by Samantha Prust
You know you’re a tree hugger if your photo collection is chock full of pictures of trees…and plants, flowers, shrubs, leaves, sticks, rivers, ponds, sunsets and other assorted shots of the natural world.
I am always amazed at how our bodies adjust to whatever is going on with them. I thought I was seeing fine, even though the optometrist kept telling me that cataracts were growing on both eyes and would eventually have to be removed.
Then I started having trouble driving at night and I couldn’t read street signs even in the daytime. I went to see the eye surgeon and she confirmed that the cataracts on both eyes had advanced beyond the “annoying level” into the “need to be removed level.”
She asked me what kind of vision I would like to have. What! I get to choose my own vision? She explained the options and recommended that I go with mid-vision for distance so that I can still read without glasses. If she had corrected fully for distance, I would have needed reading glasses.
I have had the surgeries on both eyes and it’s truly a miracle! I had forgotten how bright colors are. The numbers on my bedside clock stand out clear and precise. I can read the restaurant sign across the street. And I can now read printed materials at exactly the distance the surgeon had described.
I still can’t drive until I get new glasses, but I can walk around downtown. I can read the newspaper and my computer screen. I can enjoy the bright emerging colors of spring. I am truly enjoying “seeing with new eyes.”
I think I have a Starbucks problem.
I might have an espresso machine at home, a coffee pot and two half-pound bags of Starbucks brew. But I don’t like brewed coffee, nor am I a barista who knows how to craft an espresso, steam milk and add a bit of foam to make a homemade latte. Plus, I hate reading directions.
When I go to work, I think wouldn’t a morning latte be great?
I think again and realize I want to hold out.
I buckle down and work a few hours until the lull of the late afternoon arrives when there should be a nationally mandated naptime. Again, I start agonizing over the latte.
But I only want to buy one a day and I can make it until after work.
I sit at the computer, typing up my stories, while in the back of my mind the desire for caffeine stealthily creeps toward the front of my mind. I’m typing and thinking, no! You have to wait!
Sometimes I give in to the wicked caffeine pull, but then I feel guilty.
If I get a second latte after work, that means double the money, or 8 bucks instead of 4 bucks. It also means double the calories.
I’m not a coffee drinker. I’m a hoity toity latte drinker, caramel syrup and light on foam, no whipped cream.
If you were to ask my dad, buying a latte a day is plain crazy.
What my dad doesn’t know is that I go crazy all day waiting until I can have my latte.
Yep, Starbucks has snared me into its logo, the siren that tempts me with the call of wanting to be in a different place, escape the real world and sip at the ever addicting cup of comfort.