After an annoying bus-wait/bus-ride to the office (today: Safai formerly known as Java), I changed up my usual caffeine order to: a pot of English Breakfast tea (Scottish Breakfast not being an option). My mind immediately relaxed, remembering the ceremony of tea, the steepage, the patience, the aroma, the wee cups and sugar bowls and teensy weensy milk carafe. Instead, I got this -- surprisingly for someone who is used to tea in the United Kingdom, but every bit as soothing.
Surrounded by terrariums, birdhouses, and succulents, I am now attempting to breath deeply (even though those breaths were just interrupted by watching THREE, I saw THREE buses pass by in three minutes ... back to breathing). The Japanese style teapot seems a little anathema to my English Breakfast tea. There's no sugar bowl or milk pitcher, but it's still completely adorable.
I have a load of things to tell you about, including more adventures in meal planning, a recap of my amazing UK Tour with Diana de Cabarrus, plans to tour more (Europe: Festivals 2016 -- I am THERE), and some silly things the Wee Boy has said, such as last night when he decided he was going to sleep in the empty bath tub shortly after I had drained the water, but before he was bundled in towels. "I'm sleeping in the bath tonight, Mommy." And thirty minutes later, when he was quiet -- tricking me into thinking he might drift off to sleep, but then rolled over on me, grinning, inches from my face, whispering, "I just want to cuddle and give you lots of kisses, Mommy." (followed by approximately four hundred loud, drooly kisses)
I didn't even mind when he woke me up three times -- twice to tell me his dreams and once to go to the potty. He is such a sweet, sweet boy.