A Walmart Moment

There was congestion in Walmart today, especially in the dairy aisle at the back of the store.  A gallon of 2% milk was in my view, but there were three or four carts ahead of me… and a little elderly lady barely able to drag a skim gallon from the case.  So I patiently waited and smiled…. like I want people to do to me when I’m elderly and my arms shake when I carry a gallon!  But there was a gentleman behind me who was a tad on the grouchy side.  He swore at me and blasted through the crowd without the greatest of ease. I heard him mutter something sarcastic to the effect of, “Standing in the middle of the aisle is a GREAT idea, #@%&*@#$!”  Off he stormed as I grabbed my milk and began inspecting eggs.

After gathering safety pins and garage sale pricing stickers, I eventually made it to the check out and was second in line behind a man from another country.  He had to get his ID checked because he was purchasing some wine.  The cashier couldn’t find his birthdate on the European (I’m guessing) ID so they went back and forth about it.  The cashier started talking louder, because we all know that helps people with English as their second (or third) language.  Like their hearing doesn’t work, or something.  Anywhoooo, I learned the guy was born in 1979.  I would have guessed 1990.  Then I watched as the guy somewhat nervously counted cash and change from his wallet.  I thought he might not have enough money.  But no, he had given the cashier $4. 75 too much.  Ahhhhh.  Realization hit:  He’s not used to our currency.  And then realization hit again:  That will be me in a couple of months in Colombia… fumbling with funny colored money and probably paying too much.

My groceries were scanned, bagged, paid for and I was on my way to the door.  But there were some people in the way and I had to pause and say, “Excuse me,” so I could get by.  Low and behold…. it was some gentlemen chatting about football.  And it was the SAME gentleman from the crowded dairy aisle.  His line of swear words and his sarcastic line were still fresh in my memory, but I just smiled and thanked them for moving.

Another nice-neighbor moment brought to you by Walmart.

Egg McMuffins

Last month, I awoke early one fine day and made my dear husband and myself Egg McMuffins… almost just like McDonalds.  English muffins, an egg, a cheese slice and 1.5 pieces of bacon broken up to fit in the muffin.  I’ve made these for years, but for some strange reason, my two boys never wanted them, or can’t remember them, have never had them, or some other strange reason.  The very same day last month when I awoke early and made the English muffins both boys viewed the delicacy and requested said muffins.  It was like the window of heaven opened and the ambrosia was discovered! 

Since that momentous day, I’ve made approximately 57 Egg McMuffins, but who’s counting?  Yesterday both boys had two for breakfast and then late in the afternoon, #1 son was found in the kitchen making his own Egg McMuffin!  It’s as if they are protein deficient or something.  My boys usually aren’t the picky type, but #1 son requested REAL sliced cheddar cheese instead of the cheap-o American sliced cheese on his Egg McMuffin.  I’m only too happy to slice REAL cheddar cheese, after all, I’m the mother.

Yesterday,the same exact day #1 son was found in the kitchen making his own Egg McMuffin, I took a trip to Costco and bought eggs, cheese and the grand-poo-bah size package of Thomas’ English Muffins, to ensure a plentiful supply.  I’m ready for another week.

My only beef with Thomas’ is the massive collection of little grainy thingees on the bottom of the muffins.  They feel like cornmeal or Cream of Wheat, but they aren’t.  They’re smaller and more annoying.  The little grains ALWAYS end up on the counter and the floor no matter how careful I am.  I even brush them off into the sink, but they magically appear on the floor.  Yes, Thomas’ are the original nooks and crannies, but I’m starting to favor the Walmart no-name stacked English muffins.

(This post is in no way associated with or in partnership or advertising cahoots with McDonalds or Ronald McDonald or the Hamburgler.)

Blundering Butterfingers

Yesterday I did a Coupon $ense Safeway run.  The targets: Charmin TP, Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal, Nature Harvest bars and eggs.  Of course I also picked up a few dozen other on sale items, but always the pull is the outstanding prices on the C$ Hot Deals.  I mean, please.  The Cinnamon Toast Crunch is normally priced at $2.89 a box.  Safeway had a special for 4/$10.  Then I had a Safeway flyer coupon making them 4/$6.  On top of that I had 75 cent coupons for each of the four boxes…. that are “doubled” to $1.00.  And the grand total for each box was a mere FIFTY CENTS. (An 83% savings) Why don’t they just hand them out on the street corner???

Onward to the broken egg picture.  The 18 count eggs were on sale B1/G1  (buy one, get one free), so 36 eggs were placed delicately in the cart.  At the check out stand, the eggs didn’t fare so well.  They were the last items I was pulling out of the cart and somehow the edge of the top carton caught the side of the grocery cart and out they plopped.  Trying to correct the situation, I gripped the carton firmly enough to hang onto it, but too firmly for the eggs in my G.I. Joe kung-foo grip. 

I have never broken a single egg in a grocery store in forty-two years.  That should count for something.  But no.  I looked up from the slimy mess that was dripping through the cart onto my Charmin TP, and said to the checker and the bag-girl, “Clean up on aisle 3…. I just broke a bunch of eggs.”  The bag-girl immediately grabbed a roll of paper towels and was heading around through an empty check-out lane, but then she disappeared???  What in the world??  Not a good time for a potty break.  She returned a few moments later and said, “I just went to aisle 3 and there weren’t any broken eggs.”  Oh.  See the drippy mess by my shoes???  I kindly replied, “It was a poorly timed joke,” and half smiled at the poor girl as we started wiping together.

The egg shells were still in the bottom of the cart so I picked up each goopy mess and dropped them back into the carton.  But, when I finished there was a vacant spot in the carton.  One egg was MIA.  How could that be?  They wouldn’t fit through the cart slots??  I looked all over and finally lifted up the carton to reveal the culprit, hiding from me!  Eleven or twelve of the 18 were smashed and oozing.  BUT, the whole mess was cleaned up in time for me to pay and run from the store red-faced.  “Did you need help out, Mrs. Crosby?”  Not today!

When I retold the entertaining story to my family, my daughter asked, “Did you have to pay for them?”  “No, broken eggs are absorbed into the dumb shopper fund.”  :o)  Thank God, Safeway has a dumb shopper fund.