people in the neighborhood survive?  The bus line is close, but my guess is that these are some of the recently cut routes—I never see a bus around here.  In my old neighborhood, buses were regular, and easy to catch.  Three weeks in, and I have yet to see a bus.

I DO see cops.  Have yet to go more than a week without coming home to find cop cars in the parking lot of the complex I moved into.  Or fire trucks.  Or aid cars.  Or a combination of the previously mentioned.  What the heck is going on here?

Crap, crap, crap.

But it isn’t just a food desert.  It has been a tough year.  Dad died, mom was officially diagnosed with dementia, and I am only working part time.

Crap. Crap, crap, CRAP!

So this blog, which I am calling (in my mind at least) Living in the Desert, is about my food desert.   And cooking.  And occasional recipes.

But it is really about food, faith and family.  And occasionally I may stray into politics.

Stick with me, and see what we find.