Meijer and the lost in translation

by now you know that I have "just one of those faces." the kind that looks like every other woman, and (apparently) I have a powerful aura--or some other type of mystical power--that imbues the message, "can't read or speak English? I'm your girl."

sure, I dabble in a couple of languages, but I've never really been comfortable with that power. in most languages there is a direct translation and, more often than not, there is a colloquial or regional translation, that usually escapes me. 

but if I'm being honest, my insecurity is mostly because of a girl named... 

Isabella. (in my head, I say her name with abhorrence. from here on out, I hope you do too.)

1988: 
I was in college living with several international roommates, one was a girl from Spain, Isabella. 

also at this time, I had been nurturing a one-sided love for about three years, he didn't know I existed, except as his buddy. *sigh* the buddy disease, aka "the friend zone."

he left college, to live in Spain, we started writing to each other (as in paper, envelopes, stamps), each of his letters ended with, "te quiero..." 

you have no idea the thrill, the zing, the heart-thudding, every time I read that simple closing salutation, "te quiero," literally translated to: "I love you." I was over the moon, until...

Isabella. she asked to read one of his letters, to see why I was so happy(!). I handed the letter off, I pointed and said (possibly squealed), "he signs it with, 'te quiero!'" 

laughter from Isabella. "In Spain, 'te quiero' is used between family members; like a brother to a sister. He doesn't love love you. He sister loves you." 

in those few seconds, I had been cured of the buddy disease; only to be reborn as a sister. 

more laughter. a lot more. but, I was grateful for her laughter, it conveniently drowned out the sound of my 💔ing.

2018: 
Meijer, the deodorant/anti-perspirant aisle. 

peripherally, I note that I'm alone in the aisle with an elderly man, who shakes his head in frustration. he reaches for deodorant, stares at it, then puts it back. 

he sees me, his eyes light up (thanks, aura!), and approaches with a stick of Dove men's deodorant. 

"fe mal? fe mal?"

I'm not positive, but what I think I'm hearing is Spanish. I freeze; suddenly on the spot to translate--correctly this time. 

I quickly run through the words-- fe literally translated means faith, mal means bad, or wrong. is he asking if the product is good? honest? or maybe if the price is reasonable? or is he asking if he should trust that it will work? 

AGGGGGHHHHH. trying to appear calm, I walk back to see what the price is, I point to it--

he shakes his head, "fe mal?" 

I got nothing.

he rakes his hand through his hair, "FE. MAL." 

I mumble, "lo siento, mi español..."

he shakes his head, "FE-MAL," then repeatedly points to me... and my boobs. "FEMAL, INGLÉS!"

💡!

Fe-mal. Female. he wanted to know if the deodorant was for women.

Isabella's laughter fills my head, as I gesture (in inglés) for him to follow me to the women's deodorant section.

Meijer and the Christmas cart outlier

CHRISTMAS UPDATE: so while Meijer still hasn't jingled-up their decor game, I am seeing evidence that my fellow Meijer customers are gettin' in the mood.

you know I have a strict "no perusing others' carts" policy, but during The Season, it's nearly impossible to not see the Christmas cheer tetris-ed into Meijer carts. 

dozens of carts, filled with multiple tubes of vertically splayed wrapping paper, bags and bags of multi-color sticker bows (inter-mingled with multi-packs of scotch tape), roam the Meijer superstore maze. 

the Christmas Ferrero Rocher hoarders' carts are the prettiest--love seeing the dazzling golden-foiled globes of chocolate and hazelnut--makes one almost forget the effects of sugar-induced diabetes. #almost 

of course, don't forget the carts stacked with boxes of Legos and Disney princess dolls, along with slim DVD cases filling in the gaps. all these carts SCREAM their Christmas mood.

so *overt eye-roll* obvious. 

and frankly, obvious isn't what I do. my blog tagline clearly states, 

"just a girl with a knack for observing the ridiculous." 

so there I am, 20 items in my cart, looking for the shortest cashier line (my grocery count disqualifies me for the u-scan, curses!), resolved that today's Meijer experience will be ridiculous-free, when-- I happened upon this (☟) Christmas Cart...



I don't know about you, but when I see Gram-Grams & Pop-Pop's cart filled with 12 bottles of Pine-Sol, 10 cans of Maxwell House, 5 boxes each of Froot Loops and Frosted Flakes, along with 16 bags of Goldfish crackers, my brain whirrrrs into action, eager to explain the cart's nearly inexplicable Christmas riddle.

here's my brain's proof that this is a Christmas Cart, albeit an outlier... 

GG & PP are hosting Christmas this year. so naturally, Grams will vigorously scrub the entire house clean with her trusty 1957-era disinfectant/cleaner. after a good floor to ceiling wipe-down, she'll have 1 bottle left to add to the live Christmas tree's water basin--Gram-Gram's version of "aromatherapy."

the boxes of cereal and goldfish crackers definitely support the Christmas hosts theory. clearly their grandkids are coming and, even though the house will reek of Pine-Sol, GG & PP don't want to be known as the stodgy grandparents, so they purchased the "fun" cereal for breakfast, and the "modern" Goldfish crackers. 

the Maxwell House? GG & PP aren't stupid. they know all those carbs on the conveyer belt will keep their third generation Froot Loop inhalers bouncing off the squeaky-clean freshly Pine-scented walls, so they've wisely stocked up on caffeine--10 cans should be enough for Christmas weekend, right?

ho-ho-ho!