Friends

 

 

Because I’m me, and because I am flawed, I have recently fallen out of touch with my neighborhood buddies, Betro and Aniela. Forgive me for not going into details, but suffice it to say I have allowed the excuse of life’s hurdles to somewhat isolate myself. To hole-up. To lose touch. It ain’t right, but it’s true.

 

Anyhoo – yesterday I and my buddies reconnected and made our usual trip to Costco. I apologized for my behavior and was accepted for who and how I am.

 

And the fun was just as good as ever.

45 Minutes Later

 

 

This was my trunk before I tackled a portion of the Rock Camp shopping list. There will be many more stock-ups, before and during camp. Fresh goods are acquired daily. A lot of what we eat is donated. I can’t tell you how grateful we are for that, as every dime not spent on making camp happen goes directly toward scholarships for the girls. That am be good, um-kay?

 

Anyhoo – back to my Costco run. 45 minutes later, and this was my trunk…

 

 

I couldn’t even fit it all in! It’s almost here…

Friends Make All The Difference

 

 

 

I went to Costco yesterday while out and about and I realized something: when I go there by myself, it’s merely a task.

 

I came to this understanding as I hurried down an aisle, searching for a particular item and not finding it. That happens, so I wasn’t frustrated. But I also wasn’t having fun. And that struck me as odd. It seems like my most recent Costco trips have been a hoot. So why was this one different?

 

I was alone. My super-fun, Rock Camp buddies (and neighbors) weren’t with me. If they had been, something like this would have happened…

 

 

Or this…

 

 

Those gals are the best. And as much as I love Costco (and I do, oh, I do), it just isn’t the same without my friends. I’m glad I know this.

Grown Kids

 

 

This is what happens when you’re strolling the aisles of Costco (a store about which Mister says, “This is what makes America great!”), with your buddies Grown Kids. They spot a soft, cuddly pillow display and before you know it, they’ve burrowed like gophers at a golf course.

 

Grown Kids. They make me giggle and they fill my heart. They keep me company and they keep me sane. They build me up and they never, ever, ever tear down others.

 

Thank goodness I know them.

RCGLA 2014 – Day 3

 

 

 

So Day 3 began with a fun carpool ride to Camp. I’ve been carpooling with my buds Betro, Lauren and Dawn. It’s such a cool start to our long days, talking and laughing through traffic. We catch up on how everyone’s doing and we talk about the coming day. It’s a nice check-in time.

 

Anyhoo, I’ve been wanting cake since Day 1. I don’t know why, I just have. So late Tuesday night I took my tired self to Costco and got a gi-normous cake for the volunteers. And on Day 3 I ate a piece of that cake. And y’all – it was good.

 

Speaking of food, Chef Olivia is again volunteering her culinary skills and feeding our bodies and souls. I would volunteer for the food alone, friends. It’s that good.

 

At the end of Day 3, we had our annual Volunteer jam-fest. That midweek decompression session really helps us keep going and giving. I would volunteer for that alone, too.

 

Today is Day 4. I can hardly believe it’s down to only 2 days before the showcase. Then again, I can believe it. And I love it.

It’s The Most Wonderful Time of The Year!

 

 

Vidalia onions are here! Vidalia onions are here!

 

Each year I anxiously await the arrival of Vidalia onions at our local Costco. (They are usually available at regular supermarkets, too, but they cost a pretty penny when purchased singly.) I start checking in late April, as the danged thangs are showing up earlier and earlier each year. They used to arrive in June, but here we are – the second week of May – and there they are. I win!

 

I love, love, love Vidalia onions. I put them in everything I can (though I don’t cook with them too much – that seems wasteful to me). For the most part, we eat them raw (salads, sandwiches), but I do make a particular Vidalia side dish. I’ll post it soon, so that you can enjoy it, too.

 

You may have noticed the above photo shows a 10-pound bag of Vidalias. We’ll go through 20 to 30 pounds before they disappear, so when I say I love Vidalias, I really mean it. If you are partial to sweet onions and have never tried Vidalias, maybe this is the year you do! And if you already know and love Vidalias, this all seems terribly redundant I’m sure.

 

One final note: it’s pronounced Veye-DALE-ya. I’ll even accept Vi-DALE-ya. But for those of you who’ve never once traveled through Georgia, let alone eaten a real Vidalia onion, yet insist on telling me “it’s pronounced Vi-DAHL-ya,” you can kindly put that erroneous pronunciation where the sun don’t shine, Hon.

You Can’t Buy Everything There…

 

 

I love Costco. I do. Mister likes to say it’s one of the things that makes America great. I do not disagree.

 

Costco sells a lot of things. More than I know, really. But that’s not the point of this post. The point is this – I was in the Costco parking lot last week, locked out of my car. It was Mister’s car, actually, and I had taken it in for service and so the electronic key wasn’t attached to my ring. Instead, it was in the car, where the service guy had left it. When I got out of the car, I’d used the interior lock mechanism instead of the exterior. This makes a difference because the exterior mechanism is electronic, meaning one cannot lock the door from the outside if the key is inside the car. But since I used the interior mechanism – which is manual – I was able to lock the doors, no matter where the key was. That’s not the point of this post, either.

 

So I was standing by my locked car in the Costco parking lot, waiting for AAA to come bail out my sorry butt. As I was standing there, a lady pushed her laden cart past me and dropped some trash on the ground. She stopped, looked down at the trash, then shrugged her shoulders and walked to her car. Which was right next to mine. That’s right – this all happened a mere 2 feet in front of me.

 

I have many assets flaws, y’all. One of them is my big mouth. So, as you’re probably guessing, I opened said big mouth and blurted, “You’re gonna pick up that litter, aren’t you?” The lady sighed audibly and said, “Yes! I was gonna pick it up!” She stomped the 2 feet to where she’d left the trash and retrieved it. She then finished unloading her shopping into her car. She then got in her car, backed out of the spot, put the car in drive and started to leave the parking lot. But just after she began inching forward, she leaned out her window and yelled, “Bitch!” She then sped off pretty dang quickly.

 

I have many flaws assets, y’all. One of them is my big sense of humor. So when that lady yelled at me, I did the only thing I could: I guffawed so loudly and with such gusto, I actually bent over and slapped my own knee. I was still laughing as she peeled around the corner, trying so desperately to get away from me, lest I come after her or something.

 

After my laughter died down, I thought about that lady and her witnessed behaviors. And I realized I had been unfair to her. For she was only being true to her nature. Think about it. She knowingly littered. I mean, she may have accidentally dropped the garbage, but she knowingly chose to leave the trash on the ground. She chose to litter. And if that behavior was a part of her nature, it should have been no surprise that she might then choose to yell an obscenity at a stranger in a public parking lot. That lady is what she is.

 

And another factor was probably at play: I don’t care what kind of person one may be, no one relishes having their shortcomings pointed out. By anyone. And certainly not by someone who’s having a happy, joy-filled, all-I-can-seem-to-do-is-laugh kind of day.

 

But that is my nature. Just like my big mouth and my optimism. And my love for Costco.

 

Yes, they sell a lot of things at Costco. But you can’t buy everything there. For as I clearly learned in their parking lot, they obviously don’t sell class, grace or decorum. You’ve either got those or you don’t.