Of liquor and mouse brawls (or, "I Wanted It For Cooking, Really")

We had quite the day today. My goals were quite simple, really: a frame for Jonathan's "Cyrano" poster; a purse calendar because there's about a week left before the new year; food for Christmas week, including a small thing of brandy for this brie dip I want to try making; and a friend or two for the mouse Maraschino, as she did seem very all-by-herself-ish since Bing passed on and we thought it would be nice for her to have company while we're gone all day.

Things started out well enough. The frame was procured, the calendar was procured, this and that in the food way were procured, two young (female) mice were procured, and we even found a glass soap dish, which we'd been hunting for for months.

So after the pet store packaged up our mice and made us sign papers that we'd be good people to them, we named them Cobbler and Jubilee and went straight home and introduced them to Merry. Merry had none of it. Actually, she viciously attacked them, and they didn't have the sense to keep out of her way and hide. So we carried them all up to the bathtub in hopes that neutral territory would help matters. It didn't. We finally had to pick her up to prevent bodily (mousily?) harm, and even then she sat in our hand, spitting curses down on the trespassers' heads. I don't know where she picked up that kind of language.

Alas. There being nothing for it, we took the erstwhile Cobbler and Jubilee back to the pet store, leaving Merry to simmer down in our absence. The people were very nice and even refunded our $5.23, which I hadn't expected. Apparently we're not the only people who have to give back mice.

And we went on with our food shopping. Wal-Mart had most everything, but no anise for the biscochitos, only one deeply mangled can of Libby's pumpkin for the pie, no chicken bouillion cubes, and, of course, no brandy. So we go across the street to the expensive little gourmet place. They had anise and no Libby's pumpkin. They have expensive little cans of organic pumpkin, but I don't want expensive organic pumpkin, I want Libby's pumpkin. I was quite determined on that. I've used it before, and my mother and grandmother before me, and it works. So there! They also don't have any brandy in their extensive little alcohol section, only beer and wine. So we go to Ukrop's. (This is our sixth grocery stop, if you count World Market.) Jonathan prays, and they have bouillion cubes! This is very exciting because I've looked there before and couldn't find it. One of the workers directs us to the pumpkin and--it's the expensive organic stuff.

So we stand there in the aisle and just laugh. We laugh. We keep looking, and in an entirely different place, they have Libby's pumpkin. HUZZAH!

We also hit the alcohol store next door, which has only beer and wine. Then we go to the alcohol place cati-corner, which has only beer and wine. This is getting peculiar, so we ask the lady if they haven't got brandy? Or cognac, or something like thereunto? She says no, their license doesn't allow it; we need to go to the state-run store just cati-corner, next to Ukrop's and Starbucks.

What?

We go home. It's late. I don't want brandy that badly. Besides, didn't we just go to the liquor store between Ukrop's and Starbucks? I want to make biscochitos to take to Ben and Lisa's party tomorrow. We go home.

And I'm out of flour. AARGH! Six grocery stops, and I DIDN'T BUY FLOUR! While we're home, we google what is up with these stores not carrying brandy. It appears that it's a leftover law from just after Prohibition: in Virginia, only state-run stores can dispense spirits. Fascinating. My New Mexican soul boggled, because I distinctly remember every grocery store back home having That Section where one may procure Jack Daniels or whatever, into which my innocent young soul feared to enter.

So we go back to Ukrop's. We buy flour. We also scope out the strip mall on either side of Starbucks, just to make sure, and by George there is a Virginia Something which appears to contain bottles. Golly.

They had brandy. They had cognac, and gin, and whisky, and vodka, including seven-times-distilled something blue vodka, a giant bottle of which a man trailed by a herd of small children grabbed. (Jonathan is sure one of them said, "Uncle, that's not the one that tastes good!") Another little man picked out his Christmas spirits, humming happily down the aisle. The checkers were very cheerful too, possibly because the very air in there was...thick. And a little tipsy.

Well!