I’m talking about it again, y’all. Trader Joe’s opened here in the Greensboro.

We packed up the babies, and we were those people in line before the doors opened on the second day.

There was PARKING, which my LA compatriots know is seventy-five percent of the battle. Get behind me, Prius! And we loaded up our cart like there was a Joe Joe’s and Orange Chicken apocalypse.

For days after as I gazed at the affordable artisanal cheese and wild arugula in our refrigerator, I kept asking myself, “Is this real??”

I seriously felt like I was singing “You. make. me. feel-like-I’m-livin’-a T. J’s. Dream.”

And then I thought about how hard it is for us humans to accept terrific things.

Made me think of a talk I heard while indulging my TEDdiccion about body language and what we normally do when we receive a compliment. We bat it away or deflect it.

The speaker encouraged the audience instead, when faced with the challenge of accepting a compliment, to say “thank you” while bringing one’s hand to one’s heart. I tried this a few times, and you know what? It made me smile.

There’s something sick in us, something in us that decides we don’t deserve nice things. We think we’re judge and jury about what nice things we can and can’t have. What is it, y’all? Control? Prolly.

So, I’ve been telling my students to do this. And I’ve been doing it, too. I didn’t realize I was still well-practiced in engaging my good things force field. It feels nice and a tinge uncomfortable just to let the terrific thing in.

Yeah, sure, the rug might be pulled out one day. But we’ll handle it as we’re getting up off the floor in the moment. Why are we going to mentally rehearse hitting our ass when there’s no way to know which floor or which rug?

So let’s be supes-absorbs good-thing sponges. We’ll get all saturated with stuplendiferous, and then we won’t be able to hold all that Trader Joe’s Mandarin Orange Dish Soap, so those invigoratingly scented bubbles will have to be shared. Sorry crusty dry sponges, we can’t help it if our sudsy voluminosity makes you a little less parched.

Like the label says, it’s next to Godliness.