Soul food

Thought of as The Tearoom of Wishful Dreams, the shelves of vintage crockery and its mismatched prints and patterns,  along with the flowered paper edging, seemed like a miniature, a shoebox diorama, one of those molded sugar Easter eggs with the paper vignette inside and a little window at the end to peer through.  It feels as though by looking, seeing what is nearly hidden in the shadows behind, one does enter another realm, the ideal of time travelers where we find hearts' desires fulfilled, the restoration of what has been lost, our own real or imagined missing pieces.

Color and pattern are like electrodes connected to dormant or dispirited parts; they bring me to life and help me remember there are so many possibilities.  They are nourishment for places food can't touch.  How easily we forget that an unfed spirit will grow listless, begin to droop and drag the rest of us down with it.  I think, as I listen to the truly miraculous rain, not showers, that pelts down here a few days after we stood at nearly 100 degrees of single-digit humidity, that before I move away from the computer and confront whatever tasks await, I will allow myself another 10 minutes - best to set a limit or I'll be at it all day - of true soul food.  Let's get the AAA out here for a jump start and see how that might change everything.  Charging...charging...zap.