Every Friday afternoon, while we are school, a trip to the super market takes place. We are invited, in fact we are encouraged to add to the shopping list in the day preceding this trip. At first I was shy about adding things to the list, and I still try to keep my additions to a minimum, but I feel more confident in adding a need or craving to the list thursday afternoon. However, the really exciting part about this fairly normal, and universal endeavor is not obtaining an item I've pined for, but in seeing what new and delicious completely French goodies have found their way into the cupboards. Every friday I come home to a multitude of pastries, cookies, yogurts, chips, jams, cheeses, drinks that I've never seen before. Its the most glorious feeling; I think it must be akin to the feeling a child growing up in East berlin felt surging in his breast, and stomach upon first entering a supermarket after the fall of the wall, and the introduction of capitalism was well underway. Since a child I have cherished the 'snack', almost always in miniature size, which in itself appealed to me in several ways, first children like things children sized, second, I never ate much as child so that meant it was the right portion, being a picky eater I enjoyed most this time of choice, when the options were totally open. Plus, one always eats snacks at happy times, in the middle of school: time to socialize with your friends without the intellectual burden of classwork, after school: when you have that nice sense of accomplishment for having survived another day, in the middle of the night: the pleasure of being the only one awake, a no man's land, the adrenaline of an act not quite sanctioned, yet not really forbidden, no matter when you eat them snacks=good, its just a fact! Not to mention, snack food is almost always just plain yummier than real food. So imagine the ecstasy of finding a whole new world of snacks only ever dreamed of in the abstract during times of great hunger awaiting, its a snackers paradise, and I am a snacker, the very definition.