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Tea for two, or Snapple for one

Change requires work; therefore, I resist it, ignore it, put my hands over my ears singing, "Lah, lah, lah, lah," and otherwise stagnate in stability.

My husband, a crawdad of a different color, bores easily. If the road shows signs of travel, he finds a new route; no matter that he loses his direction. He courts adventure.

Regardless of our differences, we have in common the fact that we can't drive around the block without stopping at a convenience store for a bottled beverage. And, as it's my spouse's chivalrous duty to go in and purchase our drinks, I always request a Snapple, by name. "If they don't have Snapple," I add, "get me something like it."

To my consistent disappointment, he never fulfills my earnest request. He exits every store, tail tucked between legs, offering me all types, flavors, brands and makes of drinks, but never a Snapple - or anything like it.

Finally, after weeks, months, nay, years, of holding my tongue, last Wednesday, I asked him, "Why don't you ever buy me a Snapple?"

"Why do you always want a Snapple?" he asked, quite indignantly, as if I was the one at fault.

"It doesn't necessarily have to be a Snapple," I snapped. "As I have said before, any equivalent would do."

He breathed deeply and glared. Then pointing at the strawberry-kiwi-mango mixture I held, he exasperatedly challenged, "Drink up. That's as close as I can get. What do you expect, anyway?"

"Iced tea," I sharply retorted. "Snapple means iced tea."

Sighing heavily, he went on to explain that Snapple does not mean, and has never meant, iced tea. First of all, according to my knowledgeable and worldly spouse, tea is only iced if it has ice in it and beverage bottlers don't put ice in tea. Secondly, Snapple's main product line consists of fruity drinks. "Iced tea is a hobby," he declared, "a sideline to garner extra revenues. If Snapple means anything, it means fruit drink."

After that he dropped the mothball bomb, cutting me to the quick.

"Besides," he taunted, "I never see Snapple in stores anymore. I think the company went out of business. In 2006, ordering a Snapple is like when you say you need to AVAIL cash, or that you want to watch a video tonight. And why do you keep writing tin foil on the grocery list? Modern man uses aluminum foil, grandma."

Momentarily I sat in silence picking at the label on the fruity knock-off beverage in my hand, my bottom lip poking out. "I have the right to rent a beta-max movie without you tossing out slurs on prehistory," I sassed.

He ignored my comment and continued, saying, "If you want iced tea just say iced tea. I get stressed out every time I go in a store looking for Snapple. I never bring out the right thing and you always look irritated. Snapple means fruit drink. Fruit drink, fruit drink, fruit drink!"

We lapped the block in silence, sipping to ourselves. I made a mental note of his transgression against me, icebox owners, and Snapple lovers everywhere.

When we got home, I logged onto the internet, plugged in, crossed my fingers, closed my eyes, said a prayer, and clicked. The search engine churned.

Then, as big as a cold pitcher of iced tea on an August afternoon, the Snapple home page popped onto my screen. And the headliner product was (drum roll please) . . .

Snapple tea. Snapple tea. Snapple tea.

Hah! I win!

(A lesser Cro-Magnon woman than me would gloat for another 10,000 years.)

Web posted on Thursday, May 25, 2006

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