Livin' life in Costco-sized portions

It always amazes me when I finish a 2.3 gallon/92 load size of laundry detergent. I never have paid attention to the amount of time it takes me to finish two gallons, but if I were to guess I would bet it isn't longer than a couple of months.

I used to shop at Costco for entertainment or if I was on a food storage dry-packing binge but now I am usually there twice a month. I am ashamed to admit it, but our family easily pounds down the 8-10 sleeves of Oreos in two weeks. We can consume an entire 24 pack of yogurt in a week and none of the gigantic bags of apples go to waste around here.

Amazing.

I remember the day when I could buy a four-pack of boneless, skinless chicken breasts and usually have enough for two meals, and the days when we ate less than a pound of cooked spaghetti in one sitting. Those days are gone now. I live with vultures, locusts, pigs and their friends.

To get by, I shop in bulk. This doesn't mean that I only shop in bulk, we can't seem to work through the entire package of fresh broccoli like we can those Oreo's. I have go to my local market for perishables. Bulk shopping is a part of life; like breathing or bathing, and is as necessary to me as Tivo is to watching television.

I love Costco. Where else can you get one gallon of syrup or 100 tablets of Advil? It is the only grocery store I know of where you can have six items in your cart and still spend $100.

My usual route is to hit the book table first - peruse the aisle for interesting titles or whatever I'm reading in Book Club, then I head over to the food section and weave like a snake, up each lane until I arrive in the frozen foods. From there, I head to the fresh fruits and vegetable area, past the meats and cheeses to the bread and goodies. I vary this route when toilet paper, towels and plates are needed.

I head back down the same lane my journey began, only this time with my deep cart filled to overflowing, ready to tip over if a sharp turn is taken to avoid a small child or to re-examine those Gloria Vanderbilt capris. On my way towards check out, I notice the wide-eyed stares of other warehouse members, looking at me like I was eleven months pregnant with sextuplets or had two heads. I know they are not inspecting my cart for interesting items, they are trying to understand if I cater weddings or am some kind of fanatic preparing for the end of the world. I smile and let them wonder.

Interestingly enough, my cashier never seems fazed as my cart approaches; looking like the equivalent of a small van filled with fifteen children. She simply asks me for my membership card and starts to scan her heart out. Checking out is never quick for me, so usually I race over to the food counter to grab a DC. I need that DC to calm the impending anxiety created over the total bill.

While I wait for the total, I like to play a game with myself. It's called, "What's the damage?" $150, $250, $450? Sometimes I include the cashier in my game. I ask her to let me guess the total before she hits the final button. If I know it's going to a big number, I include her as a measure of distraction. It's no small feat when you can spend the equivalent of a small car payment at Costco all in the name of putting food on the table and meat and ravioli in the freezer. Sometimes I win "What's the damage," sometimes the cashier wins, either way we loose. It's Costco that is the real winner.

So that's it. Twice a month, another ordinary day in the life of a Costco warehouse member; feeding the world, one mouth at a time.