Wishing for Shifts in Geography

Let me tell you what's not working so well for me any longer. Living in a different state than my sister. The older I get, the fact that St. Louis and Fort Myers Beach do not butt up to one another becomes ever more difficult.

I want to sit close to her and while away a few hours talking about our kids, our joys and aggravations. I want to discuss my writing projects and see her new pictures.

I want to have coffee with her at The Hartford Coffee Shop down the street from her house. I want to sit quietly with her, knowing we're just as close whether we speak or not.

I want to look into her beautiful green eyes and marvel at how we can be so alike and yet so very different.

I want to wander about her house to see her newest decorating ideas and browse her new books. I want to go through her closet and discover the jeans she clearly never wears and see how they could best be coaxed into my suitcase.

But, alas, living closer is simply not in our immediate future. Heavy sigh on this point.

Yes, I did spend part of last night looking through family photos.

BTW, Darcie is the founder of The Jeremy Project. If you'd like to see some of her photos visit www.thejeremyproject.org.

P.S. Darcie and I sound alike and apparently begin looking more alike once you get to know us. Someone once told us we looked like twins but we thought they were batty.

When Unexpected Guests Arrive

This morning I feel like sharing one of the pieces to be in Steeped: The Vagaries and Delights of a Tea Adventurer.

Here you go:

It's a lovely sound, don't you think? That quiet tinkling of a spoon against the sides of a porcelain cup? Of course, some say making such noise during tea is a sign of poor breeding, but I don't see how such a comforting sound could possibly be called noise. Now, real noise was...well, there's really no need to discuss such unpleasantness, is there?

Surely you'll try a ginger scone? Perhaps later. Ah, do you hear that...maybe we've another visitor? My goodness, what an afternoon we're having. If you'll excuse me...

Officer Moore! What a surprise! Imagine two unexpected guests in one day! but really young man, I know your mama! Surely she didn't teach you to simply burst through one's door? Never mind, we're certainly glad to have you, aren't we? Three makes for such a festive party. Would you like a cup of tea?

Pardon me? I don't really know, Officer Moore. He hasn't yet mentioned his name. But why don't you sit right there - yes, right next to him. Just move that tea tray off to the side. It rather looks the worse for wear, doesn't it?

Oh dear, now you've gone and gotten yourself all bloody. Here, use this to clean yourself up. I'm afraid it's the only clean napkin I have left, but it is real linen. Indeed, he's quite a sight, isn't he?

It's amazing the uses one finds for a good sterling tea tray. Sugar?"

There you have it. Now, let me tell you how this came about for it was experimental for me. This piece is technically defined as a flash story and as far as flash stories go, the shorter and more intense the better. They must furnish a twist, elicit some emotion, and ideally stick with you for awhile. The classic is Hemingway's: "For Sale: Baby Shoes, Never Worn." Clearly this is a strong and well done flash story with unusually brilliant conciseness, although I doubt we'd expect anything else from Mr. H.

Ever since I wrote my first teatime comedy murder mystery, A Teatime Travesty, I've been intrigued with the possibilities of villains at tea.

And, some years ago Dawnya Sasse of Start a Tea Business sent me a news article about an elderly woman in the UK who fended off a burglar by clobbering him with her sterling silver tea tray.

Don't you love it when the stars fall into perfect alignment?

I should also mention that all the essays in Steeped are accompanied by 2-3 recipes of my own creation. As Blood Red Marmalade and Canapes to Die For seemed a little over the top, I opted instead for "Recipes for Unexpected Guests."

It's 6:30 am and there is rolling thunder outside calling to me. Aside from sharing this with you so early, I'm also in the mood to walk the beach as the sun rises so I best scoot. But, tell me what you thought. Did you like it? Did you see the twist coming? Would you call it a strong flash story?

I'm Going for Longevity

The latest research says collectors live longer than non-collectors. Apparently it doesn't matter what you collect. What is important is that you're always on the hunt.

I've long been a collector: china, teapots, salt cellars, antique furniture, china, teapots, vintage beaded bags, handheld mirrors, china, teapots, ephemera, cameos, china, teapots, old tins, linens, china and...teapots.

But now, due to economics, the fact that my home has no basement (a fundamental problem with the state of Florida), and with the thought of dusting increasingly becoming the most abhorrent of tasks...well, I've chosen to cease most of my collecting activities.

So now I wonder how this living longer thing really works. Is there a formula such as x amount of collectibles squared = y longevity? If you collected actively (or relentlessly) until your late 40's, is it safe to stop? Will you still be ahead in the life expectancy game? If you collect something particularly large, can you collect less of it and still earn those extended twilight years?

Does it matter if you collect particularly useless items for which no real hunt is required? I'm taken back to a Girl Scout mom I knew in Oregon who collected McDonalds toys. Can driving to McDonalds be considered a true hunt? Can her reaching into her Happy Meal bag to pull out whatever fatuous bibelot of the month McDonald's offers be called collecting? I've often had to drive for an hour or more and bring basic necessities such as snacks and sweet tea when adding to my own valuable vintage collections. It hardly seems fair if this woman should get to live longer than myself.

 
As I've yet to learn the details of this study and I do, indeed, plan to live a long life, I think I'll continue to collect one thing - only as a safety net mind you. My vintage postcards. After all, they're relatively inexpensive, virtually dust free, and have minimal storage requirements. They're an easy bit of insurance.

And, to be honest, I just don't think I can stop anyway.

Things I've Recently Learned

I'm always actively searching for knowledge - the kind usually uncovered by a diligent search of cyberspace and of the world's libraries. However, sometimes bits of useful knowledge simply fall haphazardly into your lap. This morning I'm compelled to share with you bits tossed my way in these recent times.

1. If you squeeze a lemon with the cut side up, you'll avoid seeds falling into your glass or cup.

2. There's no need to worry about our relentless use of technology making our eyes bulge and forever changing our cervical and lumbar curves.

This one requires an explanation.

We always hear how much larger we were by the 20th century, as compared to our Victorian ancestors. It occurred to me one day that if such a shift could occur in a relatively short period of time, then the fact we're endlessly glued to our phones and computers, etc. could, conceivably, be wrecking changes upon our bodies even as we are busily texting and emailing one another.

But, according to David Southall (Curator of Education for the Collier History Museum), we grew in size due to advances in nutrition and sanitation. Railroads helped because the ease of travel expanded our gene pool. There was no real evolutionary advancement - which, of course, takes at least a thousand years.

So, while someone someday will likely have to worry about this, we and our children's children's children etc. will all be long gone before our eyes become alien like and our heads appear to jut strangely forward from our bodies - which now feature oddly flattened and strikingly unattractive backsides.

Before I go on, let me just say that this was not keeping me up at night. It's something I pondered at odd moments.

3. Stubborn stains will often finally disappear from fabric first soaked in Biz Bleach and then placed wet upon a bush or on the grass. It's some sort of chemical reaction between the wet Bizzed fabric and chlorophyll.

4. The key to light as a feather shortbread lies in a determined whipping of the butter before the addition of all other ingredients. And I do mean determined, making this the hardest thing about this insanely easy and mouthwatering tea treat.

5. If you receive the biggest book order of your life ($1800!) to be shipped post haste to Australia but which requires you to first pay the outlandish shipping fee of $800 with your own credit card to a London based freight company reached only by email and the purchaser is oddly content with all this, you are most assuredly being scammed. And yes, I did realize this before the box was shipped. But, what a monstrous waste of time and energy!

6. Derby sage cheese - green in color and universally haled as fabulous at any Ploughman's Tea when served with hearty bread and real butter - is universally frowned upon when found in an omelet. Even when that hearty bread is on the side. I might also add that I don't think Kenny even gave my omelet a real chance.

7. I will quietly be labeled The Crazy Tea Lady if I continue to let the teapot roll about in my car and neglect for much longer the dried tea leaves still on the floor of the back seat.

I'm a Lemonhead

Even though I've yet to make much mention of tea, tea always looms large in my world. Aside from drinking it from morning til night, I research it, write about it, create stories about it, and am now creating my own skin care products with it.

I also get together about twice a month with Paulette McDaniel for tea tastings. We've been doing this about three years, but the last year has been especially fun because...

Paulette has become a tea blender!

She's now in possession of a plethora of high end extracts and flavorings as well as a prodigious amount of teas and botanicals. Her office has become a veritable playground.

One afternoon, when I happened to be suffering from one of the "sick" headaches that sometimes plague me, I began asking (perhaps it was closer to whining) why she hadn't yet created a "headache" tea.

This set us to wondering what such a tea would contain and that, of course, sent us on a search for the right herbs.

In the end, Paulette's brilliant palette created Lemonhead, a tea that not only ranks as possibly one of the best flavored teas I've ever tasted, but which has indeed gone far in alleviating my "sick" headaches - three different times, so far, mind you.

At your convenience, especially if you're a headache sufferer, I'd suggest you visit www.theidealtealeaf.com.

And what am I doing? I'm busy thinking of other blend possibilities.

Blueberry jasmine hold promise, don't you think?

I better go. I've got to call Paulette.

Getting Back to Business

All of our July guests have come and gone, making it impossible for me to maintain the illusion that I, too, am on vacation. It's time to get back to business.

I'm deep into my third book, Steeped: The Wanderings & Delights of a Tea Adventurer, and had been agonizing over the art. Should I find an illustrator or a photographer? What would they draw or photograph?

And then I chanced upon Sandra Evertson's 2005 book, Fanciful Paper Projects. This genius of a gal has used her collection of turn-of-the-century papers, textiles, and photographs to create fanciful paper art she calls Posh Little Follies.

It's hard to convey how thrilled I was to find this book. I had no choice but to purchase it, especially once it whispered, "Don't you dare put me back on the shelf!"

I whispered back, "Of course I'm not putting you back on the shelf! You're perfect. And, now I know what to do with my own stash of turn-of-the-century papers, textiles, and photographs!

"Well, in that case, fabulous. But, can you loosen your grip?"

"Sorry."

So this morning's task is to figure out how my 12" Gibson Girl is going to appear as if she's leaning on my antique jadeite cake plate.

But in the meantime, while I'm certainly not the photographer, do enjoy my Woman Traipsing From Tea Tin.

For Technorati

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It's Good to Have Wise Friends

Soon I'll likely stop referencing the Lake but alot of stuff happens on a ten day vacation.

My new and very wise friend from the Lake, the infamous Sharon Love, gave me tremendous food for thought one afternoon.

She said, "You can't help what people think of you and it's not even any of your business."

Words to live by, don't you think?

I see this gem of a saying as being right up there with Ghandi's "Live as if you were to die tomorrow and learn as if you were to live forever."

Although, I think what Ghandi meant to say was, "The point is not to arrive at the pearly gates looking pretty and perfectly preserved. Rather, strive to skid in broadside, totally worn out and loudly proclaiming, "Wow! Now, that was an incredible ride!"

He likely did not want people to know he was prone to skidding.

Pictured is not the infamous Sharon Love, but another Lake friend, Linda. Both women are already seasoned skidders. But, someone still ought to check that the pearly gates are still standing once they skid through. ;)

The Egg Salad Willies

I've always been standoffish about eggs. I dreaded scrambled egg mornings as a child and it has only been as an adult that omelets hold the least appeal. I profess to love deviled eggs, but the truth is it's only the yolks I like and they must have lots curry and lean towards the salty side.

You can well imagine then my stance on egg salad, which aside from giving me a slight case of the willies, must truly be among the most unimaginative offerings to be found at the tea table. The slight uppity-ness I've come to accept as my companion through middle age always finds me thinking, "She could think of nothing else to serve?"

Thank goodness for friends! Paulette McDaniel of the Ideal Tea Leaf promised me an egg salad with a secret ingredient that would change my attitude. Heinz Salad Creme! Delicious stuff. A huge crack suddenly appeared in my egg salad view.

Then to my utter astonishment, another friend, Barb Toth, served a version that not only forever freed me of the egg salad willies but caused me to rethink my whole stance on the possibilities of the egg at teatime.

Here it is:
Finely chop 2 hard cooked eggs and blend with 1/2 cup mayonnaise and 1/2 teaspoon Herbs de Provence. Spread on buttered bread with crusts removed. Top with alfalfa sprouts and a second slice of buttered bread. Cut into triangles or slices.

Imagine this with Heinz Salad Creme! Which, by the way, is easily found at World Market and Brit grocery shops.

If only all of life's problems were as easy to solve as the egg salad willies!

On the Size of Thoughts

One of the most brilliant writers of our time, in my humble opinion, is Nicholson Baker. I first chanced upon his writing over twenty years ago - I believe in the New Yorker. I saved the piece, called The Size of Thoughts, and have pulled it out time and again to marvel at the way this man thinks. It has even proven to be a source of inspiration throughout the years.

Here is an excerpt:

Each thought has a size, and most are about three feet tall, with the level of complexity of a lawnmower engine or a tube of striped toothpaste. Once in awhile, a thought may come up that seems, in its woolly, ranked composure, roughly the size of one's closet. But a really large thought, a thought in the presence of which whole urban centers would rise to their feet, and cry out with expressions of gratefulness and kinship, a thought with grandeur, and drenching barrel scorching cataracts, and detonations of fist clenched hope, and hundreds of cellos; a thought that can tear phone books in half, and rap on the iron nodes of experience until every blue girder rings, a thought that may one day pack everything noble and good into its briefcase, elbow past the curators of purposelessness, travel overnight toward Truth, and shake it by the indifferent marble shoulders until it finally whispers its cool assent - this is the size of thought worth thinking about.

Isn't that amazing?! Ohh, to be able to write with such imagery. To think thoughts that tear phone books in half! I tell you, I aspire to the level of Nicholson Baker.

Mr. Baker's book is called The Size of Thoughts: Essays and Other Lumber (ISBN 0-679-43932-3). It's likely the quirkiest yet most thoughtful and entertaining book you'll read all year.

Gone with the Wind

Well, it is an urban myth. According to the people at TurtleTime.com, who were kind enough to return my call, sea turtles will build a nest anywhere. I can't tell you how devastated I am to lose my false sense of security.

I should have known that an animal who would head for the light even when it's in the opposite direction of the water wouldn't have the wherewithal to predict the mind of Mother Nature.

But a party always makes me feel better so I'm now considering a Gone with the Wind Party on November 30th (again, the official end of the hurricane season).

Picture Scarlet O'Hara sitting upon sandbags and eating bar-b-q. The air is fragrant with magnolia blossoms sitting in plastic gallon water jugs.

I can almost hear Scarlet saying, "Fiddle-de-de! The sea turtles must come back!"

Of course we'd have to serve the infamous Sharon Love's very special mint julieps:

In a small rocks glass place 1 teaspoon sugar, 2 cherries with a bit of juice, and 3 small springs of mint. Muddle before filling the glass with ice and 2 ounces of Jim Beam. (If you're more Melanie Wilks than Scarlet O'Hara you might also add a bare splash of simple syrup or 7-Up) Stir well.

Be forewarned. You must take care with the above recipe or you might indeed find yourself...gone with the wind.

And without your shoes.

The Wisdom of Sea Turtles

I've heard that sea turtles know instinctively not to build turtle nests where there'll be a hurricane during our hurricane season, which runs June 1st through November 30th. I've got my fingers crossed that this is not an urban legend as there are now 10 turtle nests on Fort Myers Beach.

Wouldn't you like to see a baby sea turtle as he breaks free of his shell and then makes his way to the water? To see such a thing is listed on the wildlife section of my bucket list.

Living in SW Florida has given me the opportunity to expand upon this part of my list. Also included is:

1. Kayaking to one of the several bridges near us under which hundreds of bats have made a home. At sunset you can see these bats as they fly enmasse in search of groceries. (This was only added after the kayak guide assured me the bats do not fly about your head and that the possibility of bat guano landing upon your head or shoulders is practically nil.)

2. Seeing one of the giant pythons now becoming pesky and problematic in the Everglades. Ideally I'd like to see one swim by the air boat I'm sitting in. I doubt I'd feel compelled to wrestle him but could you imagine seeing one and not flashing back to Marlin Perkins on Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom?

"Jim will now wrestle the giant anaconda."

I promise, Mom. I'll stay in the boat.

Not the Perfect Victorian Woman

It's not as if my feelings are hurt. After all, if you choose to let people read the words you write, you must expect the occasional flesh wound, or worse. I toughened up in that regard a long time ago.

That said I'm still sometimes taken by surprise. The current issue of Sweet Willa's Review, my almost monthly newsletter at GLily.com, features a piece I was especially pleased with, Searching for Tea High & Low. As a matter of fact, I'd go so far as to say "I think I handled the material brilliantly."

However, one of my readers is, in no uncertain terms, in complete disagreement with my assessment.

Upon closer examination it appears her problem is that I even make mention of my attendance at the tax day tea party in Fort Myers.

The British were enraged by the 1773 Boston Tea Party. Understandable perhaps when viewed from that side of the pond at that moment in time. But what, I wondered, am I missing here? I simply cannot fathom why anyone would waste perfectly good outrage over my attending a twist on such an event.

The more I thought about it - and with all political thoughts cast aside - I think the problem was that I had agitated this woman's view of who she thought me to be.

It's rather like the time another woman called to place a book order and expressed surprise that it was me who answered the phone. She said, "You're probably sitting there in a beautiful Victorian gown drinking a cup of tea, aren't you?"

The truth is I was sitting there in my swim suit top and capri overalls with a baseball cap sitting backwards upon my head. I was also busily discovering the remains of my lunch - the peanut butter on my chin. With all the graciousness of a true 19th century woman, I demurely replied, "Well...almost."

In this first instance I was able to preserve the aura I have apparently created but, alas, my secret is out. I'm not the perfect Victorian woman.

FYI, I'm nowhere near the perfect 21st century woman either but that's a topic for another day. And no, I likely won't share the details of the evening I briefly became the Chocolate Mar-Tea-Ni Lady.

All I can do now is cling to the words of Laurel Thatcher Ulrich. "Well behaved women rarely make history."

I best go. The kettle is singing and I feel compelled to make yet another origami swimming suit.

To read Searching for Tea High and Low go to:
http://www.glily.com/sweetwillasreview.htm
Sooner or later this piece will be saved in the Sweet Willa Archives.

Finding Your Cowgirl Sass

Awhile ago I decided 2010 will find me at the rodeos in Arcadia and Homestead, Florida. This, of course, will require the

It wouldn't fit in my suitcase and as I was carrying my laptop, I put the hat on and let it trail down my back as I began walking tiredly through the airport.

And suddenly I noticed it. In barely a two-step I went from tired to...well...completely sassy. I could feel it in my walk. I may have even gotten taller. The shift was really quite amazing.

I'll be positively Patsy by the time I find the perfect cowgirl boots.

Follow this link - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fkkM7K6smQA - to hear one of my favorite Patsy Cline songs. And don't worry, it's not me singing it! perfect cowgirl hat, which I recently found in Osage Beach, Missouri.