I admit it. I like to send out themed packages to random strangers and get presents back in return.

The most recent swap was tea-themed. I figured that since Mum and Rudi and Danny had all given me lovely tea presents at Christmas that I’d better expand my horizons and a group on Ravelry offered to have someone send me some fun tea goodies.

Brenda in Rochester, New York, sent me a box that arrived while I was away in Chicago. I came home to this wonderfulness:

She sent me three teas from a company local to her. They are Warm Hearts (an herbal blend Rudi is particularly interested in breaking into), Caramel Cream (which purports to have little bits of caramel pieces interspersed with the leaves), and Royal Blend (which was Ceylon and green teas blended together with some pretty blue flowers). I made a pot of the Royal Blend last night to drink with the vegetarian Shepherd’s Pie Rudi prepared, and it’s really tasty. Definitely one I’d consider buying more of.

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!

Happy Birthday, Jason! Happy Birthday, me! 35, baby!

You have to admit there aren’t too many upsides to having rats in your ceiling. But there is at least one — that you have to tidy the apartment sufficiently to let the landlord and handyman have access to the ceiling in two spots — the living room and the bedroom, where there are boarded-over spots from previous pest-control efforts. (This is one of the perks of renting — rats or termites in your ceiling ultimately are someone else’s problem.)

Rudi leaves for his ski holiday in three hours; let’s see if the work is done before he departs or if I have to try reassembling the bedroom on my own. Either way, I foresee a lot of this weekend being spent going through random bags of things that require shredding.

Three beautiful things from the previous week to follow later in the day…

Poke about the web a bit and you can’t help but notice an abundance of poetry every February 2. It’s not because rodents are terribly fond of a bit of poesy, but merely because it marks the annual Bloggers’ (Silent) Poetry Reading. The event honors Brigid (or Brigit or Bridhe), Celtic goddess and Catholic saint of poets, dairymaids, blacksmiths, healers, cattle, fugitives, Irish nuns, midwives, and new-born babies. It was her celebration marking the impregnation of the ewes that Christians co-opted to become Candlemas (which, ultimately, was celebrated by German immigrants in Pennsylvania as Groundhog Day).

I offer you this year a poem by John Frederick Nims because I would love for something similar to be said of me. I found it in my freshman English textbook, bookmarked by a note from my college roommate, wishing me a happy 21st birthday:

Love Poem
    ~John Frederick Nims

My clumsiest dear, whose hands shipwreck vases,
At whose quick touch all glasses chip and ring,
Whose palms are bulls in china, burs in linen,
And have no cunning with any soft thing

Except all ill-at-ease fidgeting people:
The refugee uncertain at the door
You make at home; deftly you steady
The drunk clambering on his undulant floor.

Unpredictable dear, the taxi drivers’ terror,
Shrinking from far headlights pale as a dime
Yet leaping before red apoplectic streetcars —
Misfit in any space. And never on time.

A wrench in clocks and the solar system. Only
With words and people and love you move at ease.
In traffic of wit expertly manoeuvre
And keep us, all devotion, at your knees.

Forgetting your coffee spreading on our flannel,
Your lipstick grinning on our coat,
So gayly in love’s unbreakable heaven
Our souls on glory of spilt bourbon float.

Be with me, darling, early and late. Smash glasses —
I will study wry music for your sake.
For should your hands drop white and empty
All the toys of the world would break.

Previous years have brought you poems by Mary Oliver, Grace Paley, and Heather McHugh and Barbara Hamby.

So… I got word today that I will be necessary to the infrastructure of our organization’s annual meeting — which falls over the weekend of my 35th birthday. (It’s also the weekend of Valentine’s Day. Leave it to scientists to expect people to leave their loved ones on the most romantic holiday of the year…)

I admit I’m disappointed; I was hoping that this year I’d be able to have my birthday to myself — at home with my friends. But part of the whole thing about expecting the best to happen is that sometimes you’re dropped on your head. Oh well…

So, I thought I’d remind myself that spending my birthday with 300 or so elementary school kids playing (educational) video games is not nearly as bad as it could be. Here are 35 far worse ways to spend your birthday:

1. Having a loved one have to go to the hospital. (I’ve lived through this. My (now-dead) grandmother had a heart attack on my tenth birthday.)
2. Having a loved one die. (One of my grandfathers died on my brother’s birthday.)
3. Suffering a heart attack.
4. In surgery.
5. In Gitmo.
6. Aboard a sinking ship.
7. Being attacked by a shark.
8. Working as a sales clerk on the day after Thanksgiving or Christmas.
9. Involved in a high-speed car chase.
10. Being held up.
11. Witnessing a car crash.
12. Working in a morgue.
13. In a room full of social conservatives.
14. Serving a life sentence for a crime you didn’t commit.
15. On a plane that crash lands in the river.
16. Caught on the Pennsylvania Turnpike in a blizzard.
17. Losing your home.
18. Having to put a pet to sleep.
19. Stuck in a movie theater watching distressing movies.
20. Being groped.
21. Stuck in the Third Street Tunnel.
22. In need of a bathroom without one in sight.
23. Being forced to eat watermelon.
24. At a book burning.
25. Trapped in quicksand (particularly after battling ROUSes).
26. Falling asleep on the nest of biting ants.
27. At a slaughterhouse.
28. In the path of a tornado.
29. At a Ku Klux Klan rally.
30. Caught in a fire.
31. Suffering from kidney stones.
32. Birthing a baby.
33. Being indicted on corruption charges.
34. At an all-day elementary school band concert.
35. Being shot at by a sniper.

Feel free to add to my list…

(I would be remiss if I didn’t thank my boss (hi Suzanne!) who tried hard to give me a nice birthday present.)

Today it snowed.

Okay, yesterday it snowed, too. Rudi’s cry of excitement when he looked out the window was what got me out of bed. I was afraid if I didn’t run right out to the living room, I’d miss it. Obviously you can see that I had cause for concern:

It didn’t stick. In fact, if you gave an extended blink, you’d miss the snow altogether.

Today it was serious about the snow. Little flakes followed by big flakes followed by more little flakes. Then no flakes at all until rush hour, when it was the detested “wintry mix” — snow, sleet, freezing rain…

It was a picture of loveliness this morning:

But people still stress out about the snow. There are a lot of Southerners in this fair city of ours — and they consider an inch a lot of snow. (They also use umbrellas in the snow. Silly…)

By the time I out of work, it was decidedly sleet.

Luckily the sidewalks I encountered were well treated. It’s now raining and the snow on the bushes out in the window well have a shiny gloss. The temperature is down in the upper 20s, so we’ll expect a nasty commute in the morning.

But, seriously, it thrills this New England girl’s heart to see fluffy whiteness falling from the sky.

To celebrate quintessential winter weather, we opted for the ideal snow supper — tomato soup and grilled cheese. And we paired it with hot apple cider. Yum!

Rudi watched a James Bond movie while I read and knit. We finished up the night with cupcakes (Rudi was trying a new-to-us cupcake bakery) and tea. It was a good night.