Mondays are my usual grocery shopping day. The Big Shop, as I commonly call it. Although depending on the completeness of the weekly menu, or forgetfulness of the Shopper in Chief, or just because reasons, you'll probably find me shopping Thursdays, as well. Perhaps an ocassional Friday or Saturday. Sunday if I'm desperate for dinner ideas that aren't takeout. Basically on an as-needed basis.
Over the years, I have become something of a Trader Joe's loyalist. And when we first moved to our house, I was hesitant to change stores. The extra half mile to go to my old store seemed like NBD versus having to deal with such a monumental life change!
I mean, new employees to have to get used to. I was, after all, a child brought up on Safety Town and Stranger Danger, I'll have you know. I wasn't BFF's with anyone at the old store, but the faces were familiar and that was OK by me.
Learning the lay of the land of a new store? No thanks. FFS, I can't hardly keep up with the constant changes in a familiar store, let alone a new one.
And then as luck would have it, a familiar face arrived at the new store. We hadn't talked in years and I couldn't exactly recall what sort of awkward terms we may or may not have been on. But inevitably, we reconnected and she became a driving force to embracing the new store.
And I could not be more thankful!
Yes. Silly as it sounds, I am thankful for my grocery store.
One slow Thursday morning, they greeted me like Norm walking into Cheers. And in the solitude of being a SAHM, that gesture was everything. The people there have become, dare I say, friends. I look forward to our banter and repartee, which on ocassion has continued after hours.
Among many, they have chosen to support my charitable efforts when they didn't have to. Which is not only a testament to their culture, but their dedication to the community and their customers.
The Mayor was just over a year when we moved. I did my last Big Shop between contractions before Miss Thing was born. There was no judgment during the very lean times after I quit my job and we were juggling two mortgages. There was help when I look in my wallet and wonder where that twenty I thought I had went (in the the gas tank). We've been through a lot together now.
So my grocery store is more than just the neighborhood Trader Joe's; it is, to a degree, an extension of my village.
So thanks, Store 83. You're tops. Plus, you're a half mile closer to my house. Which, as it turns out, is a very big deal.