Strawberry Milk

I like milk. A lot. I remember, as a kid, my dad going to the grocery store to get a gallon of milk for dinner. He had to return to the store because the milk had disappeared before it was time to prepare the meal. The taste for milk remained into adulthood. Liz just laughed the first time she saw me pour Hershey’s chocolate syrup directly into the half-gallon jug, instead of a glass.

When not using it for gravy, or dunking a cookie into it, my go-to has normally been a large container filled with Hershey’s syrup and milk. I say “normally” because I recently made the mistake of looking at the ingredients. Now, I can look past some less-than-natural ingredients in favor of some tasty flavors, but when the first two ingredients I am adding to my beloved milk are high fructose corn syrup and corn syrup, I have to take a moment to reassess the situation.

In an effort to find a more natural flavoring for my milk, I spiraled down a deep, delicious rabbit hole before emerging pumped to prep a simple strawberry syrup. While I wouldn’t tout it as “healthy”, I would consider it more natural than its store-bought counterpart. In fact, it only has 4 ingredients. Strawberries, sugar, water, and vanilla. Ok, maybe a few more ingredients if you count those that made up the vanilla - vanilla beans soaked in spiced rum. Nonetheless, when combined, reduced, and strained the result is the beautiful blood red nectar of the gods. When mixed with milk, and raised to the lips, the clouds open followed by a chorus of hallelujah.

As Liz succinctly put it, “Mmm, it tastes like melted strawberry ice cream”. “Try some more. The strawberries taste like strawberries, and the snozzberries taste like snozzberries… We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.”

Monuts Donuts

Having previously sold their sweet and savory goods from a modified tricycle, Monuts Donuts is approaching the one-year anniversary of their shop on Parish Street. With a line that consistently reaches the door, you know that what they are selling is worth waiting for (or getting there early for).

Everyone raves over the thoughtful, delicious breakfast bagel sandwiches, and while I visually admire them each time the Monuts everything bagel has been the staple of every one of my visits. Toasted everything bagel, with cream cheese, and a Maple Bacon Bourbon donut. Toasted everything bagel, with cream cheese, and a Chocolate Earl Grey donut. Toasted everything bagel, with cream cheese, and a Banana Cardamom Walnut Donut. Wash it down with a mismatched mug of coffee or a box of chocolate milk, or both, and all is well with the world.

Liz is a connoisseur of everything bagels, and I’ve joined her for that ride with no complaints. While the standard everything bagel has big onion and garlic flavors, Monuts takes a more subtle approach (and more effective in my opinion). The “everything” is definitely there, but not in a sand-blasted-with-seasoning way. And my favorite part, the bit of cayenne that warms the mouth before giving the taste buds a gentle slap on the way by. 

I say all that to simply give a heads up to anyone who comes to visit Liz and me from out of town. When you arrive, just go ahead and assume that you will end up at Monuts.

Cabe Lands Trails

The weather has been temperamental lately. Not in a threatening Oklahoma-like way, but in a way that tends to happen when spring begins trying to push winter out. It may be freezing, snowy, rainy, and downright warm all within the same week. It is on those intermittent warm days that we try to make it outside.

Last week it was the Cole Mill Trail along the Eno River. And most recently we visited another area of the river, the Cabe Lands Trails, for the first time. It was interesting to discover that the area is part of the Mountain-to-Sea trail. Once complete, the trail looks to run from the smoky Mountains to the Atlantic coast. Not quite ready for that kind of commitment Liz and I stuck with the Cabe Lands Trail and the Quarry Trail. The first took us to the banks of the Eno River, and the latter to the old rock quarry.

Because it was a weekday afternoon the trails were empty. It was nice to be seemingly removed from the beating heart of Durham, and hear only the river running, the birds chirping, and the rustling of small animals in the dry leaves. Next time we will have to explore the ruins of an old grist mill, as well as the Cabe family cemetery, we have since heard about. 

Prompted By The Weather

Last night was the first ground-covering snow that I have seen here in Durham. The forecast was accompanied by the standard school closings, and magically disappearing milk and bread from the grocery stores. A disruption from the norm that brings both uncertainty and excitement to a city.

Similar uncertainties, coupled with exciting feelings, are taking place as Liz and I plan what we want our wedding to look like. As I look to redirect my career path. As we decide what we want our home, future, and family to look like. Prompted by the weather, I found myself physically and mentally pausing to take in the snow, build a fire, and sit down with a book or few (I seem to have a theme at the moment). It was appropriate to take a moment to acknowledge the less than routine activities that are taking place, and recognize that it is all part of the adventure. An adventure that leads to Spring then on to the future we have been working so carefully to build. 

A Modest Proposal

This time last year I was drafting a story – found here – that began by describing our first kiss, and ended in asking Liz’s father for permission to ask for her hand in marriage. Considering that I finally asked Liz for her hand several weeks ago, the card from her parents (pictured above) is quite fitting.In envisioning the proposal I had seen a photo booth, a photographer, a romantic view, and a group of friends. As Liz succinctly put it after the fact, “He would have had a parade if he could”. While the proposal didn’t end up being the big to-do that I previously envisioned, I couldn’t have asked for a better moment.

So, it was her late grandmother’s ring. I put it in a pocket of my suitcase that would make its way to Michigan for the holidays. And then in another pocket. And then in another. Each consecutive pocket more secure than the one prior. I wasn’t certain when I would propose, but I wanted to be prepared should the right moment arise. 

The day after we arrived in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan we wanted to get out and explore the snow-covered beach. It was so different than we has seen it six months before. Then, we were kayaking and taking in the sun. Now, I was putting on snow pants over two already placed layers. I put the ring in a pocket of my jacket. And then in another pocket. And then in another. I thought how ridiculous I was being, and how my “safe” pocket options were running out. 

We ventured out into the balmy 20-ish degree weather. Lake Superior was freezing. The beach was covered in a thick layer of snow. The surrounding landscape was beautiful, peaceful, and nearly silent. The only sounds were our crunching footsteps backed by the subtle crackling of water gently moving ice, yet my mind raced. Did she see me touch my pocket? Did I touch my pocket? I don’t remember touching the ring in my pocket for the 24^th time. Did I lose it already? Be cool Micah. BE. Cool. Should I do it here? What about here? Not here. I couldn’t imagine going back to “the place where he proposed”, and it being some random person’s beach-front lot. It is amazing how a seemingly simple question can temporarily transform an easy-going guy into a neurotic mess. 

I took off my right hand glove to reach into a pocket for my phone. Not long after the phone met the bone chilling temperatures, the previously full battery went dead. No more photos for me, which was unfortunate. However, it was an acceptable casualty because it was then that I had the chance to pull the ring from my coat pocket, slip it on my own finger, and put my glove on over it.  Easy access. No digging in pockets if the opportunity arose, only an unveiling of sorts.

Our snowy hike took us back to the beach in front of the cabin. One of Liz’s favorite places. She had been on that beach every summer since she was born. Would a proposal there contribute to or alter meaning of that place? The question ran through my head as I unknowingly paced.

Liz was snapping pictures of me while I paced. Not knowing what was going through my head she said, “I want to take a selfie”. I’m not sure that I have ever heard those words from her. Nonetheless, it was an opportunity to capture the moment even though my phone had died. She asked me to take it of the two of us. I grabbed her phone, and began to reach out with my right hand before I saw the ring bulging from the thin black glove. “Wait. Switch me spots”. With my now left hand holding the phone I caught the moment, evidenced in a half-smile-smirk, that I knew that I was going to ask her that three-word question on that beach.

On the beach… in the snow… in front of the cabin… Liz asked the natural question, “What do you want to do next?” “I want to spend the rest of my life with you”, I said as I settled in with a snow-covered knee. “Yes”, she said as tears began running down her face, and she joined me kneeling in the snow.

After a few seconds I was surprised to find us both on our knees. We got to our feet, and were taking in the gravity of the moment before we heard BANG, BANG, BANG. We turned to the cabin to see Liz’s mom in the window with a camera. We smiled and waved thinking that she had seen it all. We found out later that she didn’t even know I had proposed, but did a great job of capturing the moments after, including me wiping a tear from Liz’s cheek. We composed ourselves before marching inside, and toasting to our collective future with a bit of Catdaddy, a North Carolina moonshine.

Come to find out, an intimate moment has the potential to be more fulfilling than one with much pomp and circumstance. As Liz pointed out, it was a moment that was shared by just the two of us.

For Liz's perspective, see her post here.