or . ange

They (whoever "they" are) say orange is the new black. I say it has always been fashionable. After all, I've been donning it for nearly 23 years. In Seattle it's cold and gray, but really that's no surprise, now is it? Here is a little color therapy to get you through your day. Goodness knows it's helping me get through mine.

Orange you glad I didn't say banana?

Passing The Time

One might ask, 'What does one do in Seattle during winter?'. The appropriate answer: wait for spring! I must admit, January through March is the most dismal time of the year for me. I loathe it. Why is it such a struggle for me to be outwardly joyous in winter? Low levels of contact with the outdoors. Except for the extremely rare occurrence of a cloudless day, winter in Seattle, the University District in particular, is a sad, bare, brown pit. There is nothing worse than being cooped up indoors, especially when it's dark outside the majority of the day. As Anne Shirley would say, it leaves little scope for the imagination.

To bring this full circle, what do I do during winter to stay afloat? Brew a cup of tea, read my book, laugh at said book, have another cup of tea, and repeat this every day for 3 months.

I tend to be a marathon reader, meaning I like to finish a book in a single week. I can sit for up to 4 hours before needing to stretch my legs. My preferred reading positions include curling up knees to chest, slumping so far down in an armchair that the top of my head is level with its arms, and sitting at a the bar of a coffee shop with hands framing my tucked down forehead, and shielding fellow caffeine fiends from immediate view.

Drinking tea while reading is a holy concept, and therefore absolutely necessary. Be it peppermint, Earl Gray, English breakfast, oolong, or lychee (my preferred varieties), tea becomes vital for strength and hydration during such extended stretches of reading. But more than that, tea is a calming nourishment. Its warmth seeps into my body, as slowly and lovingly as the words on the pages themselves. Sometimes after my cup has been emptied, I hold it under my nose to soak in the lingering scent (one of my many bizarre quirks).

As for the books themselves, no explanation of their enjoyment and effect are necessary. Only that, as Descartes once said, "The reading of all good books is like a conversation with the most eminent people of past centuries." Those chats are often the most interesting part of my day.