Is there anything more comforting than a hot cup of tea on a cold snowy night?
Dan and I live on the third floor of the victorian home in capital hill. Our spacious yet cluttered room is filled with all manner of cozy artifices. We have several rugs thrown Arabian Nights style on the floor, our walls are covered in paintings, photographs, and the banner from our wedding. We have piles of pillows all over the place. (Dan claims I have a pillow problem, I assure you that what I have is pillow solutions.) We have a lovely faux-cast iron fireplace that sends warm waves of heat and fire-like flickering into the room. We have a cat and a dog and a collection of beautiful quilts. However, things didn’t become perfect until we added an electric teakettle and a collection of tasty teas.
Suddenly we had a lovely cold-water flat to curl up and spend the wintry days in. As a result I, a vouchsafed gothic novel fanatic, am now obsessed with writing letters in my little flat while drinking a hot cup of tea. So much so that I have discovered drinking enough peppermint tea in a day will actually cause you to sweat tingly peppermint sweat. I have also sent out about 15 letters.
I am finding the creature comforts aforementioned more essential than ever lately. I am scared about the next four years. I have worked so hard my entire life to open rights up to everyone and to save the environment and now, at my most vulnerable time, the country is reverting to old ways.
I don’t want to start a big rant at the moment about politics. If you don’t know why we should take care of people who need help by the time you are reading this blog than I can’t teach you that, nor will my words change your opinion about it. You either have compassion and empathy and the ability to care for others or you believe the world is a small pie and you have to get the biggest slice possible by taking crumbs away from others. So I am not going to start a big argument. I am just going to say I am scared because it seems from my corner that the country was just taken over by a group composed entirely of crumb-grubbers.
So I am marching in protests and writing my elected officials and drinking the hell out of some tea in a room that feels more and more like a good place to hide refugees in the coming years.
Whoops. I guess some additional political commentary slipped in after all. Back to the comforts.
For some reason I think there aren’t enough people writing letters these days. I think it’s important to write in pen and ink because there isn’t a convenient backspace key ready to erase poorly thought out phrases. Think about how different political discourse today would be if people had to think before writing, to insure they meant what they said, and then had to wait 3-5 days before someone could read their writing and reply! There would be so much more thought put into our conversations.
I am trying to bring letter writing back into my life. I think it’s vital to our ability to think to correspond with people. Our social media existence has created such an instant gratification “communication” sphere that I’m pretty sure prohibits any actual communication and I believe we are suffering as a result. I’m hoping by writing people I can redevelop the thought processes utilized in actually contemplating the placement of permanent words onto paper. The actual art of communication.
On this note, yet politically, I have purchased 120 blank postcards so I can send postcards to Congress expressing my political opinion on all matters going forward. I figure I can write “Support HBXXX” or “Oppose SBYYY” on the front and then write a brief set of reasons on the back and send them in. Personalized postcards for political action without much cost or time.
I fear Congress pays about as much attention to phone calls and emails as they do syphilis. I’m hoping the physical nature of postcards will be more attention grabbing. Like face herpes.
(Dan just told me that it’s disturbing that face herpes is a theme of mine. I am afraid I can find no fault with his assertion so I will simply raise my eyebrows and drink some tea instead of responding.)
Where was I….? Right! Postcards to Congress. I loved that so many people came together in the largest single day of protest in U.S. History to combat the hatred pouring out of Washington like snot out of a toddler but let’s face it; unless we do more than march things are not going to change. Hell, even if we do more than march things might not change but we have to try something.
I suggest writing your Congress people, voting in the midterms (FUCKING VOTE IN THE MIDTERMS PEOPLE), and volunteering to spread information and garner support for causes you believe in. Even if you give an hour a month that an hour more than they had before.
We have a choice. We can hide in our cold-water flats drinking our tea and pretending the world outside isn’t there or we can find comfort in our cozy things while we gear up for the long and arduous battle ahead. I admit the former is tempting as hell. This Spoonie is damned tired of fighting to get out of bed everyday much less change the political climate of a country experiencing a mid-life crisis. However, I am afraid if I don’t put forth the effort the country I love will become a place I cannot live. So effort it is.
For right now? Tea, Letters, and the love of a snugly dog.