This is what mountain laurel looks like. It starts out as little stars & turns into bells. It's so beautiful--I can't imagine a better flower to be named after.
In a few days I'm heading north for the winter--or for a couple weeks of it anyway. Weatherwise, it could be a mistake, but I'm sure the warm company will make up for the temperature. White Christmases are nice anyway, as long as they're not too white for flying & driving.
I will not linger long here at this coffee shop. Perhaps I should call it a tea shop today, as that is what I am drinking. I took a big risk & ordered Earl Grey. On the risk scale, where 1 is getting out of bed & 100 is sky-diving into a hurricane, Earl Grey sounds like about a 4. But it was scary.
See, I used to love Earl Grey above all other teas. I drank it morning, noon & night. Cup after cup. (You can see where this is going, can't you, fellow O.D.ers....) Then came the day when bergamot--the flavoring that makes it Earl Grey rather than just another black tea--tasted like shampoo. Bleah. It's been years since I've had Earl Grey. But today, today I musta been feeling brave. I ordered; I let it steep; I added cream; I brought the cup to my lips
well, on a risk scale of 1 to 100, the Earl Grey was about a 4. I like it, I really like it. (Earl Grey is a distant cousin of Sally Fields.) But I'm not going to buy a box or give it an Oscar. Yet. I'll flirt with it occasionally at coffee--err, tea shops. Lapsang Souchong will retain its favored flavor status in the harem of teas. But Earl Grey is dusting off its ascot & derby, thinking of the day--cheerio!--when it actually lives in my kitchen & can compete cuppa a cuppa with the upstart.
I'm about done lingering over the Earl Grey. Things to do before I fly north for (a bit of) the winter. Gotta pack. Gotta look through the compost heap I call "outgoing" to see which things are oops-get-done-yesterday! & which have graduated to wonder-what-that-moldy-thing-was? (For those of you who are wondering what ever happened to the girl who Got Things Done, she confesses that it is a system spottily applied in her immediate universe. She's still getting lots more done than she used to, but she didn't turn into David Allen overnight. (For those of you who like her as Laurel Winter, you may be glad to hear that.))
109. Think of something you used to like until you overdid or overdosed. Then--be brave, grasshopper!--take a sip or a nibble or at least a whiff. (That's presuming it's a food or beverage. If it's an activity, do the sip/nibble/whiff equivalent.)