I walk by the Wiilams-Sonoma display window advertising spring pastel crockery and immediately I say to myself, “yes, it would be nice to have a saffron yellow soup tureen or a Dutch oven in lilac or a set of plates with the stencil of a daisy-sniffing rabbit on them. Why not? What human being wouldn’t want to have this? I mean, really, I have an indigo blue soup tureen and I have plates with flowers on them, but nary a dish in my cupboard has a rabbit on it. And a ceramic trivet in blush, for the spring time, wouldn’t that impress the boyfriend to see that on the counter supporting a dish of risotto still warm from the oven? Standing here in the bitter cold, fingerless gloved hands tight around my backpack strap, I feel somehow better and more warm thinking about soups and stews and salads in Williams-Sonoma pastels. And it’s good I set example for liz because one day she will be here to pick out items for the wedding registry to celebrate her marriage to a fine young man who is smart and kind and from a good family of moderates and liberals — an upbringing that renders him able to appreciate the subtle balance of Liz’s womanism, scholarship, and need for a pretty yet smart kitchen.” I am so far down the rabbit hole that I am almost buttoning the hooks on the back of my kid’s vintage wedding gown when a pre-set alarm on my phone buzzes, alerting me her college’s financial aid deadline is Tuesday and that FAFSA says no work study and no brand new pink trivet for my risotto dishes. And so I turn from the window display and the dreams of a foolish woman and shuffle over to the bookstore where I will charm a barista into honoring my free coffee coupon, two weeks expired.