2024-02-17: happy (belated) christmas; pot-water tea
when we went to the dominican republic in december, we missed out on christmas with our families. we usually celebrate with my partner's family; mine, like me, moved away from where i grew up and are now hours away by plane. so we made plans to celebrate later. we used some vacation days, manufactured a long weekend. and we drove a few hours yesterday, getting in around noon.
today is christmas morning, didn't you know?
my in-laws' kettle is busted. we found this out yesterday. well, not so much busted as "currently having issues" (my father-in-law's words), and my father-in-law will look at it later (he used to run an auto-electric business, so is very comfortable/happy tearing stuff apart); as soon as we heard about this, my wife sent me out to sneakily get them a new kettle to give them at late-christmas, which is today; but regardless, their kettle is currently having issues. this morning, my body got me up earlier than everyone else. 6:30. i fed the dogs. i let the dogs out to do their business. i put water on for tea.
i mean, i literally put water on the stove to boil for my tea, and i haven't done that in nineteen years, since i was living in a different city from my then-gf (now-partner), and i came to visit, and when we divided our meager possessions up at the start of that year, it was decided i should have the kettle. so i had a week or two on my own, with my old, sweet, long-gone dog, in her rented third story in a rickety old house. i took him for lots of walk in the fresh snow. he curled up next to me on the couch. i drank lots of tea.
and i drank lots of tea by boiling water on the stove because that's all we had, boiling up a pot of water in her fuschia-tinted visionware, putting a red rose teabag in a mug nearby, and waiting.
i couldn't help but think of that as i waited this morning for my water to boil. i'm having tea out of an oversized mug. i'm writing this in a website journal like the one i used to have, which even nineteen years ago i would've abandoned four years prior. merry christmas, spectral reader. may the days ahead be bright.
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