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Shortly after I'd dropped Her Nurseliness off for her overnight shift at the hospital, the phone rings. Dammit! She must've been looking through her bag, for something to snack on, and noticed that I didn't send the Italian bread that she likes with her dinner.
She never says, "Hey, great salad last night!" It's always something like, "How long've we had those bananas? The one you gave me must've fallen behind the fridge."
But tonight she says, "Why don't you take those leftover cupcakes, that you made for Little J's class, over to Sarah and JP's and visit your new granddaughters?"
She's always coming up with ideas like that, especially after I've been up until 2 AM doing things like baking cupcakes.
So I counter with, "I ate two, and gave you four to take to work, so there aren't any left."
"I saw what you sent," she says, with suspicion in her voice. "Why'd you do that?"
"Thought maybe you'd want to share them with your co-workers," I answer, a little defensively.
"Hah, it'd just be another excuse for them to sit on their fat fannies," she says. "I just thought it might be a nice reason to visit Sarah."
"What do you know about nice?" I'm thinking. "Well, I could get some lime sherbet and take it over," I suggest.
"Fine," she says, "I'll talk to you later."
So I call Sarah to see if it's OK to come over and she says it is. And, since I've already mentioned the lime sherbet, I feel like I'm committed.
The first place I stop is the Topps Friendly Market in Shop City. Turns out, they're not very friendly towards lime sherbet.
Next, I stop at the Byrne Dairy on James Street. I'm standing a couple feet back from the ice cream freezer, which is on the aisle as you come in the door, when this guy walks in and stands directly in front of me.
"Excuse me?" I say, as I'm thinking about planting my size 10 in his backside.
He moves over j-u-u-u-st enough that I can see into the freezer but doesn't say "excuse me" or otherwise acknowledge that I'm there. I'm now considering a leg sweep or side kick, but he's pretty big and I'm thinking that if he falls on me I might break something that I'd need later on.
So I focus on what's in the freezer and, for a dairy store, there isn't much. The closest thing to what I'm looking for is something called "Key Lime Sherbet." It's got bits of graham cracker crust in the lime sherbet and it's one of those things that looks like it could be incredibly good or monumentally disgusting. Unlike Her Nurseliness, I'm not a gambler so I leave without it.
By this time, I'm already three blocks past where I should've turned off on JP's street. But I've promised the lime sherbet and there's a Friendly's Ice Cream about a mile farther down.
So I get in the car and continue in that direction. I park in the lot which is on a hill overlooking a huge water tower that's all lit up and seems to be both peeking over, and towering above, the brow of the hill.
As I'm walking toward the entrance of the restaurant, a man and a woman with a little kid are walking out the door towards their car.
Even in the dim light of the parking lot, I can see the look on this kid's face as he's trying to keep up with his parents, and not fall over backwards while keeping an eye on that monstrous tower.
He's obviously terrified and finally says to his mother, "Mommy, what's that?"
Mommy seemed to have completely missed the point of taking the family out for dessert at a place called "Friendly's." Or maybe she's just not the motherly type, because she's really short with the kid.
"It's just the water tower," she snaps impatiently and, grabbing him by one arm, continues toward the car.
By this time, the little kid is convinced that the whole purpose of dessert was to plump him up before feeding him to the monster and, after being dragged another three or four steps by his mother, he manages to blurt out, "But Mommy, I don't wanna go in it!"
"Oh, for Pete's sake," she says, "We're not going in it," and marches on.
Inside Friendly's, the guy at the counter notices me hovering in front of the small freezer. "Anything I can help you with?" he asks.
"I'm looking for lime sherbet," I tell him.
"Well," he says, coming from behind the counter, "We have rainbow sherbet and watermelon sherbet and something called 'Orange Creamsicle,'" he says.
His previous job must've been in one of those shoe stores where they try like hell to put something on your feet even if it's the wrong size and not what you were looking for.
"Nope, lime sherbet," I say to remind him, "That's what I'm looking for."
"Oh," he says, "Well, we don't have that."
Next stop is Wegman's, about three blocks from the very end of James Street. There, I spot something called "Coconut Lime Sherbet." "Hmm," I'm thinking, "She likes coconut and she likes lime. Looks like this is it."
So I buy the stuff, get in the car, and head back up James Street toward JP's. Passing the water tower again, I wonder if Mrs. Friendly managed to get her family in the car without someone wetting their pants, or worse. I also wonder how sherbet sales are going for the shoe guy.
Finally, I'm at JP's and Sarah meets me at the door. She takes the sherbet, to put in the freezer, and I start telling her the story of my crosstown odyssey for lime sherbet.
By the time I'm done with it, we both wish that I'd just brought the darn cupcakes.
LPK
LiveJournal
2.4.2012
She never says, "Hey, great salad last night!" It's always something like, "How long've we had those bananas? The one you gave me must've fallen behind the fridge."
But tonight she says, "Why don't you take those leftover cupcakes, that you made for Little J's class, over to Sarah and JP's and visit your new granddaughters?"
She's always coming up with ideas like that, especially after I've been up until 2 AM doing things like baking cupcakes.
So I counter with, "I ate two, and gave you four to take to work, so there aren't any left."
"I saw what you sent," she says, with suspicion in her voice. "Why'd you do that?"
"Thought maybe you'd want to share them with your co-workers," I answer, a little defensively.
"Hah, it'd just be another excuse for them to sit on their fat fannies," she says. "I just thought it might be a nice reason to visit Sarah."
"What do you know about nice?" I'm thinking. "Well, I could get some lime sherbet and take it over," I suggest.
"Fine," she says, "I'll talk to you later."
So I call Sarah to see if it's OK to come over and she says it is. And, since I've already mentioned the lime sherbet, I feel like I'm committed.
The first place I stop is the Topps Friendly Market in Shop City. Turns out, they're not very friendly towards lime sherbet.
Next, I stop at the Byrne Dairy on James Street. I'm standing a couple feet back from the ice cream freezer, which is on the aisle as you come in the door, when this guy walks in and stands directly in front of me.
"Excuse me?" I say, as I'm thinking about planting my size 10 in his backside.
He moves over j-u-u-u-st enough that I can see into the freezer but doesn't say "excuse me" or otherwise acknowledge that I'm there. I'm now considering a leg sweep or side kick, but he's pretty big and I'm thinking that if he falls on me I might break something that I'd need later on.
So I focus on what's in the freezer and, for a dairy store, there isn't much. The closest thing to what I'm looking for is something called "Key Lime Sherbet." It's got bits of graham cracker crust in the lime sherbet and it's one of those things that looks like it could be incredibly good or monumentally disgusting. Unlike Her Nurseliness, I'm not a gambler so I leave without it.
By this time, I'm already three blocks past where I should've turned off on JP's street. But I've promised the lime sherbet and there's a Friendly's Ice Cream about a mile farther down.
So I get in the car and continue in that direction. I park in the lot which is on a hill overlooking a huge water tower that's all lit up and seems to be both peeking over, and towering above, the brow of the hill.
As I'm walking toward the entrance of the restaurant, a man and a woman with a little kid are walking out the door towards their car.
Even in the dim light of the parking lot, I can see the look on this kid's face as he's trying to keep up with his parents, and not fall over backwards while keeping an eye on that monstrous tower.
He's obviously terrified and finally says to his mother, "Mommy, what's that?"
Mommy seemed to have completely missed the point of taking the family out for dessert at a place called "Friendly's." Or maybe she's just not the motherly type, because she's really short with the kid.
"It's just the water tower," she snaps impatiently and, grabbing him by one arm, continues toward the car.
By this time, the little kid is convinced that the whole purpose of dessert was to plump him up before feeding him to the monster and, after being dragged another three or four steps by his mother, he manages to blurt out, "But Mommy, I don't wanna go in it!"
"Oh, for Pete's sake," she says, "We're not going in it," and marches on.
Inside Friendly's, the guy at the counter notices me hovering in front of the small freezer. "Anything I can help you with?" he asks.
"I'm looking for lime sherbet," I tell him.
"Well," he says, coming from behind the counter, "We have rainbow sherbet and watermelon sherbet and something called 'Orange Creamsicle,'" he says.
His previous job must've been in one of those shoe stores where they try like hell to put something on your feet even if it's the wrong size and not what you were looking for.
"Nope, lime sherbet," I say to remind him, "That's what I'm looking for."
"Oh," he says, "Well, we don't have that."
Next stop is Wegman's, about three blocks from the very end of James Street. There, I spot something called "Coconut Lime Sherbet." "Hmm," I'm thinking, "She likes coconut and she likes lime. Looks like this is it."
So I buy the stuff, get in the car, and head back up James Street toward JP's. Passing the water tower again, I wonder if Mrs. Friendly managed to get her family in the car without someone wetting their pants, or worse. I also wonder how sherbet sales are going for the shoe guy.
Finally, I'm at JP's and Sarah meets me at the door. She takes the sherbet, to put in the freezer, and I start telling her the story of my crosstown odyssey for lime sherbet.
By the time I'm done with it, we both wish that I'd just brought the darn cupcakes.
LPK
LiveJournal
2.4.2012
