Aldi's Well That Ends Well

There are no Aldi’s in Colorado, where I live.  That doesn’t stop FB friends from extolling the virtues of this quirky little grocery store.  Some claim an association with Trader Joe’s.  I am not so sure.  My handheld encyclopedia has some dubious information.  What else is new? 

I’d mentioned to a random person (I am famously, unabashedly friendly to strangers) that my next stop for the day was Aldi’s.  Without missing a beat or even taking a breath, she said “Do you have a quarter?”, in the same easy way people ask if I remembered to bring sunscreen to the beach or feed the baby.  Which nowadays is quite the challenge for new parents, but I’m getting off topic here.  I thought – I’ll play along - and began to look in the change purse pocket of my wallet.  I might have had a quarter or two, but I said no just to see what happens next.  She reached in the till and handed me two bits.  With a serious look and a teaching tone of voice she told me I’ll need this circular George Washington to get a shopping cart.  As an afterthought she told me I would get my money back.  Her money really, but who’s keeping score.

The trek to Aldi’s was a short drive in Ruby.  Ruby is an ‘extra’ car that Harry and Dori* have inherited and are allowing me to use down the shore for short excursions.  My ride to Aldi’s was filled with wonder; is there a cart attendant?  How does it work?  What if I lose my quarter?  No worries there because I had more than one.  Wink-wink.  I parked and saw the buggies lined up like soldiers next to the building.  There were no cart corrals in the parking lot.  I walked slowly up to the store, not only because I am an awkward ambler, but because I wanted to spy a fellow shopper doing the shopping cart cha-cha.  It would save me from staring at the wagons in bewilderment.  I figured out that there is a little slot that holds the quarter tightly in place while freeing the wagon from the one directly behind it.  I remembered my bags (NJ is bagless), had commandeered a cart, donned my mask and just like that I was in like Flynnn.

First up?  Produce.  Nice selection and decent prices.  I only bought red grapes at $1.29 per pound, and some button mushrooms because I still had what I thought was enough produce back at the rented condo.  Folks had told me there were plenty of off brands at Aldi’s, but I think they are private labeled goods.  It was kind of like Esh’s** but with valid expiries.  That might be an inside joke betwixt me and my kids.  Many of these offerings looked good and I managed to part from a Grant.  That’s $50 for all you cashless, card tapping shoppers.  There were yummy looking prepackaged salads, but only a few that were veggie friendly.  I put tea bags, snack mix and bagel skinnies (for my sister) in the cart, along with some other goodies.                                                                                                                 

Time to pay the piper.  There were two check out lanes open; one had a single shopper unloading her cart, and another had a line that snaked back into the aisle. I thought it odd and got in the line behind the single shopper.  It was then I spied toilet paper in her cart and thought - I need that, I always need that.  No shit.  I asked her where she had found the six-pack of fluffy (I hope) rolls, and she told me to head down the aisle where the line of Aldi aficionados stood.  I did, and it was like a daylight supermarket walk of shame!  No one, not one person directly said a word to me, but the hens were clucking, and the roosters were ranting.  Doesn’t she know it is one line that goes to two registers?  No cutting ahead.  These people were not so passively aggressive.  I could have pretended I was only inquiring about a bathroom essential.  I could have groveled and pled ignorance.  But I just did what I usually do; I ignored the lot of them, kept my head up high and got my non-alcoholic six-pack, just a few short steps away from the mavens of Aldi’s market.  Then I dutifully went to the back of the line.  Life has taught me that there are crazy people in supermarkets, and I didn’t need anyone gunning for me. 

As I stood there, the caboose of the queue, I earwitnessed the vocal admonishment aimed at an older woman (Who am I kidding – she was probably my age), who also didn’t know the unwritten, no signage, no stanchions rules of this little hole in the Wall, NJ market.  Hey!  There is one line feeding two lanes they yelled.  Hey!  Didn’t you see us all waiting over here?  I was tempted to answer their heckles because I had seen them all in a row, and had almost chosen the shorter line just a few moments ago, because I thought they all were – dare I say it?  Stupid!

The line moved up, folks still mumbling and grumbling, me the tranquil tail.  Now I noticed busy shoppers at a long shelf that ran the length of the window at the front of the store.  It looked as if everyone was rearranging their grocery bags, and I figured that Aldi cashiers were egg crushing scoundrels.  I knew enough to pop my bags open in the cart as I approached the register.  This would certainly make the bagging part of my check out experience proceed quickly.  But I quickly learned items are scanned and placed back in the cart, unbagged.  What?  That’s what all those people were doing?  Sheesh.  Pay for a cart, mangle the mojo of waiting, sack my own cereal!  This store is a lot of work.  I organize my essentials into a few bags, paying special attention to the dozen eggs I was sure were going to be scrambled by the clerk.

Whew!  Am I ready to negotiate the coin for a cart conundrum?  I try to put my cart back as soon as I exit, then realize I will need to put my purchases in the car before figuring out the routine in reverse,  Over the puddles and through the pavement, and I am back at the front of the store wanting my gifted quarter back.  Again, I covertly spied an Aldi’er to see what to do, but I was pretty sure I knew how to navigate these waters.  I nestled the cart into one already in place and was about to put the quarter pusher into the slot when a woman asked me if she could give me twenty-five cents worth of coins for my cart because she didn’t have a quarter.  Now I could have ignored her (my go-to, remember?), because I really wanted to finish my job.  I could have just given her the damn cart and fled the scene sooner.  But I said sure, albeit a bit reluctantly, and waited and watched as she rooted around in her purse for the correct exchange of change.  I could have told her forget it and just called it a day.  In the end I agreed to accept twenty cents for my cart.  After all, somebody had to pay for this adventure, and it wasn’t going to be me!

 

*Harry and Dori are my brother and sister-in-law

**Esh's is a funky little market with locations in NoCo

Time to Write,

Jane

 

I TrY

In December of 2006, I took the leap of fitness and joined the YMCA in Colorado Springs.  I had been a guest a few times in the previous months; trying a yoga class and enjoying the pool.  I was unhealthy both emotionally and physically.  In the latter half of my forties, I knew I had to try something.

I began my exercise journey with the aforementioned activities.  I bought a mat and went to yoga classes.  This was an eye-opening lesson in not knowing what I did not know.  I attempted the poses, picked-up on the Sanskrit and became a dedicated practitioner.  I had three kids at home, was in an unhappy marriage and had a stressful job.  The one hour increments several times per week of relaxing, breathing and contorting were good for my psyche and soul.  The yoga teachers seemed so wise with their sayings and mantras and end of class life lessons.  The light in me honors the light in you.  The only constant is change.  The teacher keeps coming until the student learns.  Savasana was the most calming and uplifting asana, and I needed it more than I even knew.

The other godsend was the pool.  I had been a little mermaid as a kid.  A good swimmer, fearless really, in the five-acre sand bottom pool at Idlewild Swim Club.  I dove off the 10 ft. board as if it were the most natural thing in the world.  In 2006, I could swim about three laps before I thought my heart would fail.  Now I swim 2/3 of a mile twice per week at the Recreation Center right up the road.  

When I tried living in Fort Collins in 2014, after the fire, after I sold my house, after the kids flew my nest, I joined a posh fitness club.  There were no Y's up in FoCo and exercise had become an almost daily habit in those ensuing years.  Over the years I had added mat Pilates and Nia (dance) to my repertoire.  I would lift weights or go on a treadmill or bike if there were no classes at the time I was able to be at the club.  I guess I could call myself a regular gym rat.  Sure, I had lost weight, but that wasn't the best benefit.  I grew into a more emotionally regulated human being.  I lost my anger button, gained compassion and felt better all around.  But there was something about the everydayness of the YMCA that I missed.  But I will never complain about having a year-round outdoor pool at that fancy place!

When I settled into the south suburbs of Denver, I was happy to learn that the Y was less than three miles to the west.  I resumed my membership and also treated myself to a punch card at the Goodson Recreation Center.  Now I was really committed!  Two gyms equidistant from my place with myriad offering and walking trails that were accessible from their car parks!

For five years this arrangement worked well.  If I visited Colorado Springs, I could go to my former favorite Y downtown.  I had spent many a Friday night during my divorce swimming laps in that pool, and it felt like home to me.  I had choices for my fitness regimen and rarely missed a day.  Then the world changed in spring of 2020.  I maintained my Y membership but couldn't justify the monthly expense and not be allowed to attend.  They offered a virtual alternative, and I happily took this option.

I began in earnest to construct a home regimen.  I figured out how to cast my computer screen to my TV.  I joined NiaTV and kept my dance practice going.  A few years back when Nia offered this virtual service I poo-pooed the idea.  Who would want to dance in their lonely living room, solo to the telly.  Things change and the correct answer became - ME!  The online Y offered yoga several times per week, and I knew the teacher from days of yore, so it felt familiar.  Like so many of us in the early days of the pandemic, I thought, surely this cannot last too long.

Fast forward to June 2022.  I have not rejoined the YMCA as a full-fledged in-person member.  They recently upped the online fee from $9.95 to $12.95, but to their credit boosted their offerings as well.  I try to get to the Rec Center pool twice weekly.  I like that this facility has a dedicated locker room for the swimmers.  That means less folks to mingle with while doing what one does in a locker room.  I still get to yoga, albeit in my living room, or wherever I may be, a few times per month.  With the warmer weather and traveling, walking is also a great activity.  Even if my bone on bone knees disagree. 

Back in 2006 when I was a fledgling yogi, when I heard those sage saying over and over: The light in me honors the light in you.  The only constant is change.  The teacher keeps coming until the student learns... I had no idea how much I would come to embrace those mantras during these tough times.  I cannot control the world, the pandemic, gun violence.  But I do know this.  Even if the world is not OK - I can still be OK.  Or at least I can trY.

Time to Write,

Jane

 

  

 

Shore Life is Good!

Like many of my friends, I have enjoyed a few beach vacations over the years.  My family vacationed in Florida when I was in fourth grade.  We stayed on Collins Avenue in Miami Beach at the Sans Souci Hotel.  There are impressionable moments that I carry with me - this is one.  Santa stood on a corner, under a palm tree, wearing red velvet shorts.  Even though we are Jewish, I never forgot that incongruent vision; no sleigh, no snow, just ho-ho-ho!  At twelve we wound our way from Mexico City to Acapulco.  As in Florida beach days were requisite - now I had seen both the Atlantic and the Pacific Oceans.  And though we lived close to The Rockaways on Long Island Sound and Asbury Park, New Jersey, I don't recall any forays to shorelines beside the two aforementioned family trips.

I honeymooned in Italy one year past the actual wedding day.  My wusband and I swam at the Isle of Capri and Taormina in Sicily.  Warm, calm Mediterranean waters.  Of course, when one is young and lovestruck a bottle of Aquafina seems idyllic.  Nonetheless I am grateful for this European vacation celebrating what was supposed to be a lifetime of bliss.  I also had no idea that the next 40 years would not afford a return visit.  

I've been to Jamaica where it rained most of the time.  The Bahamas where I conceived my second child.  We flew there in a Volkswagen with wings, piloted by a friend who barely had a license to fly.  While it was great to spy fish from the air, because of how low we flew over the waters from Palm Beach, it was also a bit terrifying.   In my ex's and my epic adventure of 1987, we saw much of the Pacific coastline from Seattle to San Francisco and the Atlantic from Florida to Maine.  We also drove out to the Keys, and that was a most memorable leg of our year-long road trip.

What I am saying is this; every ocean vacation I have ever had involved rainy days and day trips inland, and basically little time at the actual beach!  This year, I decided to do something about that.  My brother lives in a laid back beach enclave called Avon by the Sea.  I put it upon him to put feelers out for a reasonably priced beach rental.  I had looked on Airbnb and every inquiry was answered with "That's not the price".  So why was it on the website?  I don't know, and all I need to remind myself of is that is what led me to find a private party to rent from.  So, Harry asked around and found me a pretty sweet rental for the month of June.

When I saw the pics and the address (Ocean Avenue) I knew I was about as close to the sand as one can get.  That didn't stop my cousin from commenting how it would be nice if I were closer, and there are some places right on the beach.  I don't respond to these comments because I know that 100 steps to the strand is much closer than anywhere in Colorado is to an ocean.  About 1,000 miles to the Pacific and almost twice that to the Atlantic to be imprecise.  So really, how limiting is a car park and a beach road before I can touch my toes to the sand?

                                                         The view from my balcony

The place is lovely.  Well appointed, comfy bed, a balcony with a bird's eye view of the surf.  To the north is Bradley Beach and a scenic walkway called the Promenade.  Nice paver stones on the path above the sand.  There are vintage photos attached to the railings that allow my imagination to wander backwards.  North of that is Asbury Park, and in past years my brother and I have walked there.  I'm only four days into my stay - give me time!  Just mere steps to the south is the boardwalk that goes the entire stretch of Avon.  There are many benches to sit on and watch the water and wonder.  There are a few pavilions to take a break from the sun.  There is a playground on the beach for kiddos.  There is even an outdoor town pool that I can walk to from my condo. The boardwalk ends at a drawbridge that spans the Shark River.  I hope that name is just for dramatic effect, and not that it is actually shark infested.  Which just reminded me as I typed, that I have been to the Rockaways.  It was shortly after the movie Jaws came out and I wasn't keen on going in the water.  No worries about that here yet - the ocean temp is just sixty-five not so balmy degrees.

I am walking distance from a few shops and a snack bar.  I can stroll up a westward facing street and visit my brother and his wife.  Dori graciously picked me up at the northernmost rest stop of the Garden State Parkway.  I chuckled when I saw the sign "James Gandolfini Rest Area".  The man (rest his soul) played a mafioso on The Sopranos, so to me a rest stop was a great play on words.  Dori said the name literally just changed in the week since she had made this trip for other reasons.  None as joyful as picking up her sister-in-law, that's me, and delivering me to the beach!

Today is a 5K Walk/Run that benefits the Avon First Aid & Safety Squad.  This is old hat for Harry who used to be a jogger; he even ran the New York City Marathon in 1987.  I have only participated in two official walks to raise money for worthy causes.  Both were in Colorado Springs - one at the Air Force Academy and the other through Garden of the Gods.  Two not so shabby views!  Today's route is unbeknownst to me - I only know that the starting point is right outside the condo.  Harry and I picked up our shirts and number bibs on Thursday night in a light drizzle at the rescue station.  (Since Dori was cooking dinner, we got hers as well!)  I had to google bib placement as I only know how to attach bibs to infants.  It seems like the front is protocol.  I debated about wearing the souvenir T-shirt and decided that to act like a local, I needed to don that today.  Harry and Dori both said it was the nicest T-shirt ever, so I am feeling pretty lucky.

Today is a beautiful June day.  The sun is shining, and I as close to the action as one can get.  And by action I mean the beach and the starting line.  I will probably venture out onto the sand today after my walk.  I am sun screened and have a hat for the 5K.  I am with my older brother and his lovely wife who has been my sister-in-law for many years.  I hear there is a giveaway at the end.  My fingers are crossed for two reasons; I will finish the 3.2 miles with no pain, and I will win something.  I am lucky like that.  In truth, I am just lucky to be at the beach right now and for the next 26 days.  Ah, life is good.

Can't get any closer than this!

                                                             Me and my bro!

  

PS - I have walked the race.  Slow and steady is my mantra!  I ogled beautiful homes, was cheered on by strangers and made it to the finish line.  Alas, I didn't win any prizes.  But there were complimentary bananas and bagels.  IMO?  A great after walk snack to enjoy while watching beachgoers schelp their umbrellas and chairs and coolers onto the beach.  That is my next activity - after Aleve and ice for my knees!  Life is still good if a bit creaky!