Ruminations on Costco

Do you Costco? I do.

It started when the kids were babies, a once-every-two-or-three-months tagalong with my mother-in-law to stock up on dirt cheap diapers and baby wipes.

And now? I’m a full-fledged Executive Member in my own right, making weekly (ok, sometimes bi-weekly) trips to the irresistible behemoth warehouse.

My mind tends to wander as I maneuver the towering aisles. An observation here, a question there. Here’s what was going through my head this morning.

  • Why do they put the power bars and the candy in the same row?
  • While they’re a steal at $54.99 for a 9 kg sack of grass seed and $33.99 for a 6 L jug of Weed-B-Gone, I really can’t use them when there’s still  two feet of snow on my lawn.
  • That $99 crystal vanity light fixture could very well lead to a $5,000 powder room reno.
  • I know what kind of underwear your husband wears.
  • I know what undies you wear.
  • I wear them too.
  • Mental note: Don’t send hubby to pick up milk here anytime soon. He’ll come back with the kitchen sink. No, I don’t mean “everything but.” I literally mean he will come home with the Hand Crafted Rounded Design Stainless Steel Double Kitchen Sink. Best if he not see that.
  • Get off your cellphone and get out of my way.
  • Please.
  • Why can I sometimes find Stacy’s Simply Naked Pita Chips and sometimes not? Shouldn’t that be a staple? I mean, there’s always jumbo jars of pickled asparagus on the shelves. Why not my chips?
  • Does anyone even eat pickled asparagus?
  • WARNING: Don’t ever go down that mystery row on the right-hand side. You never know what you’ll find down there that you didn’t know you needed but now must absolutely have.
  • If you do find yourself inescapably drawn down it, be prepared to come home with a $169.99 Neon-Look LED “Open/Business Hours” sign.
  • I am not open.
  • I have no business hours.
  • Mental note: Keep the receipt for the sign. Take advantage of Costco’s exceptional return policy. Don’t mention it to hubby. Best if he not see that.



Tips for Perimenopausal Women #37

If your period is becoming more and more unpredictable, with your menstrual cycle ranging anywhere from 21 to 58 days, and it’s wreaking havoc on your sex life, your marriage and your mental stability because you have absolutely no way of telling when it will rear its ugly head next, try setting up sleepovers for both of your children at friends’ houses on the same night and planning a romantic evening.

You’ll get your period.


Happy National Proofreading Day!

Today, March 8, is International Women’s Day.

Every 2nd post in my Facebook newsfeed is some sort of celebration of that. I’m all for celebrating women and women’s acheivements, as well as pondering how far we’ve come (and, yes, how far we still have to go). So, absolutely, Happy International Women’s Day!

I am a little upset however that I haven’t seen one single post wishing anyone a Happy National Proofreading Day.

Proofreading is something I have loved my entire life. It all started when my mom was in university and I was in highschool. Mom was getting her degree part time while working full-time and raising my brother and I. Whenever she had an essay to hand in, she would ask me to take a look at it first and correct it. It always felt like a challenge or a treasure hunt, as long as I could find at least one mistake to fix, it seemed worthwhile.

Fast-forward 30 years and here I am making a living in communications, in equal part’s writing, editing and proofreading. I’d have to say proofreading is still my first love though. Its still like a treasure hunt every time.

So here’s to all my fellow proofreaders.Enjoy the day!

PS Want to practice your proofreading? Try to find all the errors in this post. (Hint: 15 of them are intentional. If you find anymore then that, let me know!)

Weighing In

In a few weeks, we’re heading down south and taking the kids on their very first trip to an all-inclusive Carribean resort.

Here are just a few of the things on my to-do list:

  • Force the kids to try on all of their summer clothes that I optimistically packed away in September, in complete denial of the fact that in the six months that have elapsed since then, they’re bound to have outgrown everything.
  • Go shopping for completely new summer wardrobes for both kids once I see that not one stitch of clothing I lovingly washed and folded and packed away still fits them.
  • Inventory and set aside each and every item we’ll be packing.
  • Defy the laws of physics by packing said items into two suitcases and four carry-ons.
  • Pray that the Canadian dollar rallies the day before I go to the Currency Exchange and not the day after.
  • Make all of the arrangements regarding missed school work, piano lessons and kung fu practices.
  • Water the plants, cancel the newspaper, take out the garbage, turn down the furnace, verify the insurance, pay the bills, return the library books, run the dishwasher and verb the noun of whatever else I can think of.
  • Lose 10 pounds.

Here’s the ridiculous thing: on every single to-do list that I’ve written for every single major life event in the past 25 years, that last bullet has been there.

It’s varied slightly over time, of course…

My wedding list would have been more along the lines of:

  • Order the flowers.
  • Taste-test wedding cakes.
  • Lose 5 pounds.

The list for my daughter’s first birthday party stipulated:

  • Order balloons.
  • Make sure the tablecloth, plates, cups, cutlery and napkins colour coordinate with said balloons and that all food being served, including the cake, not only colour-coordinate but adhere to the ladybug theme.
  • Lose 25 pounds.

And the list for the trip Luc and I took to Mexico for our 15th anniversary included:

  • Book the flights.
  • Write each of the kids a personalized letter for every night we’re gone so that they can open them and read them before they go to bed and know that Mommy and Papa still love them and haven’t abandoned them and will be back before they know it.
  • Lose 15 pounds.

So why, one might ask,  does it take a huge gathering of relatives or the prospect of putting on a bathing suit (or worse, both simultaneously) to put reaching my target weight back on my radar?

Why, one might ask, do I not make healthy eating and exercise a daily commitment so that I am ALWAYS within a respectable range and never have to diet, refrain, deny myself or unduly sweat in advance of yet another event?

Well, one might answer, there’s chocolate. And wine. And lattes. And lasagna. And let’s not forget garlic bread with cheese. And warm banana chocolate chip muffins straight out of the oven. And margaritas! I love me a salty margarita! Especially when it’s served at a swim-up bar!

And, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I hate exercise. Unless swimming up to a swim-up bar for a margarita counts as exercise. Then count me in for a work-out!

I’d love to say it doesn’t matter. That 5 or 25 or 15 or 10 or however many pounds won’t make or break a party or a vacation. It must matter, because it’s always there on every list. But it’s obviously not a priority, because it’s always “to-do” but never “done”.

I’ll have to think on that a little more when I’m sipping on a margarita at the swim-up bar in a few weeks’ time…