Eccentric Tea Woman

  The oozing creature hunched itself up like a hissing cat, then slithered at a rapid pace toward the two. The samurai raised up her katana, ready to end this battle, only to be pushed to the side by the werewolf. She fell to the floor and watched as the werewolf grabbed the Undying One with both clawed hands and dug into the thick flesh. The creature screamed as it tried to bite the werewolf, yet his clawed grip limited its movements. Horrific smelling pus flew everywhere as the werewolf dug deeper into the Undying One. The samurai calmly got up and walked toward the two, then slid the point of her katana into the base of the creature's head. More pus streamed out of the wound, causing the werewolf to release the foul body. "Why did you push me away, Samuel?" she asked her companion as they watched the creature slowly die.  "Why do you still forget that I'm your companion?" The two looked at each other as a wordless conversation flew between them. True, she

 (Golden Farmers Market - Golden, Colorado) Many years ago, my mother introduced me to the world of French pastries when we walked into La Baguette in Memphis, TN. Although the little shop had many items to choose from, my mom showed me the almond croissant . . . and I haven't been the same since. Their almond croissant was heaven to my mouth - the tastes of butter and sweet almond caressing my tastebuds. I ate their almond croissants once every six months because enjoying them meant not only a decadent treat but also a little bit of stomach pain afterward. It seemed that while I could appreciate the finer foods of the world, my acid reflux thought otherwise. Since that time, the almond croissant symbolized a moment of sheer selfish pleasure for myself, the one time in which I throw all gastro-caution to the wind and just give in. The almond croissant has become a bit like a World of Warcraft quest for me - seeking it out every chance I get and knowing that the reward will be just

  Last week, I made a somewhat cross-country trip to gather the rest of my belongings to return them to Colorado. If someone had told me years ago that I would not only move to Colorado but also love the state, I really wouldn't have an answer for them. It's amazing how we (or others) plan out our lives to the most minute detail, only to have the Universe laugh at us. I didn't plan any of this and yet this is the happiest I've been in a very long time. This is the first time in which I am truly myself in all the messy and colorful glory. I'm no longer held back by a desire to please everyone, to search for that acceptance by outsiders that is short-lived and really not worth it. I am living my life the way I want to, mistakes and all. I love Colorado. I love the fact that the people here are laid back and "what you see is what you get". I love the fact that you've got a major metropolitan area to delve into, yet drive only twenty minutes and you're

Books and tea always go well together - try this mediation and see how you feel afterward!   Click the link below for the Viridian Tea Company Etsy Store! Viridian Tea Company - Tea Blends for the Strange and Unusual! (Colorado Sunrise Rooibos Blend)

  Plural of everything can exist, possibly in mental notes and images. Was this the result of our wishes becoming fulfilled from a lack of desires? We have become materialistic, trying everything until there is nothing left to duplicate. Surely, textbooks will write of us one day. Viridian Tea Company - Tea Blends for the Strange and Unusual!

  "Undying One?" the man asked while blinking slowly like a tortoise. "I don't know what you mean by that." The female samurai narrowed her eyes while her companion slowly pulled down his shirt to reveal the tattoo.  "Only Undying Ones have that mark," she said to him as her hand gently rested on her katana.  "And I tell you again," replied the man nervously, "that I have no idea what you're talking about! I received this tattoo when I left my family home two years ago. It's our family symbol and my good luck charm." He grabbed his sleeve from the werewolf and slowly pulled it up over his shoulder. "I appreciate the food and tea, but I feel better now." He looked around at the other patrons who stared at him. He then turned to face the samurai again and she gasped as his eyes turned to the deepest of indigo in colour. She leapt out of her chair with katana in hand within seconds.  "Never trust an Undying One,&

What makes us read certain books? Do we read them because the subject matter capitvates us, or perhaps it's because we simply ADORE the author and will read everything they've written? Maybe it's because we've heard so much about them and want to know why they are loved. Or hated. Or even feared. No matter the reason, we read because . . . we can. This morning, I got into a discussion with my boyfriend regarding the authors we read. I started reading David Foster Wallace (I'll have a somewhat review of his book Both Flesh and Not on my YouTube channel !) this morning. An essay regarding Wimbledon seemed simple enough, yet as I read I noticed that I was engrossed in his words and that I had forgotten to make my morning cup of French Roast with hazelnut creamer. And yes, as much as I adore tea, I just can't give up the Bean quite yet! But I digress. Here were the words of a man who committed suicide in 2008, a man that many in the literary world continue to adore

(Rikki Don't Lose That Number - from YouTube)   My mother introduced me to all genres of music while I was growing up - Stevie Wonder, Deep Purple, ZZ Top, and above everything else . . . Steely Dan. Now, when I first listened to this group, I thought they sounded really cool. Like "I'm too young to get what they're singing about but I know it's cool" kind of cool. I sang along with them about Rikki not losing that number, or reeling in the years (with CHEESE and not tears), and so on. And, for the longest time, I thought they were black. I wasn't trying to be offensive or anything like that - it's just that to my young ears, they sounded like black guys. Imagine my surprise many years later, when I discovered that not only were they white but also Jewish! And you know what? My love for them has not changed one bit, even as I embrace my 47 years of life on this planet. I loved Steely Dan back then and I love them now. In fact, I even got to see them in

The female samurai sat with her back to the front door of the tea house. Although she seemed to be focused on her cup of Dragonwell, her senses were in overdrive. Her werewolf companion hunched over his bowl of soup, his ragged breathing a sign that he was still healing from that fight. She smiled to herself - I told him I could take care of myself, she thought. She raised the cup to her lips….only to lower it slowly. The werewolf looked up at her, his pointed ears now twitching. Before she could turn her head, a man flew into the tea house and landed in a crumpled heap. The tea house fell quiet, as all eyes focused on the person on the floor, then on the female samurai as she slowly stood up and walked toward the figure. She crouched down and lightly touched the figure's neck. Barely a pulse. She then pulled down the figure's collar and gasped at what she saw. She felt warm wind against her neck and suddenly, her companion gently removed her hand from the figure's neck as

  My tears will no longer come yet my eyes are heavy from anger and lack of sleep. A light - there is always a light - is far away yet I can still see it in the dense fog created by breaking of trust. Someone broke it carefully, like an egg. I want my tears to come, seducing me into a false hope that I can no longer deny but accept from within. The light comes painfully, ripping my skin apart, preparing me for the next level of bliss.

  It's really hard sometimes, she told me over coffee, to simply be. When I didn't reply she added - look at how the world is these days. Social media tells us what to do, how to think, what to wear, who to like and hate. Yet, she paused as she sipped on her coffee, the world doesn't care. That's the grand cosmic joke. I looked at her as though she had spoken such an incredible truth. The world, for all of its inhabitants yelling and screaming at each other, doesn't really care about us. I raised my coffee to my lips, only to lower the cup as I replied - then do people care about what others think? She smiled and winked and I knew that whatever she had to say next, I could only take lightly. Or perhaps not. We must create a delicate balance, she replied, between being narcissistic assholes and giving of ourselves so much that we have nothing left. You can take care of yourself AND help others, but one should not be greater than the other. She finished off her coffee

  For the past several days, I've been dealing with a matter that has left me quite frustrated for a myriad of reasons. Today, I spoke with someone over the phone regarding the matter and found myself becoming more and more frustrated. The tone of my voice was quite apparent that I was not happy. After I hung up, I went out to handle some errands, only to think about how I behaved over the phone. True, the situation was a hot mess and every time I explained to them my situation, it seemed as though I wasn't heard. However, I had no right to speak in a frustrating tone to the person on the phone; she was only doing her job. How many times have we either yelled at someone or someone yelled at us over a matter that we had no control over? How many times have we felt helpless and lashed out because "we just needed to do it"? And . . . how many times have we stopped and engaged in the Art of Apologies? I've been yelled at many times and I've done my sharing of yell