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Sunday, July 3, 2011

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.


Saturday, July 2, 2011

The Good Napkins


My Aunt Vada is one of the most precious people in the world.  She has always been my ‘crazy’ aunt—the one who goes places, tells stories well, listens to me, and communicates with others.  Aunt Vada sends me the funniest stories, some of them not repeatable to anyone other than my close family.  She sent me a story recently, but wouldn’t tell me who the writer was.  Said it was one of her friends who supply her with her naughty stories.  Well, taking a chance here, I want to share it with you.
  
                                              The Good Napkins
My mother taught me to read when I was about four years old (her first mistake).  One day, I was in the bathroom and noticed one of the cabinet doors was ajar.  I read the box in the cabinet. 

I then asked my mother why she was keeping ‘napkins’ in the bathroom.  “Don’t they belong in the kitchen?” 
Not wanting to burden me with unnecessary facts, she told me that those were for ‘special occasions’ (her second mistake).

Now fast forward a few months…it’s Christmas Day, and my folks were leaving to pick up my uncle and his wife for dinner.  Mom had assignments for all of us while they were gone.  Mine was to set the table.

When they returned, my uncle came in first, and immediately burst into laughter.  Next came his wife who gasped, then began giggling.  Next came my father, who roared with laughter.  Then came Mom, who almost died of embarrassment when she saw each place setting on the table with a ‘special occasion’ Kotex napkin at each plate, with the fork carefully arranged on top.  I had even tucked the little tail in so they didn’t hang off the edge!!
My mom asked my I used these and, of course, my response sent the other adults into further fits of laughter.  “But, Mom, you said they were for special occasions!!”

Aunt Vada’s friend added, “life is too short for drama and petty things…so kiss slowly, laugh insanely, love truly, forgive quickly, and for heaven’s sake, use the good napkins whenever you can.”

Friday, July 1, 2011

For just a few minutes...

San Juan Capistrano beach, courtesy of Bing.com
For just a few minutes when I closed my eyes, the beach transformed itself into a sandy friendly place where my teenage children were enjoying themselves.  The girls were stretched out on towels, lathering no spf lotion over their Irish skin, hoping for a tan this time.  After seeing there were no possible males for them, they flopped back on the towel.  Their brothers were tackling the waves, diving into them and emerging on the other side.

We were stretched out on the deck of the rental house, facing the ocean.  There was laughter about our jobs and the crazy things our kids had done and would do again.  Some hit song from the 80s was playing, and our feet were randomly keeping rhythm on the top of the railing.  It was a fine day.

Some still play on the beaches, while others remember play.
Then I opened my eyes.  Our grandkids were building rock castles, afraid of the water and rightly so.  Their mothers had greased them up with 150 spf/UV/UB, and then put some on themselves.  We ‘grownups’ were again laughing, this time about being in our fifty+ years.  Arthritis and cholesterol had hit most of us, even the youngest sibling.  Someone mentioned colonoscopies and that set off a whole new set of horror stories.  Some hit song from the 80s was playing, and our swollen feet were tapping out the rhythm as we talked about varicose veins. It was a fine day.

But for just a few minutes…