When the going gets tough, the tough get hiking.

Also known as: I have a new favourite part of my day.

Also known as: The Black Legging Wild Maidens Have Adventures.

Jenni and I have been temporarily joined at work by E.Moonbeams, a fine lady of comparable age and enthusiasm for stress-relieving-five-minute-dance-parties. This has proven wondrous for all our souls, not least because E.Moonbeams has initiated lunchtime hikes up the Nature Reserve behind our building.

These hikes are glorious. Our first adventure led me to post the following status update on Facebook: Forty-five minutes of gallivanting, whooping, dancing, running, flailing limbs, and getting lost in the Nature Reserve with Jenni and E.Moonbeams should be a mandatory part of every work day.

The next day we chose to bush-bash, and PEOPLE WE FOUND A BLACKBERRY PATCH.

Standing around a blackberry patch in matching black leggings and New Balance sneakers, picking glossy sun-soaked blackberries from the brambles and letting the sweetness burst on our tongues, all while eight kangaroos watched us from nearby, thrumming their paws along their chests in what looked to be a secret kangaroo code, the sun beating down on our shoulders and arms… it was perfect.

Yes, I leaped around singing “KAN-ga-ROO-la-ROO-la-ROOOOOOO”. Yes, I had earlier started krumping halfway through changing from business skirt to leggings in my office, forgetting for a moment that I have a full-length window looking out onto the street and that passersby could see me. And yes, when we Black Legging Wild Maidens returned from our gallivant, the IT guy had arrived to fix Jenni’s computer and he must have thought we’d erroneously wandered in looking for a sunburn-friendly yoga studio. But I digress.

Apparently, the area we found our berries in is subject to chemical spraying. Therefore I’ve probably been poisoned and will likely sprout a third arm tomorrow. You know what, though? A third arm is all the better to make smoothies with. (Best. Segue. Ever.)

No real recipe today, folks. Simply a list of ingredients that create a gorgeous and sneakily green smoothie perfect for a post-hike-stress-relief-post-work afternoon.

Frozen blueberries, frozen strawberries, Mango Chobani yoghurt, zucchini, soy milk, vanilla extract, cinnamon.

Perfect, with or without leggings (are not pants!) and third arms.

Question Time: How do you bring jazziness into your workdays when times feel tough?

What you’re getting today is something quite rare in the Wayfaring Chocolate universe.

Truffles.

Not the pig-foraged kind (that will come later), but the chocolate kind. You see, I’m a chocolate-bar girl, not a ganache-enrobed-in-chocolate girl. That said, when someone gives me truffles, I’m more than happy to do some nibbling and give credit where credit is due. (For example, Camille’s fabulous praliné truffles or Colefax Chocolates.)

The truffles in this post were handcrafted by She Chocolat, a chocolaterie and restaurant in New Zealand. My lovely blog-friend Vaala came across She Chocolat after one of her epic adventures across New Zealand’s amazing landscape (one day I will return to visit you, O Kiwi Land), and not only did she think of me, but she actually returned to the shop days later purely to buy me these truffles. Thank you, Vaala. I wish I could have shared these with you (in a world where they were vegan and you were here).

Vaala sent me three of She Chocolat’s Alchemy Truffles, the first of which was the Lavender truffle you see above. It had a silky dark chocolate ganache subtly flavoured with lavender, and was truly lovely. (I’m wary around floral chocolates, as when done badly they tend to taste rather offensively like potpourri mixed with cat lady.)

Next up was the Velvetine truffle, described by She Chocolat as a “sensual butter truffle encased in a milk shell with organic salt crystals”.

First, what is this “sensual butter” they speak of, and second, where can I get some?Unfortunately, the Velvetine truffle was everything that makes me ambivalent about truffles. Devoid of any strong chocolate flavours, it was instead just sweet and oily (okay, okay, “sensually buttery”). Even the salt didn’t help. Maybe if it had been sensual salt?

Happily, the Lime and Black Pepper truffle was far better. I love all things zingy and spicy and dark chocolate-y, so this had a good chance of getting a tick in my heart.

And get a tick in my heart it did. More like this, please.

Decadence and Medjool dates? Vaala, you know me well. She Chocolat describes its Decadent Dates as (in the singular; grammar nerd represent!) “a fresh organic Medjool date hand stuffed with a gianduja filling and coated in the finest Belgian chocolate.”

Gooey sweet sweet sweet gooey chocolate-y chewy sweet creamy gorgeous glossy shining sweet sweet caramel-date sweetness. Just look at that, will you? A Medjool date utterly full of ganache, covered in a thin shattering layer of chocolate.

To be completely honest, I’ll admit that both my parents and I found these creations a bit overwhelmingly sweet, and in need of a darker chocolate coating. But then again, what doesn’t taste better with a dark chocolate coating? I bet I’d be more enticing if I had a dark chocolate coating. Exactly.

My friend Jenni loved the date I gave her, though, so my parents’ and my view isn’t the only one out there. Moreover, you can’t deny the gorgeousness of these treats.

Thank you so much, Vaala. You’ve brought sweetness of so many kinds to my life, both through and beyond your chocolate-y generosity.

Question Time: Do you prefer blocks of chocolate, chocolate truffles, or chocolate desserts?

I’m overwhelmed. I cannot begin to tell you how much your responses to my last post mean to me. How your kindness feels like cradling a hot cup of lemongrass and ginger tea in my hands on a cold rainy weekend morning, snuggled up in bed listening to droplets patter against my window. Comfort and quiet happiness.

Truth be told, I almost didn’t let the post go live. The only reason I didn’t delete it was that I spent Wednesday evening at choir and Thursday at the magnificent Women of Letters event dreamed up by Marieke Hardy and Michaela McGuire, and so had no time to craft an alternative post.

When I got home on Thursday, I looked anxiously at my closed laptop. I was expecting silence in the comments, or chastisement for straying too far from the chocolate-and-desserts path.

What I didn’t expect was an outpouring of not only understanding and support for unhappy stumbling days, but out-of-the-blue calls for me to put my hand to a novel.

I love you all. I do. (And you silent readers, too.) To write beyond this blog is one of the dearest desires of my heart, and without your encouragement I wouldn’t even have thought it possible.

I’m going to try. I doubt I can achieve your hopes of something Austen-esque, but I’m going to try to create something.

And, in the meantime (and in turn), I shall encourage you to create this Raw Vegan Key Lime Pie, which is utterly delicious. This dessert amazes me with the way its disparate ingredients form a zingy, creamy, sweet, perfectperfect treat. Avocados, lime, agave, and coconut oil create the mousse-like top, which dances alongside the nut-date-coconut base.

For those of you who’ve tried and fallen in love with my raw brownies with chocolate icing of pure amazingness, the original or carob maple version, you’ll know to trust me when I say that avocados, nuts and dates create something magical here.

I’ve decided not to post recipes that I haven’t created or adapted significantly, so you’ll find the recipe for this on my wonderful friend Rob’s site, Girl On Raw. I used 1/2 cup almonds and no pumpkin seeds or coconut oil in the base, but the rest of the recipe I followed to the letter.

I adore this dessert. It makes me almost as happy you do.

P.S. If there are some amongst you who don’t particularly see a raw vegan dessert as something that conveys thanks, let me know. I may just have another short video of me acting like a complete fool that I could put up to show my gratitude for the way you help strengthen my soul.

Life doesn’t always do what you want it to do. What you expect it to do. What you dig your fingernails into your palms and draw blood from your lips and feel choked deep in your throat needing/longing/hoping for it to do.

Sometimes you wake up and find that a friendship has disappeared, slowly but surely. And even though it was a matter of paths diverging, it still aches in your throat like you’ve swallowed a pincushion with the needles pointing out. (Until you realise you’ve gained far stronger friendships in the meantime, and then the needles dissolve like toffee.)

Sometimes you come home from an event feeling mortified because something you said may have been dreadfully misinterpreted, and you wish you had Hermione’s Time-Turner so that you could go back and make it better (saving Buckbeak in the process, of course).

Sometimes you trip over a completely flat surface and simply cannot work out what went wrong beneath your feet.

Sometimes you find yourself curled up on the couch with your fists pressed into your stomach as you cry in anger because cancer is brutal devastation and you want it to go away, you want it to go away, you want it to go away and leave him alone.

Sometimes you have dozens upon dozens of emails to reply to and you wish you could let everyone know that you aren’t meaning to be rude and you truly cherish each word, but you’d very much like an eighth day of the week just for emails, please.

Sometimes you forget that your oven doesn’t work and so you dance around the kitchen making white chocolate peanut butter cherry blondies, and they come out of the oven rock-hard on top and completely uncooked within.

So you simply bite your thumb (in the manner of Montagues and Capulets) at life’s twists and turns, leave the uncooked blondies at home*, and buy a packet of cookies and fizzy-make-feel-good to take to your Australia Day party. And then you sit drinking Pimm’s and eating chips under the Safe Tent made of blankets clothes-pinned to the Hills Hoist, and you laugh with the other sun-warmed lizard-people at the more energetic folk chasing each other in endless circles around the house with water guns and hoses.

And in that moment, everything feels okay again.

* Later heating the gooey squares up in the microwave to eat topped with soy ice cream. Uncooked, schmuncooked.

1. I’ve been house-sitting for my parents for the past week, and have loved having a great big house all to myself. Except, last night, at 1am, I realised that there was a whole section of the house that I hadn’t stepped foot in for six days. This, of course, led to me deciding that a cavalcade of murderers was camping in the old sauna (along with my childhood soft toys), and then I really couldn’t sleep at all.

2. On the plus side, I’ve figured out my emergency escape plan. It involves hiding as high up as I can inside my built-in wardrobe, hoisted up with my legs and back pressed against opposite walls and a hanging coat pulled against my Spiderman body so that I am INVISIBLE TO MURDERERS.

3. I also couldn’t sleep the night before the whole murderers thing, because my dog was lying beside my bed and it made me content to rest my hand against her back. However, whenever I stopped patting her in an attempt to go to sleep, she’d snuffle her nose against my hand in a not-subtle keep-patting message and my heart would almost burst with love because she’s getting so old and doddery and I wish she wouldn’t.

4. I can’t stop singing Superboy and The Invisible Girl (thanks Laura!), Leaving on a Jet Plane, and Mama Who Bore Me. Endlessly. Cyclically. I’m starting to drive myself insane.

5. It’s rotten to spend all of Tuesday thinking that it’s Friday.

6. I am so full of wanting and yearning that I feel like my everything is trembling with the fear of never getting where I want to be.

7. I made a new version of my popular Date Coconut Cashew Treats, again for my grandma, because she is awesome and responds to my joking about phallic food with incredible wit and wisdom. My new version amps up the coconut, and uses my beloved Medjool dates in place of the Deglet Nours of the original. They’re good’uns, they are: the treats and my grandma alike.

Question Time: What has happened in your life this past week? Do you have any songs currently stuck in your head (I need some new tunes!)?

Submitted to Allergy-Free Wednesdays, Allergy-Friendly Lunchbox Love, and Ricki’s Wellness Weekend.

My birthday last year was, in a word, unpleasant. If I’d known back in May that my birthday dinner wouldn’t come until October (five months late), I probably would have cried. But you know what? In the long run, the timing didn’t matter, because my late birthday dinner was wonderful and proved that Canberra can compete on the fine dining stage. Behold the prettiness, tastiness, and innovation of Sage Dining Rooms.

Mum, Dad, and I shared the Apertif Special to start, which involved sparkling wine, elderflower liqueur, a rose petal, and other things I can’t remember. It was delicious (and that’s coming from someone who usually doesn’t like cocktails or other mixed drinks).

There were multiple warm bread rolls on offer, but sadly the sourdough tasted rather dull. It needed salt (and that’s coming from someone who doesn’t like overly salty things).

My brother and I shared the sake steamed razor clams, chilli, ginger, coriander, which I barracked for because I’d never tried razor clams before. The flavours were lovely but the clams themselves were a bit difficult to eat, what with their elongated floppiness and all.

Dad started with the truffled duck egg custard, crispy bacon, parmigiano reggiano soldiers. This was incredible. The duck egg custard was rich, silky and earthy with truffle, and the toast soldiers were crispy-salty-goodness.

Mum had the paspaley pearl meat, ginger, watermelon, finger lime. This reminded me of a story I wrote and illustrated as a kid about a girl who found a rabbit and then used magical pearls that she requested from talking oysters at the beach to turn the rabbit back into a human because it was a witch’s spell and then they were friends forever and ever the end. (Yes, I myself had a pet rabbit at the time of writing.)

My brother and Dad next went for the yellowfin tuna ravioli, mojama, avocado cream, garlic croutons, px dressing, and my brother generously let me have an entire “ravioli”. This was made not of pasta but of the tuna itself resting on an incredibly crispy crouton, filled with all manner of tasty delights. Win for ingenuity and taste.

Apologies for the blurry photos; I had my camera on a dodgy setting.

Mum’s next dish was the smoked rainbow trout, eucalyptus snow, carrot granita, pea mousse, potato glass, which I’d been tempted by because of the eucalyptus snow. When I asked to try some, she stared me down before finally relenting and offering up the tiniest, tiniest skerrick of white powder on the tine of her fork. Not going to lie; it definitely looked like my mother was giving me heroin.

Mmm, eucalyptus high.

Stupid blurriness!

My second course was the incredible edible garden (v) asparagus, radish, petals, pickled hazelnut. Not only was this gorgeous, but the asparagus mousse was the most ethereally light and fluffy creation I’ve ever experienced. Plus, pickled anything owns my soul.

This is me trying to show you the fluffiness of the mousse.

This is my brother being all handsome-like with his roasted lamb rump, smoked eggplant, baby capsicum, preserved lemon, rosemary jus.

This is my dad’s duck a l’orange, crisp skin breast, duck leg terrine, pickled red cabbage, licorice, which appears to be in the process of being Beam Me Up Scotty-ed.

I loved my lemon quinoa risotto (v), spring greens, garden herbs, textured lettuce, despite its use of evil foam. Vegetables! Vegetables! The quinoa could perhaps have been a tad more lemon-y, as in truth it tasted like 80% butter, but I will never stop loving the toasted-nutty-salty-wild-rice-quinoa-assorted-other-grains-sprinkled-on-top-that-tasted-like-popcorn-but-better-better-better. So good.

See? See? This is why I don’t like foam. It looks like a leprechaun vomited all over the warm chocolate & lapsang souchong fondant, kiwifruit foam, passionfruit sorbet that my parents both ordered. Leprechauns aside, though, Dad loved this while Mum wasn’t as keen. Unfortunately the fondant lacked a soft melting centre, and the smokiness was overpowering in Mum’s and my view. But yes, Dad was a fan.

My brother and I each ordered the butterscotch crème brulee, elderflower ice cream, brandy snap, salted caramel. This deconstructed take on a crème brulee was fabulous. The torched toffee played off the rich butterscotch mousse, the tiny buds of lavender provided a burst of freshness that brought out the floral hints in the elderflower ice cream, and I have no idea what the waxy crumble bits on the plate were, but they existed.

Thank you for a wonderful birthday dinner, family of mine and Sage Dining Rooms! And just think… because I’m posting this three months after the dinner which was five months after my birthday, it’s now only four months until my next birthday. Hurrah!

Question Time: Have you ever used magic to turn a rabbit into a human? (Best question ever.)

Hello new readers who’ve popped over from my SBS Featured Foodie interview! I do hope you find something to tickle your fancy here. For my regular readers, I’m absolutely honoured to announce that SBS has chosen me to be their Featured Foodie for the next few weeks. (There may or may not have been dancing in the office when SBS first contacted me.) My interview is available here, if you’d like to read it. Heel-click!

There are things in this world that aren’t entirely fantastic.

Like when your legs decide they’ve walked up enough stairs, and you spend three minutes struggling to unlock your front door (even stamping your foot in frustration at one point), before realising that you’re trying to break into the apartment below yours.

Like turning and fleeing up the stairwell whilst hearing the real owners open their door from inside, clearly wondering what in crikey is going on.

Like the cold feeling of doom that hits because you’re wearing heels and making loud clip-clop noises all the way up the stairs, and your victims will definitely know that it was you trying to break in because the only other person on your floor is Mr Stinky Never Washes, and he never wears high heals. (At least not in public.)

Luckily, there are also things in this world that are unequivocally brilliant.

Like going to see the devastatingly-talented Andy’s final concert for his Honours examinations, and swooning over the music he creates at the piano.

Like cheering and whooping when he receives First Class Honours, and deciding to make him a (dairy-free and gluten-free) Peanut Butter Bubble Slice in the shape of a number one to celebrate his incredible achievement.

Like trying to decorate prettily the edible peanut buttery number one with melted dark chocolate, but instead creating something that looks like it was iced by Jackson Pollock being attacked by a swarm of bees.

Like sneaking two “A”s for Andy into the dark chocolate squiggles so that you can pretend the chocolate mess was your intention all along.

Like eating enough of the leftover slice to know it was darn-tootin’-tasty regardless of its appearance, and hearing later from Andy that he absolutely loved it too.

Like friendship and deliciousness and music and happiness all rolled into One.

I’m submitting this to Ricki’s Wellness Weekend and Allergy-Friendly Lunchbox Love.

As a Gemini, I apparently have the right to change my mind at a moment’s notice. I can suddenly enjoy something I’ve previously disliked. For example: yoghurt.

In my defense, I still detest the majority of yoghurts available in supermarkets (thin-runny-mucus-like-gloopy-overly-sweetened travesties). I once found myself lured by a Fat-Free No Sugar Cheesecake-Flavoured yoghurt, and I’m almost certain a fairy lost its wings the moment I peeled back the plastic lid. I ate it, because I’d paid for it, but that was a sad day in the life of Hannah. (See also: canned chicken.)

However, this is not a post about disgusting yoghurt. This is a post about Chobani, the thick, creamy, enjoyable yoghurt I used to buy in America (I particularly liked the pomegranate flavour, which sadly isn’t sold here).

I was very kindly sent a box of 14 Chobani yoghurts after expressing excitement on Twitter about their arrival in Australia. And then I was sent another 14 when I mentioned offhand that I’d forgotten to try baking with them. (The Chobani folk are nothing if not passionate about their yoghurt and determined that we Australians enjoy it too.) Here are my thoughts on Chobani’s flavoured yoghurts:

Strawberry 0%: Pleasant flavour, generous fruit swirl. I like that none of Chobani’s flavours are sickly-sweet. Found myself dreaming of a raspberry flavour though.

Blueberry 0%: Not my favourite. I found the flavour a bit watery, and put this down to it being fat-free. I liked it best when mixed with cacao nibs or desiccated coconut (yay fat!).

Peach 0%: Surprisingly, I found the Peach [also 0% fat] Chobani richer in flavour than its blueberry cousin, and therefore enjoyed it more.

Pineapple 2%: My equal favourite; I really like the tanginess. It also seemed thicker somehow. I always mix this flavour with cinnamon, and would happily buy it again.

Mango 2%: Liked this one in a smoothies and when topped with muesli or granola.

Vanilla 0%: Can’t lie, I didn’t like this at all. The vanilla tasted medicinal and chemically, and I couldn’t eat it straight. However, I did use it to make the below Vanilla Craisin Muffins, and they turned out really nicely. So my advice: bake with the Vanilla if you know what’s good for you.

Passionfruit 2%: My other equal favourite. Really loved the rich creamy yoghurt mixed with vibrant tangy passionfruit. Would buy this again, and am half-planning to invent passionfruit cornbread with it. Is that weird?

Overall, I’m thrilled that there’s a new Greek-style thick yoghurt in Australia, and I’ll happily buy the passionfruit and pineapple flavours in future. Sure, not every flavour is to my taste, but that’s to be expected with anything, really.

And hey, if I can bake semi-healthy muffin deliciousness with the flavours that don’t float my boat on their own, then I’m one happy calcium-filled girl.

I’ve wanted to blog about Iori for quite some time now. It’s long been one of my favourite Canberran restaurants, and I’ve honed my order into entree-main-dessert perfection.

Unfortunately, Iori is tucked in a building without windows, which means the lighting is always low and not conducive to good photography. Ergo no blogging. However, I can no longer resist talking it up, so let’s all make nice and accept the supbar photos. Woot!

I’ve been to Iori for many excitingcelebrationtimes, including my birthday, family birthdays, treat nights, friends’ birthdays, and first dates. (In fact, I once received a late-night text from a friend whose birthday I’d years-ago celebrated at Iori, saying “Did I just see you at Iori on a date? I was there with my boyfriend too!” Clearly, she and I are creatures of habit.)

Last Saturday, my parents and I went to Iori to celebrate my dad’s birthday, and we started with the large sashimi platter. This is always my pick of the entrees. The sashimi is fresh, delicious, and interesting, going beyond the standard tuna, salmon, and kingfish options to include raw scallop, octopus, and three types of roe. As ever, we were very happy with this, particularly as we each have our favourites and didn’t have to duel at all.For his main, my dad ordered the Gyu-Sara: “Famous Japanese Gyu-don style beef with Onsen egg”. Personally, I think he should have ordered one of the kitschy-and-ridiculously-named dishes that Iori is so fond of, such as the “A.T.M” (“Assorted Tremendous Meal”), “This Is What I’m Talkin’ Bout”, “G.S.T.” (“Great Spirit of Tasmania”), or “Honey May I Call U Honey?” Yes you may, honey.

Please excuse the even-more-terrible photo; it was taken pre-blog.

My mum, like me, tends to order the same main. Her dish of choice is the Yakiniku, which is pork “in a delicious ginger sauce”. She’s a fan.

My main-of-choice is always the Kaki Nabe, a hot pot of oysters in a miso or dashi broth. The hot pot comes with a flickering blue flame underneath that keeps the broth bubbling, and is jam-packed with cabbage, carrots, tofu, a little bundle of rice noodles tied in a knot, the oysters, and at least one shiitake mushroom that I always save for last because it is the most delicious of all the things.

On other visits to Iori, I’ve sampled dishes like the above Tempura Soft Shell Crab…

…whilst scouring others’ meals in the hopes of finding pickles to steal.

Once pickle-searching is complete, my thoughts inevitably turn to the dessert that I yearn for despite the hurt it brings to my lactard self:

Black sesame ice cream, hurrah!

Except, well, can we please pause to consider why oh why the chef chose to plate the ice cream and wafer in this formation? (I mean, apart from the novelty factor, which caused my mum and me to burst into giggles while my dad rolled his eyes at us.) Is this some sort of not-subtle jab at my recent decision to return to singledom right before Valentine’s Day? If so, I take your sly and mean-spirited message, Iori, and I eat it. HAHAHA I WIN.

My parents shared Iori’s current “limited edition” dessert platter (only five available per day! Get it while you can!). It included lychee sorbet (nice), green tea daifuku filled with black sesame ice cream (my mother experienced hilarious [to me] brain-freeze twice in a row before deciding to give up on this), strawberry-filled mochi that was “seared delightfully”, according to the menu (“It is delightful!” chirped my mother), and a fried crepe roll filled with red bean that I thought tasted like toffee.

Many visits ago (again pre-blog, so the photo is worse than the rest), my mother ordered the green tea mousse with lychee sorbet, which was also muchly enjoyed.

Do I wish I had better photos of Iori to entice you with? Yes. Do I hope that you trust me when I say that Iori is fantastic and you should visit? Yes. Was it my father’s birthday on Saturday and my brother’s birthday on Friday? Yes. Happy birthday menfolk!

Question Time: Phallic desserts, yea or nay?

That stupid stupid vicious cycle of demon-doom whereby you can’t sleep because the stress won’t stop clawing at your consciousness and blurring your vision despite your attempts to calm yourself down by singing Air at 3am in a faux-happy-semi-hysterical voice (just watch me spark / I glow in the dark) and then the dragging sense of tiredness that turns your shadow into anxiety because how can you possibly get everything done you can’t you feel sicksick about it and also you don’t have any forks at home only spoons and your new housemate is moving in and you still haven’t bought a bathmat for the shower and you really can’t keep using a towel for that purpose any longer and you hate that you’re downing paracetamol but you have to think straight and now the dentist is giving you your own personal plastic syringe and then you’re laughing so hard during your 11am coffee-making rendezvous at work that you and Jenni both collapse on the floor and you remember that life is brilliant and ridiculous and searing and breathless and knife-like and charming and there is somuchsomuchsomuch to look forward to and be thrilled about and half the fun is not knowing where you’ll be in a year’s time and sometimes a purebred huge fluffy puppy a giant giant puppy on the street this giant puppy worth thousands of dollars licks all the way from your ankle to your knee in one swift puppy-tongue movement and if that’s not a good omen then what is?

It’s times like these you need a wonderful smoothie.

The kind of smoothie that’s so thick it’s like ice cream, and so full of sweet-fresh-zingy-in-season-vibrantly-stunning fruit that every sip (or spoonful) is like taking a step away from anxiety and a step closer to the kind of giddy delight that makes it all worthwhile.

Frozen bananas, juicy pineapple, crisp pristine white nectarines, sweet vanilla, rich coconut milk, and a scoop of Sunwarrior to help you take on the world.

This smoothie.

My happy place: smoothie, blog-reading, The West Wing, sunlight.

Question Time: Where is your happy place? I must admit, the above photo is but one of mine. That said, it’s a good’un!

I’m adding this to Ricki’s Wellness Weekend event and Lisa’s Allergy-Friendly Lunchbox Love.