A Rhinoceros in the Leaves

Not long ago I was lured into one of those overpriced "rare tea" stores and out of guilt purchased 2 ounces of white tea and a six dollar aluminum tin which I "needed" in order to preserve my purchase. This was a few days ago, and out of boredom today I decided to brew a single cup. The blend involves white tea, cloves, black pepper, coconut, and all sorts of frightening things. It had a subtle peppermint flavor and a slight numbing effect on the back of my throat. Being a neophyte of the tea world, I had but a poorly constructed steeping ball (is that what they're called?) and as a result quite a few leaves escaped into the light amber liquid. I enjoyed my tea and made the decision to attempt to read my tea leaves, a practice which I was only vaguely familiar with. I swirled the leaves around and allowed them to settle. What formed before me was an almost life-like image of a rhinoceros, a single leaf forming a sharply terminated horn at the tip of its muzzle. Aghast, I swirled the leaves several more times and came up with nothing but images of rocks, or perhaps ants. Needless to say Google certainly didn't provide an explanation for the misplaced rhinoceros, and I was left to try and form my own conclusions. Who is a rhinoceros? Certainly I have felt rhinoceroid at times, figuratively or otherwise. Or perhaps there is a rhinoceros in us all.

Perhaps not.

Nuns Having Fun

Sit down children, today I'm going to tell you all a little story. This particular tale begins on the first of April, when I woke to an awful, awful sound. The sound of my father shouting and otherwise noise-making at my front door. The previous day he had asked me to spend some time out at his house and I had acquiesced, instructing him to seek for me in the afternoon of the following day. As I tumbled from my bed and met eyes with the clock I saw it was indeed still well within the confines of the A.M. A booming voice came from down the hall explaining the mysterious figure's remorse and his dire need to borrow a wrench. I put on my bathrobe and opened the front door to discover no one there. After travelling a good distance from my patio I noticed that in place of my father's blue Honda was an imposing, pretentious red Hummer of seemingly abnormal size. Not seeing my father I returned quickly to the safety of my home, in fear of my well-being and property. I opened the garage for the stranger who required a wrench.

Hearing once more what was most definitely my father's voice, I remained behind the door and began making assumptions. I recalled him mentioning that once I had my learner's permit that he would purchase for me a vehicle of my own, and I was paralyzed with the notion of having to be associated with this garish behemoth. I thought very hard of ways to try and make this kind of thing tasteful or at an even greater extreme fabulous. I bathed and donned clean clothing.

I climbed very, very slowly into the passenger's seat and set my watercolor set and my Ralph Lauren sunglasses on the dashboard.

Without having to even acknowledge it's presence, my father quickly explained the purchase as being for himself, his reasoning for which was that I would then be able to cultivate my driving ability in his now senescent looking vehicle. The driving lessons began that very day. After mistaking the gas and brake pedals an uncomfortable amount of times and nearly running into a tree, I found myself, by chance, without any choice but to turn onto the highway with only a few hours experience to speak of. With careful instruction my father directed me to the Chuluota Grocery where I purchased spicy vegetable juice and managed to stop shaking, at least for awhile. That evening I drove once more and came across a heard of deer without killing anything or giving off any considerable sense of panic. And another day passed without significant, unpleasant incident. But it never really ends.

Today I transferred the Calendar given to me for Drama rehearsal to my "Nuns Having Fun" calendar which is infinitely more accurate than any electric device. I have been told I won't have to attend all of these little soirées, but seeing as they take place every weekday including several holidays and lasting anywhere from one to six hours or so, making for a 13-hour school day, I could only hope so. All this being the result of a convenient accident and a desire to overcome my fear of theater. Combine these hours with the fact that I have yet to memorize a script that we begin rehearsing a week from now, and I'm a little intimidated. I think I'll manage, however. We'll see soon enough.

Goodbye for now.