Some of you have commented on my red teacups above. When I was discussing the blog design with the Blog Whisperer, she suggested I do something with tea, since I tweet about it all the time.
“Not a teapot, though,” I said. “I’m not fancy about it. I just drink a lot a lot of tea.” (Those two “a lot”s are intentional. Two quarts a day is a minimum.)
After hearing that, she found me the stack of teacups.
I drink my tea in mugs and cups, most of which are Christmas-y. Here’s a little something I discovered, though, after a particularly busy season of writing—the more overwhelmed I am, the smaller the tea cup.
Smaller is somehow bigger. The constant trips up and down to refill my tiny cup, to warm up more water in my electric tea kettle and then pour that over the teabag in my teapot, somehow that flow helps the words flow, too.
(Did you notice I said “teabag”? I am not a tea snob. I buy my tea off the rack at H-E-B. I do not desecrate it with sugar or milk. Straight up, no chaser.)
The one exception to this is for a long editing day. Then I prefer as big a mug as possible because I read everything aloud. Stay put, stay hydrated.
Today is a medium editing day, so I’m drinking out of a medium mug, a gift from my friend Ann Kroeker. She and another friend, Charity Singleton Craig, recently published a book on writing, and if I’m not completely bleary-eyed when I finish working, I plan to curl up and read about how to sustain this writing life.
Apart from buying more tea, of course.
