The Avocado and Me

There’s nothing weirder than opening your fridge and seeing a cup of cashews floating around a bowl of water, like some bizarre school of fish. You stare at them for a moment, entirely baffled. And then it hits you -- you put them there last night to soak, for a batch of cashew milk. Then you shake your head, leave them to swim around for a few hours more, and proceed to make your omelette. All is well. Suddenly, it’s lunch time, and you open your fridge again. The cashews are mildly less surprising this time, but you still stand there for a second, puzzled. Then you remember and grab the spinach for your Buddha Bowl, promising yourself you’ll make the drink before dinner. You kind of like seeing the cashews swimming about. There's no need to disturb them just yet. A few hours later -- poof! -- it’s magically dinner time, and you haven’t made the recipe yet, and your sister opens the fridge to get the Dijon mustard and shouts, “Why are there CASHEWS in WATER in the FRIDGE...

Another one of Harry Potter’s birthday months, gone. It’s crazy to think this is probably the last summer of my entire life that I won’t have a job. Childhood feels like molasses, so slow, so steady, until it isn’t anymore, and suddenly you’re expected to know what you want to do with your entire life by age sixteen. It’s bonkers. Well, if it makes you feel better, all I know for certain about my future is I want to live in New York City. Which is pretty much impossible, because it’s ridiculously expensive, but it’s still my dream. Nope, I don’t know what college I want to go to to. I don’t know what career I want to pursue. I don’t have the first idea about anything except for wanting to reside in the city that never sleeps, very near to a coffee shop, doing something artsy. Essentially, I want to live the lives of Monica, Chandler, Rachel, Ross, Phoebe, and Joey from ‘Friends.’ We’ll see how that goes, shall we? Anywho, I’ve been trying really, really h...

Almost exactly two years ago, I woke up at five in the morning, collected my blueberry overnight oats (which had been stewing in a plastic red cup, covered with Saran wrap -- my solution to making the meal portable and relatively dish-free) and buckled into the back seat of our Volvo. The sun wasn’t really awake yet, and nor was I, but my dad sure was. This was the day we were to leave on our road trip. I couldn’t quite tell if he was more excited for the trip itself, or to drive his new car, which he’d purchased just after selling his company and just before summer vacation began. He had it all planned out. We’d stay in one town no longer than two nights, drive for hours during the day, and see all of the Colorado sites we could. The snacks were packed, the water bottles were filled, and my sister had charged her Kindle Fire twice, because, obviously, Candy Crush was much more interesting than the rock formations we were bound to pass.  About two years later, I w...