Meijer and the forgivable sin

225,000 sq/ft. that's the average square footage for a Meijer store. 

having a hard time visualizing that number? have a look see...



for my farming/suburban peeps: 4.59 acres 
for my big-city folks: 2 blocks

and you laughed when I compared the superstore to an ultra. #sillyyou

when the task of picking up groceries becomes necessary, I have a full-on, in-my-head pro/con debate about which grocery store to choose. 

Kroger 's size is a hop-skip-and-a-jump experience compared to Meijer but, lacks product variety and quantity, and no apple-pay(!).

Whole Foods is the middle sq/footage option, but... they have a different product variety hurdle--it's for a very specific customer/demographic. I call this customer the "Vegan-Hipsters-That-Reject-(but participate in)-A-Capitalist-Society," #veghiptracs (☚ I would love to see that # trend). on the pro side, the veghiptracs are seriously into apple pay. 🤛🏼

and then there's Meijer, the behemoth Moby Dick superstore.

so, when I inner-debate the options, and choose Meijer, it's because I have convinced myself that the apple pay option #nopurselife, and marathon experience will be worth the assumed product variety and quantity.

insert *overt eye roll*

I review my list, you know, mentally GPSing the most efficient route for this inevitable heater-skelter experience:
cauliflower
garlic 
parchment paper 
fairlife milk
unreal crispy dark chocolate peanut butter cups
vitamin D gummies
zip-ties the long ones (not the teeny ones, and not the medium ones)
LED bulbs
mio: orange vanilla w/ vitamins
T-straight pins
halo ice cream: peanut butter cup or (2nd choice) mint chip

(side note: I'm analyzing this list to see if I'm revealing too much about myself to the world. it does come off as some sort of pretend health-nut list... but then the LED bulbs, long zip-ties and T straight pins lean... w e i r d. #letmebeclear #Ileanopposite #totheweird #kindofweird)

and here's the result:
cauliflower ✔︎
garlic ✔︎
parchment paper ✘
fairlife milk ✘
unreal crispy dark chocolate peanut butter cups ✘
vitamin D gummies ✘
zip-ties: long ones (not the teeny ones, and not the medium ones ☚ gobs and gobs of these sizes!) ✘
LED bulbs ✔︎
mio: orange vanilla w/ vitamins  ✘
T straight pins  ✘
halo ice cream: peanut butter cup or (2nd choice) mint chip...

I'm the very picture of fuming disbelief--I pro/con-ed this trip! I push my pathetic two-tier cart with its contents of two root veggies and a box of energy efficiency towards the freezer section.

my foot throbs--all the petulant foot stomping, my hair is in disarray--all the bending over to see if my item is in the waaaaaay back of the shelf, and my tongue is sore--all the biting to keep my blankety-blank frustration from escaping. 

the motion sensor lights behind the glass freezer doors flicker awake as I pass. a pleading mantra loops in my head.

"peanut butter cup--that's all I want. please have it. please!"

trust me, I'm soooo aware that if a person's inner-mantra is a desperate plea for a particular flavor of ice cream, well... that person has lost it. 🙋🏻‍♀️

my cart rolls up to the halo section, I open the frosty door, metaphorically morphing into T-800, my eyes flip to hyper-focus search mode (HFSM), hands disregard their natural aversion to cold, and rapid-sort through the options. 

"no!" my frosty heart-wrenching gasp of disappointment stamps the death-knell into my mantra: ✘

I regroup, grasping for a modicum of hope, 

"mint chip?" ✘!

I drop into a squat, continue my search, angrily reject the toppled, always left-behind flavor: oatmeal cookie. puh-lease! for the love of creamed-ice, halo(!), put the oatmeal out of its misery!

I reach deep into the frozen closet and pull forward what I know will be a disast--


👀?!?!


heretofore this moment... I've never seen, much less tasted the blueberry crumble.

I like blueberries.
I like crumbles.

my ✘ angst dissolves. 
the pain in my foot? gone. 
my hair? feels aright on my head.
my tongue? pfffft(!)--all it feels is anticipation for this flavor curiosity.

walking to my car, I review Meijer's unforgivable sin, only ~30% of my list?! but then, I grip my Meijer emblazoned bag tighter, and glance down at the golden-y tops of two pints of forgiveness.

Meijer and the supersized recovery

the key ingredient in frog eye salad is acini di pepe pasta, little balls of pasta, that strangely enough, look nothing like frog eyes...

real frog eyes:


acini di pepe pasta aka, fake frog eyes:


amphibian culinary inaccuracies aside, I volunteered to bring frog eye salad to a Last Hurrah of Summer in Michigan picnic. 

(For three months of the year Michiganders get to use words like warmth, Summer, sunshine, and green. Those pretty words disappear mid-September and are replaced with: polar vortex, snow-slammed, school closings, arctic blast, and my personal favorite, lake-effect snow.)

I went to a smaller Kroger that was close-ish to my house, collected all the ingredients for salad only to discover, no acini di pepe pasta. of course.

drove over to the larger Kroger about 3 miles away, nope! I sat in the 2nd Kroger parking lot knowing that my only option was to drive down the road to a third store... Meijer. The supersize-in-progress superstore.

I didn't want to go, mostly because I kept reliving how upside down, inside out, higgledy-piggledy and creepy(!) the store is during the "pardon our dust" phase. 

for instance: here's a photo I took 3 weeks ago and the note I typed on my phone afterwards...

"the corner of creepiness." 

"I watched four people (in a row!) willingly/naively follow the hand-drawn "rest room" sign and walk behind the floor-to-ceiling creepy plastic curtains. 

I waited. 

I perused. 

I never saw them again."

finally, I convinced myself that I had to go to Meijer because: 1. I made a promise to bring the quintessential Summer salad/dessert and 2. I'd be safe from horror creepiness since I didn't have to pee.

upon entering the wide open west parking lot, a major surprise; a large sign declaring the pharmacy drive-thru was now open! 

next surprise: the east and west entrances are back!! and unlike the other supersized store that I glimpsed at-- there are benches inside for the elderly! #ElderlyTinderLivesOn

I wandered the supersized superstore's recovery-in-process with a goofy smile on my face: 

*pharmacy no longer a kiosk, back to it's rightful/normal spot; the elderly's phlegm sit-in must've worked. 

*the cashier lane lights are bright white, numbered in dark navy blue. the Meijer associate's faded/stretched red polo shirts/uniform have been replaced with dark navy blue polo shirts--so slimming(!)

*the Starbucks kiosk is gorgeously nestled into the hyper-scented flower/plants section, I'll have to OD on Zyrtec, but it's worth it!

*once again, after exiting the huuuuuuugggggge produce section, the first aisle is labeled #1!! 

I'm so giddy with the improvements that I happily shrug-off and walk around the palettes of blenders, pillows, chips and adult diapers that still need to be stacked in the empty shelved sections, and even decide that Meijer's Helvetica can be forgiven. someday.

I remind myself that I came to Meijer--the supersized superstore--for a box of that elusive pasta, my stomach sank. 

"has the supersized recovery progressed into the pasta section...?"



oh yeaaaaaah. weird pastas galore!

clutching my little box of fake frog eyes, with a massive smile on my face, I head for the newly-chic u-scan lanes, when I hear two 80 year old women lament...

"I want my old store back."

my heart "awwws" for their dilemma, but I know, as I watch former Mr. Obese-Cashier-In-Ill-Fitting-Red-Shirt-That-Can't-Cover-His-Fuzzy-Navel now transformed into Mr. Obese-Looking-Trimmer-In-Dark-Navy-Blue walk toward me, that the supersized superstore won me over, again. 

well, for at least another 10 years.