The Meijer Chronicles

Meijer and the Meijer goodbye

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Tue, 19 Mar 2024 20:05:00 +0000

I'm writing the 112th post of the Meijer Chronicles, from two states south of the nearest superstore.

I've moved from MI. never again to feel the whoosh of the automatic doors, to hear the senior citizen store greeter cough-clear his throat and then rasp/wheeze a "welcome to Meijer" greeting.

no more crazies, no more discovering foreign-to-me (with no actual hobby) bits and bobs in bins, and in aisles I've never traversed. no more observations of Meijer associates living day-in, day-out drudgery...

am I okay with that?

😭

*distraught sniffles* idk... maybe?

I mean humanity inside a grocery store are the same everywhere, right? right?!

this is the closest grocery store to me now.

side note: ever curious about font-age, I just couldn't place what this font could possibly be... clearly not the beloved helvetica, so of course, I googled it: Opificio Bold 👀

no opinion yet, but safe bet I'll be mulling it over for the next few months.

I now live in rural Georgia, or in the "country" as locals refer to the area, amongst citizens who would like you to remember that they live in "Appalachia Georgia," or another accepted moniker, "North Georgia." never in conversation, or any other form of communication, insinuate that they are a suburb of At-lan-ta. *southern gasp!!*

full disclosure: I have shopped at Publix before.

I lived in Florida from 1994-1996, and the local store was a small Publix. during that era in America, grocery stores were relatively small, utilitarian; not the flashy behemoths lined along the edges with nail salons, Subway, eyeglass outlets, Starbucks, Auntie Anne's pretzels, banks, and/or small animal veterinarian care. (<---- this enclave/office in Meijer was always empty, as in lights out, no employees, much less domesticated animals. 🤷🏻‍♀️)

so, I felt confident I knew what to expect.

😏 <--- that's my "oh, my sweet newly-North Georgian, summer child" smirk.

so with a fond farewell, I wave buh-bye to Meijer, and hope y'all will join me on my new southern, yet North Georgia, adventure!

check it out ---> tracinellmovedtogeorgia.blogspot.com

Meijer and the not ok corral

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Fri, 15 Jul 2022 21:39:00 +0000

pics for this post! 🤳🏼 🎉

when I took these pics, a Meijer associate, sitting Godfather-esque on a battery-drained electric cart, took umbrage at my blatant photoshoot of her fiefdom.

"can I help you?"

I kept snapping pics. I'm so good at ignoring supposed authority figures, especially when they are 20-something, unwashed hair, mouth-breathers.

MB shifted in her defunct electric throne, "ma'am?! can I help you?"

nary a glance as I walk away, "no."

a passive-aggressive spewing of "how dare she?!" snorts/grunts churned in my wake, but 🤷🏻‍♀️, my dedication to blog integrity trumps all Meijer associates' (aka #Meijersnowflakes™️) pretend indignation.

let's unpack the pics...

I've only been out of the state for a few weeks, and this ⬇︎ is what I walk in to:

major remodel on the west-side entrance, with, by the way, no heads-up railroad construction containers in the west parking lot! it just appeared in 2 weeks!

14 cashier-run/conveyor belt ~~cattle~~ customer chutes... GONE!

plus(!) 6 u-scan kiosks e l i m i n a t e d! 👀 (sidenote: zoom in, I just noticed that I captured the Godfather MB on her throne!)

thrilled-at-the-possibilities-goosebumps whooshed across my skin: has the superstore been chosen for a modern-techno-whiz-bang check-out pilot program?

🙏🏽 🤞🏼

exhibit a:

nope. *thrilled goosebumps deflate*

huh, the superstore just became Walmart.

yeeppp, take it all in folks; black pegboards cowhand-designed to guide all carts and shuffling bodies into a 12 kiosk corral, with only 1 SotPoP!! 🤠

after snapping the not-up-and-running-yet corral pic, and ignoring the MB, I hurry to the east side entrance, not sure what to expect amongst all the dizzying possibilities a-whirring inside my mind.

I skid to a stop, the SAME 12 kiosk corral(!) plus a winding line of befuddled Meijer cattle (not even going to bother with the strike-through, cattle is spot-on) all collectively unsure whether they are in line to checkout/escape, or have mistakenly signed up for a preg-check 😳

the flying solo, exasperated SotPop (no doubt wishing she had a Meijer-issued cattle prod) is inundated with impatient bellows demanding attention for out-of-date coupons, faded UPC codes, u-scan sensor double-scanning, weight/scale malfunctions, the mystery u-scan offense, and the KarenCow insisting the Franzia box wine is on sale. #moooooo!

I watch SotPop escape the corral, headed toward the Podium of Power, when an elderly bovine points to a very short line and asks, "cash?" SotPop shakes her head, "credit only."

intrigued at the short line, I investigate...

exhibit b:

behold! the new and improved(?) express u-scans...

true to superstore logic, there are only 3 of them (well, this pic shows only 1 working kiosk), credit card only, carts discouraged, and just enough space for 1 bag of items.

*sigh*

some of my fave words are: change, progress, technology and mucho more that denote getting me through a blankety-blank check-out lane sooner(!)… but tbh, I fear this corral make-over is a giant leap backwards.

*sudden realization gasp!* they got rid of the dedicated check-out lanes for the shipt/instacart/doordash multi-orders per cart shoppers!!

⬆︎ the 20th Century, brought back to you by Moo-jer, the soooperstore. 🐮

Meijer and the quickie

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Thu, 30 Jun 2022 21:31:00 +0000

not trying to double entendre the title y'all, just a quick post about a short line.

we all have the same fantasy, right? you have to return something at Meijer, let's say... an air-vent phone mount. (← specific details = literary magic 🤩) you hope, fantasize, manifest, and visualize that this time, today your jaunt into Customer Service Land will be quick, an in-and-out, wham, bam, thank you for the refund, ma'am scenario. #🤞🏼

I turn into the Customer Service section, aka the cubby of weirdness. this "enclave," in every Meijer store, is walled with a claw machine game (how do they get all the stuffed creatures to face the glass--eyes agog?!), a redbox dispenser (really people, still?!), lottery vending machine, carpet cleaner rentals--and it never fails--an 😠 mom who simultaneously berates and spoils their child with their classic smoker/drinker/laryngitis outside ~~bark~~ voice.

"Which color lottery ticket do you want?! I SAID DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING!!"

can't believe my luck(!), only 1 customer talking to the solo Meijer associate behind the desk and required hanging Covid-will-never-get-around-this-plastic barrier, and only 1 person in line!

I slide into line, a quick glance at the Meijer associate--oh yeah, she's a veteran, she'll have this lady's macrame throw pillow refunded in a NY minute. the receipt isn't even finished printing and Meijer Vet nods for the ponytail 20-something in front of me, holding 2 bags of groceries to step-up. I'm next up, baby! an impromptu jingle bounces around my thoughts "a quickie, a quickie; I scored a Meijer quickie!"

mingled with the jingle, a faint, familiar You're-Going-to-Get-Screwed-by-Meijer siren. I ignore it as I eagerly step up, just 6' Covid-can't-catch-me away from 20-something lady, when this hits:

"she's already finished shopping. why is she here?"

buy stamps?
buy a fill-in-the-bubble lottery ticket?
speak to the manager to compliment the staff? #🤣

Mommy Dearest's volume leaves the enclave, I lean in closer hoping 20-something just needs directions to the entrance/exit bathroom...

"hey, I just got a text, my friends want to meet me for a movie. I need to return these, I don't want them sitting in my car getting warm."

while I'm brain aneurysm-ing over 20-something's request 👀 😯 😳 😒 🤨 🤯 😡 😖 😩, Meijer Vet doesn't even blink. my quickie jingle dissipates into a dirge.

true to her pro-self, Meijer Vet calmly nods me to her left when she scans the last two pounds of ground beef, tears off the receipt, and hands it to the 20-something speed texting. 20-something doesn't even glance up, but tosses out this half-hearted promise,

"I'll be back later to buy them again."

my jaw still dropped, Meijer Vet quickly scans my return, nods to the person behind me to step-up to her right, hands off my receipt, half-smiles at my stunned expression, and says, "thank you for your patience."

I nod, thank her, and mentally 🙇🏻‍♀️ to the #QUEEN

Meijer and the lost Christmas found

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Mon, 20 Dec 2021 14:27:00 +0000

12.16.21: in a mad rush before leaving for a Christmas in the west, I dropped into Meijer, and seemingly into a time portal.

my iPhone's Christmas-cheer playlist, lock screen, and Reminders gift list were all strong indicators that it was indeed N I N E D A Y S before Christmas, and yet Meijer's vibe was def a nod to August 2nd(!). (I chose that date because there isn't any major holiday decor, greeting card or candy to push for that date, if it's your special day please accept this apologetic celebration emoji: 🎉)

really? not a single Christmas and/or holiday decoration?

1. the mannequin family members dotted around the store--toddler, tween, trim mom/aunt, trim dad/uncle, plus-size auntie/grandma (I never see a male plus-size equivalent, aka "husky" uncle/grandpa)--were all dressed for a chilly non-descript winter day. nary a Christmas sweater, scarf, or onesie jimjams dressed headless body-form to be found.

2. the typically Christmas-fun rafters? no fun.

3. by this date, Meijer "associates" have transformed into dashing-through-the-snow Santa's Elves with North Pole approved hats and teeny-jingle bell name tags. nope. 😔

4. the background muzak selection = playlist hits from the non-holidays 80s, and non-holidays 90s.

you'll recall the "where's Christmas" post 2020, the same general Christmas absence happened, but that was 2020 pandemic pandemonium, and we gave allowances for special circumstances...

it's 2021(!!) people, break out the extra-telescoping-tall ladder and hang some freaking Christmas cardboard-glittered cheer!!

*deep sad, depressing sigh*

maybe this is the "new normal" everyone talks about--a future of lost Christmases.

😫...

UPDATE 12.18.21:

CHRISTMAS ISN'T LOST!!!

I found it in Utah, at a grocery chain called...

my cheer-o-meter has sky-rocketed!

my heretofore uninspired holiday malaise has evaporated into Christmas stocking-stuffer inspiration, excited anticipation to decorate Christmas cookies; all while the house fills with the oh-so-sweet aromas of sticky cinnamon bun delights.

*deep content sigh* and another smile-sip from my mug of Harmon's hot chocolate. #Christmasfound

Meijer and the SWIs

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Sat, 04 Sep 2021 20:44:00 +0000

I was yesterday years old when I realized that for years now, an unknown percentage of the people I mercilessly threw into the Meijer-crazy category were actually, not. they just might be something entirely different.

at least, that is the only explanation I can come up with for yesterday's jaunt into the superstore...

as y'all know during and since pandemic, the service industry has taken a colossal hit in the e m p l o y e e area. (*whispers* service industry's equivalent to the c r o t c h) people are reluctant to go back to work, and are opting for unemployment instead.

fast facts:
*there are 16 cashier lanes in Meijer, but only 4 Meijer cashiers
*there are 12 u-scan machines for 12 items or fewer
*there are 4 u-scan unlimited items lanes, but 1 is strictly for shipt employees

second in line at the unlimited u-scan lanes, I realized I had just finished the 6th song on my Meijer playlist since joining the line--that's approx 24 minutes! I turned around and counted 8 carts behind me. what the what?!

I inventory the u-scan lanes: 2 people in the shipt lane, 2 red-light lanes with customers desperate to get the attention of the Steward of the Podium of Power, and a woman (with the only coveted green-lit lane) slowly quadruple-bagging individual grocery items.

in front of me, First in Line Lady makes a bold move and walks over to Quad Lady's touchscreen, throws her arms up in the air, and shouts to the rest of us, "she hasn't even paid!"

side note: I think that was what literary folk like to call "The Inciting Incident."

"I AIN'T GONNA PAY EITHER!!" she bellowed.

I sincerely believe that all of us in line cocked our heads in unison at the incongruent declaration, with the optics of all groceries (quadruple) bagged and in her cart.

Quad Lady then leaned against the conveyor belt--effectively holding the only green-lit lane hostage. now, stay with me here... there is nowhere for me, or anyone else to go.

collectively, we have already rejected the other 4 cashier-operated lanes because those lines were even longer! we can't just move over to the somewhat shorter 12-item lane because we clearly have more than 12 items and we've already invested 25+ minutes!

Quad Lady's announcement did get the attention of the SotPop, who immediately tried to reason with QL, yeahhhh.

QL's emphatic head shaking, arms flailing and finger pointing at the screen, forced SotPop to do the unthinkable... he used his in-house walkie-talkie. #duhnduhnduhn

within seconds 2 more associates showed up, one tried to fix the red-lit lanes, the other joined SotPop, which made QL puff-up into her full 65 years of age, 5'11", 300lbs and YELL once again the same message, albeit with a bit more clarification, "I AIN'T GONNA PAY--THAT SCREEN DIDN'T MATH RIGHT!"

I glance around, now everyone's getting agitated. it felt like I was surrounded by perturbed barrels of dynamite, and the QL's sparks were getting a littletooclose. with the help of SotPop #3, red-lit lanes turn green, a glimmer of hope that I'll get out of this alive takes shape, when...

Construction Worker Dude shows up, with his boxed deli lunch and fountain drink, cuts the entire line(!), and plants himself as the next check-out contestant for unlimited u-scan lane 9.

that's when I did the unthinkable! I CALLED HIM OUT! do not even ask me why--it was a complete knee-jerk reaction--that might have been from a place of innocence: maybe he didn't see us writhing in line-hell agony?

"sir?" my indoor voice salutation only elicited a slight side-eye shift from Mr. LC (Line Cutter). I tried again, this time not so much from a place of innocence.

"SIR!" what I naively thought would just be a one-human-to-another clearing up of a misunderstanding went sideways--super fast.

when he turned to face me, I explained that there was a line waiting for those lanes. when he turned away, effectively ignoring me, that's when QL's initial skirting-sparks landed.

the woman he stood behind, turned on him, telling him to get in line. Granny behind me yelled a few non-Granny words at him, first in-line Guy in the other line pointed the way to the line behind him. generally both lines of I've-had-it-up-to-here customers were throwing shade.

I was tense, "what have I done?!" I thought--

"THAT MACHINE IS WRONG--IT KNOWS IT IS! I AM NOT DRUNK, WE ALL KNOW YOU CAN'T TAKE AMBIEN WITH ALCOHOL, BEER IS NOT ALCOHOL!"

clearly QL was not done with making her point that computers can't add, and in a way, it was a welcome distraction from Mr. LC. with most of us now watching the new drama unfold, and the other lanes back to flashing reds, Mr. LC made his next dastardly move.

👀

he didn't go to the back of the 12-item line, he waited on the side and then attempted to swoop in while oh-so-sober QL was defending her Ambien honor, and dissing all computers of the world.

I say attempted, because First In Line Guy cut him off with his cart, and chewed-him out while he scanned his items.

Meijer mid-management shows up with bouncers (actually just cart-gathering guys in the orange and reflecting vests). they guide Mr. LC to the back of the line while he and First In Line Guy continue their back and forth, "you better be quiet!" and "big talk, big talk!" adult conversation.

now next in line, Meijer management directs me to the empty shipt lane. I have never u-scanned so fast in my entire Meijer customer career (#PR🥇) silently praying that nothing will trigger the red light.

management decides to pull QL and her over-loaded cart to the empty lane next to me, attempting to explain basic math. QL is not having it. she explains that she can't afford that amount, that the computer knows it, and is lying about how much everything costs.

that's when the thought hits me; not crazy, just shopping while intoxicated.

"SWI," I absently/idiotically say aloud. "Shopping While Intoxicated."

"WHO KEEPS SAYIN' I'M DRUNK?!"

I have never beat it out of Meijer so fast. #PR🥇

Meijer and the trouble with vaccine perk-iness

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Sat, 26 Jun 2021 18:10:00 +0000

I uh, have a umm...perk problem. MI has had thirty-four days of vaccine perks and as lame as it sounds…

I miss my mask. 😷

but crazily enough, not for COVID hygienic/prevention reasons.

*embarrassed sigh*

apparently, during the 14 months of Meijer masking, I developed a few unacceptable... behaviors. 👀

behavior #1: lip-syncing lyrics to my various super awesome playlists (*gasp* I should make one Meijer Superstore Playlist to rule them all!! muahahaha!)

turns out, the mask brought out the inner Lip-Sync Battle contestant in me; without having to hire backup singers, make a quick costume change, or hours of choreography sessions. 14 months of mask-wearing has created, enabled, and maintained this behavior: mask on --> air pods in --> playlist start --> lip-sync begin.

now, during my 20-40 minute mask-free shopping experience, I will catch myself repeatedly (like, 5 or 6 times!), and openly—for all the world to see—silent-mouth lyrics. 🥴 #suchcringe

and there is no way I can pull off the pretend-scenario that I'm reading a label. mouth-reading and mouth-lyric-ing, pffft -- totally different. no sane Meijer customer reads to the beat while pushing a cart. #justsayin'

behavior #2: instant/knee-jerk facial expression reactions at all the bizarro I witness. this is more frustrating than embarrassing for me. twenty-years of Meijer-crazy stoic-expression practice down the drain; in 14 months!

for over a year now, my mask has been my crutch, the barrier that hid my horror, disgust, or ennui of the crazies. it feels like my professional objectivity, non-interference prime directive has taken a nose-dive. no longer can I objectively watch/record natural habitat behavior like the greats: Attenborough, Cousteau, and Irwin. 🥺

and there's the flip side of the above problem; the smiling(!).

all. the. time.

there's still a side of me that is so happy/thrilled/elated that public mask mandates are gone, that when I'm not witnessing bizarro, I smile. if I'm not careful, my mask-free-vaccinated-perky smile might do permanent muscle damage. not joke(r)ing. #jokersmile #whysoserious

🤔

*shudders at possible fate*

*restocks car with masks*

Meijer and the vaccine perks

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Thu, 20 May 2021 18:38:00 +0000

PANDEMIC UPDATE: 18May2021

the CDC announced that vaccinated folk can now publicly live mask-free. shockingly, Michigan's health advisers and governor agree.

of course, I head to Meijer--the superstore.

honestly, I can't wait to experience the mask-less freedom and exhilaration of a clustered group of ~~crazies~~ customers under one massive warehouse-esque roof.

I step out of my car, soooo giddy(!). I sneer at the heretofore ever-present face mask folded in the ~~cup~~maskholder. we have waited for the Great Day of Normalcy, and it has arrived!

big unmasked smile as I look to the west-side entrance/exit, half-expecting (hoping?) for a marching band, or an old-timey fire engine bell clanging the happy news, or maybe the Meijer Tzar, unmasked, personally greeting each customer, his pearly whites sparkling in the morning sunrise.

I squint at the entrance/exit sliding doors. my unhidden smile falters.

first one customer, then a couple more, exit the store... with masks ON!

like a Pavlovian trained mutt, mask-muscle-memory reaches for the double-layered face mask from its maskholder. my fingers expertly spread the mask loops wide to avoid bumping my AirPods and earrings, with a quick nose-pinch to seal the deal.

I quick-walk to the entrance, a flurry of toddler-tantrum reasoning rapid-fires through my brain, "but the CDC said... the governor said... everyone said..."

approaching the whooshing doors, I expected to see a big A-frame sign, or a large colorful placard that will release us from the past 14 months of masking, only to find this...

yeah. landscape oriented, 8.5"x11" sized, gray scale "color" piece of paper, taped to the very top corner of the doors--clearly Meijer is thrilled about the CDC's and MI de-masking policy.

you know I've been dutifully playing by the rules, every rule(!) which suddenly, I realize, is exactly the point.

"the rules have changed," I mask mumble.

I search for the best apropos hype song from one of my multiple playlists...

*dramatically yanks off mask*

immediately followed by...

*obligatory juggle/ground scramble when my AirPods and earrings dislodge from dramatic yank*

my face flushed with obvious (and now visible) embarrassment, I collect my valuables, regain my dignity and stride through the airlock, bare-faced and resolute to enter the superstore--so ready for the welcoming "huzzahs!" of my fellow mask-freed humans(!)...

🦗🦗🦗

Still-Masked Greeter Lady nods her "Welcome to Meijer," with a lingering side-eye at my rebellious act of obeying the rules.

my eyes flit from one masked customer, and Meijer associate, to the next.

seriously? am I the only fully-vaccinated-since-February Michigander that for months looked forward to actual perks of my Pfizer vaccines? I mean, besides the obvious perk of the "I'm Vaccinated" pin I used for my Insta story. #42views! #perks

my hand reached into my pocket, teasing the idea that I could just put my mask back on, blend in, give-in, give-up my new vaccinated perk...

a masked woman walking towards me literally stops in her tracks--clearly staring at my uncovered face.

several knee-jerk reactions race through my mind:

1. show her the pic of the tiny Meijer freedom sign, and my vaccine card?

2. fumble to replace mask... and possibly drop my AirPods for a second time?

3. fight stance? (☜I'm gonna blame the Joan Jett hype song for that one)

I keep walking, ready for anything, when I watch her hand raise, as if in slo-mo, touch her mask, and then pull it off her face! correction, her angelic, beautifully smiling face!

of course I nod, and smile back, an electric human connection zaps between us as we pass each other. I glance away, and to my right I notice masked Hipster Dude taking in the scene. another de-masking, another amazing smile.

no, the entire store didn't unmask, join hands and sing the universal hymn of freedom... but I'm gonna add "the smiles of a stranger" as a definite, undeniable, vaccine perk.

Meijer and the fear of public vomiting

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Mon, 28 Dec 2020 21:57:00 +0000

. . .

⬆︎ those are my pondering dots.

you've read this post's title, so now the dilemma is-- how do I unpack that day of personal infamy? maybe I'll begin with a date stamp...

December 23rd, 2020

for the record, I had already made 3 Meijer visits over the previous 2 days, but still had to make another $186 trip to the superstore. #sonofanutcracker!

I finish loading my cart, thrilled to make my way through the holiday-busy, 6' socially distance store, when I realize that all the people/carts I'm trying to navigate around aren't just annoyingly browsing in the aisle's walking spaces--they are parked; as in, waiting in line for one of the four cashiers!

I make a u-turn from the ridiculously few "real" cashiers, and begin the daunting task of weaving through men's unmentionables, plus-size leggings, and holiday sweaters, towards the 12 items or less u-scan--all the while simultaneously reviewing my cart's contents; hoping beyond hope I can shed dead weight and turn my 12 x 12 items into... fewer than that.

before I toss items willy-nilly from the cart, a hard reality check smashes into my dead weight fantasy. the u-scan line snakes through plus-size, active-wear and ends in SHOES!

another course correction. I've resigned myself to an actual cashier, I face the next insane line of people, it's worse than I originally thought.

I give myself a quick mental pep-chat: I'm no Meijer noob, I'm a pro with 15+ years of experience. Meijer can't out think, or out creative me! (poor mind grammar, but sometimes that's how pep-chats go).

I make a recon run, analyzing, running the numbers, Meijer ~~sheep~~ customer patterns... and that's when I found it-- the hidden short(ish) line in the over-priced candle and tissue paper aisle. I swoop in, ignoring the stares and jaw-droppers when they realize the massive coup d'etat I just pulled off. 💪🏼

the older hippie-guy in front of me turns to lean against the shelving, gives me a once-over with a "in-the-secret-aisle-know-nod" and proceeds to work on his phone's candy crush game... with the l o n g e s t (natural) yellow/grey fingernails I have ever seen on a man-human... at Meijer (I've lived in Taiwan).

not gonna lie, warning sirens nagged my mind. I ignored them, sure that getting out of Meijer was the ultimate goal. still... another quick scan of Mr. Nine Inch Nails (NIИ), revealed beard with food crumbs, unzipped jeans (👀!), Birkenstocks, and the same yellow/grey fingernail theme, but on TOES!

with sweaty palms, I wipe my clammy forehead, head spinning, my oversized Carhartt hoodie feels like an electric blanket powered by lava.

an unhelpful image flashes through my mind: me sitting in a poorly-lit cement-floored basement, a loose circle with fellow therapy patients, as I recite: "hello, my name is tracinell, and I have an irrational fear of vomiting in public."

I shake my head, willing the premonition away, but that shake ripple-effects into a tsunami wave of nausea through my overheated system. I'd kill for a sip of water, or a cool breeze.

refusing to be forced into therapy by Mr. NIИ--I resolve to leave the now claustrophobic-secret-aisle, and head for the 45 minute wait line, but with safety in numbers. just as my damp palms grab the cart handle, my sense of surgical-masked smell is sucker-punched by a horrific stench of body odor. I'm trapped! a mani/pedi phobia in front of me (with beard brunch and unzipped jeans), and an obese maker of stinky-human-cheese-in-the-folds-of-his-skin behind me!

my personal vomiting nightmare ramps up several notches to living HELL level; I white-knuckle death-grip the cart handle, clamping down the impending stomach heaves. I lean over, head between my arms, hoping there's a breeze below the waistline that hasn't been putrified yet, but not so low that gravity will just pull the vomit from my churning stomach.

full-on praying now, I glance to the left and stare at the wall of tissue paper. a glimmer of hope that if public vomiting is my destiny, at least there is something to soak-up the shame with.

a warm breeze of putrid stinky body cheese wafts between the folds of my medically-enchanced-paper mask. my head swivels to the right, I blurry-vision, but somehow make out rows, and shelves, of hyper-fragranced candles.

in a flash, I am tearing off candle lids, mask-filter inhaling pumpkin nutmeg pie, candle fireside, lilac blossoms, sparkling cinnamon, frasier fir, banana walnut bread, creamy vanilla swirl... my face half an inch from candle wicks as I inhale-gulp.

the line moves; a classic good news/bad news scenario. I'm leaving the tunnel-like aisle, but still have the same human-ickiness in front and behind me. I avert my eyes from the troll toenails hanging over the birkenstocks, and grab the biggest "to-go" candle I can find; I position it directly under my masked-nose.

after a few deep vomit-taming breaths, I glance up to see frightened Mr. NIИ staring at me. he nudges his cart forward to a 6' 3" distance. with the candle pressed against my sickly-green face, I tempt fate and look behind me. Stinky Cheese Man pulls his cart back to a 6' 6" distance from me.

beyond grateful for my portable, waxed Christmas-Eve's-Eve miracle, I glance at the name of the candle, "Life's a Breeze."

Meijer and the holiday something

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Thu, 19 Nov 2020 18:49:00 +0000

UPDATE: November 17, 2020...

the second set of motion-sensor doors open, my lungs fill with a hopeful inhale of holiday decoration anticipation(!) ... only to exhale out a disappointed blurt,

"seriously?!"

I check the date of the not-quite season post, I could've sworn I learned the holiday decor heartbreak-lesson and waited even longer before going to Meijer in November...

"November 8th." I mutter from behind my mask.

"No ma'am, it's the 17th today," Masked Greeter Man clarifies, spritzes a paper towel with disinfectant, then offers it in lieu of the more valuable than gold antibacterial wipe for my germ-infected cart.

distracted, I go through the motions of cleaning my COVID super-spreader cart, and scan the ceiling of the superstore, expecting, no, wanting Meijer's tacky/ginormous cardboard Christmas tree ornaments to twist awkwardly in the superstore's climate controlled breeze.

nothing.

I purposely head to the plus-size headless mannequins, hoping for an ugly Christmas sweater, or even plus-size sexy-Mrs. Claus lingerie (Santa baby indeed! *sexy growl*)

nothing.

my pace quickens. I hold out hope that the east-side will burst with--well, if not Christmas, at least Thanksgiving decor!

my eyes dart left, center, right, searching for punkin' pie, or a theme of red, yellow, brown leaves, on placemats, or printed on the fancy-thick paper napkins, or even that cartoon turkey mascot reminding me "don't forget the stuffing!" (side note: it's macabre when cartoon turkeys encourage their doom; but hey, turkeys aren't exactly smart, sooo...)

nothing.

memories of November 8, 2017's post, and my current lack of holiday cheer surroundings on November 17, 2020, swirl. I attempt to align my chakras (actually, I just took in a deep breath--that counts, right?) as I wade through my incongruent reality...

"so, no holiday decorations, even though I waited an entire week+ longer, and *insert math computation whirring sound* it's only 9 days until Thanksgiving?!"

more counting, lightheadedness threatens...

"which means only 38 days 'til Christmas!!"

I bah-humbugg-ed the rest of my shopping excursion--well, because I was raised in the South, that means I still said "hello" as I passed fellow humans, but I didn't bother to physically smile behind my mask. #shameful

now in a checkout line, I center my cart over the 6' apart sticker. totally bummed, I look up from my phone, hoping that maybe the cashier is wearing a rack of reindeer antlers, or an elf hat-- heck, at this point, my cheer-o-meter would skyrocket if she was snacking on a giant turkey leg in one hand, and a slice of apple pie in the other!

nothing.

my head lowers... I shuffle forward, pausing to let people move passed me when, suddenly(!), to my left, my peripheral vision catches red, yellow, then green. my observation skillz snap to attention... could it be--

SOMETHING?!

A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!!! 🙏🏽

albeit in the form of printed cardboard, but I'll take it! thanks, Frito-Lay, for coming to my Christmas cheer rescue. (☜ tbh, a sentence I never in a million years expected to write.)

Meijer and the pandemic hunger game

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Sun, 18 Oct 2020 22:29:00 +0000

decades from now, when the words "pandemic," "COVID," and "corona" are all but forgotten, I want a visual to show my grandchildren of this tumultuous-uncertain-trying-frightening-unprecedented-unnerving-isolated time...

⬆︎ this about sums up the past 6 months of my grocery life; paper towels, produce, TP, canned goods, cleaning/laundry products.

💡!

heeeeeyyyy... wanna play "The Pandemic Price is Right Hunger Game" and guess how much the Two-Tier Small Cart cost?

Click on the jingle while you take a zoom-in closer look...

I'll give you a massive hint-- none of the bags contain meat or dairy. think you've guessed the grand total? then scroll down ⬇︎

did you say $165?

nope! 🙄

did you say $210?

negatory! 😲

you went higher?

"$325?" you shock-whisper...

WRONG AGAIN!! 👀

that cart, without meat or dairy, cost: $359.56(!!). 🤑

*sputter-gasp-cough-choke*

let's be honest, if those bags contained any meat or dairy products, the shock-and-awe price tag would've been $gazillion.56. #sheesh

btw... I hate (and loathe) to be the bearer of even worse news, but... regular flu season has begun, and there's a hum-dinger of an election coming up. just sayin', it miiight be the right time to apply at the World Bank Group for that loan...

to purchase meat and dairy.

#maytheoddsbe #everinyourfavor

Meijer and the CDC blues

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Sat, 25 Jul 2020 21:51:00 +0000

PANDEMIC UPDATES:

1. Michigan now requires face masks in all indoor public places, by law. I know this because Meijer told me so via a 3' folding A-frame sign, aaaannnddd a bouncer standing behind said sign, presumably to enforce said sign.

and by "bouncer" I mean an anemic, anorexic, meth-addict, who sips slim-fasts all day. #Icouldtakehim #💪🏼 #butIwont #playingbytherules

2. for the past 4 months these items on my grocery list have been AWOL.

*antibacterial wipes

*isopropyl alcohol

*kippered snacks (quick protein source, don't judge)

*Dave's bread

*Vitamin D gummies

*vinyl gloves (my fave kitchen gadget for dealing with meat, don't judge)

each item listed has an evenly aligned, negative-space (artsy lingo for 'empty') row, fronted with a plastic Meijer-font description + price, but no actual item to seal the deal.

week after week feels like Meijer just shrugs at these items and thinks, "meh, they won't notice. let's stock up on packets of turkey gravy instead."

3. the superstore feels a bit... exhausted.

all the happy little blue and white footprint floor stickers, giving me an exact 6' guesstimate where to queue-up, are now worn, torn, or reduced to a circle smudge of sticky. so now, Mr. Coughing Through My Turtleneck feels more like 6" away.

the greeters hope I think they're smiling behind the masks, but the eyes don't lie. and all the antibacterial wipes they hand out, become dried pieces of litter all over the store, carts, and the parking lot-- egads! it just hit me--no wonder there aren't any wipes on the shelves!

4. I forgot my AirPods today, so I got to "experience" a pandemic background playlist.

it sucks. when did grocery shopping become so moody, so slow-jam, so I got the blues, with a dose of reality hit-list of rules and regs from the CDC?

*sigh* I never thought I would pine so hard for the perky tunes of Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go, Danke Schoen, or Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.

gotta be honest, I'm ending this post searching for a bright side, a silver-lining, and all I can come up with is...

won't have to go back to the superstore for another 10 days 😟, and 🤞🏼 that a vaccine comes out in 9. #remembertheairpods

Meijer and the sexy sister-store

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Fri, 10 Jul 2020 00:17:00 +0000

not to come off as dramatic or anything (who? me?), but when I turned right to exit the hospital's campus, I think I may have had a stroke. or saw a mirage...?

because this barely-recognizable-as-a-Meijer seemed to vibrate into existence from the 96 degree heat vapors. up to this exact second, I had no idea that this... concept even existed! maybe I can (and will) blame COVID-19 shelter-in-place restrictions.

but here I am, reeling in a new reality--Meijer, the superstore, has been outdone by none other than... ITSELF! *brain implosion*

let me, in a series of pics and words, unpack (←new buzzword, gotta keep the blog fresh) this pic.

Meijer blue and Meijer red colors? gone. in fact, I *overt eye-rolled* just thinking of that ridiculous color combo. #redwhiteandblue #pfft #beendone

typical Meijer windowless store front? bite your tongue! look at the "if I wanted to, I could open these garage-esque walls and look like a farmer's market" doors!

here's another pic to bowl you over.

shiny, sleek, new(!), classic--yet trendy--black carts! *swoon* I am now loathe to admit it, but there was a day when the cobalt blue carts turned my head. btw, cobalt blue, sooo past tense.

clutching the cart's smooth, barely been used handle to guide the still-round-not-mutilated-wheels, I glided into this outrageously sexy (which by extension made me sexy too, right? 👠) Meijer.

the store's interior is over the top cool, mod, local-focused, organized, and all the other words that mean my head is boggled, in a good way(!).

take a look see.

it was (no-joke) so hard to look away from all this gorgeousness surrounding me, and focus on my iPhone's Reminders grocery list.

after the 30th time of raising my phone to take yet another beauty shot, I was sure I would blow my heretofore incognito blogger life. #facemasktotherescue

I forced myself to stop the paparazzi-OCD, and when I finally reviewed my list, an interesting reality hit; "umm, this is no superstore."

okaaaay. this Meijer is limited in variety/inventory, and smaller in square footage. so, sure, "market" is def the right descriptor.

for example, I couldn't find regular, everyday staple foods (Tostitos), or toiletries (Dove Beauty Bar). not to mention the aisles of salsa, and deodorant varieties were MIA.

my honest review? *sigh*

this Meijer: all sex appeal, baby.

case in point: a Detroit based distillery pivoted from vodka production to hand sanitizer. this is sexy Meijer's answer to my pandemic hand sanitizer needs.

isn't that the most amazing $12.99 worth of hand sanitizer eye-candy you have ever seen during this pandemic?

that cork-capped, vertical-textured, opaque-glass bottle display was just another figurative little black dress, stilettos, and candy-red lipstick addition to the Pleasure Island experience.

a sudden thought struck me. my eyes flit from the sexy store's inventory, and focused/scrutinized the customers--would they be as sexy as the surroundings? or do "regular" people somehow ugly-stumble (like I did) into this oasis of perfectly placed inventory and aesthetics?

side note: get this. I actually glanced down at my t-shirt and jeans, checked my lipstick, and zhuzhed my hair. suddenly worried my Meijer superstore standards wouldn't pass muster here. #whatevs

I think I discovered a formula to describe the ~~customer~~ clientele: LA Fitness (lots of snapback bros & lulu lemon chicas) + Whole Foods (grocery $$$ price point & hipster sustainability) = Sexy Meijer Market. #doubleentendre

and to answer the question y'all are dyin' to ask: will she fickle-ditch the upgraded Marsha superstore for this newer, even more sexier sister-store?

well... living the pandemic life has taught me something that I'll apply to this jaunt into Meijer's sexy side: there's essential, and then there's non-essential.

and dang it(!), I want both.

#pleaseandthankyou

Meijer and the banes of pandemic society

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Tue, 09 Jun 2020 21:26:00 +0000

it's a rare day when I find myself standing in solidarity with Meijer, the superstore.

I'm guessing 88.79% (too specific for guessing?) of my posts take a position opposite to Meijer's picture of the fantasy/ideal customer.

*extremely brief introspective sigh*

but like I said, I'm playing by the rules while my county's COVID-19 numbers are ominously slapped with the title "nation's hot spot". 🔥

about a month ago, in the throes of living the hot-spot life (a pandemic really changes the vibe of that cool/clubbing lingo), I donned a mask and strong-walked across the Meijer parking lot.

before I triggered the motion sensor for the sliding glass doors, I noted a sign asking for customers with the bullet-point symptoms to voluntarily refrain from entering the superstore, and requiring all who enter to wear a mask. ✓✓

knowing that bonafide surgical masks were scarcer than hen's teeth, (☜ for my Beverly Hillbillies' fans), I entered the store, sure that a doozy of a Meijer Chronicles post was about to unfold...

yeah, I spied the coveted N95 masks (what darkweb Amazon.com are they shopping at?!), and yes, surgical masks were all the rage, but then the variants got a little outlier-ish-y:

*sleep masks

*pulled up turtlenecks

*welder/grinder face shields

*'Merica neck gaiters

*napkins held to face

*and a toddler-size sweater (you go haggard mom who forget a mask and used whatever was not vomited or peed on in the back seat 👊🏼)

these were great, after all, necessity is the mother of invention, but as I navigated through the superstore, I discovered... *cue ominous organ music* the Mask-Refusers. those bare-faced malefactors who belligerently(!), and figuratively, spat in the safety-goggled eye of the CDC's advice.

oh, how I wish you could've seen the half-hidden fury of the Masked-Ones! who needs facial expressions, when the 👀 can say so much?! the side glances, wives elbowing their husbands, the pointing, the angry squints, the blatant smh(s).

I, along with three other tsk-tsk-ers, stood agape (behind our masks) in solidarity when a MR Obnoxious Cougher was approached by a Meijer associate, and politely asked to put on a mask, or leave the store.

I'm guessing OC was formerly a FIFA player because her outrage had to have been coached. the massive-lung fed-up-to-HERE expletives, and final HUFF that came out of her was epic(!), as in great-woolly-mammoth exhale epic. #prehistoricepic #nextlevelstuff

after the massive huff, and subsequent coughing spasm, she abandoned her cart and stomp/stagger-coughed away. the Masked Vigilante Community dispersed; very pleased with ourselves, I might add.

as I swooped into the parchment paper aisle (on the lookout for more banes of society!), still riding the euphoria wave from ridding the dairy section (and quite possibly the entire store), of "Covid Mary," a glance of irritation from a fellow parchment paper lover startled me.

my hand flew to my mask, was I exposed?! no, mask in place, and covering my nose. I walked on, maybe the glance was a fluke(?).

nope, not a fluke. aisle after aisle it became crystal-clear that I was now the target of disgruntled side-glances of the Masked-Ones. somehow, inconceivable to me, I had become a bane.

I turned into the bottled marinara aisle, aka all things Little Italy, where the withering glances escalated into the you-are-dead-to-me stare!

deciding against that week's spaghetti dinner plan, I made a dash to the end of the aisle, desperate to escape the stares and growls of the Corleone Family's henchmen. I darted into another aisle, and nearly careened into a cart leaving that aisle.

it was Harried Mom, her toddler's Oshkosh Bgosh sweater-mask muffled her apology.

"so, sorry!" as she adjusted the tightness of the mask's sleeves. "I'm so clueless, I didn't notice the arrows on the floor! sorry!" she wheeled passed me.

I heard myself whisper behind my mask, "arrows? floor?"

I glanced down; blogger instincts took over, I snapped this pic...

*much longer, and embarrassed, introspective sigh*

"ladies and gentlemen, put your slow clap hands together for the banes of the pandemic society: Mask-Refusers and... One-Way Obliviants!" 🙋🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️

Meijer and the what if—?! panic

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Sun, 26 Apr 2020 02:23:00 +0000

living in COVID-19 Michigan means the quarantine-life has been going on for 40 days, and we get to look forward to (at least) 20 more.

I've decided to play by the rules on this one-- not my typical adventurous, devil-may-care attitude, mostly because I keep getting this image in my head...

that's me, a knife at my throat and COVID-19 screaming-- "never go against a pandemic when death is on the line!" *maniacal laughter*

so, once every 10 days I take my SUV (gas tank still 7/8 full--40 days!!!) to the superstore to restock groceries and other necessities. I choose Meijer for the mostly-reliable one-stop shopping, or as we like to say in Michigan, "one-stop = minimal exposure shopping." #favesaying

sheesh. gonna be honest, this pandemic is messing with my grocery game. yeah, I create meticulous lists, you bet'cha. but all checked-twice-list bets are off when I walk through the superstore's "airlock." (⬅️ that word(!) doesn't live up to it's hype. #pandemicstandards)

It feels like I live a dual pandemic-panic shopping life:
rational me: sticks religiously to my list
vs.
irrational me: spies a fishing pole, and thinks, "I don't have this... what if the pandemic gets so bad that I have to start fishing?!"

before you know it, I'm wedging a rod, reel and fluorescent lures (big enough to tempt Free Willy) between two dozen eggs, coconut milk, a box of those posh "fireplace" matches, the what-if-we-lose-power?! hibachi, and a pair of what-if-there's-a-flood?! hip-waders.

the rational-me list, firmly gripped in my left hand, snaps me back. I review the cart's contents, giving each item a serious rethink.

I discard the posh matches. #frivolous

I rededicate myself to my list, and head to Pharmacy for some Vitamin D gummies.

I flatly ignore aisle after aisle of reading glasses, canes, wrist bandages, foot supports/powder, allergy relief, no-pooping relief, back pain relief; judiciously resisting each of their what if—?! arguments.

I am nearly passed the last fill-in-the-blank body part pain relief. I'm thisclose to reaching the wall of gummy vitamin delights when--

I stop dead in my tracks. evolutionary instincts take over; with my peripheral vision I watch my phone-hand raise, thumb hovers over the camera button...

*click*

honestly, I have no idea what I've discovered. clearly, I can read, but never, ever(!) have I seen the words "EAR" and "Candles" paired together-- much less packaged with a set of sketchy directions, and a photo of a human with a candle sticking out of her head.

the longer I stare at this cock-eyed (cock-eared?) product, rational thought slips away, replaced with my irrational evil-twin; "what if the pharmacy runs out of the prescription stuff of whatever this does?!"

the scientific claims on the packaging come into focus:
"naturally relaxing"
me: eyes flit back to the photo, "oohhh, she's relaxed! not in a meds-induced coma."

"handcrafted beeswax candles"
me: "a gold clip-art graphic official seal. seems legit."

"Luxury Collection"
me: "gasp, and only $8.99."

again, I take inventory of my cart.

I rethink the eggs.

Meijer and the art of pandemic war

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Tue, 17 Mar 2020 15:56:00 +0000

I know what you're thinking...

"more "empty-shelves-at-a-grocery-store" pics? *yawn*"

NOPE!

well, maybe one... zoom in on that 10 for $10 sale sign, go ahead, I'll wait...

I promise you, I sly-scanned every cart that came within the decreed "that's close enough" 6 feet of me, but I could not find Mr(s). Broccoli Crown Hoarder.

however, zoom in a bit more, see white-stripe joggers dude? he is what we call in the Pandemic Insanity biz, "amateur." you come to the superstore to play hoarder hardball and you pre-fill one cart with humans?! *riotous laughter that ends with COVID-19 wheeze*

unlike the amateur superstore shoppers, I had a plan, a list, and an empty cart. #PandemicAftermath101

here's my list:
protein food
dairy food
produce food

my list is so brilliant, even Sun Tzu would be impressed! that list is the epitome of a couple of massively important war concepts:
war plan vs. realities of war
premise of adaptation aka, rolling-with-the-punches

clearly I took that pic in the superstore's produce section, and when a quick google search for "citron turnip breadfruit recipes" came back with zilch, *agape shock!* I moved on to the top of my list, protein food.

I turn the corner from produce area into meat section, I stop, and utter this word, "keto."

suddenly all of southeast MI is keto?! I'm staring at the only package of beef stomach tripe, I can't help but wonder; were there more tripes? I envision a multi-Meijer-Crazies tripe fight, but then in my IRL peripheral vision, I see a broken jar of pigs feet on the floor with it's protective yellow "slippery when wet" cone guarding the kinda-sorta-homicidal scene.

wincing, I type in google's search field, how to cook... I mutter, "and not vomit,"
t-r-i-- I can't do it. I completely wuss-out on a google search. now-- now I'm feeling it. that feeling of panic, the "what's for dinner?!" discomfort/inner-dread.

I remind myself that 2 out of 3 foods on my brilliant list were fails. I MUST come through in the dairy section. I'm not walking anymore, I'm fast-walking. the clickety-clack of that bad front wheel on the cart is whirring an urgent hum; daaaaaaiiiirrrrryyyyyy!

I skid to a stop in front of that massive wall of refrigerator doors--

side note: as I think back on it, I should've tilted the camera to my face and taken a "how-do-I-bring-home-6-pint-bottles-of-buttermilk-to-my-loved-ones" selfie. #onedayyoulllookbackandlaughmoment

my empty cart's wheel is just annoying-squeaking now as I crumple my stupid, unbrilliant list in my hand.

still, there's a tiny part of me that refuses to give in; even as I walk passed aisle after empty aisle. I refuse to be beaten by the lack of google's recipe genius! I refuse to believe that I have to put stomach into my... stomach(!), and I refuse to believe that Sun Tzu didn't prepare me for everything war could throw my way.

two ~~marauders~~ "rushed" Meijer customers force me to swerve to the right, and at that moment a light went on.💡no, seriously. no metaphor, the sensor light behind the frozen food door flickered on.

but-- that's when the metaphorical lightbulb flipped on in my head. this time I did raise my camera and took these pics while muttering...

"fruit pies. produce food."

"peanut butter ice cream. protein food."

and then, I glanced to my right, and the rest of the wall of frozen-miracles lit up. in awe, I whispered: "multi-colored, artificial-flavored ice cream. dairy food!"

it was as if Sun Tzu guided me to a rainbow, symbolic with a promise that I wouldn't lose this hoarder's battle, that it will all workout.

well, eating that much ice cream means I'll have to workout, but hey, this is war!

Meijer and the holiday sparkle

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Sun, 08 Dec 2019 19:26:00 +0000

from the moment I strong-walked in to the superstore--typically a bustle of Thanksgiving and Christmas Black Friday anticipation/excitement--I sensed it; a disturbing lack of holiday excitement.

no frenetic searches for the mathematically optimum number of dinner rolls. no heart-tenderizing moments between polarized generations agreeing on favorite side-dishes that must be on the table. no profound relief at the glorious sight of deep fresh-produce bins bursting with sweet potatoes and Yukon Golds...

all the lack of those moments, in a place brimming with abundance, put me on edge.

I scoured the superstore searching, desperately searching, for a moment, a convo, an expression--something that would inspire a Thanksgiving-Eve-Holiday-Cheer-post to end 2019.

I swung into the baking aisle, so positive baking supplies would be a gold mine of Thanksgiving Eve spirit and/or heart-wrenching drama.

nope.

my disappointment expressed itself through my nervous foot-tapping, but not to the beat of the Little Drummer Boy from the overhead sound system— instead, a Pet Shop Boys “classic" pop song.

"no Christmas music." I gasped.

my cart stopped alongside the cooler cabinets, I bit my lip, brow furrowed.

"no Christmas snowflake graphics on the egg cartons."

panicked, my eyes flitted upwards, scanning the warehouse eaves, from one end of the massive superstore to the other.

"no Christmas decorations swaying from fishing line." I muttered to no one.

a pattern was forming. a sinister, holiday-sparkle-destroying pattern.

I numbly waited in the checkout line, in shock really.

I searched the other 9 open checkout lanes (only 10 out of 36 lanes?!), hoping for a last chance, a last something that could turn this non-holiday mood into something touching, heart-warming, something spectacularly compelling... but all I saw were blank, tired, and jaded faces.

then, it happened.

Big Intimidating Dude--wiry, unkempt long hair, "natural" beard (no beard oil or fancy "shaping"), worn hoodie, covered by an even more worn jean jacket--locked eyes with me.

clearly he had watched me as I watched the zombie-esque others. it was a moment of social-awkward dread that my nightmares are filled with. a moment that in normal circumstances would make me dart my eyes in a panic-driven alternate direction.

but somehow-- somehow I resisted that evolutionary fight or flight reaction, and held my eye-gazing ground. the corner of my mouth raised ever so slightly, a sheepish attempt at a holiday cheering smile.

B.I.D.'s face lit up with genuine mirth, I wasn't close enough to hear his laugh, but from the spontaneous wake-up reaction of those closer to him, it seemed like a much-needed jolly oasis.

sheepish smile no more, I was full-on, teeth-showing, cheeks rosy-ing smiling.

aaaannnd, I felt my eyes sparkle. I just knew my eyes holiday-sparkled, at least as much as B.I.D's did.

Meijer and the anti-goodbye

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Mon, 19 Aug 2019 02:45:00 +0000

most people I know have a talent that truly baffles me.

when it's time to say farewell to a visiting friend, a beloved family member, or to an unrequited love spanning decades in a rural airport in France (☚ oh yeah, that's definitely a scene for a new Nicholas Sparks novel/movie), 99.9% know exactly what to say.

ex-act-ly.

it's as if a Shakespearean ghost whispers the perfect adieu that warms the heart, and conveys the deepest joys of the time spent together during that Labor Day weekend BBQ; or the heart-wrenching, unspoken sorrows/regrets at that rural French airport.
*quick google search if there is such a thing as a rural airport in France* 🤔 👍🏻

you might think that someone with a blog spanning 14 years, and 95 published posts, should be a veritable whiz with the words--hurling them about with dexterity, capturing the beauty of each moment with an existential imagery that lingers l o o o n n g g g after the words fade.

well, you'd be wrong, because I suck at goodbyes.

*sigh*

I'm ashamed to admit it, but over the years, I've developed a pathetic coping-mechanism for my "goodbye impotence." I smile, give hugs, and utter these unbelievably trite and seemingly insincere words (feel free to join me for a pre-emptive overt eye roll)...

"This isn't goodbye, there's always ("the phone" circa 1981-1990, "email" 1994-2003, "Facebook" 2004-2010, "twitter" 2010-2011, and now...) Insta!"

🤦🏻‍♀️

so with that background info, imagine my jaw-dropping shock at my latest goodbye predicament propped inside Meijer's entrance/exit airlock--

my first thought was to drop to my knees, raise my fist and shout at the Meijer gods,

"noooooooooo!"

but that would make me a Meijer/Starbucks crazy, so I opted to stop, stare, then woodenly point my phone/camera. #forposterity

the beloved Starbucks, hipster-tucked unassumingly in Meijer's corner is... gone. and that-- that sign, that Starbucks goodbye... was the ultimate anti-goodbye.

no whispering ghosts, no imagery, no unrequited chest pangs of hope and/or regret as the AirFrance commuter jet slides from the gate (I'm serious Nicholas S, this needs to be a novel/movie--call me). just the Starbucks Siren perched atop a white placard, Meijer font in Meijer blue and Meijer red, with a date.

hours later, after going through the 5 stages of grief (one of the perks of being shallow is a quick grief turnaround time), I whispered,

"brilliant."

then sipped my tall, coconut milk hot chocolate, no whip, on the patio at a Starbucks, a quarter of a mile away from... Meijer, the superstore.

Meijer and the forgivable sin

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Tue, 11 Jun 2019 15:52:00 +0000

225,000 sq/ft. that's the average square footage for a Meijer store.

having a hard time visualizing that number? have a look see...

for my farming/suburban peeps: 4.59 acres
for my big-city folks: 2 blocks

and you laughed when I compared the superstore to an ultra. #sillyyou

when the task of picking up groceries becomes necessary, I have a full-on, in-my-head pro/con debate about which grocery store to choose.

Kroger 's size is a hop-skip-and-a-jump experience compared to Meijer but, lacks product variety and quantity, and no apple-pay(!).

Whole Foods is the middle sq/footage option, but... they have a different product variety hurdle--it's for a very specific customer/demographic. I call this customer the "Vegan-Hipsters-That-Reject-(but participate in)-A-Capitalist-Society," #veghiptracs (☚ I would love to see that # trend). on the pro side, the veghiptracs are seriously into apple pay. 🤛🏼

and then there's Meijer, the ~~behemoth Moby Dick~~ superstore.

so, when I inner-debate the options, and choose Meijer, it's because I have convinced myself that the apple pay option #nopurselife, and marathon experience will be worth the assumed product variety and quantity.

insert *overt eye roll*

I review my list, you know, mentally GPSing the most efficient route for this inevitable heater-skelter experience:
cauliflower
garlic
parchment paper
fairlife milk
unreal crispy dark chocolate peanut butter cups
vitamin D gummies
zip-ties the long ones (not the teeny ones, and not the medium ones)
LED bulbs
mio: orange vanilla w/ vitamins
T-straight pins
halo ice cream: peanut butter cup or (2nd choice) mint chip

(side note: I'm analyzing this list to see if I'm revealing too much about myself to the world. it does come off as some sort of pretend health-nut list... but then the LED bulbs, long zip-ties and T straight pins lean... w e i r d. #letmebeclear #Ileanopposite #totheweird #kindofweird)

and here's the result:
cauliflower ✔︎
garlic ✔︎
parchment paper ✘
fairlife milk ✘
unreal crispy dark chocolate peanut butter cups ✘
vitamin D gummies ✘
zip-ties: long ones (not the teeny ones, and not the medium ones ☚ gobs and gobs of these sizes!) ✘
LED bulbs ✔︎
mio: orange vanilla w/ vitamins ✘
T straight pins ✘
halo ice cream: peanut butter cup or (2nd choice) mint chip...

I'm the very picture of fuming disbelief--I pro/con-ed this trip! I push my pathetic two-tier cart with its contents of two root veggies and a box of energy efficiency towards the freezer section.

my foot throbs--all the petulant foot stomping, my hair is in disarray--all the bending over to see if my item is in the waaaaaay back of the shelf, and my tongue is sore--all the biting to keep my blankety-blank frustration from escaping.

the motion sensor lights behind the glass freezer doors flicker awake as I pass. a pleading mantra loops in my head.

"peanut butter cup--that's all I want. please have it. please!"

trust me, I'm soooo aware that if a person's inner-mantra is a desperate plea for a particular flavor of ice cream, well... that person has lost it. 🙋🏻‍♀️

my cart rolls up to the halo section, I open the frosty door, metaphorically morphing into T-800, my eyes flip to hyper-focus search mode (HFSM), hands disregard their natural aversion to cold, and rapid-sort through the options.

"no!" my frosty heart-wrenching gasp of disappointment stamps the death-knell into my mantra: ✘

I regroup, grasping for a modicum of hope,

"mint chip?" ✘!

I drop into a squat, continue my search, angrily reject the toppled, always left-behind flavor: oatmeal cookie. puh-lease! for the love of creamed-ice, halo(!), put the oatmeal out of its misery!

I reach deep into the frozen closet and pull forward what I know will be a disast--

👀?!?!

heretofore this moment... I've never seen, much less tasted the blueberry crumble.

I like blueberries.
I like crumbles.

my ✘ angst dissolves.
the pain in my foot? gone.
my hair? feels aright on my head.
my tongue? pfffft(!)--all it feels is anticipation for this flavor curiosity.

walking to my car, I review Meijer's unforgivable sin, only ~30% of my list?! but then, I grip my Meijer emblazoned bag tighter, and glance down at the golden-y tops of two pints of forgiveness.

Meijer and the nouveau swear word

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Mon, 31 Dec 2018 04:22:00 +0000

*sip, sip* ahhh.

I set my cup of hot chocolate down on the petit Parisian-like table, and basque in the perfect 72F degree climate.

I smile politely at the local épicier, busily arranging the Idaho potato bags, and take in the view; another vain attempt, as I searched the distance for the iconic dome of the Grand Palais-- oh! is that it there...? alas, no. just the top of a hanging cardboard Christmas "decoration." more's the pity...

it's Christmas Eve. I sit in the Starbucks corner (aesthetically defined by the meeting of differing flooring--dark faux-wood meets glossed faux-marble), and surprisingly, all is calm, all is bright.

when the strange quietness--no, emptiness-- of Christmas-Eve-Meijer kicked in, I took this pic. I realized that my 2 previous Christmas Eve visits to the superstore--8:27am, and 12:02pm--mirrored this 3:42pm experience exactly (ended Christmas Eve with a record 4 trips to Meijer(!) #PR🥇).

pardon my French, but... what the single-syllable-swear-word is going on? this is Christmas Eve, this place should be hopping with Meijer holiday-season frenetic crazies!

maybe everyone is on vacation? or to beat the expected crowds, the crazies shopped in the wee hours of the morn? is it possible that all the crazies got their collective acts together, thus no last-minute panic shop...?

I sip my chocolate again, reviewing the day's earlier visits. frustrated, I shake my head. nope; not a single blog-worthy observation, anecdote, nor full-blown psychotic event comes to mind.

my hopeful eye catches a shopper wandering closer to me.

"finally!" I mutter. my mind super-focuses on her facial expression, her mostly-full cart--anything to justify a Christmas Eve 2018 post--I noted the bag of pistachios she grabbed, I cringed at her seafoam green (not Christmas🎄green?) t-shirt, then cocked my head, befuddled, when she lifted a barcode scanner, and scanned the pistachios... huh?

💡! the empty store, and hence, a lack of blog material, suddenly made sense.

no, the crazies weren't on vacation.
no, they didn't get up and shop early.
and no, they didn't have their act together!

I had a brief sense of relief that my years of holiday fiasco Meijer blogging hadn't been turned upside down--the Christmas crazies still existed(!). #phew

but, within a nanosecond, a crushing/crashing reality obliterated that relief, and a new reality flashed before my almost-Christmas-🎄-green eyes. I low-whispered the name of my new nemesis, aaaand (serendipitously), my new swear word--

"shipt!"

Meijer's Christmas Eve ghost town, and perhaps the downfall of The Meijer Chronicles, happened because everyone bought their wants/needs online!

everyone was outside, parked in their cozy cars, away from my prying eyes, and eavesdropping ears, just hanging out until their shipt shopper brought them their goods.

I leapt to my feet, frantic. I walked through produce hoping my fears were wrong, I pass through meat, another shipt shopper scans a package of bacon-- my new swear word forced itself through my clenched teeth.

"shipt!"

fast-walking now, I scan aisles--another shipt shopper grabs a can of olives-- three aisles away, 2 more shipt shoppers; paper towels, and paper plates!

"shipt, shipt, shipt!"

feeling dizzy, and heart-sick over the demise of my 13 years of Meijer posts, I grab items on my now third grocery-run list: cream cheese, rolls, and I impulse-buy a carton of eggnog--you know, something to drown my sorrow while I u-scan. #guzzle #nostraw

my turn at the u-scan. I'm so distraught, that I forgot that sucking down a cup of eggnog before scanning means the weight is off. the happy Christmas 🎄 green light, switches to stop-sign red (not Christmas ornament red).

my eyes roll to the back of my head. I turn to find the SoP (Steward of the Podium). she's working on another u-scan next to me. SoP sees my red light, throws her hands up in the air, walks backwards away from both of our flashing red lights, and says,

"I am not dealin' with this no more," as she walked away.

pretty sure the red light made my eggnoggy smile look psychotic, as I exhaled my relief and mumbled,

"holy shipt, I'm back in business."

Meijer and the shot needle

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Fri, 12 Oct 2018 18:49:00 +0000

the freshman boy is off looking for dijon mustard while I search the Meijer produce sanctuary for Brussels sprouts, my phone bamboo chimes--(💙 that bamboo "clunk") a text from husband at work,

"it's a perfect day for a shot needle!"

this is a reminder that he just got a flu shot, and I need to take action. per every year, I roll my eyes, wondering when I'll be able to get an appointment, at 2 different doctor's offices, and then, how long of a wait I'll have in a pediatrician's waiting room, and then at my doc's office.

side note: I think I may have to get a different doctor. the waiting room clientele is very elderly, and very crowded with medical supplies; walkers, canes, electric scooters, gout boots, oxygen tanks--dragged around by chain smokers (can you say, 🚬 + O2 =💥?).
I'm not trying to be disrespectful--it's just unsettling for all parties involved when a "younger" patient walks in glaringly minus the above paraphernalia.

a sudden jealousy-hush settles over the room when I take a seat and cross my legs. yeah, who knew that being able to cross your legs was a big deal? (next time you're in a room with the over 75 crowd--count how many people have their legs crossed).

but I digress...

next item on my list requires a jaunt over to pharmacy--latex-free gloves my favorite kitchen gadget when working with raw meat--I stumble across this sign...

I can't believe what I'm reading.

a supermodel pharmacist is going to shot needle me and my son, in the store, no appointment necessary, for free (what? no office visit charge?! no co-pay?!) and she'll Simply Give $5 to fight the hungers locally?!!! SHE'S AMAZING! #fightnight #wonderwomanwho?

10 minutes later(!), mom and son walk away with sore arms, but heads held high, reveling in our win-win scenario--$10 to the Local Hunger Fight Club, and one more flu-free year.

all thanks, to Meijer--truly the superstore.

Meijer and the random act of blindness

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Wed, 19 Sep 2018 15:42:00 +0000

my local Meijer superstore has 2 main entrances, plus a nondescript, direct entrance for the beloved Starbucks. they tucked the Starbucks oasis into Meijer’s edible yin-yang corner where fresh produce meets the deep-fried eatery.

I like to think of this entrance as my private VIP door for the days when I just can’t muster the energy to ignore New Greeter Lady’s blank expression and mumbled welcome to the superstore. *exhausted sigh*

Starbucks glass doors woosh open, I’m barely a few strides in when an elderly gentlemen--wearing the obligatory military veteran baseball cap--stands from his table, touches my arm to stop me, and whisper-shouts,

"watch my food, I gotta go take a crap!"

and walks away.

Hipster sitting at nearby table, nearly chokes on his dairy-free whatever. I stare at Hipster, he stares at me, then we both stare at the elderly man shuffling away.

I glance down at his table; a slice of pepperoni pizza, cut into pieces, a side of macaroni and cheese, and a bigger than his head "cup" of carbonated beverage.

so... I do what any non-millennial would do; I wait.

seconds turn to minutes, but I do my job. a bizarre pride— a sense of duty, washes over me. I don't look at my phone, I just stand there, on guard. I have no idea why I was chosen by the Elder One, but I will not let him down.

I notice that Hipster can't stop smiling, and I notice that he s l o w l y sips his obligatory six-ingredient cuppa Starbucks. then, from behind his retro thick-rimmed glasses, his beady-little eyes flit to my right.

his smile widens.

the grating sound of the table's chair being pulled back alerts me. as if I'm the Buckingham Palace's Royal Guard, disciplined against distraction, I use my peripheral vision to see a woman sit down at the Elder One's table.

Hipster shakes with pent-up laughter.

"may I help you with something...?" Mystery Woman asks.

I shift into at ease mode to turn my head and glance at the woman, who by happen-chance, is also wearing a white t-shirt, and has longish hair...

from behind me, I hear the whisper-yell of the Elder One, "I'm back!"

he shuffles over to me, notes Mystery Woman sitting at his table, and then squints at me, standing guard, per orders.

through sputter-cough laughter, he wheezes,

"I'm sorry, I'm partially blind--I thought you were my daughter!"

oh yeah, Benedict Hipster Arnold is half out of his chair with side-splitting, silent-as-a-mime guffaws.

I charmingly take it all in stride, while I side-eye Hipster.

my parting comment to Elder One, "enjoy your lunch," drips with sincerity, as I slow-walk toward Hipster.

he is buckled over now; muffle-laughs escape the crook of his arm. I lean ever-so-slightly to whisper the one word that I know will cut him to his non-GMO, organic, non-rBST core...

"karma."

Meijer and the overactive imagination(?)

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Sat, 07 Jul 2018 18:20:00 +0000

even if it is on sale, there is 1 thing you should never buy a dozen of:

bleach.

especially in the 121 oz size(!).

Quiet-Keeps-To-Himself Man u-scanned his 6th container of bleach when I realized what was going on next to me.

involuntarily, my eyes widened as my brain whispered, "what is he going to do with all that bleach?" the Blacklist's S1 E4: The Stewmaker (title says it all, eww!) leaps to my freaked-out mind.

QKTHM senses my angst, he attempts an innocent smile (not fooling anyone, weirdo) and speeds up his scanning.

my Meijer-Crazy Spidey-Sense is thrown into high gear. I can't be the only one that thinks this is strange, right?

attempting not to spook QKTHM that I'm on to him, I covertly side-glance to the dark security bubble cameras hanging from the ceiling.

ever so slyly, I tilt my head towards QKTHM and roll my eyes his way. obviously, the internationally accepted gesture for: "Are you seeing this guy?!"

I feigned focus on scanning my charcoal and hamburger patties while I waited for Meijer's Security Team to storm out from the Employees Only door.

and waited, and waited... zilch.

I glance back at QKTHM, bottle #12 successfully scanned. he glances at me, a shaky smile as he scans the last item-- a box of garbage bags.

correction... a box of HUSKY 42-GALLON CONTRACTOR HEAVY DUTY GARBAGE BAGS! (sorry for the all-caps, bold, and italic, but it feels appropriate to that moment)

my brain searches through all the mystery novels, movies and TV shows--desperate for the logistics and legality on how to citizen's arrest a possible lunatic, when I hear--

"whoa! that's a lot of bleach!"

the on-duty Steward of the U-Scan Podium walks over to QKTHM, who quick glances at me, then says to Steward, "Yeah, I've been cleaning out neglected swimming pools all summer; got a real bad one today."

within a nanosecond, I'm pretending like I never noticed nuthin'. eyes now glued to my own u-scan, I pay, load the cart, and get the heck outta there.

ashamed, with my head down, I'm determined not to notice/observe another thing for the rest of my life--cursing my overactive imagination--I fast-walk across the parking lot to my car.

I shut my trunk and see Law-Abiding-Pool-Guy (formerly QKTHM), loading all that innocent bleach, and friend of the pool industry Husky bags into the backseat of his car.

Our eyes briefly meet as I pull away, I'm about to offer a conciliatory smile, when this thought hits me...

why doesn't he use his trunk?

followed up with...

he's not tan.

I'm processing this when QKTHM (formerly LAPG) waves, drives away in an old nondescript US make/model car that I can't place.

pretty sure I heard my overactive imagination scream, "NOOOOOOOO!"

Meijer and the faulty perfect solution

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Wed, 06 Jun 2018 17:13:00 +0000

for several years now, I've been handbag free. *pats self on back* #wheresmy12stephandbaganonymousbutton?

don't get the wrong idea, I'm not a poster-waving, #pursessuck hash-tagging, anti-handbag lobbyist. the 2 handbags that I own (Ralph Lauren & Kate Spade, RIP😢) only come out on Sundays, or when I am pocketless and need something to hold my phone, lipstick and key fob.

I've seen too many ASP videos of miscreants attacking women for their purses. robbers and opportunistic sons of witches-with-a-B, that seem to be inexplicably drawn to the purse--like moth to flame, like steel to magnet, like... The Biebs to Selena!

so, long ago, I decided to no longer be the flame, magnet, or Selena. (giving up my Selena side has been tough. #pleasesendthoughtsandprayers)

yesterday, 2018. Meijer parking lot

I grab my earbuds, key fob already in jeans pocket, and then I grab my phone, get out of car and lock door. that's when it hit me. my phone is everything I need for my grocery Meijer experience.

1. music--to blare out any Meijer crazy rants, conversations, tantrums
2. shopping list--it's all there in my notes app
3. $$--apple pay (💙)

I strong walk into Meijer, confident that my phone and earbuds have turned out to be the perfect solution for any craziness Meijer can sling at me. airlock whooshes open and I'm smiling at the reality of my brilliance.

my Mako filled earbuds drown out the hit-and-miss Muzak. being purse-free means I can park my cart to search produce, instead of clenching a bulky cart that holds a massive, wide-open purse in the toddler seat. (btw, really? you leave your purse wide open? even 1/2 a step to select the perfect yellow squash is all a sinister-type needs to clean you out.) aaaand, I don't have to hear the two Meijer associates shelving and trash-talking their significant others.

but then, the unthinkable happens in the meat department; my perfect solution wavers. the tremor to my perfection solution hits in the form of a woman, her large cart, and her insistence on holding onto the cart with one hand--arm's distance--while slowly perusing. this stance: body, cart hold at arm's distance, and large cart means she is taking up 3/4 of the refrigerated poultry section.

and guess what?! I need chicken(!), the exact chicken that she is blocking with her 7 foot wingspan! seconds tick by... and no movement or acknowledgment that I'm next to her, clearly craning my neck staring at the very package of chicken breasts that is oh-so-close and yet s o f a r.

she doesn't care. her exhale means she's going to have a nice long think about this week's dinner menu for Hubby and Junior before she gives up her refrigerator pole position(s).

I'm at a loss as to what more I can do to get her, and her rig, out of park and into drive. maybe if I had a giant purse, I could nudge her into backing away? purse-envy washes over me, as I look at my tiny 7+ (plus, *overt eyeroll* yeah, right).

never one to succumb to defeat easily, I regroup, do I reach across her? do I, *gulp* speak an "excuse me...," risking a crazy interaction? do I tickle her arm pit? seriously, what are my options? all I have is an iPhone for crying out loud!

and suddenly, a faulty perfect solution presented itself. faulty in that I would have to stamp down my inhibitions, but otherwise, with the tools I had on hand--perfect.

the chorus, from one of my favorite playlists, Cross My Mind, Pt. 2, by A R I Z O N A fills my head...

"And I know I haven't been perfect, but give it some time

'Cause not a single day goes by where you don't cross my mind

And we spend our lives looking for things we can't find, oh

Oh, but not a single day goes by where you don't cross my mind."

I turn up the music volume, at first my voice is a low-whisper mumble, but it got her attention. so I get bolder, using my clear, steady "indoor voice" to sing as I pretend to peruse the rows of plastic wrap chicken flesh. my peripheral vision notes an uneasy glance at me, but no actual movement. I up the ante, and pat my thigh to the beat.

she grabbed her cart close and moved on to pork. thank the heavens above(!) that I didn't have to sing the refrain.

I'm hoping, that in some alternate universe, she's writing a blog about a blankety-blank Meijer crazy titled, "Meijer and the crazy off-key solo act."

Meijer and the date night

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Wed, 28 Feb 2018 01:06:00 +0000

back in the day, B.M. (before marriage), I had a favorite first date-- the airport. this was when you could casually walk to any gate and wait for your someone as they got off the plane. *sigh* #1990muchsimplertimes

we drove for an hour from Provo to Salt Lake City airport; parked, walked the terminals, watched family/loved ones greet each other, then sat at a dimly-lit, empty gate and watched planes make night-landings. tbh, it was a perfect first date.

so, I married him.

my man's auto industry career from January to March is a whirlwind of "Winter Test." this means that he is often gone for weeks at a time, visiting proving grounds and vehicle test facilities in the US and Scandinavia. if we're lucky, we get him for a weekend.

usually, I get all errands/chores done before he gets home, so we can really enjoy the time together. a few weeks ago, that just didn't work out. so my planned late evening solo trip to Meijer became, date night.

if you've read all 88 previous posts, you know that the whooshing of the glass doors triggers something in me. it's as if a strange Gregorian chant begins in my head, "🎶ge-eee-t ou-uuuu-t as sooooon as poooo-sssss-ible. aaaahhh-meeeeen.🎶"

I had a list, and the route mapped out in my head. when the doors whooshed open, it suddenly occurred to me that if we separated, we could be done faster and possibly have time to go on a real date.

"you grab produce, and meat. I'll grab dairy, eggs, bread, and we'll meet back at--"

my guy slipped his hand into mine, leaned into my jawline, nuzzled my neck and whispered, "let's stay together."

I have had some pretty wacky experiences at Meijer, but never(!) have I gone weak in the knees in front of Greeter Lady.

suddenly, Meijer became this crazy-fun-interesting-hilarious store/museum to explore. we slowly walked hand in hand, lazily placing items in the cart, reading nutrition labels cheek-to-cheek. we talked about our week apart as we chose chips, and debated over frozen or fresh shrimps.

if I absently slipped into rush mode and got more than an arms length away, my lover's hand gently pulled me back to him. we meandered down aisle 12, it felt like we were strolling down a Roman strada (spaghetti sauce and pasta section) that transformed into a Mexican calle (salsa, refried beans, tortilla section).

later, we stood in front of the refrigerated wall of international sodas, protein smoothies, herbal teas, and unusual fruit combination beverages, taking a ridiculous amount of time comparing, rejecting and finally choosing 2 never-before-tasted beverages for the road.

I'm positive I've never strung the following words together in any of The Meijer Chronicles: that night, the superstore was... fabulous.

Meijer and the lost in translation

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Thu, 11 Jan 2018 17:26:00 +0000

by now you know that I have "just one of those faces." the kind that looks like every other woman, and (apparently) I have a powerful aura--or some other type of mystical power--that imbues the message, "can't read or speak English? I'm your girl."

sure, I dabble in a couple of languages, but I've never really been comfortable with that power. in most languages there is a direct translation and, more often than not, there is a colloquial or regional translation, that usually escapes me.

but if I'm being honest, my insecurity is mostly because of a girl named...

Isabella. (in my head, I say her name with abhorrence. from here on out, I hope you do too.)

1988:
I was in college living with several international roommates, one was a girl from Spain, Isabella.

also at this time, I had been nurturing a one-sided love for about three years, he didn't know I existed, except as his buddy. *sigh* the buddy disease, aka "the friend zone."

he left college, to live in Spain, we started writing to each other (as in paper, envelopes, stamps), each of his letters ended with, "te quiero..."

you have no idea the thrill, the zing, the heart-thudding, every time I read that simple closing salutation, "te quiero," literally translated to: "I love you." I was over the moon, until...

Isabella. she asked to read one of his letters, to see why I was so happy(!). I handed the letter off, I pointed and said (possibly squealed), "he signs it with, 'te quiero!'"

laughter from Isabella. "In Spain, 'te quiero' is used between family members; like a brother to a sister. He doesn't love love you. He sister loves you."

in those few seconds, I had been cured of the buddy disease; only to be reborn as a sister.

more laughter. a lot more. but, I was grateful for her laughter, it conveniently drowned out the sound of my 💔ing.

2018:
Meijer, the deodorant/anti-perspirant aisle.

peripherally, I note that I'm alone in the aisle with an elderly man, who shakes his head in frustration. he reaches for deodorant, stares at it, then puts it back.

he sees me, his eyes light up (thanks, aura!), and approaches with a stick of Dove men's deodorant.

"fe mal? fe mal?"

I'm not positive, but what I think I'm hearing is Spanish. I freeze; suddenly on the spot to translate--correctly this time.

I quickly run through the words-- fe literally translated means faith, mal means bad, or wrong. is he asking if the product is good? honest? or maybe if the price is reasonable? or is he asking if he should trust that it will work?

AGGGGGHHHHH. trying to appear calm, I walk back to see what the price is, I point to it--

he shakes his head, "fe mal?"

I got nothing.

he rakes his hand through his hair, "FE. MAL."

I mumble, "lo siento, mi español..."

he shakes his head, "FE-MAL," then repeatedly points to me... and my boobs. "FEMAL, INGLÉS!"

💡!

Fe-mal. Female. he wanted to know if the deodorant was for women.

Isabella's laughter fills my head, as I gesture (in inglés) for him to follow me to the women's deodorant section.