A Time of Acceptance

Today I have come to terms with the fact that I am now living in an environment that requires me to wake up fifteen minutes earlier. For most, this would be an easy, almost mundane task. For me, it is agony.

Still, while it will be almost impossible to drag my warm body out of the comfort of my ever so perfect bed to face the four degree weather (YES that is four...as in the number after three and WAY below the 70 it should be) I have found it even more impossible to risk what could happen if I hit that snooze button one more time.

My roomie was in an accident today (She's fine-not even scratch). Car skid on ice. Flipped over. And while I can't control ice patches on the road, I can control my otherwise non-defensive driving tactics of drinking my coffee, eating my Pop Tart, and putting on mascara, all while changing songs on my Ipod and swearing at the clock that I continually check because I am running late again. Did I mention I accomplish this while driving? In Boston no less, the city where the Frommer's Guide instructs you that it is better to risk death as a pedestrian crossing Comm Ave than face driving in the city that apparently has amnesty from road regulations.

So for me, it is lesson learned. And not the hard way. My mom was wrong...I don't always have to touch the stove to make sure it really is hot. I just have to be near enough to feel the heat and experience the fear.

A Whole Lot To Offer

Scene one: My mom and I are venturing out on our first day in Boston. I've lived in the city for about five hours now and come to a spot in the road where there is a cop directing traffic. Is there an accident? No. Is there congestion? No. We look around. What could the cop be out in the street directing traffic for?The Whole Foods Market. Apparently the shopper's need to use taxpayers dollars to have a police officer sit outside Whole Foods 12 hours a day to ensure that their organic tofu doesn't have to wait an extra 45 seconds in the car because they had to yield to the fellow BMW's that grace Newtonville. The agony. I swear off Whole Foods.

Scene Two: I have to pee. We're past the pee pee dance. I'm seconds away from making yellow snow in Boston. Kim and I run to Whole Foods in Brookline. And can't find the freaking bathroom. It's not in all the usual predictable bathroom places. I'm in tears. We wait IN LINE to ask someone where the bathroom is. It's in a sketchy corner behind the seafood counter. Which smells. Like rotting meat. I almost vomit as I learn that while I may not have self control when it comes to The Gap, my bladder has amazing restraint. I swear off Whole Foods once more.

Scene Three: I'm driving home tonight not wanting to cook, but wanting to have a hot body for Spring Break. The only quick takeout near me is pizza since the Northeast still has no concept of drive-thrus. I spot the Whole Foods. I think about the possibility of a deli section with healthy alternatives to grease with a side of pepperoni. I turn in. And embrace the vegans. I had the best meal under nine dollars. Two slices of roasted herb turkey, a mountain of a helping of homemade mashed potatoes, a black cherry natural soda, and the topper: a pumpkin chocolate chip muffin for tomorrow morning. After two swearing off sessions, Whole Foods has won my heart. I guess the third time really is the charm.

Cinnamon Dolce is My Gabanna

Starbucks has a new frothy sweet concoction that brings a smile to my very chapped lips (cold Boston wind). Cinnamon Dolce Latte is God blessing the mere mortals with a taste of heaven. Against all of my issues with fair trade and the financial enslavement of people who are forced daily to pick coffee beans for pennies that a huge corporation makes a three thousand percent profit off of when they sell each VENTI cup of warmness ( why can't they use English?)...breath...I recommend ordering yourself a cup. Ask for a medium. It irks them. And extra Cinnamon Dolce sprinkles. It's all in the sprinkles.