There are a few things in this world that I am and many more than I am not. I am a decent mother, a whiz when it comes to colors and I can make things look pretty. But for the rest? Um, no. On that list of no's is my desire to be a bad ass. I sometimes fancy that I would love to play on a lady's softball team, talk trash and bump up hard, in a non-lesbian sort of manner, against other female flesh. I would love to know exactly how to change a car tire. I would love to be able to smoke a cigarette without barfing for two hours after one puff. In short, I would love to be sturdy and worthy.

One of the few times I feel stout and bad is when I wear a baseball cap. There is something about covering up my nest of ratty hair and shading my eyes that makes me feel courageous and fierce. One of the other times is when I go for a Costco trip. Yes, a bit sad but after some explanation a believable situation. There is something so magical about a Costco trip. First there is the preparation. A trip like this means 45 miles each way, so a list has to be started a week in advance. Then there is the drive and the anticipation of giant chopping carts and aisle upon aisle of over sized food containers and multiple packages of goods bound by clear wrapping. Once I get in the store, breathe in the air and feel the possibilities of a million different outcomes, I am in my zone: I am a hunter and gatherer to the core of my very being. I am in that store to track down the food my family will be inhaling for the next two weeks. I am their sole source for nutrition and their bodily health depends upon just how competent I am in the hunt. And along the way there are the sampling tables with small plastic bowls of everything from honey goat cheese to Dove chocolate bars. These people are there to cheer me on in my endeavors and to ensure the well being of my family. Then there is the long trip home and the giddiness of knowing my wee trunk is jam packed with goodies and deals galore. Oh, how my family will love me as I return home victorious from my hunt. Finally there is the unpacking and the reliving of my adventures and just how wonderful it felt to load up the cart with food and more food.

Mere words cannot explain the euphoria of a successful Costco shopping trip. It leaves me painfully open to ridicule at how shallow my existence is, but I gottta say it does make me feel like one bad ass huntress.