Tea With Me: 3rd December, 2020 Thursday
So my displacement activity to avoid the existential despair lurking in my heart has been to obsessively cook for the last three weeks.
Now if either one of my children were to read this, they would be astounded.
I am a lifelong reluctant cook.
But I am reading recipes. I bought a kitchen aid mixer which has in three days since unpacking produced 4 loaves of bread. I produced a full Thanksgiving meal for my husband and me with a plethora of sides to share with a dear friend and her husband so they wouldn’t be faced with takeout. I made my daughter’s recipe for pate and potted it in little jars which I am dispensing slowly to whoever I can. I have made osso bucco twice in the last three weeks. The Turkey soup I distilled from the 14.5lb carcass Husband and I managed to pick clean is full of bits of leftovers.
And of course, eating is my major pasttime now.
Not a little anxious, no.
As Tantrum’s attempts at overturns proveout the holes in his inflated self important, I can the hissing of the escaping fetid air from my sofa perch bathed in the warmth of New Mexico’s winter afternoon sun.
But when and how will he Stop proclaiming himself King of all he did not win? Fear of senseless violence runs in my sympathetic nervous system as I watch or read his tirades which are no longer being broadcast on the “major networks.
This latest Facebook 46 minute lying bile is recalls the energy in films of Hitler’s rallies.
Hung, Drawn, Quatered uttering at someonw doing their secure election duty. Death threats for the GOP official whose faith tells him the Right Thing is Biden, Holy Fuck, You Guys!!!
And people are dying, more and more everyday.
Tantrum just keeps sucking at the endless well of ignorance.
The list of adjectives with prefix “dis” describing my substrates is a long escalator into dark.
I am not alone.
So my displacement activity needs to shift a bit so the ball that is now my belly can deflate.
Snow comes, and blankets all below in a cold calm. Snow here is clean and pristinely lingers till this mountain sun calls it back to fluid. It slips and drips and “dis”appears…
“Hiss” and “Dis” are sound cousins…is that the Tantrum’s Balloon Deflating?
Please…
Tea was Black and Creamed and then its Green
Ta.
Tea With Me 