Tea time

I had no alone time today, save those brief moments during which I showered.
Someone admonished me, a couple years ago, that daily washing of the hair is not at all good for hair. Something about drying it out and thinning it, or some such. This came as quite a surprise to me, as I had previously washed my hair every single morning of my life, unless bedridden. Come to find out....dry shampoo covers a multitude of sins and contributes to the illusion of thickness. This has radically altered my daily hygienic routine. I've worked up to a long four day stretch between washings, although this is a pretty if-y prospect. It's really quite remarkable the time I save by not blow drying.

My daughter-in-law came over for tea this afternoon so that I could meet her extended family. I think it was important for them to see that though their little darling married an incarcerated felon, why, he comes from a good family. I got to meet her momma, her sister, two grandmothers, a grandpa, and a dear friend of the family. On my team it was just me and my mother, so we worked together to present a respectable picture of well-balanced normalcy. All of us minded our manners over tea and cucumber sandwiches....until the topic of politics was broached. Evidently, a couple ladies in my home felt rather strongly regarding the current administration's policies. Unfortunately, there was some divergence regarding said policies. Although the conversation was, at times, certainly enthusiastic, the ladies were able to restrain themselves from violence. At the end of the day, I think they had enjoyed the lively debate, and the rest of us had benefited enormously from the entertainment.

High tea is such a delightfully dignified experience. I love the specialness of it. It always seems to make even grown women feel as if they have arrived at a magical party with the White Rabbit and the Mad Hatter. I wonder if it has that effect upon people in England where it is more of a regular practice?
I was washing my fragile porcelain cups and saucers in sudsy water after everyone left. I pulled a painted candy dish from the bubbles and turned it over to find writing on the bottom. It said, "Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me. Bless His Holy name!" My granny had painted those words years ago. Much of the porcelain in my home was painted by my very talented granny, and so often I find that she took the time to inscribe a bible verse or a personal note on the bottom of one thing or another. It's just one of the ways that her voice continues to speak to me. I paused, there, with my hands in the dish water, and I took her advice. I thanked God for Who He Is, and I thanked Him for tea and extended family, and I thanked Him that we can have friendly arguements over politics. And I thanked Him for Grannies.