All great truths begin as blasphemies.
George Bernard Shaw
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There is nothing to read here. The content is over there, to your right.
I may, however, at some point, put something here. Some day. Eventually. No pressure.
dimanche nuit
Magic the flavour of lemon.. mmm.
Earl Grey tea - the panacea for Sundays. There's something about it that just makes me relax.
Perhaps it's the physical ritual involved in making it - putting the kettle on the stove, rinsing the mug (Sunday Night Tea is always in a big coffee mug; tea cup is for rainy/snowy/foggy 'Simon and Garfunkel Greatest Hits' writing/drawing/sketching kind of days) under hot hot hot tap water, debating the use of sugar (pointless debate - the sugar is never used), chanting the famous (-ly misquoted) Macbeth witches "Boil boil toil and trouble..", cursing overly often correct grandmothers and their 'watched pots', waiting waiting waiting for the kettle whistle..
It's a process that takes several minutes, really. Maybe the routine is akin to meditation for me.
Or maybe, it's Sunday Night.. the dishes are done, the kids are in bed, lunches made and in the fridge, coffeemaker set to begin it's Monday Morning Magic at 5:30am, dogs are lazed out on the couch and chair, husband is already in bed zoned out in front of the tv, fish is fed and waiting for lights out, and I am.. well, I'm here, writing to you, sipping my Earl Grey tea and wondering how you're doing.
How was your day?
Ready for tomorrow?
*s* me neither.
Sweet dreams.
*sip*
Earl Grey tea - the panacea for Sundays. There's something about it that just makes me relax.
Perhaps it's the physical ritual involved in making it - putting the kettle on the stove, rinsing the mug (Sunday Night Tea is always in a big coffee mug; tea cup is for rainy/snowy/foggy 'Simon and Garfunkel Greatest Hits' writing/drawing/sketching kind of days) under hot hot hot tap water, debating the use of sugar (pointless debate - the sugar is never used), chanting the famous (-ly misquoted) Macbeth witches "Boil boil toil and trouble..", cursing overly often correct grandmothers and their 'watched pots', waiting waiting waiting for the kettle whistle..
It's a process that takes several minutes, really. Maybe the routine is akin to meditation for me.
Or maybe, it's Sunday Night.. the dishes are done, the kids are in bed, lunches made and in the fridge, coffeemaker set to begin it's Monday Morning Magic at 5:30am, dogs are lazed out on the couch and chair, husband is already in bed zoned out in front of the tv, fish is fed and waiting for lights out, and I am.. well, I'm here, writing to you, sipping my Earl Grey tea and wondering how you're doing.
How was your day?
Ready for tomorrow?
*s* me neither.
Sweet dreams.
*sip*
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