It's Just Nice to Be Nice

Happy Easter, Hobbit Fans!

Way back in my youth I had a pastor who used to follow certain admonitions with the phrase, "It's just nice to be nice." I got the gist of it; sometimes you do right by people just because. As I've gotten older and crabbier, I realized that it also means that sometimes you do right by people just because– and in spite of the fact that you much rather punch them out.

Today I got to be on the receiving end of the "just because" part (at least I hope there's no punchage involved). On Saturday I purchased my usual bucket o' chicken breasts from the grocery behemoth we affectionately refer to as Whole Paycheck; known to their investors and board as Whole Foods Market. I used to only shop there occasionally. Usually for really healthy things like Truffle Mousse or Very Rich Cheese. Oh, and really lovely sausage. Everyday shopping there just wasn't an option given the a) fairly steep prices and b) irksome practice of only carrying "green"/non-branded household products (sorry, I'm partial to certain soaps and paper products).

Since the Project though, I have become a regular there. When your day consists of a fairly intimate relationship with fresh produce, seafood and meat, you do whatever it takes to make sure that it's the best you can get. It just looks, cooks and tastes better from there. The seafood people know me and hail my arrival. The meat people? Probably not so much (maybe that's where the slap-ation will come from?). Not because I'm mean or anything, just precise. The Project requires that my chicken breasts be 8 oz raw weight (yeah, it's a lot, but I deal with it). Jones, one of my nearest and dearest, introduced me to the time-saving advantages (if not the joys) of cooking in bulk. I tried just getting x pounds of chicken and divvying it up into 8 oz parcels, but that was tedious and resulted in lots of piecemeal servings. So I gently request that they weigh the pechugos separately.

Anyway. I get home with my bucket o' breasts and in the trimming process (that alone is worth another post), I discover that one of them looks, well, off. And it kind of has a bit of that smell you get if you leave raw chicken parts/juice unattended in the trash for too long (never happened to you? Count your blessings!). So I call Whole Paycheck. The nice person at Guest Services (we'd damn well better be "guests" at these prices) tells me to trash the bad breast and bring in my receipt for a refund.

Which I promptly did this afternoon. Now, I was quite clear on the phone that only one piece of pollo was suspect. I was equally clear when I went to the service counter. I even showed the guy my phone calculator where I had figured out that the 11 oz breast was 0.6875 lbs of the 3 lbs. I purchased. To which he does not respond, but refunds me for the entire 3+ lbs. of chicken. It was like, $34!

I guarantee you the $34 they refunded me is but a modicum of what I spend there on a monthly basis. Or what they make in sales from the always crowded store. I also guarantee you that that little investment of theirs ensured that I will not only continue to shop there but will be quite likely tell my friends how honest and upright they are (QED). See? Sometimes it is just nice to be nice.

In other news, they say it takes a village to raise a child. I submit to you that it also takes a village to shrink a diva. This is a major thank you to all who send notes, offer to alter party menus, make exercise dates, offer congratulations, condolences and advice, and generally make the Project as painless as such a thing can be. A very special thank you to another of my nearest and dearest, the Übermezzo. She was pressed into service by the Easter Bunny, who has apparently heard of my travails. To wit:

This Easter was radically different for me. For the first time in my adult life, I had no obligation to be anywhere for Easter services. I thought about accepting one of the offers I received to gig somewhere, but I wanted to leave my options open. Namely, my option to do the unheard of: stay home! This is actually part of a trend in my life to "de-fest" holidays. I'm just spending a lot more of them working at home. Or doing nothing at home, but basically stepping back to experience what various feast days mean to me without their external trappings. And food and drink. Thus began this Resurrection Day. I got up late, baked my bucket o' breasts and some dinner fish, ate lamb chops for lunch, cleaned a little and went to the library to do some research. It was this first departure from the house, at the bright and early hour of 5 p.m., that led to my discovery of the Easter Bunny/Übermezzo's handiwork.

Suspended from my doorknob was an Easter basket! I'll admit that my first reaction was grumbling. Not having yet taken the time to actually think about whence this bounty might have come (or to even look into the basket), I was thinking, "The entire world knows I'm on a major diet– who would leave me candy?" Upon further inspection I was delighted to see that the basket was made up of brightly colored eggs– which turned out to be cloth napkins– and a purple flower bath wand. It was so lovely, and thoughtful and creative– just like her. Again, it's just nice to be nice.

In addition to being pretty much my only celebration of the holiday, it was also just the thing to lift my, shall we say, annoyance at my slow release week. Didn't make the mini-goal, but got closer. And I'm totally still in the game. Laid off another 2# for a total of 47.5 after 3 months. But also set another 3 various inches packing (18 in all), so woo-hoo after all.

Long post, I know, sorry! Are you happy now, Peter? :-}