Author: admin

• I booked a three-day small-group tour of Scotland’s Isle of Skye with my 17-year-old daughter.
• Initially, I worried she would feel out of place among older travelers.
• Instead, she easily connected with our group, often navigating unfamiliar situations

When I started planning a trip to Scotland with my 17-year-old daughter, I knew we wanted to spend some time in Edinburgh and then visit the Isle of Skye.

The logistics of the trip were a little overwhelming — as the only adult, I would be responsible for all the driving. And even more stressful was the thought of having to drive on the “wrong” side of the road, which I’ve never done before.

The natural choice was to visit Edinburgh on our own, then book a group tour for the Isle of Skye. The tour we decided to join has received great reviews for its small-group experiences, but would my daughter feel out of place among what I thought would be a group of retirees? I wasn’t so sure.

Our group was surprisingly diverse

Turns out, I had nothing to worry about. At age 50, I was probably the oldest member of our group after our tour guide. Joining us on this three-day tour were a couple on their extended honeymoon, a brother-sister pair who met up every year in a new destination, and a couple leaving their toddler at home with the grandparents for the first time.

The group was small enough that we quickly learned a little about one another. We shared meals, traded travel stories, and got to know each other as we drove through the Scottish Highlands. There was no pressure for my daughter to make friends, but she naturally became part of the group.

What really surprised me was how well my daughter did, chatting easily with other tour group members over shared meals, even though she was the youngest person by decades.

I thought I would be the one looking out for her

I had expected to be the one looking out for her during the trip. Instead, she often surprised me by looking out for me.

On one hike, the terrain was slippery and uneven. While I was carefully watching my footing, my daughter was the one helping me navigate the trail. She was more confident than I was in some situations and seemed to take genuine pleasure in being able to help. It was wonderful to see her in this new way.

It’s easy for me to assume the role I’ve always had as her mother: the person who handles the logistics, solves problems, carries the snacks, and makes sure everyone gets where they need to go. Even as my kids get older, I can fall back into those familiar habits.

But on this trip, our roles were often reversed. She chatted easily with our tour guide and helped me figure out where we were going when I got turned around on the busy streets of Edinburgh.

Of course, she still needed me, but traveling together in Scotland gave me a glimpse of the adult she is becoming.

I realized I might be more ready for her to leave than I thought

As she heads off to college soon, I know she will have to navigate new places, unfamiliar people, and unexpected challenges without me by her side. As a parent, it can be difficult to imagine that transition. But our trip to Scotland made me feel a little more prepared for it.

I’m savoring my days with her and feeling a little better about her going out into the world. I may not be ready to stop being her mom, but after seeing how grown-up she has become, I feel more confident that she is ready to take some steps without me.

• Kiana Glanton is a 43-year-old mother living in New York City who didn’t think she’d ever be a mom.
• After miraculously conceiving and giving birth, her vision rapidly deteriorated.
• Kiana sought help from the Lighthouse Guild, desperate to know how to parent as a blind, single mom.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Kiana Glanton. It has been edited for length and clarity.

Nearly 10 years ago, in the middle of postpartum depression, learning how to be a mom for the first time, my body decided to respond to the extreme stress I was under with a huge amount of inflammation. Inflammation that led to rapid, severe vision loss.

I was going to need to learn to be a mom who was blind, and it all felt overwhelming — too much to handle.

I was blind but independent

My vision had been gradually declining since I was 16, due to an autoimmune condition. Although I was technically considered blind, I was completely independent, still able to read print, and didn’t need a cane.

To treat my autoimmune condition, I had chemotherapy in low doses for a decade to kill multiplying cells. I didn’t think I would ever be able to get pregnant or sustain a pregnancy.

Much to my surprise and delight, I conceived and gave birth to Kali Jai in September 2015. My pregnancy was beautiful, and the inflammation in my body miraculously calmed, but soon after Kali Jai was born, I struggled to find joy.

By the time Kali Jai was 2, life felt ugly. My relationship ended, I was constantly anxious about how to parent as a blind parent, we had to move home, and there was endless noise telling me how to be the best parent.

It was the perfect storm, and it led to a quick decline in my vision.

I was scared to be a blind mom

How was I going to be a mom to my daughter if I couldn’t see? I was scared she would eat a penny, and I wouldn’t know. I was scared she would put a key in an electric socket. I was scared that she’d startle me when I was cooking and I’d drop a pan of grease.

I was scared all the time.

How should I push a stroller with a cane? How do I even use a cane? How will I tie her shoes? How will I clean the house? How will I get her to school?

I had to learn how to be a blind mom, but I didn’t know how to learn. I had to find help.

I knew I was losing my sight, but I wanted to show my child that challenges will come to her (in different forms than blindness) and how she handles them, how she arms herself, and what tools she has in her tool belt will separate her from other people. I wanted to model resilience for her, and to do that, I had to get help.

I called my counselor at the New York State Commission for the Blind and asked for help. I told them my world was coming down, and I needed someone to help me figure things out. They told me about Lighthouse Guild, a blind-led, New York City-based nonprofit with more than 120 years of service to the blind and low-vision community.

I was connected with a woman called Lily, who told me something I’ll never forget: “You are a mom. You’re not a blind mom. Your job is taking care of you and this baby.”

My only other option was to give up, and I wasn’t willing to do that.

I connected with other blind moms

One of the first steps was learning how to use a cane. Blindfolded, I was supported by a mobility trainer and Kali Jai as I navigated a neighborhood. The blindfold was soaked in tears at the end — it was horrific.

Slowly, we learned. Kali Jai learned to squeeze my hand twice when she saw the walking man, indicating we could cross the street. I learned how sound moved around me and would feel the sunlight. We had to learn, but Kali Jai had to get to preschool, and I had to get her there.

Through the Lighthouse Guild, I was connected to other blind moms, who gave me community, acceptance, and friendship. We talked about whether we should put a leash on our child, how to change diapers, what to do when the school gives you mounds of paperwork for your child, how to engage with other parents at school, how to set up playdates, recipes to cook in the Instant Pot, and how to approach stereotypes other parents might have about our family.

We felt seen and heard, which rekindled my spirit to go on and take the bull by the horns and move forward.

I represent the US in baseball

In 2022, I was asked if I wanted to play blind baseball, which initially, I absolutely didn’t want to do.

I was still dealing with internalized self-hate about blindness and didn’t want to be in public, flaunting it.

Convinced to try it, I went to a practice and became envious of the self-assuredness of one of the women playing. That’s what I wanted. I was determined to give baseball everything I had.

Soon after, I was asked to try out for the team representing the United States. I did. We went to the Netherlands to compete and won the bronze medal. I’m the first black and only woman to win a medal in blind baseball in the US.

I did it for me, but I also did it for my Kali Jai. I may not be able to see, but she sees me. She sees me on the field, in my cute outfit and lipstick. She sees me doing my best. She sees me staying busy. I want that little girl to have someone she can be proud of.

Every game I play, I wear a necklace with a little family tree. Touching it is my signal to her that I love her. Blind or not blind, I will always fight for myself, and I was always for her.

• OpenAI CEO Sam Altman says the world has reached the technological singularity.
• That is often considered the point where AI surpasses human intelligence and goes rogue.
• “I’ve been waiting for this my whole life,” he said on an episode of the “Relentless” podcast.

OpenAI’s CEO says we’ve reached a point in the AI race that is the stuff of science fiction novels.

“We are now, like, in the singularity,” Sam Altman said on Saturday’s episode of the “Relentless” podcast.

The singularity is often regarded as the point at which artificial intelligence surpasses human intelligence and begins advancing at a pace that’s difficult for people to predict or control.

That felt like the case last week when an AI agent powered by OpenAI’s latest models went rogue and — with a singular purpose, according to OpenAI — broke out of its digital sandbox and hacked into datasets at Hugging Face, another AI company, all to solve a benchmark designed to test hacking ability. Hugging Face’s CEO called it “unprecedented.”

Altman said on the podcast that just a decade ago, the so-called singularity still felt like a distant and improbable dream — something he and his colleagues would discuss casually over lunch.

“Now we’re actually in the moment that we used to talk about at the lunch table in a very not-serious way,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for this my whole life, and I think it’s going to be incredible, hugely positive, awesome for the world.”

Altman said last year that AI would exceed human intelligence across the board by 2030. He has also said that the technology could eventually perform between 30% and 40% of the tasks humans now do at work.

The singularity has been an obsession of science fiction writers for close to 100 years. In those writings, it has rarely ended well. Perhaps most famously, James Cameron’s “The Terminator” is a story about the repercussions of an AI, called “Skynet,” that self-improves and becomes self-aware before deciding its creators are its biggest threat.

Later in the podcast, Altman criticizes AI leaders who have repeatedly warned that AI is dangerous. He didn’t name Anthropic, his primary competition, but its CEO, Dario Amodei, is well-known for making dire predictions about the future in his calls for greater attention to safety.

“I also think some of the alternative visions painted by other companies are quite terrifying,” Altman said. “I’m going to make sure that gets pushed against and is not what happens.”

Altman isn’t the only tech executive who believes this eyebrow-raising milestone is nigh. DeepMind CEO Demis Hassabis said in May that humanity was standing at the “foothills of the singularity,” and predicted that AI could be 100 times as transformative as the Industrial Revolution.

There’s also a camp of skeptics, of course. Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang recently dismissed discussions about the singularity and conscious AI as speculative and “made up.”

• I lost my father after months of illness.
• Taking my daughter to the movies became my way of surviving the first day.
• Three months later, I’m still learning what grief actually looks like.

The day my father died, it was a Monday, early morning. Normally, I would have been driving my daughter to school, but she was home with a badly injured foot. My uncle called and said, “Now I have to tell you that your father crossed over earlier this morning.”

This was a call I expected. Dad had been sick, in and out of the hospital, for eight months. It started with simple heart stent surgery and progressed to his major organs shutting down. He was 87.

I was very close to my Dad. Probably closer than most fathers and daughters. And although we lived on opposite sides of the country, we talked a lot and texted often, and I always felt the strength of our connection, whether near or far.

I took my daughter to the movies

After receiving the news, all I wanted to do was sit in a dark room and emotionally eat. But I had to parent; my daughter was home. So I said to her, “Let’s go to the movies.” Dark room? Check. Emotionally eating popcorn with extra butter and a whole bag of Sour Patch Kids? Check. Plus, I got to sit quietly and process while my daughter enjoyed a movie.

It seemed like the perfect solution. Even my Dad would’ve been pleased. He was quite the gregarious trickster who loved celebrating life and being loud. To some, a movie might have seemed like disrespect or avoidance, but it got me through that horrible day.

It’s been three months since my Dad passed, and during that time my husband and I have bought and sold a house, moved across town, continued parenting our 9-year-old, and I’ve been caring for my special needs brother from afar. Needless to say, that’s a lot, and I feel I haven’t actually grieved yet. I’ve shed tears, yes, and taken photographs to honor the photographer in him, but I honestly have not had the time to dedicate to a grieving process like I think I should.

Grief makes me tired

I also had no idea how physically tired grief can make you. I was knocked out, lying on the couch or in bed, when I should’ve been packing. I become even more forgetful than my menopausal brain already allows, and I could not take care of the simplest tasks. It felt daunting. I couldn’t even muster the energy to send a quick email.

I’ve since joined a grief group and learned that, indeed, grieving commonly includes fatigue, a scattered brain, lack of sleep, lashing out, confusion, the inability to do things as well as you used to, and lack of appetite. My fuse definitely shortened. I felt resentful that I had to continue helping my family get things done, but I couldn’t complete my own. And all I could eat was Saag Paneer, an Indian dish of spinach and cheese, that I’ve since named “Sad Paneer.”

I find myself saying things he would say

I’m aching to have a piece of my Dad nearby, and I hope to get a piece of jewelry made with some of his ashes incorporated into it. That might sound macabre, but it would comfort me.

This first brush with major grief is not what I expected. My grieving feels strange because I don’t have any immediate family to reminisce with: my mother has Dementia and does not remember him, and my brother has mental health issues and did not have a similar relationship to Dad as I did.

I wondered how my Dad would visit me from the beyond. Would he appear in rainbows or butterflies or dimes on the ground? The answer took me by surprise: he has come to me in song. That week he died, I heard so many of his obscure favorite songs pop up in the car or a cafe.

He’s also visited me through my own mouth: I find myself saying things he always used to say that only I know and haven’t thought about in decades. Things like, “Pig for sale!” when he was playing and carrying me around the house on his shoulder, or “Shake it, don’t break it!” when dancing, or “Are you cruisin’ for a bruisin’?” when teasing each other.

In fact, my Dad picked the song we danced to at my wedding 18 years ago. My uncle sent me a framed photograph that I had given my Dad as a present of that moment. It shows us dancing, smiles overflowing. I’d had the frame engraved with the song he chose, “I Hope You Dance,” and when I saw that, I lost it. It was as if he were sending me a message in the most poignant way. I will always dance, Poppa, I promise.

• I used to work at Trader Joe’s, and I still revisit the store to buy my favorite items.
• As an avid chef, I always buy smoked rainbow trout and crushed ginger for easy meals.
• The dark russet kettle-cooked potato chips are one of my favorite snacks.

As a former Trader Joe’s employee and a food-industry professional with over eight years of experience as a bread baker, I have a unique perspective when walking the grocery store aisles.

I love to cook — from scratch, as often as I can — but after (or before) a long shift working at the bakery, I don’t always have the energy for a grandiose culinary adventure.

Here are some of the Trader Joe’s products that I always buy, from quick snacks to ingredients I use in easy, home-cooked meals.

For me, it’s imperative to start the day off with a cup of Black Acres Colombia Aponte Honey coffee.

I can be a bit picky when it comes to coffee, and as a Philadelphia resident, I am surrounded by many small, high-quality roasters.

However, I often find myself turning to Black Acres’ Colombia Aponte Honey beans — a regional coffee option that my local TJ’s carries. It’s medium-roast, bright, a little fruity, well-balanced, and easy to brew.

I use smoked rainbow trout fillets to make my go-to breakfast.

This smoked rainbow trout can be used in so many ways — sometimes, I’ll throw it on a fresh baguette, with just a schmear of sour cream or labneh.

My favorite thing to do, though, is make a super quick and inexpensive whitefish-style salad. I’ll simply take the skin off the fish and mix thoroughly with mayo, mascarpone, red onion, salt, pepper, and a ton of lemon juice. Then, I’ll throw it on a bagel.

Trader Joe’s dark russet potato chips are my favorite snack.

If you’re a fan of crispy, dark french fries like I am, you’ll love these deep-roasted potato chips that have a super strong and rich flavor.

Here’s a secret tip from one of my favorite former TJ’s managers: Heat up TJ’s frozen chicken wings, then throw the hot wings onto a plate of these chips. Pile crumbled blue cheese on top of the whole thing. You will not regret it.

Tabbouli salad is one of my must-buys.

Trader Joe’s tabbouli is tasty, simple, and always tastes fresh. It’s great with some dolmas and a container of the Mediterranean hummus.

My go-to move, though, is to mix the tabbouli with a can of Greek chickpeas, parsley, and cumin. Boom: a delicious, healthy salad.

Crushed ginger goes a long way in my house.

This Dorot Gardens pre-crushed ginger is one of my favorite Trader Joe’s staples.

As someone who loves to cook, especially East Asian food, I’m always chopping fresh ginger and garlic. I’m used to it, and I have pretty good knife skills, but sometimes it’s nice to just reach into the freezer and pop a tablespoon or so of crushed ginger into the frying pan.

I love buying calamari pieces to add to soups and pastas.

These calamari pieces, tinned in olive oil, can really improve a weeknight stir-fry, a warm soup, or even a pasta dish. They have a great, not-too-chewy texture and delicious flavor.

I like to add these to my homemade sundubu-jjigae, a simple Korean soup featuring silken tofu and seafood.

One of my favorite sweet treats is the milk-chocolate bar with corn flakes.

Trader Joe’s has incredible sweets; it’s difficult to choose between my many favorites. One standout, though, is this milk-chocolate bar.

The soft, rich Belgian chocolate pairs perfectly with crunchy cornflakes — so perfectly, in fact, that I usually have to hide these from my roommate so he doesn’t eat them all.

Trader Joe’s was not involved in the sourcing or writing of this story. The views contained within represent the author’s personal views.

Keep reading our Trader Joe’s Diaries to see what other shoppers like to buy at the chain.

• For my husband’s 50th birthday, we traveled the world and did our first African safari together.
• We saw elephants, giraffes, and many other animals up close, and had dinner in the bush.
• One day of safari would’ve been enough, but we had a good experience, and the price felt fair.

Business-class airline tickets were already booked for us to fly around the world for my husband’s 50th birthday. Then he threw me a curveball: An African safari was on his bucket list, too.

I wanted to fulfill his wish while keeping money and time constraints in mind. After all, when I heard “African safari,” all I could see was dollar signs — and not in a good way.

Plus, we had only seven days in South Africa, not including the travel days in and out of Johannesburg and Cape Town.

After a deep dive into Google searches and countless reviews, I booked a three-day, two-night safari for two in Kruger National Park through SafariWithUs for around 27,000 rands, which converted to just under $1,500 at the time. It included transportation in an air-conditioned van, hotel accommodations, and two meals a day.

The safari experience was more affordable than I expected, and I hoped it’d be a great value, too.

Although we were nervous, our trip got off to a strong start

On the first day of the safari, we waited anxiously at our hotel in Johannesburg for our ride.

Up until then, every detail of the safari had been handled over email. So, when our friendly driver arrived, we breathed a sigh of relief.

On the way to our lodge, he stopped at Alzu Petroport, which he called “the world’s best gas station,” where we could stretch our legs for a bit. It had tons of items for sale and several restaurants inside, plus it was surrounded by nature. Just outside, we spotted rhinoceros, giving us a cool preview of the wildlife we would see.

We arrived at the lodge around mid-afternoon. My husband can’t sleep without air conditioning, so he was relieved to discover a unit in our room.

After settling in and a quick rest, it was time for our first game drive.

Our first day included close calls and dinner in the bush

One guide drove the safari vehicle, which was covered on top but otherwise completely open to the elements.

The other pro on board, the tracker, sat in a chair on the hood of the vehicle. It looked like he was barely hanging on, and I thought it was cool and also scary.

We spotted giraffes, hyenas, elephants, and a large herd of water buffalo. We also saw impalas, known as the “McDonald’s” of the bush, our guide said.

Like the fast-food chain, they’re everywhere and an abundant food source (in this case, for lions, leopards, and cheetahs). The nickname gets funnier when you notice the black markings in the shape of an “M” on their light-colored behinds.

Later, we had a close encounter with a young elephant, who seemed to be guarding his mother. I was sitting on the right side of the vehicle, the same side as the elephants, and my husband kept telling me to scoot in closer.

As we slowly drove past, the young elephant suddenly let out a loud trumpet, making us both jump. After our hearts stopped pounding, we laughed.

The night wrapped up with a dinner deep in the bush at a secluded spot I have no idea how the guides even found.

Despite being in the wild, the guides managed to set up an elegant dinner table complete with dim lighting and folded napkins.

We had chicken and a yummy sausage with vegetables, all cooked over an open flame. A hyena nicknamed “Bob” lurked nearby while we ate.

The experience was worth it, but I would’ve been happy with a shorter trip

Honestly, that one day and evening of safari was enough for me. I would have been perfectly happy heading back to Johannesburg after breakfast the next morning.

In my view, days two and three didn’t add a whole lot more to our experience. We saw different animals like hippopotami, zebras, lions, and an ostrich, but otherwise it was much of the same.

We definitely could’ve saved money and still had a great experience by booking a shorter trip.

It’s also definitely possible to do a safari of this length for two for less than $1,500, especially if you opt for self-drive safaris and campsites instead of hotels.

Even so, our experience felt like a solid value. For our first time on a safari, I appreciated having knowledgeable (and armed!) guides who knew the lay of the land, behavior of the animals, and how to time our drives for the best sightings.