Between my own food allergies and the food sensitivities of my breastfed son, I can no longer have cow’s milk. Or soy milk. Or almond milk (or any nut milk, for that matter.) And yet, I still have an overwhelming amount of choices of milk at the grocery story. We live in the an era of milk abundance and I am so grateful for that.
For what it’s worth, I usually choose Coconut, unsweetened. Other runners up are Rice Milk and Flax Milk. Hemp milk (chocolate only) has also made the cut from time to time.
Photo by Stephanie Booth
Some nights, all I need is an episode of The Mindy Project and some red wine to turn the wrong day right. It’s the simple things.
The elevator doors opened, but I stood still in the hallway until the guy pressing the door open button cleared his throat.
“Sorry,” I said, looking up and walking in to press the 4 button. “I got distracted by reading the Conserve sign. Now I’m feeling guilty about taking the elevator.”
“Are you kidding?” he asked. “I’m feeling great. I thought for sure we were wasting much more energy — enough for an hour of light at least. I feel quite better, actually.”
I laughed as the doors opened on the fourth floor and I walked out towards my office. “That’s one way too look at it,” I said. And with a change of perspective, my guilt was gone and my mood lifted.
When we were house-hunting, the one we liked was positioned to sell quickly. A bidding war with another buyer ensued, something remarkable in the early 2012 market. Rationally, I knew a bidding war was a great way to careen outside of the budget we spent so much energy discussing. But I didn’t care; I had fallen for the house. It backed up to a golf course, which transforms into a cross country skiing course in the winter.
“That’s easily worth an extra $10,000 to me,” I remember saying to my husband, so sure of myself. “Think of the gas I’ll save in the winter, not having to drive anywhere to ski.”
We won the bidding war and now I can open my back gate and walk onto the golf course — an enormous green space in the middle of a city — something I am always thanking fate for.
Especially tonight, on a late autumn walk, with my son bundled up and in the baby carrier on my front. Golf season is over, so the course is open for exploration. Once we passed the tree line and came into the wide expanse of fairway, the sky was waiting for us in all of its pink autumnal glory. I stopped in appreciation and wonderment. $10,000? How greatly I underpriced the priceless.