Shelves and Shelves of Bottles

1st Writes Photo

Over the years, Helen had dusted the shelves for her Great-Aunt Elspeth.  At first Helen could reach only the bottom shelf, and Aunt Elspeth had praised her. 

“Oh, what a magnificent job you have done!  Someday,” Aunt Elspeth had pointed to the very top shelf, “you will reach that shelf!  I will let you choose the bottle you love the most!”

Each time Helen polished and cleaned the shelves, she gazed at the bottles so far out of her reach.  ‘Someday…’  One time Helen would favor the green bottle, but the next time she dusted, she desired the pink bottle.

Years stacked up in numbers as Helen grew and she could dust the next shelf, and then the next.  Which one would she choose?  The blue?  The violet?  So lovely, so hard to decide.

When Helen could just almost reach the shelf, Aunt Elspeth dropped dead right in front of her. Dead, darn dead.

By this time, Helen was now grown as much as she ever would; she was a mother with a small child.  As she closed the eyes of her now-deceased aunt, Helen smiled gently.

Then Helen found a sturdy stool and a box.  She stepped onto the stool and stood level with the shelf.  Gazing fondly at each bottle, Helen sighed.  

Reaching carefully, Helen spoke loudly, “One?  Hell, I’m going to take them all!”


Re-post from 2011. Some posts still make me smile. 

Adventures at Costco

Courtesy of Bing.com

Going to Costco is our cheap date, where we can go shopping and eat free food.  Perhaps Costco is a California phenomenon or another sign of American “over-the-top” shopping, I don’t know.  But it is a place where one pays an annual membership due, and gets to shop in its monstrous cavern of a warehouse. 

As high as the sky...

The first time I went to a Costco, I had an anxiety attack, seriously.  The shelves went way up to the sky, disappearing in a metal vaulted ceiling. Products were at the reaching level, but above that were the fork-lift products: cellophane wrapped boxes of Scott ™ facial tissue, at least two hundred pounds of them; or, maybe another hundred bottles of olive oil ready to be put on the shelves.  These loaded shelves towered over me, the consumer, and I had an anxiety attack.

Would you like a sample, ma'am?

Nothing happened, but I sat down in the lawn furniture on display, did some breathing and discovered the real reason people came here.  It was the myriad of free samples given out by cheerful employees wearing disposable caps, black aprons, and disposable food service gloves.  Oh goodness me.  The samples they were handing out, with lines wrapping all over the store!  If one wanted to try some crème Brulee truffle cheesecake, well, ‘here you go, ma’am’.  Or if one wanted to try out the new frozen pizza, or the health drink, or the jalapeno artichoke dip on a rice cracker—line up here, it is only $8.99 for two, here-you-go-ma’am.

Do you think we have enough, honey?

We joined the sea of humanity pushing our way through the warehouse from sample to sample, soon forgetting that we did indeed need to buy milk, eggs, bread, and chicken.  By the time we got to the checkout registers, our cart was filled, our bill was $150, and we did not need to make dinner when we got home.

Happy samplers

Yesterday, we took our granddaughters to Costco with their mother.  I was in charge of the girls, thinking they were innocent in the ways of free samples.  But, no.  Each held my hand, and steered me from one sample to another.  “Sunshine” climbed up on a case of diced tomatoes, and called out to her sister, “Over there!  I see one—looks like pizza.”  When it appeared that I was getting overwhelmed, they dragged me into the “Fresh Produce” room, where a blast of 40 degree air surrounded the crates of blueberries ($5.99 for 2 lbs.) and a flat of strawberries ($6.99 for 2 quarts).  “You feel better, Grandma?”

After we spent about a million dollars, we all got some frozen yogurt ($1.50 for 12 ounces) and sat on the picnic tables outside.  The girls ate it all.  I was too stuffed to move—all that free food.