![]() ![]() Things are stressful you deserve a treat. You can leave behind your job, the chaos of the subway, but your children always have to be fed. She bought cold, hard lemons and seltzer and Tito’s vodka and two bottles of nine-dollar red wine.” The list goes on and on, bacon and maple syrup and cheddar and boxed yellow cake and zucchini and kale and ground beef: “It was more than two hundred dollars, but never mind.” There’s something particularly potent and mesmerizing about grocery and cooking scenes in vacation novels, a chore suddenly elevated into an indulgence. She bought organic hot dogs and inexpensive buns and the same ketchup everyone else bought. ![]() She bought potato chips and tortilla chips and jarred salsa full of cilantro, even though Archie refused to eat cilantro. She bought sliced turkey, whole-grain bread, that pebbly mud-colored mustard, and mayonnaise. The mother, of course, goes to the closest grocery and buys, buys, buys: “She bought yogurt and blueberries. ![]()
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