My Cup of Tea

I came back from a quick trip to Oregon to see my Japanese cousin and was reminded of an unpleasant incident. It had happened four years ago. There I was dressed to the hilt for high tea. Of course I wanted to make an impression on my cousin's future in-laws.

I sat down at a table where every woman was a stranger to me. I politely introduced myself and listened to conversations around me. I did not venture to throw out my opinions; I did not want to rock the boat. I was going to be a perfect lady for once in my life even if it took every ounce of strength, determination and focus I had in me, but every time I try to be normal something abnormal happens. I don't know why this has become a pattern in my life. I still can't figure it out.

Since I was hardly talking I thought I could concentrate on doing something simple like fixing a cup of tea. How hard is that? I wondered. I poured the hot water in the delicate tea cup and soaked the tea leaves. I didn't spill a drop. So far so good, I mused to myself. I added the sugar to taste and sipped it very ladylike. Miss Manners would have been proud.

Males were verboten, but had my cousin been there to witness my behavior he would not have been able to find fault with me. At this point I felt pretty confident. Ah, but I had forgotten that "pride goes before a fall."

Next to my pretty little tea cup was a beautifully shaped creamy swan. It felt cold and hard to the touch. White chocolate! Yum!

Now this is where I parted with elegant decorum: I popped the whole thing in my mouth and began to gag. The table went silent as every woman in the room fixed her gaze on me.

It was butter! What could I do? I couldn't spit it out on the napkin--that would be gross so I did the next best thing...I swallowed it. Of course I had to drink it down with something so I grabbed my tea cup and began gulping. Hang the ladylike behavior: my reputation was ruined anyway!

What was the benefits of such unbridled behavior besides everything I ate going down smoother? No matter how many times the ladies filled my tea cup, I had tiny drops of oil, I mean, butter floating on top.

It was a nightmare. I do not have fond memories of that tea.

So here I was four years later visiting the same people I had previously so infamously behaved. What did they bring up? What fond memories did they rekindle? Not the glorious wedding that took place the very next day...no, it was the butter incident. I broke the ice that day and fell in but no one thought the worse of me. I guess after four years I had acquitted myself.

My advice to inquiring minds is simply this: always lick before you pop something in your mouth!