Spilling Tea

PLUS: A new shirt with a WORM ON IT.

(Note: The voiceover quality is not tip-top this week, and I am sorry.)

A Note For You If You’re Having A Bad Day

Dear Friend,

How’s this season treating you? We’re deep into it now; August 6 will be the official midpoint of Northern Hemisphere summer and Southern Hemisphere winter. (If you’re feeling like summer is practically over, I hope you’ll be relieved to learn we’re not even halfway through. It’s risky, because I know there’s a good chunk of you who revile this time of year, and for you, I have said something borderline-tortuous; but also something you likely already know.) This is the exact time of year you should get a little more obsessed with tea.

My summer has been somewhat monotonous, full of unexpected illness and more work than I’d prefer there to be while I’m not teaching. Nevertheless, pickle-cucumbers are climbing the bean arch and butterflies are spilling all over my yard like leaves. That’s my way of saying that there have been moments — more than a few — where I have had to text, “Sorry, so sorry! I am running late because nature has overwhelmed me with its beauty.” (I wish I was that truthful. Normally it’s just, “ACK SORRY ETA 5 MIN!” By which I mean, “I haven’t left but plan to bike in a not-safe way so as to arrive faster than I should but still way more than five minutes from now.”) But my first Truly Present Joyful Summer Moment (TPJSM ™) came last week, after driving to my friend Jill’s¹ house. 

Jill lives in Hyde Park and I live in Rogers Park. If you were a mouse living in a mall, this would be like if you stayed in Macy’s near the front door and your friend stayed in a cupboard of a Panda Express in the food court. It’s a trek, but Chicago is Chicago. Usually we meet in the middle, but we occasionally go to each other’s neighborhoods to take walks. Probably my TPJSM came because I failed to put any water in my cup holder for the drive, because I was running late (see above, about butterflies and cucumbers). It helps to be thirsty if you’re going to truly enjoy a drink.

It’s not really OK that Jill’s backyard is as good as it is. It’s the kind of backyard that makes dying feel more unfair, because if you could spend time being in that backyard, how could you ever tire of it? Lounge-y furniture, creeping vines, gravel paths, a WATER FEATURE. I saw a baby bunny lounging in the grass!? We sat on one of multiple deck-patios — the one with the couch — and Jill placed artfully arranged snack trays on the coffee table: late season Renier cherries, homemade chocolate chip cookies with sea salt, onion-y salsa and 23 gourmet-seeming corn chips. Is being a grown-up all about how you present your snacks? I’ve given this some thought and decided that no: arranging snacks is something that you do when you believe in the aesthetic pleasure of sharing food with someone. A person might associate that with adulthood because adults are more likely to know about its particular gratification; but once you’ve made a charcuterie board and placed it in front of Carol, your human crush, you’ll likely be hooked, no matter your age.

I’ve included this because a snack tray that is just cookies is a masterpiece.

I’m dawdling because I know I’m not going to be able to explain this next part to you adequately, and really, I’m writing SOLELY to you to tell you about it, so the stakes are high. Here goes: Jill also brought out a glass of iced tea, loaded with ice cubes and with wedges of lime and lemon on the rim. I took note, because when Jill comes and visits me, I ask her if she would like some sparkling water, and she usually says no. Now I see that you should put an irresistible cup of something in front of someone, no questions asked. Like I said, I was thirsty. A breeze presented itself. I took one sip of this iced tea, and friend, it will sound hyperbolic to tell you that I WEPT, but that is the NAKED TRUTH. You can ask Jill; she saw. (I was a little bit on my period, but also, this tea was INCREDIBLE.)

It was a TPJSM, and I felt lucky to be able to catch it in the net of the moment. The thing about a joyful gut-punch, like experiencing this cup of tea, is that, if you don’t have the tools, it can easily overwhelm you. You feel so good and so full that you worry something must be wrong. You chase the moment away by dog-paddling into some forgettable conversation, or by checking your phone for new emails (your credit score has recently been updated!). This is a rookie mistake. When joy shows up, you must STOP EVERYTHING. Hold it, still, as though a butterfly has landed in your palm. Breathe in and out, close your eyes, savor. Maybe say out loud, “I’m having a joy.” Weep! My tool is to weep. You arrive to life without having RSVP-ed, and so often there’s all this head-shaking and chest-sinking and “I-did-not-sign-up-for-this”-ing. A joy is a main act. Do not let yourself get distracted browsing the playbill in moments like these.

Yes, I asked Jill what she put in her tea. It’s decaf Earl Gray with honey from those bees over there (seriously, I met them), and a secret ingredient: a scoop of frozen lemonade-from-concentrate, like your grandma put in a plastic pitcher in 1992.

The tea itself will not do it for you, I imagine. You have to also have the outside, the friend, the quiet, and, most critically, the thirst. Years ago, I learned that my favorite activity was walking with a friend for as many miles as our feet could handle and then sitting down to eat. The competing textures of empty and full; yearning and satisfying; discomfort and pleasure are alivening. (Alivening is not a word, except that now it is.)

Tea, though, is complex and varied, and there is a tea out there that should dance for you. Jill told me that she experimented with a whole bunch of iced tea recipes before landing on this one (her signature). You, too, can have this kind of unforgettable day. Gather some people, brew several teas, and try them all. Find the one that lands. And after, you can appreciate that these were just leaves and flowers: bits of nature that died and dried out, and linger. I mean! Many things are difficult. But there is tea.²

Good luck out there, bravely facing all that breaks your heart.

Love,

Sophie

Housekeeping

I’m overwhelmed by the responses I received for last week’s readership survey. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t what showed up: more than 200 replies, with such thoughtful notes, ideas, and reflections that I wept (WEEPING IS MY JOY TOOL!!!!) more than once reading through what you wrote. I will be writing a Kitchen Sink Email about this newsletter, and I’ll incorporate your survey input. You’ll also learn the winners of the giveaway in that email. (It will come in two weeks, as next week I’m taking off to celebrate WATER.) I’m hard at work on it, and feeling energized. Thank you seems insultingly insufficient, but thank you.

I’ve made a new shirt, from an Instagram post about loving rats, sparrows, earthworms, dandelions, pigeons, thunderstorms, and more. It’s a small run, and most sizes are about halfway sold out. Buy one now! If you’re a reader of this newsletter (YOU ARE!) enter “CRYINGRULES” at checkout and I’ll throw in a waterproof “Pro-Crying” sticker for you. These stickers are not yet for sale, this is the only way to get one!

This week’s bird-painting class is for painting CITY BIRDS. I think pigeons, magpies, and sparrows are on the menu. Join us! These are the highlight of my week.

If you’d like to get all the bird-painting class videos for free, the easiest way is to subscribe to a paid tier of this newsletter. I send out the painting videos every week, with a Subscribers-Only email that also includes questions, photos, and SECRET TREATS. Yep. I went there.

Loose Thoughts

• I know that we talk a lot about how people tend to look like their dogs, but I really don’t think we talk enough about how many people look LITERALLY EXACTLY LIKE THEIR DOGS. Like, which one is the dog?! Which one is the person!? I seriously walk around day and night with my jaw on the ground because how is it possible for people to look so much like the dogs they walk with? Anyone else?

• Spindrift was the clear favorite of sparkling water drinkers who weighed in for last week’s newsletter. I’m with you, but I don’t think that counts. You can’t drink it after brushing your teeth. Do you remember when you had your first Spindrift? I do: it was at Cora and Tyler’s wedding in the woods. They’ve introduced me to so many of my favorite foods.

• For those following along on my reading-too-many-thrillers kick: I did NOT like, and could NOT tolerate Woman In The Window, which I got 60 percent done with and then just read the rest of the synopsis online. I was sort of like, “Why did I like this so much less than other ones?” And realized it was written by a man writing under an alias. I hate to be sexist like this, but this particular man didn’t write a woman in a way that felt like it could possibly be an authentic woman? Just… no? But I also couldn’t finish Pretty Girls by Karin Slaughter, which was much longer. The writing in it was more readable, but the amount of detail in the straight-up torture porn was disturbing on a level that I couldn’t fathom. So I’m refining my taste, which is good: I do not want to read long, drawn-out descriptions of rape and murder. I WANT THERE TO BE A CASE THAT NEEDS SOLVING. AND THERE BETTER BE A TWIST, AND IT BETTER TAKE ME BY SURPRISE. Also, I simply DO NOT need to read another sentence about how blood tastes and smells metallic. Find a new way to talk about blood, folks.

• Speaking about blood tasting and smelling metallic: I’m genuinely asking if anyone has ever tasted blood and thought, “Oooh! Pennies!” Because according to thrillers, everyone is constantly thinking about the taste of pennies when they have blood in their mouths. I’ve tasted a fair amount of blood (I wouldn’t say it was, like, a TON of blood; but like… I’ve sucked on a cut), and never once have I thought, “This is so reminiscent of that penny meal I had last month.” I know it sounds like I’m being facetious, and a little bit I am, but I also want to know if this is a thought you have had. Just a general, “Oh, pennies” when blood touches your tastebuds. 

1. Again, I feel limited by the word “friend.” You hear this a lot from me, and I’m sorry; I used to daydream that we could collectively reshape language to include more types of relationships, but this will probably not happen in my lifetime. Jill was my grad school adviser who helped me write my first book, and then convinced me to stay in Chicago and not move anywhere else, mostly because I wanted to live near her, and then let me move into a desk in the office she helms in downtown Chicago, The Office of Modern Composition, which is a just a front for whimsy and joyful chaos and overly eager bird observation. I trust her with most of my life decisions, so in this way, she is like a mentor — but should mentors make you laugh as much as Jill does? IDK.)

2. I know there is at least one of you who dislikes tea, because you’ve told me. Try something that’s all fruit, change the temperature, add heaps of honey and a tiny pinch of salt. IT COUNTS.