It’s Tuesday – date night. We went to Costco – finally (folks at work made fun of me for going to Costco on date night, yes, I acknowledge it’s a little lame). After years of not going to Costco, we finally joined tonight and paid the membership fee, our big reason is that we all need to get our eyes checked and Consumer Reports said that Costo was the best place to get glasses and you can also get your eyes checked there. Anyways, I figured this is our one year experiment with Costco.
Jeremy treated me to a “Chicken Bake” – chicken, bacon and ceasar dressing all wrapped in a breaded dough.
Costco is both fascinating and disgusting to me at the same time. I mean, it’s awesome to be able to buy 24 packs of gum for 8 dollars, but it’s so totally disgusting to think about buying 3 pounds of cream cheese for the 12 bagels we just bought. (We didn’t buy the cream cheese). How would we fit the cream cheese into the fridge? I don’t doubt that we could eat the cream cheese, it’s just that to see its total volume all at one time and imagine it passing from my lips straight to the cellulite on my thighs is a bit more graphic than I want it to be.
Costco reminds me so much of Taiwan, which I know is a really strange association. When Vince was less than a year old, we moved with a bunch of American families to Taiwan and lived about 90 minutes from Taipei; this was for Jeremy’s job. All the wives would get together in a van and make a pilgrimage to the Costco in Taipei. In our small town, there was only the local Taiwanese food, so the only way you could get Kraft mac and cheese was a 90 minute drive to Costco in Taipei. Those were good times.