I grew up in a home where tea was more than a beverage. Tea was an event. It was a “Well done! Good job! Time to take a break, dear!” Tea was a social. It was a conversation. Tea was a bedtime snack and a kiss goodnight. Tea was a moment shared; tea was a comfort.

I had my first cup of tea six months ago. I’m not sure why I resisted quite so long. I was a coffee gal. Coffee says hello world, I’m all fired up, no time to waste, gotta get things done, get outta my way. Coffee is pushy.

But tea – holding a cup of tea is like holding a hug!

Tonight I’m sipping tea from an old Silver Birch china mug. There’s a tiny chip in the saucer.





Came into possession of these lovely sidewalk saves – table, chair, picture frame – and have just the spot in mind down at The Blueberry Muffin. I’m thinking sea and sand and blue skies and beach glass. The color is ‘jute’. Perfect. I like it. And so I paint – keep in mind I’m painting something old to make it look new. So now it looks new, I sand the edges to make it look old again. And I stain it to make it look older still. Then I wax it. Then I buff it.

Three hours later I have brand new old furniture I don’t like – it’s called distressed – and tomorrow I’m back to painting it to make it look new again. Go figure!

A sidewalk save that’s going to cost way too much in paint.

Distressed is not something to aim for, I’m thinking!