betrayal (lyn)

Joanne and I go to Costco today.  Joanne is one of my recent Weight Watcher converts, as well as a Horace Mann football mom.  It’s our first time going together, and we quickly set an easy schedule.  We’ll meet up in the meat section in a half hour. I resist all the fattening samples being offered and discover Fage Greek yogurt (which I always buy) with honey added.  I had no idea that honey could have such a transforming effect.  I also pick up two worthwhile non-food items:  a pink hooded quilted London Fog parka for 2-year old Becky (only $20) and four movie tickets for Loew’s for Alexander ($8 each, when normally the theater price is $12.50 each).  Excluding these buys, I make it out of the store having spent only $136, my lowest tab ever.  And I still bought $16 worth of gourmet-style cookies for Alexander, a gigantic fruit bowl, a ring of cooked shrimp, a huge container of Tide, 24-cans of Diet Coke, a block of mozzarella cheese, a bag of one-point baby bell cheeses that Alexander will likely devour before I have a chance to have even one, a big box of blueberries, two packages of cheese tortellini, and two pounds of cut-up squash.  Among Joanne’s purchases is a phone.  I love Costco.

I get home, and as I’m unpacking, the phone rings.  It’s Zelia.  I tell her what I’m doing and she says, “You’ve betrayed me.”  At first I don’t know what she’s talking about, but then I realize she’s referring to my Costco trip.  I know she’s joking, but the truth is, Costco just isn’t the same without her.  Had she been with me, I probably wouldn’t have bought all those cookies, even if they were for Alexander.  Instead, I’d be re-arranging my freezer to make room for the giant loaves of healthy, multi-grain bread.