Tea From a China Pot

Today I had the pleasure of spending an hour in the presence of one of the oldest men in the world. He will be 100 years old this year. My dad and I went to his home for a business meeting and the gentleman's son and grandson were there. I met them last week and we discussed our mutual fondness for tea. I told them that I had some experience working in a tea room at one point and they were somewhat shocked that I knew so much about how it is served and the numerous categories of tea, etc.

When I went to their house today, my host's son (a man well into his 70s, I'd imagine) welcomed me warmly and quickly informed me that the kettle was on the stove. I thanked him and told him he didn't need to go to any trouble and he shrugged off my attempts at politeness as he disappeared into the kitchen. When he came back out, he was carrying a beautiful tea set, prepared completely and totally for me. He then brought me seven different kinds of loose leaf teas to choose from and I happily settled on the Darjeeling, which has always been a long time favorite. He started to chuckle but wouldn't tell me why.

He had poured the boiling water into a gorgeous china tea pot and told me that tea should always be served in china tea pots. I didn't argue and I'm pretty sure the expensive container holding the tea managed to charm the flavor. It was so heavenly and I felt like a queen! Then, as I was sitting there drinking my Darjeeling with one lump of sugar thank you very much, he rushed over to me exclaiming that he had something he wanted me to look at. Once again he disappeared around the corner and came back with a copy of "Love in the Time of Cholera."

I couldn't stop smiling. While my dad was conducting professional business in the other room, I was sipping tea out of china with a fine linen napkin in my lap and a classic novel in my hand. I felt like I was in the middle of a Jane Austen made for tv movie. It just felt so good to take time out of the madness and business of the world to enjoy the finery of a cup of tea! And when I got up to leave, he helped me with my coat and said that the reason he was laughing about my choice of tea was that Darjeeling was his mother's favorite. He grabbed my hands and I thanked him for the lovely time. La la la la. I think I will always make tea.

I Have A Life. I Prrrrromise.

Much of my life lately has consisted of the wonderful and beautiful world of abc.com. Folks, if you have never been to this website, go. run. flee to the goodness that awaits you. I know being a full time grad student and a full time employee of Upyours & Associates (I can totally say that...I work for my dad) I have no business whatsoever spending hours of my life watching online videos of television shows I have no business whatsoever being obsessed with. But, for the love of all things holy and pure, I can't help myself. It's free. With limited commercial interruptions. And, I for one sleep so much better at night knowing I am fully caught up on the latest prime time television events.

Of course, the writer's strike has incessantly been raining on the parade of my shameful hobby, though I totally and completely support them. In fact, I think my online viewing has prompted some of the writers' complaints because they aren't getting paid for all of my free hours of entertainment. And they should. Uhhh...but, I ain't stoppin.

So, during this strike-I-fully-support-but-selfishly-want-to-be-rid-of, I've been immersed in the following:



Oh sweet salvation. A couple of years ago, I borrowed Season 1 from a friend and became completely hooked. Yes, I have an obsessive personality, thank you for your concern. However, they were in the middle of Season 2 when I finished Season 1 and abc.com simply wasn't around at the time to relieve me. So, I took a bit of a hiatus, during which time I was totally and completely lost...so to speak.

But, recently, abc.com (the aforementioned salvation) has posted Seasons 1, 2, and 3 on their website in HD. For Free. All three seasons. For Free. For my viewing pleasure. For Free.

I am currently almost done with Season 2. And, you all have to understand that most of the reason I am being so supportive of the series is because my husband, Matthew Fox, stars on the show. And, yes, ladies, he's as handsome in real life as he is on the show. Take this picture, for example:



Oh, this day was so fun. I was on set with him and he brought a picnic lunch for us. When he was done shooting for the day, we went away from the rest of the crew and found a location on the beach that was private. I snapped this picture of him right after he told me he wanted to try and have children.

Elevator Awkwardness

I'm sure many of you lovely people have experienced those times in your life when you are forced into an intimate situation without knowing the person with whom you are sharing the intimacy. I'm talking about the elevator. There's a standard our society has set for almost every situation in life except this one. It's as if life just hands you this little bucket of awkwardness and says "Here. Deal with it." Some of us deal with it very well by talking about the weather (suitable for everyone), the awesome football/basketball/hockey/soccer/baseball game (suitable mostly for the guys), or last night's episode of Grey's Anatomy/The Bachelor/Desperate Housewives/American Idol (particularly suitable for the ladies).

To all of you who manage to make those elevator rides a little less uncomfortable, I thank you. You truly exemplify what it means to step outside ourselves and reach into the lives of others, if only for the timespan of however long it takes to get from the Lobby to the third floor.

However, there are those of us who still have yet to figure out how to handle the inevitable situation of being one on one with a stranger in an elevator. If this is you, then I want you to know that I'm here to tell you the awkwardness ends now. Today. This moment. I'm going to outline several instances in which certain levels of discomfort may arise (pun intended) on an elevator. I will also provide you with easy tools to help deal with them so that you and your strange elevator partner will be able to part company with ease and satisfaction.

Awkward Elevator Situation Number 1: The Button Watcher.

This situation usually occurs in most business/doctor's office settings, where the elevator passenger has much more on their mind than friendly banter. This intrusive amount of thinking forces them to lean their head back and stare blankly at the tiny numbers above the doors watching them progressively light up as the elevator ascends.

Now, I want you to take full advantage of their body language in this situation. Their pre-occupied brain and their tilted head stance has clearly given you the perfect opportunity to step in gradually behind them, lean quietly forward, and smell their neck. You will want to use caution here, however, especially if you are a man and your predestined elevator passenger happens to be a girl. If this is the case, gentlemen, I strongly suggest that no words be exchanged. A small whiff will be sufficient.

But for all other situations, ladies and gentlemen, please feel free to comment on the remarkable aroma exuding from their neckline. This is going to be most effective if the tone you use is soft and breathy, so as not to frighten your fellow passenger. After the exchange has taken place, step back and smile, because, friend, you have just overcome awkward elevator situation number one.

Awkward Elevator Situation Number 2: The Key Fiddler/Purse Digger

We've all seen it. You step on an elevator with a person and they deliberately avoid eye contact with you and intentionally divert their interest to the number of keys on their keychain or the number of loose gum wrappers in their purse. You might feel somewhat offended, and you should be! This is the second most offensive elevator relationship scenario (see Awkward Elevator Situation Number 3 for the most offensive).

Here's how I suggest we handle this situation. Just like in our first scenario, I want you to take a very close look at the body stance of this thoughtless passenger. Clearly, they are going to have their head down and their focus averted. Wait until the doors close, count to five, and then throw your keys or cell phone at their downward tilted head. Inevitably, this will grab their attention and put the focus back on you, where it belongs. Chances are they will look at you in astonishment and fear. If this happens just casually say "I know. Right?" And bug your eyes out in disbelief so that they can understand that THEY are the ones in the wrong here, not you.

If all goes according to planned, you will be laughing about it by the time you reach your destination. (Note: Do not attempt this on anyone who (a) is wearing all leather (b) has more visible tattoos than you (c) is carrying a briefcase while wearing dark glasses and an Armani suit or (d) could possibly be carrying a concealed weapon.)

Awkward Elevator Situation Number 3: The Cell-Phone Talker

Again, this has probably happened to all of us. You walk into an elevator with a person, offer them a friendly smile, and they shun you by carrying on with their conversation about lame things like "business meetings" and "Aunt Patty's life threatening disease." Come on. How rude can you be? These absurdly inconsiderate elevator passengers clearly have one thing on their mind...themselves. So, as in situation number 2, I want you to think of ways to bring the attention back to yourself. Engage them. Make them want to hang up with the person on the other end of that darn modern technological relationship destroyer.

Here's my recommendation: Make sex noises. This sure-fire method has the potential of immediately grabbing not only your estranged passenger's attention, but quite possibly the attention of the person he/she is talking to, as well. If that is the case, then pat yourself on the back. Success. You will have to keep in mind, however, that this person will have one of two responses. He/she will either be wildly intrigued by your sudden orgasmic outburst or (worst-case scenario) he/she will threaten violent bodily harm because the person they were talking to happened to be their spouse and now you've ruined their marriage, blah blah blah. If that happens, you should just smile and say "Hey, man. You were the one being rude, talking on the phone during our elevator ride." Hopefully, they will understand, and, again, you will be laughing hysterically about it by the time you reach your destination...hopefully.

Where in the World is Carmen San Diego?

Good gracious, does anyone remember playing that in about 4th grade? That and the one with the prairie wagon. To this day, I'm still not sure what titian hair color is, or even how to pronounce it, for that matter. Ah, those were the days. I remember loving computer class and feeling like someone had given me a lifetime supply of cotton candy whenever I didn't have to share a computer with anyone.

But, of course, that wasn't the internet. Those were just computer games. Still...I felt the need to reminisce just then. Now, I think about how my little brothers can access a world of information through the internet on their phones if they are bored with gym class or just have an overall disinterest in whomever might be standing within a three foot radius. It's crazy! I feel like I should be in my rocking chair knitting an afghan and I'm only 25! But, I don't think I ever really surfed the internet until I was in my freshman year of college back in 1999. *insert sound of rocking chair here*

I remember the thrill and excitement of creating my own email account (it's free?! no way!) and the first time I felt warm fuzzies over the thoughtful email from the gentleman who expressed a passionate concern for my abnormally small penis (which I didn't even know I had).

Wonder led to appreciation and appreciation led to desperation and now, well, if I can't figure out the qualifying height of a dwarf in 2.8 seconds, then I just throw the damn thing across the room (the computer, not the dwarf).

Put This In Your Pipe And Smoke It

Okay, so I'm thisclose to being done with my first semester of grad school. Tomorrow night is my final final (heheh) and praise be to Jesus my Shakespeare final was cancelled on Monday night ne'er to be rescheduled. I'm totally okay with that. Aye, forsooth.

In preparation for this final paper I'm writing, I have to read an article and then comment on it. The article discusses a typological approach to the Bible, specifically the Old Testament. That is to say, most stories in the OT can be seen as symbols or 'types' of other stories. So, the story of the Exodus, for example, could be a typological representation of the story of how Jesus came to save us all and set us free, et cetera.

The thing that blew my mind was her discussion of Joseph. As a refresher, Joseph was known as the dreamer. He had the coat of many colors, was seduced by Potiphar's wife, son of Jacob, blah blah blah. Anyway, the author of this article suggests that Joseph can be seen as a typology for the text itself. Stay with me because I promise it will blow your mind.

Joseph's story was one of forgetting and remembering. He grew up with his brothers, was sold into slavery and was forgotten. Likewise, the creation of the Old Testament resulted from a series of events occurring and then being forgotten and then being remembered again. Remembered and then written. Eventually, Joseph's brothers remembered him and he rewarded them with sustenance. The result of the stories of the Bible being remembered is that we, the readers, have spiritual sustenance.

Now, think about Joseph's life in between the time that he was forgotten and then remembered by his brothers. He was sold into slavery and was imprisoned. While he was in prison interpreting dreams, what was the one thing he asked the prisoner who was set free? Remember me to Potipher. And what did the prisoner do? He forgot him. So, again, Joseph was forgotten and then remembered. It was a pattern for him. But, during those times, he never stopped dreaming and interpreting.

With the Word, it's the same way. The events that are written about in the Old Testament were created from someone's memory and interpretation of those events. It's up to you whether or not you believe the final product is divinely inspired. I happen to believe it is. But that doesn't make the process any less magnificent. These events, in between the time of their being forgotten and remembered, were constantly being interpreted, like Joseph's dreams.

Joseph's story ends with him being remembered by his brothers and the reward that came from that. The formation of the Bible is the same way. The stories were remembered, transcribed, and then divinely transformed into the Word of God, which, I'm sure you will agree is a reward for anyone who ravishes it.

man. that's some coooool shiz if you ask me. Hope it made sense.

I Seriously Had No Idea

Do you all know what this is???




Because I always thought it was a very artful, bohemian sketch of a man or woman dancing among some flames. See just there where the leg looks like it is bent and his head looks tilted?

Well, it is no such thing. When I told my roomate the other day that "I just love those artsy decals I see all the time on pickup trucks" she informed me very politely that they were, in fact, deer heads. Profiles of heads of tiny baby deers. Hunted tiny baby deers. Hunted tiny baby deers that are probably laying in the back of the trucks that used to contain the artful people I so admired. :(

To-Do

I'm ever so sorry for not blogging much lately. I have the following to accomplish before the end of the month:

1. A 10-page paper on whether or not Jesus was illiterate (I chose this topic)

2. A 5-7 page paper critiquing an article on the existential life of Joseph in the Bible (I did not choose this topic)

3. A three-page critical or creative commentary on Antony and Cleopatra

4. A three-page critical or creative commentary on The Tempest

5. A 5-7 page critical response to some aspect of the Shakespeare plays I've read this semester (there are 5)

6. A 20-page paper on the History of Thomas Hardy's renowned classic, Tess of the D'urbervilles.

I really do believe in miracles, you guys. And, it's a good thing because it's pretty much going to take one to get all this done. And, is it wrong that I'm crying right now? No, seriously. Weeping. Crocodile tears....which, incidentally, is a phrase we get from an ancient story where the crocodile is said to have wept phony tears for the victims it was about to devour.

Welp, see ya later!