Sometimes I bring my little one with me into Starbucks.  She feels so grown up in there and they have gluten free potato chips which she loves.  School is out for Christmas and I am of course still working.  I generally only go weekly but I got my usual; a white chocolate mocha frappuchino with coconut milk, no whipped cream, and peppermint for the holidays.  Paying with my Apple Watch still hasn’t gotten old.  As I was having my wrist scanned I looked back and saw my little one had happily insinuated herself in between these two young women, looking quite proud.  “Hello,” she said to the one on her left.  Turning to the right she received a “Hi!”  “Hi,” she replied.  “We’re having a GIRLS’ day!” she announced to her two new friends.  I came over to sit down and noticed they had both dropped their studies to listen to a five year old’s constant steam of chatter.  Of the most import:  they were out of her beloved gluten free chips.  I found her gluten free blood orange chewies instead.  Rounding her eyes she asked, “Mama, why is it BLOOD?” with a look that held more morbid curiosity than anything else.  “That’s a type of orange” I told her as she continued to stare at the bag with a mixture of anticipation and horror.  “There’s no blood,” I said, watching her look vaguely disappointed.  I saw her two new friends trying to stifle smiles.  “Well, it’s time to go kiddo; you may take those with you” I told her as I swooped up my drink, phone, and keys.  Both girls told her goodbye and I thanked them for being so nice to her.  The Tibetan Buddhist Dali Lama said, “Be kind whenever possible.  It is always possible.”  And so my little one left standing a little taller as we left with our sweet treats.

OK I have been convinced of two things for several years now:  first, whatever TV show I love gets cancelled and second, anything I become attached to in the grocery store gets discontinued.  I realize these are first world problems so I feel a little guilty even mentioning them.  When I switched to almond milk for animal ethics reasons I tried a lot of different creamers.  I finally settled on one I truly like even better than cow’s milk but it is always hard to get.  I have been battling with some invisible adversary for about a year now over them.  Repeatedly schlepping to a grocery store that’s not right by our house is neither easy nor convenient.  So I went from buying them in threes to quantities of four; still leaving a couple for this other person.  They must have become tired of the fight, too because one day there were none — nada; zip; zilch; zero.  One would THINK stockers would have paid attention when some lunatic wiped the shelves clean of their entire stock but NO.  Apparently it’s all done automatically and I will tell you, their system does not work.  Heaven only knew when they were getting more but I was assured “the system” was aware.  I do not care for my coffee tasting bitter; the creamer is an integral part of what makes it so enjoyable.  Forced to buy one weird creamer after another, I refused to give in to the unimaginable torturing of cows just to have “regular” cream.  So I went for days with no coffee (incredibly without killing anyone.)  When the hubs announced he was going to the store I found myself gripping his shirt front and telling him to buy all the creamers they had.  Attempting to tell me that was extreme only added fuel to my fire.  Trust me, the man could not live one HOUR without his precious almonds.  And I had been without my coffee for almost an entire week!  He came back with one.  And so I found myself back again anxiously looking for the darn stuff.  I knew I could not fight the system but I could fight The Man.  By now I felt my eyes bulging as I began mumbling and plotting, checking every single day for my creamer.  And then one day, as I trod my well worn path to the creamer section, I saw one.  I ran straight for it like an arrow closing in on its target.  As I put it in my cart I discovered there was another behind it!  And another!  And another!  I actually scaled the shelves like a fanatical squirrel with my rump propping the door open while I reached all the way to the back to get the very last one.  A kind of maniacal glee coursed through my body as I made my way triumphantly up to the register with my spoils.  My coffee creamer hoarding nemesis had been defeated!  Giving in to remorse, I decided to magnanimously put one back.  In the meantime it’s gonna get down to 18* and Mama’s going to enjoy her coffee without fear of running out.  Another beauty of almond milk is that it doesn’t expire for ages.  So now my plan is when I get down to three full ones I’m stocking back up.  The ancient Chinese military strategist Sun Tzu once said:

“The art of war teaches us to rely not on the likelihood of the enemy’s not coming, but on our own readiness to receive him; not on the chance of his not attacking, but rather on the fact that we have made our position unassailable.”

My invisible enemy may have won the battle, but I won the war.

I saw this and knew our kitchen needed it … or, rather I needed it.  OH how I look forward to my half hour of peace and quiet early in the morning with my mug full of coffee.  I’ll have two if I’m really tired; Café du Monde with chicory, a spoonful of Truvia, and hazelnut almond milk creamer.  Aaahhh.  The aroma filling the kitchen makes me happy, and sitting in our den looking out over the creek fills me with peace before the demands of the day set in.  As my day progresses, (sometimes depending upon how it progresses,) I find myself looking forward to having a glass of red wine … or two.  Unlike the immutable ritual of my coffee, I have enjoyed my Cabernet Sauvignon out on our side porch, on our swing in front, sitting on the stone bench by our koi pond out back, and in the bathtub.  As I write I notice all of these choices are tranquil, relaxing ones.  When I was pregnant I truly thought the alcohol would be harder to give up than the caffeine.  I was wrong, something for which I am both thankful and admittedly surprised.  The American actress Sandra Bullock once said, “I gave up coffee.  It’s almost worse than giving up a lover.”  For me wine these days is becoming something I equally look forward to; I can see why it has earned the moniker “Mommy Juice.”  Regardless, the one thing I can honestly say is, whether morning or evening, and for whichever one it is — it’s about time.