Make My Day

It started out with wanting chocolate and ended up in a World Market, you know the places, lots of vivid textiles and indifferently made furniture and lashings of wine and grub of uneven quality. We ended up with far more than I had planned to buy of Lindt and Perugina chocolates and Australian vintages. Shiraz Viognier, for god’s sake.

The little, concierge-like, vaguely European woman running the register glanced up at me as she shuffled the bottles over the bar-code scanner and said “I’ll need to see some ID please.”

The last time I got out my driver’s license was to prove eligibility for the senior discount.

Oh, make my motherfucking day.

The Perugina Bitter Dark was the best, for the record.

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26 thoughts on “Make My Day

  1. Not to burst anything, but everyone’s carding for everything anymore. I don’t look much less than my fifty two and got carded last week buying NyQuil, for dog’s sake.

    It seems clear and comprehensive rules are easier to administer nowadays than common sense.

    • After I thought about it a little I remembered that the last time anyone asked me to pull out my card was in the same store. They may have a no-exceptions policy, given that half their business is probably wine. But I wonder how gray your hair has to be before they start to feel foolish.

  2. I’ve never been carded in my life. Which I don’t want to examine too closely, in case it reveals something I’m happily ignoring.

    • I think I’ve had that, but it’s been a while.

      We used to have a local chocolatier — he had to shut down his business due to illness, alas — who made habanero chocolate truffles. They gave you hiccups but we didn’t care.

          • I see how it is, Sled.

            Roma asks you to increase the Recent Comments list, and — presto-chango! — it’s done.

            I tell you that your bio (as a tribute to all women of a certain age, really) should boast of an interesting future, as well as past.

            Nothing.

            I’m what? Chopped liver? A potted plant?

            (There. My children thank you for exhausting my efforts at Jewish motherhood for the day.)

          • Well, changing the sidebar layout is simple housekeeping. Asking me to imagine an interesting future is a request for false advertising. Besides, that interesting past was exhausting.

          • Thank you Sled. I think readers care for accessing discussions more easily.

            Since Mexico is where Chocolate came from originally – the company was Italian but you mentioned the Aztec way – , do they make good chocolate out there? Just wondering.

            And, I’m about to dedicate myself to dark chocolate. It a healthy, brain stimulating drug. And it is legal.

            And I agree with Jenny, your bio is inspiring, not only to women.

          • @MoR — I’ve had some good chocolate made in Mexico, usually in little round slabs, same texture as the Modicana, with the hot pepper infusion like the Chuao variety Jenny mentioned. And one is made with Tabasco sauce, the all American Southern hot sauce.

            I read blogs like Jenny’s (or almost everyone else’s) which describe actual adventures –I will not soon forget David’s last cross-country pilgrimage — and I’m still a bit startled that people like my stories. I sometimes fear becoming one of those bores who stakes out the chair by the fireside and tells people about the old days until they can escape…

          • I will fight you to the death for that chair by the fireside, and the rights associated with it. And don’t think I can’t do it, just cuz I haven’t posted pictures of my wickedly defined muscles.

            Have I ever told you about the dance marathon I was in at seventeen? Well, you see…

          • Now that’s the entrepreneurial spirit that made this country great!

            The dancing is neither here nor there, it’s just one of my old-timer tales of youth. One I’ve been polishing for that moment when I get the chair the fireside…

          • I am probably going to have to break out the tale of the time I swung out on a vine naked, like Tarzan, into the Sawkill Creek just as a guided nature tour came around the bend in the trail, or the time I was in a car full of people who got lost in the fog in full medieval dress in Old Saybrook, Connecticut and woke up the next morning parked on someone’s front lawn.

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