A Tale of Two Cashiers

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Unless you know my daughter, whose soul is a glittery black balloon filled with puppy love and a thirst for justice, this first anecdote will not make much sense. Ergo, a brief primer on Daughter: You know how in board game commercials for kids, there’s always a big hamburger faced lad who elbows out everyone to hammer the gavel joystick thing or whatever and then shouts I WON? Yeah, my daughter would have been the side kid looking on with amazement, genuinely happy that Burger Boy took the W. But in the last couple of years, she’s become a bit of a righteous crusader and she sees you winning Hungry Hungry Hippos and is all STOP HUNGER SHAMING HIPPOPOTAMUSES! JUSTICE FOR THE PIGMY! SAY HER NAME!

So that’s my shopping companion. Thus, our mission a few weeks ago on a rainy Saturday evening was to visit a very disorderly Dollar Tree in order to see what we could see. We watch a fair number of YouTube Momfluencers in which the Momiverse teaches us how to assemble baskets with only Dollar Store Items. It’s…amazing? We wanted to mount our own adventure and we thought it would be more fun to sidestep the bougie boutique in favor of a chaotic experience.

We were not disappointed. In COVIDian times, there are arrows on the floor of store aisles directing traffic flow, as everyone knows, and which 66% of people ignore. At this particular Dollar Tree, 108% of customers were like, I see your arrow and I raise you an I NEED THAT BAR OF SOAP IN AISLE 4, BREH. Please socially distance your own self while I plow through with my cart full of stocking stuffers and by the way, where’d you get those fresh Lisa Frank stickers, hon? This was the kind of store where you’d just find a pregnancy test stuffed inside a Valentine’s mug (not, like, totally unrelated but still not a major merchandising concept). 1-800-HOTMESS. By the time we got to the register, we could not explain what had happened and what we had bought. As we were checking out, I looked up at all the mylar balloons that had escaped capture and floated up to the ceiling and I pondered how a balloon graveyard is actually 6 feet off the ground (deep, yo). The cashier handed me my bag and I told him his Senegalese twists were pretty and before I could say Merry Happy, he YELPED, I mean, YELPED, “Ohmahgahh, thank you SO MUCH! I was doing my hair all night long, I was up until 4 a.m. and I was like this is taking FOREVERRR, but you all are just making me feel so good” And then Daughter yanked her bunny rabbit hat ears and he died and was buried under a graveyard of mylar balloons, ashes to ashes, dust to Dollar Tree dust.

Not even one day later, I had to pick up a few more Christmas gifts at Target. As I was nearing the cashier, I had that sinking feeling that this was not going to end well. I saw it on the downcast face of the cashier. He was having a day. As I pulled my cart up to the register, I saw him look left, look right, and then yell, OH SHIT! THIS KEEPS HAPPENING. He then took off. I mean, there was no explanatory pause, like, “Pardon me, ma’am. I just need to go chase after this customer who forgot her bags.” Nope. Just BYE. Apparently the prior customer had forgotten to press the button that would have closed out her transaction, so the cashier just abandoned ship and ran after her. The security guard walked over and rested his hands on his head, sighing The manager also came over and tried to make sense of why there had been a cashier at register 7 a second ago, and that person had now vanished.

And the tale of these two cashiers pretty much captures the whole story about the way 2020 elided right into 2021. We either found a spark of joy somewhere in our lives, we perished, or we yelled SHIT THIS KEEPS HAPPENING and hoped management would swoop in and take care of this hot mess, STAT.

Removable Wallpaper: Living Room Design Hack < $100

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Removable Wallpaper. The coolest thing since Willy Wonka invented Snozzberry Lickable Wallpaper. I gave it a whirl and you should probably observe my method, given my outstanding record of lifestyle makeovers and other Gucci-grade designs on a TJ Maxx Budget.

First, it’s important to go to Home Depot and roam every aisle like a woman on a mission who does not need help. You will be offered assistance by all manner of friendly orange aproned retail associates, but it’s critical to ignore them until you really can’t find what you’re looking for and suddenly there is not an orange apron in sight for 50 square miles.

You should then yell into the void and see if anyone comes running. You know, could be fun?

When you finally geolocate an aproned assistant, be sure to ask him if they sell removable wallpaper like the website said they did at this location. When he responds, “Ohhh, no! Sorry! We don’t sell ANY wallpaper,” you should match his expression with equal lament, continue roaming around with a womanly rage just bubbling beneath the surface, and then lo! You will find the whole rack of removable wallpaper, right next to the blinds and the vinyl decals of Dora the Explorer & co.

Once you have landed upon your manifest destiny of removable wallpaper, consider a pattern that will probably go out of style in the next 3-6 months. This is my strategy for most things and it always fills me with regret because I pride myself on being able to spot a classic choice but WHO KNEW Chevron was not a pattern you should select as a wrapround arm tattoo?!?

I went with the birch tree pattern. (The prior link is an affiliate link to Amazon, and I now wish I had bought it on Amazon since it was cheaper and Prime-eligible. Wah.) The room I would be using it in has quite a lot of natural light. I don’t know what those two details have to do with one another, the birch and the light, but it seems like a relationship David Bromstad of HGTV would make a point to highlight.

I did not pre-measure the wall height nor check to see if I would have remotely enough removable wallpaper for the project ahead of me since I am allergic to measuring tools. You can understand my sensitivity, obviously. In fact, the very idea of calculating something in advance and thus depriving myself of all the fun and serendipity of discovering I won’t have nearly enough of a supply is just not the life I’m about, friends. Life is a highway, and I? I want to ride it. All the way back to Home Away from Home Depot two more times for more removable wallpaper.

Once I got going with the wallpaper, I found it to be easy enough to apply to the wall. Like a giant reusable sticker for your HydroFlask, the rolling out of the paper itself is easy. I had cleaned the walls in advance and kept scissors and a box cutter handy. The paper pattern was just forgiving enough that the margins were plain gray and overlapping one piece over another still looks like there isn’t a great disturbance in the forest.

As you can see from the heavily curated and professionally staged photos of my living room in various states of splendor, we are all, dog included, living our very best lives like the little woodland nymphs we all believe ourselves to be thanks to the new wall coverings. Magnifique!

Other Removable Wallpaper patterns available on Amazon include:

Who are these “Spiritual Gangsters” on the prowl?

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The “Spiritual Gangster” athleisure brand caught my attention, as it was created to do.

I first saw the Spiritual Gangster apparel as a walking advertisement worn by the women, most of them white, at the yoga studios I frequent. Apparently, Deepak Chopra also proclaims himself a Spiritual Gangster, along with celebrities such as Gwen Stefani and Katherine Schwarzenegger. There really seemed to be a great spectrum of folks who were a self-proclaimed part of this spiritual gang.

Yet, spiritual people, it would seem, do not need to announce it.

And gangsters, it would seem, would not be interested in yoga.

What was I missing? Further, what does it mean to be a wearer of the SG swag, to proclaim the so-called gospel of gangster threads?

Spiritual Gangster Holdings, Inc. is a private company, founded by yoga enthusiasts. The company purports to be a “a gang of spiritual people who want to make a difference.” They consider themselves spiritual in their dedication to the practice of yoga, and their behavior of banding together to support philanthropic causes, such as Feed the Hungry, from which a portion of their athleisure proceeds are donated, is where the gangster piece derives. 

So, as I distill it, the brand is about being a gang united by yoga and philanthropy. In effect, they are seeking to flip the script on “gangster” and what an intimidating band of people hellbent on a cause can do--for good.

“Spiritual Gangster,” as monikers go, is an oxymoron. To be spiritual can be manifested - or not - in a myriad of ways, most of them peaceful (though I’m sure plenty of jihadists consider themselves deeply spiritual). To be a gangster, in my view, though, commands some measure of perilous arrogance, whether one simply hails from a a rough and tumble territory, or truly makes her business preying upon the lives of those deemed enemies.

As a yogi, I like a good pair of yoga pants that keep my organs from spilling out of place when I’m in downfacing dog. I’m not particular about brands with yoga; I sweat all over them anyway. But the Spiritual Gangster brand continues to give me pause, long after I found out that they sell a $98 sports bra. Because I’m not sure if I’m bold enough in either of my practices -- yoga or do-gooding; spirituality or philanthropy; inwardness and togetherness -- to make the kind of statement that this athleisure wearers everywhere are making.

Perhaps it’s hubris that I lack, or perhaps it’s humility that I want to attain, but I feel both admiration and envy at the yoga gangsters who aren’t afraid to say who they are, of what they strive to be a part.

I think upon the times when Jesus told witnesses to his miracles not to tell anyone what they had seen. But, almost in the same breath, Jesus tells his apostles to be unapologetic about who they are and if any dismiss them, to shake the dust off their feet as they make their swift exit.

Even Peter’s betrayal of Jesus is, at its core, a denial of core identity. Peter denies that he is friends with Jesus. That he was part of his spiritual gang, as it were. 

At the beginning of many a yoga class, the teacher will tell students to set their intention. For the class, for their day, for their lives. I usually say to myself that I hope I’ll not give up and try to complete the whole class.

The next time I’m on the mat, though, I think I’ll modify my intention, perhaps to be both more spiritual and more gangster. Even if no one can tell.