... is not only to increase his energy and fend off a family history of cancer, but so he doesn't feel the way he did the first time I asked him to run to the store and buy me tampons. (Ah, remember the good old days?) Since I began training for a half marathon our grocery lists have begun to look more like spelling tests and riddles. I recently had "sports beans" on there and he came home with bean sprouts. "Honey, it just didn't make any sense!" he tells me, bewildered, holding the grocery list inches from his nose, squinting as if to will the letters into their proper place. Poor guy, the look on his face told me that I have gotten upset with him one too many times for bringing home the wrong thing. But this time it wasn't the wrong kind of apples or brand of detergent (clearly labelled and perfectly legible if I may add). As I took in the genuine look of confusion on his face, I actually understood and even sympathized with where he was coming from, and then began brainstorming ways of disguising bean sprouts in that night's dinner.