So what do you say to that?

I am far too often caught at a loss for words. Perhaps being a writer and used to editing has been the cause of this. However, editing aside, in this latest episode, I still haven't thought of a proper biting response although a friend of mine did.

I'm at Walmart, selecting green bananas. I like to buy them green, let them ripen at home. I've no interest in making a steady supply of banana bread from overly ripe fruit. In fact, since I've been using the Debbie Meyer Green Bags, I've only lost one or two bananas to overripeness. A good track record indeed.

So I have my green bananas in my cart. Approaching me--and I knew he was headed for me the instant I saw him--is an older man, stooped, wizened, in need of a shave. He has a few groceries in hand and comes for me like a heat-seeking missile. I did know, didn't I, he asked, that green bananas contain water?

I suppose the implication is that green bananas weigh more, therefore cost more, and how foolish could I be?

Well, I didn't know what to say. He obviously expected an answer. Finally, after a five second lapse in which I should have thought of something pithy, I just said, "I don't care."

That ended it and he moved on, but my friend suggested that should it happen again, I tell him that were I his age, I wouldn't buy green bananas either, on the off-chance that I wouldn't live to see them ripen.

The use, abuse, and neglect of the Green Bag

Back in the fall when I fell under the spell of the Debbie Meyer Green Bags, I was naive enough to think it foolish that the package of 20 wouldn't last me, well, forever. They could be used up to 10 times each (who was going to count?) and there were 20 of them. I liked them so well, I made sure they, along with the bread, cheese, and cold cuts bags, were given as Christmas gifts.

Six months into the green bag affair, I now know why I'll have to eventually break down and buy more. It is a sad tale, but true. I have abused the bags.

While lettuce and mushrooms keep beautifully in them, there is a time limit on these perishables. It is not forever. Lettuce will get soggy and you don't want to see what mushrooms do when they're left to their own devices at the back of the crisper drawer.

But those faux pas pale in comparison to what happens to onions and red potatoes. Left in the decorative basket with the garlic and green-bagged bananas (in my own defense I must say I haven't lost a banana to overripeness in 6 months, but then we eat them everyday), the onions will get a blue powdery mildew and the potatoes will sprout after, oh, a couple weeks or so.

That's when everything goes to the compost pile and the bags go to the trash and I add 'green bags' to the shopping list.

The greening of my fruits and vegetables

For some time now, I've noticed the Debbie Meyer Green Bags at Wal-Mart and other retailers. A package sells for $10 and is supposed to keep the new in fruits and veggies stored therein. Skeptic that I am, I mentally pooh-pooh'ed the idea (what a gimmick!) and moved on.

Then I sat at lunch with friends who are not easily fooled and somehow the conversation turned to products we were surprised that worked. Guess what was number one on everyone's list? Yep, the green bags.

Never one to fall behind in the newest gadget and gizmo category, I bought a package. Knowing how susceptible my green bananas were to turning black almost overnight, I made them my guinea pigs and put a bunch in.

Well, wasn't that nifty? I was able to enjoy them all.

What else might Ms. Meyer have up her sleeve? At another retailer, I found red bags for cold cuts, blue for cheese, and beige for bread. And yes, I do own them all.

How have they held up to their promise? The red seems to be doing well by the salami and the cheeses, which we consume in rather large quantities, but not always quickly, is okay, too. The bread and I are not getting along as well, but it could be that I'm storing so-called artisan breads in it and then not eating them as quickly as a normal family would. I haven't thrown them out.

On the other hand, the rest of the family had better take note: Christmas! I've packaged several sets, one for each daughter-in-law's kitchen and one for the large family gift exchange. I'll be able to explain to the DILs how great they are, but I've put a warning label on the one that might get lost in all the family hoopla: "Don't laugh until you try them."

I know I shouldn't have.