My new favourite way to start the day …

I’ve always been a gizmo/gadget kinda gal.  I’m not ashamed to admit I like them; and am always willing to make room for another one.  I’m not necessarily the first in line to buy the ‘newest’ thingamabob on the market, but it’s pretty damn close.

So it’s been sort of surprising, to all who know me, that I’ve been so resistant to buying one of those one-cup coffee makers.  You know the ones I mean.  You fill the cylinder (or whatever it’s called) with water whenever it’s empty,  insert one of those already-filled-with-pre-measured-coffee doodahs in the appropriate place and presto — a steaming, freshly-brewed cup of your favourite java in mere seconds.

It’s not like I don’t know they exist.  All my friends have them.  And years ago, when there was only one kind on the market — at least here in Canada — an early-adopter business partner of mine bought one and raved about it.  Like me, she’s single and loved the fact she could have a cup of coffee without having to make a pot — the balance of which usually gets tossed down the sink.  And there’s no muss, no fuss.  No filters to throw away, no coffee grinds all over the sink, nothing to wash out when you’re done, except your cup.

She couldn’t convince me.

Neither could anyone else, even when they demonstrated and served me the most delicious little cup of espresso,

Day 237. Purring Engines

What a difference a day makes. On Friday, Toronto was a ghost town. Yesterday, it was a total zoo. People everywhere. Young people. Old people. Couples. Singles. Parents. Kids. Men. Women. Boys. Girls. With dogs and without. City dwellers. Suburbanites. Tourists.

There wasn’t a square inch of space without someone sitting on it. Standing on it. Driving by. Walking past. Or waiting in line for it. Sure, stores being open again probably accounted for some of it. This being a long weekend also probably accounted for some of it.

But mostly, it was the weather. It had to be.

Yes, indeed folks. You heard it here first. I am here to report winter is over. Pack up the shovels and the skates.

Day 57. Tea Time

As a youngster I hated tea.  I associated it with being sick.  Because any time I had a cold, or an upset stomach, my mother would make me drink tea.  Even having ‘high tea’ in London didn’t turn me into a fan.  Loved the scones, the clotted cream, the jam, the cucumber sandwiches, the ‘ceremony’, the pomp, the circumstance, the pretty china, the silver, the Dorchester Hotel.  But the tea, itself … not so much.

And then, suddenly, about six or so years ago, I developed a fondness for it.  Totally out of the blue.  Earl Grey, with a squeeze of lemon and a bit of honey.  Ginger honey, preferably.  So good.  It’s gentle.  Calming.  It feels like a treat.  It has the same effect on me as a lovely, warm bath.  It leaves me satisfied, glowing, mellow, slightly drowsy, and feeling cosseted.

There’s a genuine sense of well-being in every cup.

In India I became positively addicted to ginger tea.  Also masala tea; and even chai.  Once you’ve had tea there, you’re never the same.  Aside from the taste, which is exquisite, they