Powers of Persuasion
(Note: the only reason I could spell the word "persuasion" on the first try is I'm an Austen fan. I can also spell "sensibility" and "prejudice" in less than half a second and without blinking. Go Jane.)
Mom and I drove to Bennington, VT, to get some groceries. Ostensibly due to expected inclement weather (rain icing on roads, icey rain, freezing rain, general ickiness which is the reason why I prefer snow in the winter to all other forms of precipitation). We need to store up on food stuffs to last out any crappy weather, right? But, mostly to get the hell out of the house, the hell out of the capital region. Albany is a depressing place, even when your front yard is looking all picturesque with the drifting, glittering snow and small-mammal footprints. So, off to lovely Vermont, which is close to persuading me to buy a house there if I ever have the money to buy a house. (Practically ever acre of Vermont is so damned picturesque it makes my non-property-owning teeth ache. Massachusetts' north shore is similarly picturesque, but I haven't spent as much time there, scouting out living arrangements.)
(Please note that whenever I type out "pictaresque," I hear my mom saying "picture-skew," which is helpful in getting a handle oin the spelling. The problem is I occasionally actually say "picture-skew," much to my English-major chagrin.
)
I went into the store while Mom tried to park the car in the three square inches Spice n Nice has allocated to them for parking. I picked out milk and bread and a couple of other staples. Dutiful daughter. Then I wandered over to their extensive tea collection and found they had Persimmon White Tea by the same folks who made the yummy teas my sister gave me for Christmas. I picked up the tin and met Mom at the door. I told her I got two half-gallons of milk, etc., etc., then held out the tea tin and bounced on my toes, making a half-whimpering sound that many spoiled children make when trying to get something out of their parents. Most spoiled children can get cars and skiing trips this way. I got myself a $12.50 tin of tea. I didn't even need to use words.
When we were finished, I carried the bags out to the car and Mom opened the trunk of the BMW. She turned to me and said, "Pull our lunch out of the bags."
"What lunch?"
"You didn't get us lunch?"
"No. You didn't tell me to."
Mom proceeded to get huffy. "I shouldn't have to tell you."
"Mom, I'm not going to spend your money without an okay."
grrrrrrr!
"But I already got the tea. I wasn't going to–"
grrrrrrrr!
"But–"
"I bring you on these trips so you can pick out the good stuff!" grrrrr! growl!
Well, that's a shocker. I'm supposed to be her shopping id, picking up the chocolate cookies and sweet potato Frites while she buys butternut squash and frozen peas. I promptly went inside and picked up stuff I'd like to eat. Mom happily munched half a bag of Frites as we drove the scenic route back to Albany.
Now I have cookies and persimmon white tea. mmmmmm
Mom and I drove to Bennington, VT, to get some groceries. Ostensibly due to expected inclement weather (rain icing on roads, icey rain, freezing rain, general ickiness which is the reason why I prefer snow in the winter to all other forms of precipitation). We need to store up on food stuffs to last out any crappy weather, right? But, mostly to get the hell out of the house, the hell out of the capital region. Albany is a depressing place, even when your front yard is looking all picturesque with the drifting, glittering snow and small-mammal footprints. So, off to lovely Vermont, which is close to persuading me to buy a house there if I ever have the money to buy a house. (Practically ever acre of Vermont is so damned picturesque it makes my non-property-owning teeth ache. Massachusetts' north shore is similarly picturesque, but I haven't spent as much time there, scouting out living arrangements.)
(Please note that whenever I type out "pictaresque," I hear my mom saying "picture-skew," which is helpful in getting a handle oin the spelling. The problem is I occasionally actually say "picture-skew," much to my English-major chagrin.
)
I went into the store while Mom tried to park the car in the three square inches Spice n Nice has allocated to them for parking. I picked out milk and bread and a couple of other staples. Dutiful daughter. Then I wandered over to their extensive tea collection and found they had Persimmon White Tea by the same folks who made the yummy teas my sister gave me for Christmas. I picked up the tin and met Mom at the door. I told her I got two half-gallons of milk, etc., etc., then held out the tea tin and bounced on my toes, making a half-whimpering sound that many spoiled children make when trying to get something out of their parents. Most spoiled children can get cars and skiing trips this way. I got myself a $12.50 tin of tea. I didn't even need to use words.
When we were finished, I carried the bags out to the car and Mom opened the trunk of the BMW. She turned to me and said, "Pull our lunch out of the bags."
"What lunch?"
"You didn't get us lunch?"
"No. You didn't tell me to."
Mom proceeded to get huffy. "I shouldn't have to tell you."
"Mom, I'm not going to spend your money without an okay."
grrrrrrr!
"But I already got the tea. I wasn't going to–"
grrrrrrrr!
"But–"
"I bring you on these trips so you can pick out the good stuff!" grrrrr! growl!
Well, that's a shocker. I'm supposed to be her shopping id, picking up the chocolate cookies and sweet potato Frites while she buys butternut squash and frozen peas. I promptly went inside and picked up stuff I'd like to eat. Mom happily munched half a bag of Frites as we drove the scenic route back to Albany.
Now I have cookies and persimmon white tea. mmmmmm
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