T is for Tea

I never liked tea as much as I liked coffee. Really, when I look back, I remember my first sips of coffee and couldn't figure out why all my other elementary friends were making all frowny faces over the magic elixir.

To me, it tasted like strength.

I was so into it, I remember I would drive to Denny's or Village Inn and just sit at the counter, read my variety of paperbacks and magazines, sipping black, dark, coffee. No milk.

The waitress had never seen a teenager like me. Which was weird, because in all of my reading of college cultures, coffee was de rigeur. Eventually, the Cherry Creek Mall opened a Gloria Jean's and it was just as wonderful, but there was no place to sit and sip, like a bar.

Little did I know that coffeehouse culture was here long before there was a Starbuck's, and it was a matter of time before I connected with it.

But my relationship with tea came as a fluke. The fact was, well, I couldn't make coffee in elementary school. Nope. That huge Mr. Coffee machine was a small altar to the MotherUnitPrime, and she would come back from some various show, make-up so caked it looked like Halloween, and she'd pretty the beast and saunter off to bed. I could sometimes sip the last remnants after she was done in the morning, but that would be a time ago.

Boiling water and mixing it with the Sanka she had was equally a nightmare.

Apparently, old tea keeps. So? I'd boil water and taste what was next to Sanka in the pantry.

And Honey Vanilla Chamomile became my mistress to my coffee spouse.

My next bitch was hot Indian Chai with soy milk.

I had been adopted into coffee culture-and I learned that tea's past was just was wonderful.

I know when I head to London, I'll be totally fine with the habit of afternoon tea and scones.

I only bring this all up because I'm ill right now. A horrible flu is teaching me who to write under the greatest of duress.

I hate water as it is, believe it or not. It is massively bland, and if you add anything to it, it loses its value.

Unless you add tea or coffee. Zero calories, all the power needed.

Now there is very little I miss from Colorado. My friends there, long since having betrayed several aspects of my life, still are housed there, but seem to miss every trying to reconnect; my family is, well, my family. As every day arrives, I like Colorado just a smidgen less. Which is weird, given so much of my life has been spent there. I lost my accent there. I came out of the closet there. I learned what love was while I was living there. I learned my current concepts of career were in Colorado. You'd think that I'd have some love left for the place.

I do.

Celestial Seasonings. Buncha hippies were dancing around a field in Colorado, looking for weed, but, instead, found some rare tea plants. A tiny business empire was born. THey have a micro factory just outside of Boulder and it is hilariously wonderful, filled with new flavors and old standards. A trip into the "mint" room will clear your sinuses for 8 to 10 days. It's glorious. And when I moved to Florida, I knew it was one of the few things I'd still request for.

MotherUnit obliged. And also sent coffee.

Truly, if that was all I ever needed.