She was still punishing me. She knew how I disliked restaurant-made waffles. I accepted my punishment with grace; I grumped and frowned and complained... much to my daughter's delight. She grinned and emitted self-satisfied little, "Mmmm," sounds with each bite of her eggs Benedict.Early afternoon, with a chilly, blustery autumn wind threatening rain, we window-shopped our way up Fifth Avenue until we reached Eataly NYC, Mario Batali's food market. The yeasty aroma of fresh baked breads drew me. Mark stoppedright in his tracks looking worried at his girlfriend. Why had she calledfor him to stop? Had he done something wrong? "Aren't you forgetting yourmanners Marcy?" Lisa finally said with a huge smirk on her face. She wasclearly enjoying her new-found power.Mark's eyes went wide. He had indeed forgotten, so trying to salvage thesituation he muttered out a quick. "Yes Miss Lisa, I will fetch the bagright away. I am sorry for not using my manners Miss Lisa," he saidterrified of getting. More

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