My husband has never been a coffee drinker. He'll go for an extremely sweetened cappuccino every now and then that would induce sugar shock in most people, but typically he's more of a tea kind of guy. Still, he's always respected our hot drink differences and although he's suggested I decaf a bit, he's never sunk to doomsday tactics to get me to give up caffeine. Then he started drinking this health food store green drink that smells like wet grass clippings and makes you want to moo when you drink it. It came with names like Daily Health Greens, Green Goodness and Field of Greens, which neither made me want to drink it nor skip through meadows of it.

Of course, once he discovered his new elixir, he became the poster child of green drink consumption. He extolled the virtues of a green drink lifestyle and pointed out all the celebrities who embraced his new passion with him. At first, he subtly tried to get me to come over to the green side. But then he made numerous overt attempts to get me to convert from coffee to mowed-lawn drink in the name of health.

He offered it to me mixed with lemon juice. He gave it to me mixed with apple juice. He blended it with ice and made me a mowed-lawn smoothie. In an effort to be open-minded, I politely tried each one before making a face, gagging and pouring it down the sink. Finally, I told him I'd have to have a tastebud-ectomy to drink it again.

This was not the first time he got on a beverage bandwagon. There was the time he got on the juicing kick and every morning I would wake to the sound of apples, bananas and strawberries being diced, sliced and juicified. He got a book about juicing, watched videos about juicing and got a special machine just for juicing. I became resigned to the fact that my kitchen counters would be eternally covered in fruit pulp and my garbage overflowing with orange peels and apple cores. But then one day the juicing craze ended just as mysteriously as it began and was replaced by the powdered grass clippings.

"This green drink is filled with vitamins and minerals," he said enthusiastically.

"So is my multivitamin," I replied.

"But this has seaweed in it," he said.

"Is that supposed to be a selling point?" I said, wrinkling up my nose.

"Seaweed is good for you," he said.

"So is fish oil," I said, "But I'm not going to drink that either." True, the idea of a seaweed smoothie made my mouth water... but not in a good way.

"Spongebob drinks kelp smoothies," he finally said, attempting to appeal to the mom in me.

"That would only be a selling point if I wore square pants and lived in a pineapple under the sea," I replied.

The next morning as I waited for my coffee to brew and he drank his glass of grass, he said to me, "You're never going to drink this stuff, are you?"

"No," I replied. "Not unless I come back in my next life as a cow."

Tracy Beckerman is the author of the Amazon Bestseller, "Barking at the Moon: A Story of Life, Love, and Kibble," available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble online! You can visit her at www.tracybeckerman.com.

Photo credit: Bakd&Raw by Karolin Baitinger at Unsplash