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I bought two tea cups at an antique store. They're sitting on the windowsill, and I could stare at this little bit of china all day long as if it were my firstborn child.
The pattern is called Desert Rose. Both sets of my grandparents had this in their cupboards. One grandmother served pimento cheese sandwiches for lunch on these little plates. The other grandfather made my morning eggs on it. He asked me how I wanted them cooked and taught me the mysteries of egg language. Over Easy. Boiled. Poached. I learned that I wanted them Fried Hard. Grandfather scrambled his own and used the large pepper grinder along with lots of salt.
When you come to visit me, I'll pull out the Desert Rose cups for Bombay Chai or White Orchard Tea. We'll talk about our jobs and our children. We'll talk about our music and our art. We'll talk about our grandmothers and our grandfathers. Our mothers and our fathers. I'll remember how Helen liked her toast burned black and Billy liked his toast barely warm with a wisp of gold on the edge. Alice had a little pot for raspberry jam that I'll pull out of the cupboard to show you. And we will be glad for the piece of china memory.
In the last two days I have finished two wonderful books. The Help by Kathryn Stockett and Holy Listening by Margaret Guenther. Both of these made me put down my dust cloth in the middle of the day, settle into the green recliner, and read.
Ok. If you've been to my house you know it doesn't take that much to make me put down my dust cloth.
But now I'm bereft. There is no book in my house calling to me the way these did. And today is a holiday! In good conscience I could curl up with pillows, tea and read all day long.
By 5:30 I decided to take matters in hand and write Natalie Goldberg an email demanding that she write another book - and write it quickly because I'm out of wonderful things to read. I'm a huge NG fan - have read everything she's written. I pull up her website, ready to pop off this ludicrous letter, when the scales fall from my eyes. There is a book by Natalie Goldberg that I haven't read. Top of My Lungs: Poems and Paintings and the essay "How Poetry Saved My Life " can be purchased at amazon for $1.90 new or $1.89 used.
And in case any readers are not aware of it - tomorrow is My Birthday.
Alternatively, tell me the books that have caused you to neglect your duties.
Such a happy morning!
To get to my happy job, I have the most pleasant 15 minute walk. Veazey Street is lovely this time of year with pink crepe myrtals and butterflies hovering on the bushes. Usually I walk on my side of the street, unless I have a letter to mail in the corner box or a book to return in the library bin. Today I needed to do the latter, which gave me a chance to walk through hip high basil plants and lush scented boxwoods. Such a happy morning! Tra la la-ing my way through my happy happy life.
I have an imaginary conversation with Fern. Her New Year's resolution was to keep in better touch with her friends, and I'm the happy recipient of that resolve. My New Year's resolution is the keep a cleaner house. Well...ahem... I think there's still time. It's only September.
Tra la la such a happy morning. Thinking all my happy happy thoughts. So many happy things to think about that I don't think about what my hands are doing when they open the blue metal mail box and thump my library book to the bottom.
