Traditions are important. For example, I just invented the family tradition of cinnamon rolls, and my mom promptly went out and bought a cinnamon roll pan. That's service.
However, some people might define my most treasured "traditions" as "quirks," or, perhaps, "neuroses." For example, every week, I clean the house. If I don't, I die: tradition.
Here is another one: we have long winters here. So, after about February 28th, I like to pretend that it's not winter. I stop wearing real coats and shiver inside my hoodies instead. I don't wear boots, and then I have wet socks all day. I don't scrape the ice off of my windshield, and then I run into -- never mind, Honey.
I do the same thing with food. Although we don't live in a food desert, we do live in a spring-affordable-produce-desert. In other words, my over-budget grocery bill of $106 last week yielded such a scanty number of grocery bags that I could bring them into the house from my un-scraped-off car in one trip. While holding my baby.
So, just like I pretend that I can wear a hoodie and no hat or gloves in a March snowstorm, I pretend that strawberries are in season, and that I'm not irreparably damaging our atmosphere by buying evil-non-local-produce-that-doesn't-even-taste-that-good.
But, at least in my neurotic brain that's frozen from not wearing hats, there isn't much that a little yogurt, granola, and honey can't make taste kinda like spring.
I moss you,
Tofu
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