I shouldn’t admit this. I know it’s going to get me in trouble.
Then again, I sort of like trouble – except when it involves parking tickets and me crying to my mom because I don’t want to send the city of Los Angeles $50 for parking my vehicle on the wrong side of the street. For the record, I didn’t know that street cleaning started at 8:00 am, not 10:00 am like it did in my previous neighborhood, and it’s quite unfair that my wallet should be victimized for my failure to carefully read signs!
Sigh. It was a sad, sad day.
But back to trouble. And me getting into it.
Last August, my dear older brother who never reads my blog because he lives in the real world and has real life concerns that do not involve what his sister ate for dinner last night (pasta and steamed broccoli), gave me two bags of green tea that he brought back with him from China. It was a sweet gesture – he knows I drink an abnormal amount of tea for someone who is neither English nor Asian, and he also knows that I am particularly partial to the green variety.
“Now this is strong,” He warned me as he handed me the two bags. “You only need a few leaves.”
I nodded in understanding. “Thank you! I can’t wait to try it!”
I said this, but secretly I was a little scared of the exotic tea, and I wasn’t really all that sure I did want to try it. I imagined it would be far too potent for my taste buds that are used to lighter green teas and blends like my favorite strawberry vanilla flavor from Lupicia. Plus, I’m a creature of habit. I like what I like, and I like what I know. Unfamiliar territory is terrifying for me – whether it’s a cheeseburger, a pig’s ear or a bag of green tea with labels I can’t read.
So the tea hibernated in my cabinets for months. Every time I reached for my favorite blends instead of my brother’s thoughtful present, I was hit with pangs of guilt.
“Diana, he brought it all the way back from China for you.” I thought.
Yet, even with the realization that he’d used up vital packing space for the tea, I continued drinking my tea – tea that I brought all the way back from the mall. Or T Salon on Melrose which is walking distance from my apartment.
Then, last week, I was hit with a nasty chest cold that was so debilitating that I actually had to cancel my regularly scheduled Wednesday night Bar Method class! I was heartbroken. And a little snotty too.
The cold hijacked all of my energy (and tissue supply), and I knew I needed something strong to give me the boost necessary to continue on with my life like I wasn’t actually sick.
I don’t do sick. Or snotty.
So I drank the tea.
And I kept drinking the tea – even after the cold finally decided to leave on a jet plane and take up residence in someone else’s chest. (Sorry, Sook.)
As it turns out, my fears were, as usual, unwarranted. Just like my first cheeseburger experience that didn’t make my want to vomit, and just like the pig ears that weren’t as repulsive as I imagined, the green tea from China was simply a more refined and pure version of the green tea I’m accustomed to drinking. Its flavor is clean and fresh, and it makes me feel like I’m doing something good for my body and metabolic rate. (It also makes me incredibly jittery if I drink too much of it. I don’t much mind that aspect...)
My brother probably wouldn’t like it if he knew I waited seven months to drink his tea. He probably wouldn’t like it if he knew I was writing about him either (he was horrified to learn I shared his broccoli soup recipe in December). But, lucky for me, he probably isn’t reading anyway. He has far more important things to think about. Like what he’s going to bring me back from China next….