Meet my new teapot

In anticipation of my new space, and in memory of my tragically mauled mala, and in blatant disregard of my self-imposed vow of pseudo-poverty and anti-consumerism, I've splurged on something fun for myself, something I really don't need, but which I plan to enjoy very much: this gorgeous turquoisey-colored cast iron teapot from Japan. Yay! I've been allowing myself one cup of real tea every couple of days lately – this one is a current favorite – and I've had a crush on this particular teapot for several years, but never felt justified in spending that much money on something so small, especially since I already have at least four or five other teapots of various sizes, all of which I like probably just as much as I thought I would like this one.

But, well, I ran into it again on the web the other day and fell in love all over again.

Other teas I have been enjoying lately include this one and this one, and this one (a gift from someone at work who noticed I liked tea). Also, as the occasion warrants, this one. Go ahead and click them!

Anyway, my current plan is to build the studio on a plan taken from the pump house at my last house – if you ever had the occasion to visit me there you might remember the cute little building that sheltered the well, pump housing, water heater, and washing machine – and paint it clean and white inside and install nothing but my small cast iron woodstove (crossing fingers the neighbors won't report me) and some shelves and cushions, and sit in there and drink my tea and enjoy a quiet space with no television or microwave contaminating me with electric rays, or dogs or humans or telephones or anything. Once I get tired of doing that maybe I'll also do some painting in there or something. If I ever learn how to paint.

I had been envisioning this small clean white peaceful space, and when I saw the turquoise teapot I thought, "That would be perfect, to have one thing in there that is not white." At least until I get tired of white and decide to paint it. Chartreusey green and red, is what I'm thinking. With sunflower yellow-gold French doors.

So. Mr. A got home from his Southern California gig late last night, and at 4 am on Sunday I'm driving him to the airport for another one in Arizona. This one is supposed to last only one week, but these things are often unpredictable – a lot depends on what they find when they get there.

I was a little worried last night while I was waiting for him, that in two weeks I had gotten altogether too comfortable living alone again. Not that I didn't miss him, because I did. Especially at first. I've lived alone for years at a time, several times, and never felt scared except for a few days right after my house got robbed – but the first few nights he was gone this time, I felt uneasy in the house alone and had trouble getting to sleep. Soon I was over that, though, and it felt good to really relax into the quiet of a mostly inhabitant-free house ...

But we hung out together last night and this morning and had lunch together today, and he's coming to pick me up in just a few minutes, and all afternoon I've been looking forward to that – to talking with him about everything he's been thinking about, and everything I've been thinking about, while we were apart.

It's good to feel excited to see someone you love. Sometimes time away is the best way to stay close.

Listening to: The Monkees – I'm a Believer