On days that I take Noah to preschool my little gal pal and I head to one of my favorite coffee shops for a morning treat. What, doing it 3 days makes it a tradition, right? I sip my soy latte while Amelia shares her thoughts on the current debt ceiling crisis. Or maybe she sleeps in her car seat. Either way it is riveting.
Today I stood in line and had an inner struggle on weather or not to indulge in a piece of blueberry poundcake. You should have heard the conversation going on in my head. It was like an angel who was carrying a carton of almond milk and a devil who was basting a hunk of cheese in clarified butter were having an epic battle.
I bought a slice. But the day old one that was like half off. Because when it sits for over 24 hours the milk proteins magically float away.
I got back in my car with my buttery treat still wrapped. I did not end up eating it; I threw it away when I went to clean my car later that morning (so I am glad I bought the day old, half of slice of milky goodness). And that is when I realized...
I have an unhealthy addiction to buttery, milky treats.