Free Samples! Floor it!

I’m convinced that all those drivers who cut me off on the road and run red lights are headed to Costco.  Every time I make my semi-annual trip there, the parking lot experience alone causes me to rush home and scope the internet for a quiet town to relocate to.

On the inside, the people with their enormous empty carts won’t think twice about taking out a four year old as they circle the sample food stands. To Costco, it’s a free sample. But apparently, if you eat 20 of them, it’s a free lunch…for a family of six.

Friends always wonder at the fact that I can go to Costco and come out having only spent $20.00. The truth is, my aversion to being knocked in the rear by someone else’s cart at every turn far outweighs my need to browse for a 30 lb. box of granola.

When I go to Costco, I have a clear mission. Get in, get the four items that actually make the trip worthwhile and get out. The first 2 are easy, the latter requires waiting on a long line but hey, once a year I really need that $15 sheet cake. And I get to pass the time by hearing the one sided cell phone conversations of everyone  waiting on line around me.

When I finally reach the exit, I have to wait in yet another line so that someone can check that the 4 items in my cart match what is printed in my receipt. Because, you know, I might be trying to smuggle out a giant package of toilet paper, hoping to go unseen.

I actually need to go to Costco now, but have been procrastinating. I actually have a need for a giant box of candy bars to make favors for her birthday party. And of course, I need to order a birthday cake. There’s just no other place that can provide a cake to feed 40 people for $14.99. So I suppose my venture will happen soon.

Perhaps I should wait until noon. I hear they offer a free lunch.

Better Blog Than Jog

So I’m driving to work when suddenly I am faced head on with a jogger. There is no sidewalk, no shoulder, nowhere to go to avoid him but, you guessed it, into the oncoming lane. And the fact that he is jogging against traffic on a winding road with no possible place to dodge an oncoming vehicle is not even what I hold questionable. What I find to be unbelievable is that he is jogging in 110 degree heat with a humidity level of can’t even breathe when I’m standing still.

I swerve quickly into the opposing lane to avoid striking him down, though I am tempted to hit him, if only to put him out of his misery. I’ve got to admit, he is dedicated.

I’ve never been that dedicated to anything, least of all exercise. I’ve always thought I don’t actually have a weight problem, just an aversion to sweating. The extra pounds are just a symptom.

And I don’t have a problem with joggers. Well…other than the fact that they make me feel bad about my own sedentary life, with all of their neither rain nor snow nor desert -like heat will stop me from running my daily 5 miles. I mean, how are the rest of us supposed to live up to such standards.

There I am, watching the sweat pour from his body through rolled up windows, the AC cranked so high, my skin is flapping like that guy from the 1980’s Memorex commercials, and I can’t help but think that he looks like he is going to keel over at any moment, causing a traffic jam that will leave me without enough time to stop for a double caramel frappaccino with extra whipped cream.

And I have to admit, the jogging against traffic thing kind of irritates me. I mean, it is really a safety hazard. Besides, it’s harder for me swear at you if I have to make eye contact first.

I’m sure the jogging enthusiasts are going to send me email. Or worse, form a mob and show up at my door, forcing me to run alongside, daring me to keep up without passing out from heat exhaustion, dehydration or ice cream withdrawal.

Perhaps I should draw the curtains and live by the light of the computer screen, keeping them at bay by proclaiming my new found love of this daily activity. I can blog entries marking my progress, my renewed body and spirit and my overall healthy lifestyle.

And maybe someday I’ll even venture outdoors and try it for real. Someday when it is cooler…but not too cold. Until that day when the absolute perfect weather for jogging occurs, I’ll just blog about it from the comfort of my air conditioned living room.

Forty

So, I went and turned forty. Forty is not so bad. At least it’s not 50. Well, that’s what one of my well wishers wrote, anyhow. Guess I’ll find out for sure in a decade or so.

To tell you the truth, the view from forty is not so different than the view from thirty nine. I guess I’ve been preparing for a whole year, so it didn’t hurt so much.

I was brave enough to spend my birthday in my bathing suit. The only thing worse would have been to spend it in my birthday suit (well, depending on the situation, I suppose…). It was actually kind of liberating, doing something at forty I wouldn’t dare do at thirty…or even twenty. Funny how time changes perspective. At 20 or 30, I sure had a better body than at 40. But I also had a grand fear of judgment. Something I still have, I suppose, though the things I care about being judged upon have shifted.

So I’m at this water park and honestly don’t have a worry about whether the kids are chuckling at the size of my rear end. What I do worry about is if my daughter is watching me, and seeing me light up every time she falls into my arms at the bottom of the slide.

That’s a birthday gift for both of us.

For the lighter side of turning forty in a bathing suit, check out Fat Forty and Frizzy at http://www.pajamamommy.net