Friday, February 11, 2005

tea, a rearrival of my health


Well, now that that hussy has stolen that dreamy horse of a prince away (blaugh!), we, like the British public, can concentrate on more important matters. Like tea.

After having a lovely meal and my first turkish coffee at the hummus place, we discovered a hidden pink jewel of a place. Pink Jewel could be a grrl-rock band. And to be ironic, everybody would wear orange. And then there would be this big fight because the singer wants to be more serious and literary when in fact she's really sleeping with the drummer's best friend's ex! And then Jewel would come in with her truck and her snaggle tooth and sing some R&B. And that would be weird.

Somebody always steals my ADD meds. Anyhoo, Sympathy for the Kettle, a whimsical, if clever, name -- on St. Mark's between 1st and A -- is just lovely. The people who work there were friendly and unsnooty, the tea selection excellent, and from looks, the desserts and pastries looked delish. Thursday seems to be a quiet night, but that added to the charm and cosiness and my solitary mood, with the radiator doing that squeeeeeeeeeeee pressure noise, the banter of the people working and customers, and the fuzzy jazz (and bjork) lingering in the air. I had a nice pot of peach ginger tea, which came with a little pot o' honey, and read my book and felt the peace, yo, and emerged from the teashop not hating the world. Sole comfort.

This entry is dedicated to foxes who, like my mother on a good day, offers encouragement and steely inner strength

1 comment:

foxes said...