Friday, September 27, 2013

Hey Macklemore, can we go bulk shopping?

Wow. Let's lighten the mood around here, am I right? I appreciate the concerned emails and phone calls, but I promise that I'm totally fine and not likely to be murdered any time soon. I'm way more concerned that I almost choked on my toast this morning. For all the choking toddler patrol I do, you'd think I'd learn to take smaller bites. Speaking of large chunks of food that knock the wind out of you, yesterday we went to Costco.

We, meaning Stephen, Ivy and myself. I'm a really great shopper. When I'm alone. Going to Target while Stephen is at home with Ivy is my favorite Me Time activity. I'm there so often  that one of the cashiers whose name I don't know but I'm guessing it's Dolores, tells me all the latest celebrity gossip she's learned from skimming through OK! Magazine on her breaks. "Did you know Simon Cowell got his best friend's wife pregnant?!", she asked last time I was  in.

But Costco is a two man job and we can't very well  leave Ivy at home with the dog, so the three homo sapiens in our household make a family outing out of it. It rarely does much for familial unity.

There's something about Costco that puts me on edge, and judging by the looks of confusion on the faces of fellow shoppers, I'm not the only one. Maybe it's because it's September and half the store is already a Christmas  display. Maybe it's because the powers at be rearrange the aisles weekly, making it impossible to find chocolate chips. Maybe it's because  it feels like shopping for the apocalypse and you find yourself asking questions like, "When the zombies take over, do you think we'll need three pounds of cinnamon?".

We were about thirty minutes in to our Costco quest. At some point Ivy had grabbed a photo of cigarettes  and kept pointing at it and saying "mmmmm yummy" . Stephen was wondering how we managed to fill a cart so quickly. And I was just trying to find peanut butter. So I grabbed the first four pack I saw, not noticing it was Kirkland natural brand. I handed it to Stephen, the peanut butter connoisseur, whose reaction was  "No no no no." "Then find it yourself!" I barked. And then we both stood there in shock for a second while Ivy pointed at cigarettes and yummed. What had we become? What had this place done to us?  Were we those people now? "Yum!" Ivy said. We grabbed some Skippy, paid, and exited the store to the parking lot where the sun shined and there were no Christmas decorations in sight and we were a happy, functional family again.

I guess we learned a lesson? Maybe not. I don't know. But we're  well  stocked on food and still married so I'm going to say the outing was a win. Just a little touch and go for a minute there. Until next month, Costco. Hopefully you'll have your MLK decorations out.


  1. The only way I can convince Blake to come with me is to bribe him with cheap pizza. Costco - isn't it about time?

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