So...Barry and I set out at 8:30 this morning to get to the local Costco for senior hours that start at 9. Now, mind you, I am not a Costco regular. Barry has enjoyed his solo weekly ventures there for many years and my attitude is more power to him. But this time I wanted to tag along to make sure he got the correct Yukon gold mashed potatoes my friend Little Linda swore were so delicious she got an extra tray to freeze. I trust Linda's taste buds. She enjoys a good burger and a beer—a girl after my own heart.
We turned into the parking lot at 8:52. The lot was already crowded with cars. We parked on a far end next to a cart corral so as to in Barry's words make a "quick and easy" getaway. As we approached the warehouse entrance we saw a line a football field long waiting to get in. I was pleasantly surprised no one was cutting in—that the hundreds of us silly seniors were actually walking to the back of the line from everyplace in the parking lot behaving quite civilly in this uncivil world. We chatted with the people in front of us—laughing at the prospect that any of us thought we would beat the crowd. The line moved quickly. As we approached the entrance I noted that the individuals on the cart corral rail were reaching beyond the rail to push a cart forward as they advanced to the top of the line. The gentleman in front of Barry grabbed a cart and Barry proceeded to grab the one behind it when the woman behind him yelled "that's MY cart." I looked at her and then turned my attention to Barry who was shaking his head and chuckling just a little under his mask. When the gentleman in front of us secured his first place spot in line and started toward the entrance, Barry walked a couple of steps beyond the cart rail to retrieve one of his own. That's when the woman behind us started to push her cart where Barry had been standing. Waving my arm out to the side, I looked at her and announced, "that's his place in line." As Barry moved into his prior position my peripheral vision caught sight of her trying to pass me on the other side. I took a couple of side steps (not so fast sister) and we proceeded to enter ahead of her as she was mumbling something about it not mattering anyhow because we were all going in. Not matter? Not matter? It mattered to me. It mattered to me for sure!
As per the title, part of this blog is about giving thanks. I have so much to be thankful for contained within this one simple tale. My teammate in life is #1 of course. He admired my screen move impressing upon me that now I could appreciate a "pick" in basketball because I performed one perfectly. I'm appreciative that Dr. Chan started treating my glaucoma early enough to salvage much of my peripheral vision. I'm thankful for the organic turkey and the prime meat that enable us to eat healthy and well. I'm thankful for friends like Linda. I'm thankful that the "feisty little girl" Joan Heffernan referenced last month as we reminisced about grammar school, remains little and feisty still. I'm thankful that there are so many things I have to be thankful for, including (hopefully) those highly recommended potatoes!
