Musing with Tea
TEA. Yes, you Did read that. Shock and Awe moment! 😀 In view of the current political situation worldwide, I decided I needed to vary my agenda as an "agent of change". One must start somewhere and this will be my version of protest. Maybe..It's a lot to ask. It Is my drug of choice. Giving up totally. Nope, that is Not going to happen. It will continue to kick my butt out of bed every morning and drag me through various stages of the day. I don't give up old friends. At this point, mainlining caffeine had me going way too far down the rabbit hole, every time I glimpsed a scarp of news. There is only so much reality one can take before one forgets to breath. Hence, tea. Am always open to new options to keep upright and vaguely sane. Bubble tea! Fun in a cup with the pretense of health. Coconut, mango, pineapple. Am drinking my chemical fruits.
Having a brilliant sociopath for a father gives me reason to keep a sharp eye on my own sanity. All that upper family inbreeding inevitably led to few lock ups in the family tower, not always for inciting revolutions. That's my excuse and I am sticking to it. A little bit of crazy is good for the soul and graces one with a shield of humor to view the overall madness inherent in life. Which brought tea to the table.
We have a history with Tea. The real variety that is. Nestled up in the high mountains of India. Darjeeling the "tippy top " of the pot. My younger son, deposited briefly at North Point School, was offered an after-school career as the only white boy who could recite the Tippy Tea formulae. Not sure if that falls under the banner of child labor or just "white advantage". He was offered all the tea and sweets he stomach. With some reluctance, we declined. (The pastries were Very Yummy!)
Fell in love with Indian Chai. A very special branch of the tea Tree. My choice of tippy-top teas! Something about the spicy aroma drifting up from a clay cup on the roadside captured my wandering soul. Love in a cup. Since sliding down that mountain, I have yet to taste that cloud-clad memory again. Coffee owns my mind, chai tea, my heart.
The sun is warming my window, reclined in a wing chair with tapioca popping on my tongue, I watch people stream through. Brief windows into lives. Ships passing in the day. Electronic connections vibrating between tables interrupted momentarily by their orders clunking onto the table.
I feel like striking up a conversation with the Iron Lady outside. She seems remarkably cheerful as she watches life passing her by. What is the secret of a happy sculpture life? She must have it, but won't tell..
Restlessness is creeping in around me. Lurking in my dreams. Beckoning, just around the corner of my eyes..
Meri jaan मेरी जान
Having a brilliant sociopath for a father gives me reason to keep a sharp eye on my own sanity. All that upper family inbreeding inevitably led to few lock ups in the family tower, not always for inciting revolutions. That's my excuse and I am sticking to it. A little bit of crazy is good for the soul and graces one with a shield of humor to view the overall madness inherent in life. Which brought tea to the table.
We have a history with Tea. The real variety that is. Nestled up in the high mountains of India. Darjeeling the "tippy top " of the pot. My younger son, deposited briefly at North Point School, was offered an after-school career as the only white boy who could recite the Tippy Tea formulae. Not sure if that falls under the banner of child labor or just "white advantage". He was offered all the tea and sweets he stomach. With some reluctance, we declined. (The pastries were Very Yummy!)
Fell in love with Indian Chai. A very special branch of the tea Tree. My choice of tippy-top teas! Something about the spicy aroma drifting up from a clay cup on the roadside captured my wandering soul. Love in a cup. Since sliding down that mountain, I have yet to taste that cloud-clad memory again. Coffee owns my mind, chai tea, my heart.
The sun is warming my window, reclined in a wing chair with tapioca popping on my tongue, I watch people stream through. Brief windows into lives. Ships passing in the day. Electronic connections vibrating between tables interrupted momentarily by their orders clunking onto the table.
I feel like striking up a conversation with the Iron Lady outside. She seems remarkably cheerful as she watches life passing her by. What is the secret of a happy sculpture life? She must have it, but won't tell..
Restlessness is creeping in around me. Lurking in my dreams. Beckoning, just around the corner of my eyes..
Meri jaan मेरी जान
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