Tea and Paint

I guess there are things that seem to serve us, contribute to our lives... habits that are deeply ingrained so much that we don’t even notice when they don't serve us anymore.

The sun angles past the drop cloth curtain and makes the colorful book spines shine. I take a bite of my toast and am struck by the contrast of the warm bread and the cold marmalade hitting different parts of my tongue simultaneously. The bitter and sweet of the marmalade wakes up my brain, creating new connections. I sip my tea to wash it down, creamy with oat milk, sweet with honey, with that signature tea astringency blending it all together. I am suddenly intensely present in a way I haven’t been all week. 

The one-year-old boston terrier full of mischief and energy launches into full play mode, teasing our ten-year-old gray-muzzled boxer who mostly enjoys her company, but there are limits to his patience.  

I’ve had one of those weeks where I barely stopped moving. There was work to do, kids to shuttle places, food to make, long kid stories to listen to. And in the middle of that I caught a home improvement bug. It’s always bugged me that the railing for our staircase was painted w…