With A Cuppa

Of the People and for the People

October 29, 2025

Life, SAR

Photo by Harrison Haines on Pexels.com

It was an interesting weekend…

…but first, tea this morning is not tea, it is coffee. I know, I know, I am breaking the mold, but I need a little extra oomph this morning so I am drinking a black Americano from… dun dun dun!… Starbucks. Yep. I’m basic. A lot of people comment about the burnt taste of Starbucks coffee and I do get that criticism, it is not as smooth as my home brew using Cuban roasted beans, but when you need a four-shot pick-me-up, well Starbucks is convenient and there.

I cannot, however, wax poetic about its many different attributes. It has a job to do, it does the job well, and that is all I can ask of it.

Kind of like me this weekend.

What a… difficult weekend. To recap, I was team lead during a Search and Rescue training weekend. The training weekends, this one at least, are to teach new people how to build a fire out of their pack, eat out of their pack, build a shelter using a tarp, navigate using a compass and a map, and learn different search types. It usually consists of two days and a night (this one at least) and includes a mock search at some point.

This training took place last weekend. During an atmospheric river.

I am supposed to be positive about it to save reputation and create a certain optic, but it was tough. The rain never let up: drizzling, full-on downpour, rain, back to full-on downpour… and then hail.

With winds.

So sideways rain, sometimes felt like upwards rain, soaking everyone and everything, including the ferns, salal, huckleberry, and rhododendrons that we had to push through to look for “clues” while wearing a 45-pound pack.

Those evergreen bushes are better than bathtubs at trapping water, which soaks through layers of rain gear, goes down exposed necks, dumps water onto what would normally be waterproof boots, but are no longer when pitted against that stuff.

The very environment was a moral killer.

And that was before you added in people.

Now, to caveat, I always find people difficult. I am very good at navigating people (hello a lifetime of masking!) but people are hard for me. It takes a little bit of extra effort to scan and analyze those around me to make sure that I am picking up on all the nuances, unspoken cues, and nonverbals.

This weekend I was picking up on the cues of individuals who were so negative and so pessimistic that by the end of the day, I was in tears.

And as I analyzed and reanalyzed the weekend over the last three days (as I do) the thought that kept popping up in my head is that people are always hard and when you put people in stressful situations they are not prepared for, the worst comes out. Across the board. I had what would normally be positive, level-headed individuals blaming others for things. I had people in tears that ended up in yelling. I had, what I thought was a friend, not have my back in order to create more positive optics for himself and the unit.

It was… hard.

But this morning as I thought about this post, I realized that people are always hard. There is always drama in the workplace, in families, on the roads. I mean, I don’t know about where you are, but road rage incidents are next level up here in the Pacific Northwest… guns and baseball bats included.

People are so angry everywhere. So frustrated. So stressed. So worried.

I don’t know why I thought a weekend under extreme circumstances would bring out the best in people? Seems naive. Silly. Shortsighted on my part. And I’m sure I wasn’t blameless this weekend. I am sure my attitude sucked at some point, though for the most part I go silent in high-stress, high-drama situations. But maybe that was taken as standoffish, cold, not emotionally available to the individuals who were losing their shit.

Which leads me to my final thought on this; we are a messy, confusing, dynamic species. People are hard, for me, for you probably, and for most, because humans don’t make sense. We aren’t consistent, we act contrary to expectations or even past patterns. We change. We blame. We fight. We can be self-serving, narcissistic, and callous.

But we also show up during an atmospheric river; freezing, soaked absolutely down to the skin, stressed and tired, all to get the training that will allow us to help others. To save someone’s life. To find a missing child.

People can be kind, respectful, talented, and warm. They can go out of their way to help, reassure, and give a hug.

And the most wild part is, both of those… the negative and the positive… can be true of the same individual.

People are hard.

But that doesn’t always mean they are bad. It just means people are endlessly complex and like the endlessly complex idea of something like quantum entanglement, perhaps we (cough cough I) should see it through the lens of wonder.

Eventually. After several more Americanos.

And maybe another week of distance.

Really though, be nice to one another, my dear readers, no matter the differences that might be between you. We are all of the same species, all living on the same Earth, all winning and losing and struggling and succeeding… it is good to remember that sometimes.

Hell, I am writing this so that I too remember it for next time.

Might work. Might not. Worth a try.

Until next time friends, enjoy your hot beverage, whatever that may be, and maaaaaybe give someone a hug. 🙂

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To Sleep is to Dream

October 22, 2025

SAR

I am drinking a bracing cuppa this morning with two bags of Scottish Breakfast with a bit of milk. It is the kind of tea that straightens the spine and eases the tiredness, if just a little bit. Outside my window, the maples are in full oranges and yellows, the oak and sweetgums a myriad of red, the entire landscape shaded and cloaked in a cold mist that soaks through even the best of layers.

It is, in a word, Autumn in the Pacific Northwest.

This weekend there is forecasted an atmospheric river, the kind with inches of rain in an hour and winds taking care of some additional leaf fall. It will be wet, cold, and windy. Pretty normal for this time year and usually my favorite kind of weather.

Not this time.

I will be out in the woods, with a forty-pound pack, leading a group of new Search and Rescue trainees in their first overnight weekend of training. We will eat out of our packs, sleep under tarps (hammock tarps, not the ones you get at the hardware store) and in general try to cover twelve to fifteen miles in the pouring rain and wind.

And though I will have to maintain (pretend?) a positive outlook during the weekend to keep everyone’s morale from tanking as we complete our assigned tasks, here in this space I get to say it:

It Sucks.

Cold. Wet. Uncomfortable. Feet and back and legs aching. Those in charge like to compare it to bootcamp for volunteers. I, who never was in the military nor had/have any desire to be militant, dislike the overarching theme of the weekend. I am a civilian. Sure, I’ve put my body through things like running marathons and half marathons, oh and also things like childbirth and car accidents, but I take no joy in doing those things to my body, nor do I take joy in making others do it.

A dark thought, but sometimes I wonder if leadership gets a particular thrill out of watching the new trainees and those in charge of them struggle through the weather as they bunk down in their RVs, because “they did all that too at one point.”

A hazing if you will, though now that I have been doing this for awhile, I was kind of hoping I was exempt.

Guess not.

It is moments like these, when faced with the reality of what I must do compared to the real-world benefit of being part of a search and rescue team, that I question my commitment to the whole thing.

Life is like that, isn’t it?

Jobs, occasions, family drama, moments in time when you look around and think: “is this what I want to do right now?” Sometimes the answer is no.

Fuck this job, I quit. Or, nope I will not be attending that event because it sounds terrible. Or, yeah, I think I will distance myself from that crazy-ass cousin that has way too much fun shooting at squirrels.

But then there are those moments when the benefit and the drawbacks are about tied.

I want to quit my job, but I can’t find another one and I still need to pay bills and eat.

I want to distance myself from the family drama, but it is my sister and she needs help navigating the drama that she has created herself.

Or.

Being out in an atmospheric river in the mid to low 40s, knowing that I will have to bunk down in a damp sleeping bag and try not to get hypothermia, while also making sure my team doesn’t get hypothermia and crash out, all because I might, one day, be the one to find a lost child, parent, or grandparent.

Tension.

With no real way of easing the tension.

So our brains do things like cognitive dissociation, where we step back from our current situation and daydream of other realities, or think of the future, or somehow distance ourselves from reality by thinking of something that is better.

A better job.

A stable marriage.

A weekend that does not include hypothermia.

Avoidance-based coping.

Our brains do it for us automatically; that’s why sometimes you might find yourself daydreaming while sitting in snarled commuter traffic. Or making Pinterest boards that look like the life you wish for but don’t have currently.

To a certain extent, it’s healthy. When reality is a shit show, thinking of a better future sometimes helps propel ourselves into that better future. I’m not too sure about woo woo manifestation, but envisioning the thing you want really does help. For instance, think of an athlete that imagines making a free throw. It has been proven over and over that envisioning the free throw going into the basket does increase the odds of actually making it.

(Our brains are wild)

But in a situation where change is either not possible or filled with tension, daydreaming is a way to escape. Distracting ourselves is a way to remove ourselves from something we don’t want to be in, whether that is reading, watching television, scrolling TikTok for the dopamine hits, or even things like taking drugs and drinking alcohol.

Blunting our reality.

For me and this dreaded weekend, I will not be taking tequila shots and have no ability to lose myself in a movie or a book, but I will likely find myself staring out into space, water soaking through my layers and layers of rain gear, dreaming about sitting with a sleeping cat, cuppa in hand, warm, dry and content.

Is that enough of a distraction to keep doing this? I don’t know… stay tuned.

But, in the meantime enjoy your weekend my friends, cuppa in hand and maybe a cat on your lap… I will be dreaming of the same.

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The State of Things

October 15, 2025

Life

This morning’s cuppa is a Spiced Vanilla Latte from Mountain Rose Herbs. The company is out of Oregon and usually has a lovely selection of loose-leaf teas. This one is a ginger and caramel spicy with “roasted apple flavors.” It’s tasty, but I can only have so much of it because it is strong, both in flavor and in caffeine. It says it doesn’t have too much caffeine, but I disagree just based on how my body responds.

The caffeine is needed almost every day, and I know I am not alone. I drink tea almost daily, but my real go-to for caffeine is coffee, as it is for most Americans. I read an article in The Atlantic about the American obsession with coffee and how it is a definitive thing—so much so that last time tariffs were a thing, coffee was written off as exempt.

The obsession is obvious. My black venti Americano from Starbucks this morning was $4.45. That is a substantial increase in pricing even from two years ago, let alone twenty years ago when I started drinking Americanos from Starbucks. I ordered a matcha for my son and a cold brew for me the other day, and the total was nearly $20. We were trying out the new protein additions, but still… two coffees?

Yet, we still show up. I still go to Starbucks, or one of the five other coffee stands in my tiny little town. In fact, our little unincorporated town has a Safeway and QFC with Starbucks, the actual Starbucks, and seriously five different independent coffee stands. This is in maybe a one-mile-by-four-mile radius.

And this isn’t unusual for the PNW. We love coffee. No matter that we are overrun with coffee places, there are lines and people in every single one of those locations.

So we shell out the money, and we will likely continue to do so even though coffee is not essential to anything other than our mental well-being.

It is curious to me what it is for people that keeps them paying out the nose for something that the body doesn’t need.

Habit? Nostalgia? The preferred way of getting caffeine into our exhausted and overwhelmed bodies?

For me, it is a mixture of things.

I need caffeine. Black coffee does not upset my stomach (a lot of things do).

And I guess I don’t need caffeine, but my life probably wouldn’t function quite as well without a stimulant.

But I digress.

Moving on. It is absolutely a habit. I prep my coffee pot the night before, and the first thing I do is turn it on after waking up. Sitting with a hot cup of coffee is a habit that I developed thirty years ago.

Nostalgia. Absolutely. The smell of a freshly opened bag of coffee beans reminds me of a Starbucks I went to with my grandmother when I was young. It was the first Starbucks to open in Spokane, and my grandmother, a lifelong coffee drinker, would bring me there and I would order Irish cream lattes. You can’t even get Irish cream lattes anymore, but I loved them back then. So the smell of a freshly opened bag of beans brings me back to my youth, when things were new still and not so worn around the edges.

I know that companies like Starbucks play on the nostalgia piece. I mean, Red Cup Day, anyone? But it is more than the Starbucks machine—it is the local shops too. People go and treat themselves with coffee. Or they get one when they need an extra lift. Or they get one before a long drive, long meeting, or long sporting event. Coffee cuts through the cold, the wind, the sun (when iced), and anything else that life throws our way.

We can continue because we have a coffee in hand.

At least that is my viewpoint.

Sadly, like so many things, coffee is at the mercy of Mother Earth, and we have thoroughly pissed her off, so the likelihood that coffee will continue to exist in such abundance is a shaky boat. In fact, in my opinion, losing coffee should be the next campaign for doing something about climate change.

Might get some people’s attention then.

Of course, people would rather just continue to go to their particular coffee spot, not thinking about where it comes from or when it will end. When it does end, people will care—but like so much, until that point, no matter… out of sight and out of mind.

Who knows, perhaps when that dreaded day comes, we will gather around at tea shops drinking Spiced Vanilla Latte mix from Mountain Rose Herbs. It is not the same, but not too shabby either.

Just for the love of everything holy, please don’t make it so my only caffeine option is an energy drink. I might, shudder, have to do it, but I won’t like a single thing about it.

Either way, if you are raising a cuppa of tea or of coffee or… gasp… of Monster, may you have the nostalgia, the bit of slowdown, and the eventual uptick in energy that our daily habit provides, because Lord knows, we all need it.

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End Of Times

October 8, 2025

Life, SAR

Dun dun dun!

The End of Times.

Not actually. But from the picture, you might think otherwise. This was our sun for a lot of the summer as a fire grew and grew only 45 minutes away from our home. There was never any threat that we would get caught in the fire’s path, but the smoke and AQI from the fire impacted both our air and created the Armageddon sun. The End of Times is an interesting subject…

… that I might tackle later down the road. But today my thoughts circled around the idea of jealousy and envy, and how they seem to have a root cause in self-confidence.

BUT FIRST!

Tea.

Cuppa this morning is a bit different: a cinnamon-cardamom from Republic of Tea. I’ve been drinking this blend for a decade or so, and it is still one of my favorites for pure comfort. It is the cinnamon on top with the cardamom on the bottom that creates the coziest of effects on my taste buds.

So, cozy in hand, clouds outside, and tired brain and body from the nonstop last eight days, I delve into self-confidence.

For me, self-confidence is hard to come by. I used to have a great deal back when I was younger, but as I’ve aged and life has done its thing, I find my self-confidence is a precarious thing. Sometimes I face the obstacles in my life with the firm knowing that I can do what I need to do.

Some days… I do not.

And with my falling confidence, I’ve noticed a particular phenomenon: an increase in jealousy and envy. I tend to not be a naturally envious person—perhaps my ’tism brain helps with that—but if I am already questioning my contribution to something, or my level of effort in something, I’ve noticed that jealousy starts to creep in.

For instance, I am part of a search and rescue team. When I start to wonder if I am more of a liability than a help, I also start to notice when OTHER people are praised or even if there is a perception of someone else doing more, being more, and having more respect.

Now, because SAR is notoriously filled with former military and first responders, there is always a hierarchical jostling that takes place. Me, being not only a lifelong civilian (that sounds funny) but also not in any field that could be even remotely considered first responders (writer, ya know), in the beginning the hierarchical jostling was very hard for me to understand. Everyone was so loud about their accomplishments and abilities. And I am over here thinking, “well shit, I don’t have any of those things they are listing.”

Thankfully, over time I learned it is more about showing up than how many years you were with a fire department, and so a lot of that jostling pressure sort of faded.

Yet.

Yet I still find myself falling into that side-eye when I feel particularly bad about myself. Perhaps it is the perimenopause tanking my estrogen, or perhaps I had a bad review or a bad meeting… who knows what sets it off… but I look at a post on our shared group page, and suddenly I am feeling antsy, irritated, and… well, jealous.

Why are those people getting praised? We did the same thing and didn’t get the praise.

Or.

Why is that person being told they are the greatest ever? What about me?

That sounds selfish and childish when I write it out like that, which makes me a little ashamed to have those reactions; however, I also know those reactions are valid and normal.

Especially if one is struggling with their own self-confidence. It is easy to praise others when you are feeling good about yourself. A lot harder when you think you’re shit and then see others praising someone.

Hits differently.

This is actually a thing in psychology. Social comparison theory states that we gauge our self-worth by comparing ourselves to others, so when our confidence dips, those comparisons skew. Also, jealousy involves fear of losing something valued, so having low self-esteem heightens that fear because we doubt our own worthiness.

Oof.

So when you’re already down, our brains kick us in the stomach some more. That’s lovely.

Of course, there are self-help strategies that help with this phenomenon—how to reframe, or how to focus on small wins. I even read one time that we should start celebrating getting out of bed and taking a shower.

My brain never quite allowed myself to fall into those reframings. Get out of bed, really? Yeah. My brain can be an asshole.

What does help, for me at least, is distancing from the things that are causing the emotions. If I am feeling worthless because of Option B, well then Option B is no longer an option.

If scanning group chats, social media, or meetings causes me to feel like poop—

I stop. Yes, even the meetings.

Until, at least, my estrogen rises, or my small little wins start to make me feel like I am standing on my two feet rather than limping around with nothing.

And kindness. To one’s self. To myself.

That one is hard because, at least for me, I know I am being ridiculous. I know I am being illogical. That doesn’t change the fact I should be kind to myself and my trials.

Trials. That sounds so serious, but seriously said here: low self-esteem and lack of confidence can be VERY serious. Especially if it leads to all those fun negative things that make us question our very existence.

And yeah, sometimes that is the road we have to walk—but not always.

Remember, then, when you start to feel jealous or envious, or have a bad case of the FOMO, check in with yourself to see how you’re feeling about your own contribution, or status, or life in general.

Then be kind about what you find.

And if all else fails, turn off the computer, set down your phone, turn off the television, and sit quietly with a cuppa. Sometimes that is all the reset we need.

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Welcome Lovely Rain

October 1, 2025

Life

It has finally arrived in the Pacific Northwest: the Rain. It was just a little bit over the weekend, but this week it is enough that our four-month-long burn ban is being lifted and the thousands of acres burning near my cabin are starting to show signs of shrinkage.

I love the rain. I am from the Pacific Northwest, and even though I moved around the United States throughout my 20s, the love for that falling wet stuff never went away. People complain about it—the dark, the heavy skies, the wet—and I am over here with my face lifted to the sky saying, “bring it.”

With cozy in mind, I am sipping on an Earl Grey Cream this morning, which is basically an Earl Grey with a tinge of vanilla. It is my favorite blend by Canada’s Murchie’s, and I absolutely recommend it if you are looking for something different (unfortunately, I have to order it online, but if you happen to live in Canada, lucky!).

Cozy cuppa in hand, I am in my office this morning looking at the maples outside my window waving back and forth with the wind, the fall mix of gray and blue skies with dripping moisture. It is the first day that truly feels like fall. Even the picture above, while I was hiding for a K9 to find me during a Search and Rescue training, still felt a little too warm and muggy.

But today—today, friends—on October first, the feel of fall has arrived.

Finally.

And so, I hope you find yourself somewhere cozy, warm beverage in hand, and that you take a moment to pause and notice the changing of the seasons.

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Sometimes It Just Is

September 24, 2025

Life

Today is just… a Day. You know the type, I’m sure. You wake up, staring at the ceiling for a moment, really not wanting to get out of bed but knowing that the pets (perhaps this is you) need to be fed, the coffee needs to start brewing, and the day’s events are just there, waiting for you to get up and get going.

And somehow it just seems heavy. Heavy feet getting out of bed, heavy bladder at the toilet, heavy shoulders as we shuffle our way through the house to push the coffee button. Just. Heavy.

But we do it. And we will wake up tomorrow and do it.

And the next day. And the next. And so on and so forth….

Some mornings, a cup of coffee. And some mornings, a cup of tea like I have this morning.

Today’s tea is a Storm tea that combines black and green tea with a bergamot finish. I’ve added milk and, honestly, I will probably have another one after this one because caffeine is good and warmth is comforting.

And the sigh of content did occur upon my first sip, even if the rest of everything sort of hovered in the wings, waiting to descend once more. Like every day before it and every day going forward.

Weirdly enough, this type of mental space is normal, and not just for this day and time but spans centuries.

For example, that picture of a castle is in Victoria B.C., and one of the occupants a hundred or so years ago was also depressed and wrote about it in her letters. Staring out from one of those numerous windows at the Bay that lay outside this picture, she also felt heavy, tea in hand, long fingers wrapped around the warmth, wondering at the state of everything.

And kind of not liking any of it.

I’m thousands of miles away from that castle in the photo and a hundred years in the future, in an office with cats snoring behind me in their bed, a dog smelling up the room at my feet, and the cold sun of an autumn morning filtering through the maples.

Sounds peaceful, writing it out like that, doesn’t it?

But yet.

But yet still the heaviness remains. Of course, I could probably trace it back to modern-day events, or my perimenopausal age, or, as the research would say, a default state of mental health, which suggests I pulled the short stick.

Yet none of that erases the fact that the “normal” for me is down.

And I believe I might be in the majority.

The woman in the castle.

Artists, writers, actors, politicians, lawyers, doctors, vets, dentists, postal workers, baristas, cashiers, stockers, road crews, plumbers, electricians, first responders, administrative aides.

It shows up for people in all those occupations, in people I pass on the street, talk to at the grocery store… strangers, friends, family.

And here is another “but yet,” because if this is truly the case, that would suggest that our default nature is one of this heaviness.

In evolutionary terms, that statement is actually in line because humans are wired to notice the bad; further, to remember the bad over the good. It is important to remember where the lion sleeps, not if there was a gorgeous sunrise over the plains.

So if that is a factual statement, why does our current society spend so much time harping on how the heaviness is negative? Would this pandemic of mental health not exist if we had normalized these feelings, instead of naming them “bad?”

I wonder about this a lot because if my default is low, it sort of feels like I should be okay with that state of mental health then, no?

Humans are not okay with that state of mental health. Some of that is consumerism… what better way for a company to sell something than to say your state of being can be “fixed” and they have the perfect “fix” for helping you out.

That is Sales 101.

But even before the mass consumerist society, this messaging existed. The Bible said humans feel bad because they haven’t found God. That’s some serious ancient shit suggesting that the human mind is… broken, wrong, needs help?

We are talking centuries then of this messaging.

It is endlessly fascinating to me how the human mind works. It is so powerful, yet so fragile. It can do such wondrous things, and it can be the harbinger of death.

Both our greatest gift and our greatest weapon.

And so little understood.

So. We wake up. Stare at the ceiling. Feed the pets. Drink our coffee and then perhaps a tea. We try to hold on to the warmth, recognize the autumn sun filtered through green maple leaves. And keep on with our lives hoping that maybe one day it might make sense but knowing that it probably never will.

A sobering bit today, so hold that cup of tea close, let it soothe you, a warm hug in your hand, and remember there is nothing wrong with you, me, or anyone for feeling this way.

It is just…

…what it is.

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Smoking in the Mountains

September 17, 2025

SAR

During a recent Search and Rescue assignment, we traveled to the top of the mountain range and I took this picture of the hills below us. That isn’t fog, that is smoke, because like much of the forested area of the western United States, our area of the world has been on fire since a stray firework caused a spark on July 6th. It is over 10,000 acres and in such remote and steep areas that incident command will protect property and life, but has said that the fire will not be contained in its entirety until the rainy season arrives.

It is time for the rain and in solidarity today’s tea is called Coastal Storm and is a black tea with hints of vanilla and bergamot and it does feel like one should be drinking it while walking the rocky beaches of the Washington Coast, cold wind and wet on the cheeks.

Alas, it is September, which means we are in the throes of an Indian Summer. Hmm… is that called something different now?

I have taken a moment to look it up and apparently it is still a term used but meteorological organizations and individuals are starting to use alternatives like “second summer” or just describing the period of dry, warm weather in autumn. It is a term, according to Google, that was coined by European settlers who observed the way Native Americans reacted well to the sudden onset of warmth during a time period that was/is supposed to start being cooler.

That being said, I don’t like the term in general because it lacks accuracy and also European settlers were kind of jerks… (tongue in cheek, my friends) so late summer it is.

Either way, I miss my rain with something like a soul ache. I know a lot of people don’t look forward to or even dread the “long dark” that starts with daylight savings time, but I am the opposite. As I’ve gotten older the cold does a number on me, especially the Raynaud’s, but I still yearn for the coziness of a candle, woolen sweaters and rain dripping from the many maples that surround my home.

Not yet, and not for a while still. What people seldom understand about the Pacific Northwest is that the winter rains don’t actually start in earnest until later in the year if not the New Year. September is always dry and clear and warm, which is why when people used to ask me when the best time was to visit Seattle, I always said September if they could swing it. Fewer tourists, and gorgeous days and nights.

I hate it, ha! Rain is my friend. Even my body loves the rain. Dryness brings sinus issues, and skin issues, and hair issues. Rain brings me to life, like a dehydrated husk of a human suddenly reanimated.

And, it is so good for the creek behind my house with the salmon migration; and my well; and the fire… etc. etc. This place is made for rain, and as the rain decreases and the heat increases, it has not quite caught up yet and still looks parched and wilted come September.

Much like me.

What about you, friends? Do you have weather that you love? Do you find that the weather you love is the weather that you grew up with (a theory of mine), or is it the opposite?

Until next time, I hope the autumn where you are finds you warm and cozy with tea in hand. Or, for my Southern Hemisphere friends, with the cold clink of a perfectly brewed sun tea.

Cheers!

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Of Time and …

September 10, 2025

State of the World

… and something else, though I couldn’t tell you what because my brain is going with age and I am officially of the time in my life that I walk in a room and stare blankly at the wall because I can’t remember what it was that I needed to do.

Alas.

But! I do remember I start these blogs out with the tea I am having this morning, which is a good old-fashion black cuppa… Yorkshire Gold to be specific. I enjoy a good black tea, though this one is not quite as smooth as my usual Murchie’s blends; however, my order of Murchie’s (from Canada) is currently sitting in a FedEx terminal (in the United States) because of the elimination of a little rule about shipments under $800 that has been in effect for decades upon decades.

Yep. The U.S. is burning everything down.

I love this meme from K.C. Green because… this is reality and it feels like it has been for a while. However, I sometimes wonder if my perception is informed by my age.

Am I becoming that old person that complains about everything?

Oh dear.

Actually, I am not entirely upset by this change of pace because there are things that I remember from when younger that are different than they are now; and no, I am not talking about the internet though I am the last generation that grew up without the internet. For reference, I got my first cell phone when I was 20. Yep. A Nokia from Verizon.

Can I get any more cliche?

The biggest thing that is different is social media, but there is also a pace aspect. I hustled in my twenties, seriously hustled, but it never felt frantic. I look at my teenage son and there is this underlying frantic that seems to inform him and his friends, even if they are chilling at home.

Yet, the frantic does not always translate to work ethic.

My husband trains young men and women in sales. They are usually in their early twenties and there is definitely a lack of… motivation, maybe? I’m not sure that is the correct word for what I am describing because it isn’t that they don’t want to succeed in a socially acceptable way, ie money, they do, yet they also worry about work/life balance. There is absolutely nothing wrong with balancing work and life, I am of the firm opinion that work is a job that one does in order to pay bills and enjoy things when not working.

So work/life balance is a good thing.

Yet it means something different for twenty-somethings than it does for forty-somethings.

And I know that a lot of people roll their eyes and call bunk on generational differences but I tell you, there isn’t anything as different as a boomer and a gen-z.

Combine this with the boomers figuratively (and maybe a bit literally, that would be exciting!) burning things down. Maybe something will grow out of the destruction for the gen-z, and also gen-alpha, to hold on to… or maybe they will embrace the chaos and destruction as their reality, and won’t that be an interesting social experiment?

Either way, there is no question that I am entering the era of… “it was better in my day”… though in reality, it wasn’t, not really. Just different.

So we raise our cuppa… actually, let’s raise a pint, more appropriate in this scenario… to the years ahead. May everything be “fine.”

What are your thoughts, dear readers, of age and generations and if you dare, the state of the world?

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A Bit of Bitter

September 3, 2025

Writing

Photo by mali maeder on Pexels.com

Black currant black tea this morning. I love black currants and when we visited Victoria, BC this summer, the tea shop there had a black currant scone that was absolutely lovely. But, when I came back to the U.S. and tried to find black currants to attempt the aforementioned scones it was nearly impossible. The reason, apparently, is that they are highly regulated.

Learn something new every day.

Speaking of learning something new; have you ever realized that you can create your own traumatic blockage? I’ve had to work through some rather significant disappointments with my writing over the last five years. During that time, I actually created such a writer’s block that I am still trying to dig myself out of it. I went to therapy because that’s what modern day society says I should do when faced with something significant… only to leave it a little more messed up than I went in.

See, I am of the grin and bear it generation. This does not mean that is the proper or healthy way to deal with things, but it is the way I have always utilized. Mask. Fake it until you make it. Smile even if a scream is building up behind the tilt of your lips.

Again, not promoting this methodology, just laying it out here because when I went to the therapist (or three), they gave me the opposite advice, all the while assuring me that my writer’s block, along with other mental bs, was normal and accepted. I need to be coaxed and nurtured. OF COURSE I was feeling lost and confused, I was dealing with TRAUMA.

My brain loved that approach. See, it said while whirling gleefully, we knew that it was all too much. See, it said as it peeked out from its support blanket, you have treated us badly… we have a reason for the depression, anxiety, and paralyzing writer’s block.

See!

And that is my brain. And I sat with that for quite some time until I realized that my brain was not gaining a foothold. I was not breaking any writer’s block by accepting and trying to give my inner child a hug… nope, it got worse.

And worse.

And worse.

Until I couldn’t even journal without a panic attack.

Because, see, those tendencies I mentioned.. to grin and get through it… those are foundational bedrocks of my person and when I tried to ignore those foundations, they started to crumble… which meant that the things that kept me putting one foot in front of the other crumbled as well.

Apparently, I stumbled across something known. We have foundational aspects of our personality, and we can work around them, and we can work with them, but we can’t work against them. We can acknowledge the inefficiency of those foundations, or the ridiculous nature of those foundations, but it takes something significantly more traumatic than rejection for them to change in any meaningful way.

As such, I’m back to pushing through, facing the bullshit, the fears, the paranoia, the little very LOUD voice telling me all sorts of negative things, because in this I am trained and I might as well take advantage of my training.

What about you, dear readers? What aspects of your person are marrow deep? Do you work with them; ignore them; love or fear them?

Let me know.

Until next time, I hope your tea is hot and flavorful and you get a moment to enjoy it.

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Of Lavender and Cream

August 27, 2025

New Chapter

Photo by David Bartus on Pexels.com

Today’s cuppa is a Lavender Cream from Murchie’s: “a beautifully balanced lavender-scented tea enriched with creamy French vanilla.”

It’s a black tea, so there are tannins on the tongue, and slight lavender with more vanilla. I, of course, use a splash of milk and that adds to the creaminess of the blend. I’d say a 6 out of 10, but remember, I am not a connoisseur so take the rating as you will.

This is my first post for this particular blogging project and I am curious to know how the blog-verse is out there? I’ve been absent for a few years as I reconciled with some writing career side quests that included a full stop, death moment (figuratively, not literally). And in those years of absenteeism, oh boy is the world an interesting and unusually stressful place to be in.

I live in the United States; so pick your anxiety stressor.

In the past, I have used the blogging space as a combination of thought dump and writing freedom, and I’ll likely navigate this particular blog in the same manner. Why not, right? After all this is but a pinprick in a vast world of written word, both human generated and AI generated. We live in a simulacrum and we all find ourselves wandering about trying to the best we can.

Anyway.

I’m going to go scan the bands, as my radio-obsessed husband would say, and see what is going on in the blog-verse. Hopefully, I will get a sense of space and time once more, though as always, if you are one of the few to come across this entry and have kept reading, please let me know your thoughts on… well anything, really. We will pick it up.

Until next time, have a cuppa, enjoy the pause, and remember to breathe.

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