Propagation of the Faith

Los Angeles, California

Cindy wanted me to take her to Costco. She had seen the light. Costco isn't just a warehouse, it's a practice. You have to understand it. You have to apply what you've learned about it. And you have to do it over and over again.

My first Costco membership was a business one. When we needed it, we would go to our local Costco to buy paper towels, plastic cutlery, cleaning supplies and wine. Mostly these were for our business (including the wine with which we awarded customers after closing the sale). I can't remember, but I am assuming I always received the coupon books. And am just as sure that I paid absolutely no attention to them. It wasn't until I was with Joel and friends with Lynnette (both happened in close proximity of time) that I really got Costco. I suppose it started with buying gasoline, or perhaps it was the introduction of the Citibank Costco credit card which Lynnette insisted that I immediately acquire. Maybe it started when Joel was helping me sort through a huge stack of paper looking for my auto registration and he spotted an uncashed $80 rewards certificate. Possibly all those things came together to create the new me: Costco Shopper. Or, more accurately, Costco worker, because once you get the program, you learn to work Costco for the discounts and the rewards.

I am always amused by friends who tell me they 'can't' use Costco because there are only two of us. There is only one of me full-time in my household, and I use Costco a lot. I peruse the coupon book, stocking up on vitamins, batteries, paper goods, books, cleaning supplies, tequila and whiskey, and even the occasional article of clothing. I purchase all of my medical prescriptions there. And, I have had two HVAC systems installed through Costco as well as window treatments and carpeting. I have booked travel and bought TVs, landscaping trees, and patio umbrellas. And the list goes on and on. I buy little food there, nor do I buy gasoline (slightly lamentably, as the Citibank reward is up to 5% on gasoline), as I now drive an EV. And even without the food and gas, and without any house projects last year, I still got back a cool thousand bucks combined, between Executive membership and the Citibank Costco Rewards credit card. What is not to like about that?

So, Cindy asked me to take her to Costco, and much in the way Lynnette (and Joel) indoctrinated me to Costco shopping, I pitched her all the benefits of Costco membership. I also, by the way, hold a nice investment in Costco stock, so all the more reason. I'm not sure if I was as good at convincing her as Lynnette and Joel were at converting me. I was a moderately easy sell, as I had also gotten tired of them offering to buy stuff for me so that they could get the rewards! But I must say that my practice of shopping Costco is one of the smartest things I have done, along with listening to my father when he recommended purchasing stock in a brand-new, start-up business, Zebra Technologies. Now, some thirty years later, Costco (as well as Nordstrom and a host of other businesses) uses Zebra's UPC code reader at all of its warehouses. Score!!

Still not sure if I got through to Cindy, as truth be told, it takes commitment. It won't really work if you do it now and again, it has to be all the time. I learned the difference when I switched from the way we shopped for the business back then, to the shopping with intention that I do now. And I wait, excitedly, for the rewards certificates that come twice a year. The Citibank reward goes into my bank account through direct deposit. With the Costco reward, I always buy a bottle of Veuve Cliquot, and they give me the balance in cash. If I were smarter, I would just buy bananas and get more cash. But I think that my commitment to Costco and to propagation of that faith, deserves a champagne celebration. A toast to Costco and to the infinite wisdom of working it!

Winding the Clock

Los Angeles, California

Our lives revolve around routines. We all practice daily rounds, like eating our meals, brushing our teeth, going to bed. We are creatures of habit.

In my home, I have concentric circles of routines, such as when I switch bed linens from winter to summer weight. I like to celebrate seasonal holidays with certain decorative items like kitchen towels and the color of flowers in my home. And I have a clock that needs to be wound, more of less, weekly. It is a regulator clock, with a pendulum that keeps time and a chime that rings the hour and the half. It was a wedding gift from my husband's parents which we picked out at a local clock store. And when I wind it, hearing the sound of that winding, I am reminded of my late husband, as he was the one who always maintained it. I would hear him winding that clock, even if I was in other rooms of our home.

Somewhere between the annual routines and the daily routines, is a special monthly routine. And that is the visit of my closest friend, Lynnette. We book it on our calendars at least six months in advance and make other plans around it. She comes to visit for three nights. It used to be two, but that was never enough. Now the scheduled three nights feels just as brief as the two used to feel. We use our time well.

I have always felt it was important to spend extended time with the women in my life. The summer between eighth and ninth grade was spent either at the home of my best friend Dayle, or at my house. We literally jumped back and forth from one house to the other, spending days and nights together, and most of it in our families' swimming pools during the day, then playing five hundred rummy or Tripoly at night.

For over a decade, I spent a week or more every summer on cruises with my mother and sister. And, once I began renting a house in Carmel for the month of January (and sometimes September), I spent time with a series of different girlfriends. Another time, best remembered, is the week I spent with my favorite person on our planet, my late, great friend, Sandra, namesake of this blog. We stayed together in the guesthouse of their lakefront home in Tahoe while commuting daily to South Lake Tahoe Community College to attend an immersion Spanish class held each summer: The Intensive Summer Spanish Institute. Women need women. And if you can spend that kind of sustained time together, you realize how very essential are those gatherings.

Lynnette and I started these frister breaks after she moved away from Los Angeles to Orange County. In the beginning, she would come and help me with a lot of house stuff. I was recently widowed, thus handling a lot more things by myself. For the most part, and not without some trepidation, I somehow got a handle on a lot of it.  She still comes along with me as I run the odd errand during her visit. But we devote the rest of our time to conversation, meals, and game-playing. Somehow we manage to have the most enjoyably inane conversations interspersed with the more meaningful ones. I will point to something on the street while driving: What do you think that is? To which she will respond: I don't know. Continuing: Do you think it's always been there? And back at me: Maybe. I think one of my favorite exchanges was when we were simultaneously watching the movie Gone With the Wind while texting each other, and commenting on Scarlett's behavior and the color of Leslie Howard's hair. Do you think they dye his hair that color? It's pretty red. I think they call that strawberry blonde. Like the movie, the one with James Cagney? After these exchanges, I often comment on how hilarious people would find our conversations if they were ever heard or read by anyone. An example of how we relate to each other can be found right here on this blog (for free!) in the post: The 2:00 Miracle.

When Lynnette was visiting last month, I completely forgot to wind the clock so it was stuck at ten minutes to six for most of her visit. As if time matters. Our time was spent at The Farmer's Market, where we ate fish tacos at Gott's Roadside and shopped at World Market Cost Plus, looking for furniture for my new deck. We also went to Costco (somehow we always end up at Costco!), Trader Joe's, and FatBurger for "baby" FatBurgers and, most importantly, the "fat" fries. And we played one game of Ticket to Ride and twelve games of Yahtzee over the three evenings we spent together.

By the time I woke up on Sunday morning, Lynnette was long gone, having left the guest and bath rooms in perfect shape (when we go to bed each night, the kitchen is always spotless, thanks to Lynnette). I skipped Mass that morning, and ran a few loads of laundry. There were plenty of leftovers from our take-out Indian and Mediterranean dinners that worked with a little augmentation for dinner. It was a good day following three fun days spent with Lynnette in conversation, laughter, and games. Oh, and, before I went to bed Sunday night, I finally got around to winding that clock.