This morning, as I often do when I’m trying to decide what to write about, I called my husband on his cell and asked him to give me a number between 52 and 100. He was in the bedroom; I was in the living room. “Eighty-seven,” he said, and hung up. When I saw #87, I smiled.
Back before dairy became the bane of our existence (and ironically just about everyone was thin), whole milk was the standard and served in our home with regularity and in abundance. In fact, other than water, iced tea and milk were pretty much the only liquids served in our home. We didn’t have soft drinks, orange juice, alcohol or anything else in a bottle. I remember with vibrant clarity the first time I saw a pitcher of red Kool Aid at a friend’s home. I felt as though magic had been performed. I also felt as though I had been born into the wrong family. Click on Read More Below...
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