My Mother, the Grape Thief

A week ago I was at Keuka Lake in New York. It's one of the Finger Lakes and if you aren't familiar with the area, the hills around the alakes have lots and lots of vineyards and wineries. We (our friends Sharon and Kathi, Mom and I) did wine tastings at two of the vineyards (and they were free!) and had lunch at a third. Right now it's right befor ethe harvest and the green, yellow, red and purple grapes are hanging off the vines, ready to be plucked.

Well that's what my mother wanted to do. After lunch we walked by the vineyard and I took some pictures. Mom wanted to taste the grapes. I reminded her that was stealing but she was determined to taste the grapes so while I snapped some photos she helped herself. And not just to one little grape, she grabbed a handful and then another and then another. The arm in that photo is Mom stealing some grapes. She said some tasted good and others didn't. I was more concerned about a burly security guard hunting us down and worried that Kathi would have to be our get-away driver.

Later that night Mom said, "If I die in my sleep tonight it's because of the grapes."

"Okay," I said, "Why?"

"I didn't wash any of those grapes I ate. They were probably covered in pesticides!"

"Well," I said, "if you do die that's karma for stealing them in the first place."

Thankfully the grapes didn't kill her.