Should I drink more tea?

Grow­ing up, my fam­i­ly was all about tea. I start­ed boil­ing water for my Mom’s tea at a very ear­ly age and was around it my entire child­hood, yet, at about 13, I devel­oped a taste for cof­fee that’s been with me ever since. It must be from read­ing too much detec­tive fic­tion and/or I sim­ply har­bor a colo­nial Amer­i­can’s dis­dain for things tax­ably “British.” Maybe I should give up postage too. And play­ing cards. Thanks a lot, John­ny Tremain!

I’ve long known about the ben­e­fits tea offers, but haven’t been able to con­vince myself to drink it. Nev­er liked the taste really.  Maybe Dian­na Marder’s arti­cle in today’s Inquir­er will change all that. (Prob­a­bly not, but it’s worth a shot.)

It’s another busy week.

Last week was pret­ty unbe­liev­able. I cel­e­brat­ed my third anniver­sary, turned 31, saw the Phils beat the Fish, and went to the Poconos for the week­end, where I ate a ton of smoked pork shoul­der. This week should be more of the same as I check out King Crim­son tonight, Radio­head tomor­row night, take Helen to fet­ed restau­rant James for her 30th, and head down to Atlantic City for a blow-out birth­day par­ty for her this weekend.

I think we’ll stay in and watch I’m Not There and Man­u­fac­tured Land­scapes on Thurs­day unless some­thing bet­ter comes up. (I’m prob­a­bly run­ning over to the Port Rich­mond Game Stop to pick up Mad­den 2009 that night!)