swiperSunday brunch at Norma’s in Le Parker Meridien.  It’s become a tradition for my sister and me when we go to New York.  

The waiter brings us a little amuse bouche of fruit smoothie in adorable tall shot glasses.  Highly collectible glasses…if you know what I mean.  (If you don’t, read my story A Red Marble Sink and you’ll understand why my sister gets nervous around me and labeled glasses.)  In a place that charges $15 for a glass of orange juice, the glass should come with it…right?

So I’m eyeing the cute glass when Gay gives me a blistering stink eye.  I jokingly slide it across the table towards my lap.

“Don’t.  You.  DARE.”

As we’re giggling about it, the waiter flits by and whisks the glasses off the table.

Gay snorts and says, “Ha Ha!  You’re too late!”

Aw, man.

4 thoughts on “Swiper, NO SWIPING

  1. stephrogers

    I see that you too have had the boundless pleasure of watching Dora on loop. My condolences. We really should start a support group or something. But first we’ll have to get there, and who do we ask when we don’t know which way to go?


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