Death by Chocolate

That trip out of the area to pick up a gift from Sprouts led me down an unhealthy side trip.

Remembering that, last time I checked to see if and when See’s Candy Store was to reopen, I learned it’s open already ─ but to online orders only.

Jonesing for See’s for some time, and since my trip back to the complex from Sprouts was going to take me within a block of See’s, I decided to see how online worked.

The way it worked was I couldn’t say give me two of this, two of that and end up with a small manageable bag of candies. Instead, in order to get the candies I prefer, I had to order a custom mix box, the smallest box being one pound.

Me with a one pound box of candy is suicide the hard way, but what the heck. My gut has been acting up for no reason at all. I might as well give it a reason. I placed my order and, while getting dressed to head out, wondered how long it would take to get notification ready for pick up.

Didn’t take long at all. Pick up notification came while I was still getting dressed.

First on my list of errands was to drive past the closest Sprouts to the furthest because that’s where I saw a bottle of Snoop Dogg’s 19 Crimes ─ a wine Snoop put out for the summer. They might have had it at the closest Sprouts as well, but I didn’t want to take a chance of aggravating myself if they did not, so I drove a few miles further out of the area to where I knew it was in stock.

It was the eye-catching photo on the label that grabbed my attention, but I didn’t think to purchase it as a gift for Twin 1 ─ the drinker in the family, until I was back at the complex. Thus, having to drive all the way back today, but I got it.

A bottle for Twin 1, a souvenir bottle for my non-drinking self.

Now I’ve got to go online and research the best way to preserve a bottle of wine because I won’t be delivering to Twin 1 until it’s safe for me to travel and be around people again, or safe for people to visit me.

Before stopping off at See’s to pick up that box, I gassed up the car and what a joy it was not to have long lines at the Costco gas pump now that so few of us have to gas up. Same with the craft store.

I’ve not been inside a craft store since the pandemic began but, when driving away from the gas station, I passed the craft store and saw no line outside, I parked and walked right in to pick up two floss colors that were getting low. There was a third color. They didn’t have it in stock, but I can easily order online from another source.

Though it was nice to be able to shop instore again ─ and there were only seven other customers, I felt icky and unsafe because staff did not sanitize the carts. A fact I realized after I began walking with the cart and noticed that as a customer exited, placed her cart back in place, the next person to enter would get that unsanitary cart ─ like I probably got the cart used by the last customer to place it there.

I thought of abandoning the cart, returning to the car and disinfecting my hands with the wipes I keep there, coming back in and wiping a cart down myself but decided it best not to walk in, shortly walk out, turn around and walk back in ... because of the optics.

When one is Black, one must ALWAYS be aware of the optics.

Having experienced store employees eye me suspiciously for no reason at all ─ just because I was me; that time a security guard went from leaning casually up against a wall to standing at attention when I walked into a clothing store, then glaring at me, never taking his eyes off me as I shopped; the time I spotted security up high on a staircase, looking down, watching me as I sat outside the store, looking through purchases; the time security followed me at a craft show; and multiple other instances of shopping while Black, including the security guard at Best Buy last year/year before. It’s maddening, it’s frustrating, insulting, but it’s something I’ve learned to live with and minimize, as best I can, by doing nothing to draw further attention to myself. I carry no bags inside, wear a fanny pack instead so it’s obvious I don’t have anything to stuff other things into, and I wear tight fitting clothing ─ leggings and athletic top, to make it also obvious I’ve no place to stash anything.

It doesn’t always help to avoid being profiled, still I’m conditioned to always being aware of the optics. To try not to do anything that looks remotely suspicious. Something I wish the younger generation would be more aware of instead of saying to hell with the optics, expecting Karens, Kens, stupid cops to change and, instead, getting themselves roughed up, shot, killed.

Like that fool walking around Walmart with a toy rifle he’d picked up from one of the shelves. A customer called the cops, thinking the rifle was real because ... you know ... Black guy. He ended up shot dead while shopping by responding cops.

I’m not saying getting killed was his fault ─ though Kahlil Gibran does say in The Prophet that “the murdered is not unaccountable for his own murder”, but it kinda was his fault because, as a person of color, you have to know when to hold ‘em, when to fold ‘em, when to put the toy rifle in a cart ─ take the optics into consideration, because you can’t change other people’s perceptions. One just has to be aware others do have these perceptions, be cautious of where one goes, and what one does once one gets there.

Walking in, walking out of the craft store to get wipes from the car, would have looked suspicious. So, I toughed out the icky feeling and cleaned up with wipes when I finished shopping and got to the car.

But don’t think for one minute that I didn’t go online, look up the store’s facebook page and put the unsanitary unsafe conditions on blast.

After the craft store, it was off to my last stop ─ See’s.

Nothing to complain about there. I didn’t have to fight the usual ton of traffic entering the shopping center, and was able to park up close to the entrance.

Access to the store was blocked off.

I stood at the roped off area, a worker came out, took my name, went back in and retrieved my order. Easy peasy.

It was coffee and candy for lunch and yes, I did get sick, but I’m still breathing. Probably because I didn’t scarf down the entire box. Ate just a few pieces and put the remainder in the freezer for when I next crave chocolate ... or for when I wake up the day after election to learn 45 did actually cheat his way into another four years. After which, I'll off myself by drinking that bottle of wine and ingesting all the remaining chocolates.