Today was such a gorgeous day that I thought of course that the best way to spend it is in the car driving around doing my shopping; a sort-of do-over for last week’s fiasco.
Do you see where I’m going? Again?
No you don’t!
This is a new and improved me after Yom Kippur, I guess!
I went here and there and then to Whole Foods (but no baby bok choy, just because I forgot, which should have been a sign–why would I not get more baby bok choy, my new favorite vegetable?) and then on to Costco.
I got the OJ that was on my absolutely-need-to-get list, along with a bunch of other stuff that may not have been absolutely needed but good for making Sukkot special. And then on to the Kosher aisle. Interestingly enough, the big KOSHER sign was not there–I’m not sure when it went down, since friends have been doing Costco runs for me (thank you again!), but I thought for the sake of marketing, that was an interesting move. Would it attract more people? Would people be confused but not alone?
Then I got a clue–there was one woman who had taken a block of the kosher American cheese, as I was about to do. But she was tossing it back into the case.
Oh. She probably thought it was regular cheese and then saw that it was kosher, and tossed it back in disgust.
Or something like that.
She certainly didn’t have the trappings of a kosher consumer. She was dressed in clicky mules, a short skirt (appropriate for the summer, but perhaps not for the frum consumer). Another woman there was taking some cheese. She had a beautiful hamsa necklace, so that identified her more clearly as “one of the tribe” . I picked up my assortment of cheese, along with I hope all the other things I wanted to get there, and went to the check-out line.
Interestingly enough, I saw the clicky mules lady at the line in front of me. She had bought the assortment of kosher cheese that comes on a tray instead of the American cheese.
And so I was humbled and I remembered to not judge so easily or quickly.
And then I went out into the parking lot to go home.
I couldn’t find my car.
I knew I had parked somewhere different than usual. But I guess it was my own silly way to get that outside time, after all. I walked up and down one aisle, then another, then back to the first. I was sure by then that the car had been taken. Why would anyone want that car? There were much shinier and newer and fancier ones? Surely it must be there.
All I remembered was that it was not near a cart return and it was parked in a certain direction. So finally finally I walked to the next aisle and yes, there it was, my tiny little Civic next to a huge SUV on one side and another momma car on the other, parked in the direction I knew, nowhere near a cart return.
Let’s blame it on low blood sugar after the fast, shall we?
Thanks and have a nice day.