In Disguise at an Afternoon Tea

Denver Herb Society hosted an afternnon tea Sunday. I was invited and went in disguise.

I disguised myself as a person who habitually attends Sunday teas given by a Society, attended by women "of an age" with a passion for beauty in their environment.

In this case gardening -- a kitchen garden, an herb garden, a cut flower garden. In short, plants are tended and nurtured and then, at the right time, brought inside to eat, beautify or scent the house with a garden's abundance: herbed quiches, garden pea salad, green beans in varieties not found in the grocery store, intimate flowers like bachelor buttons or wedding lace, irises in spring that smell like grape Kool-Aide.

I imagine these ladies sit outside in their garden amongst the plants and enjoy. I can see a chair or bench, a little overhanging branch that dapples the ground with shade in midday, paving stones to walk on without disturbing tender growth, and a small cast-off table on which to place the steaming cup.

In truth, I see myself in this vision.

So how does one dress for a tea party with this in mind? I carefully tried on every flowered, flowing dress in my wardrobe in combination with sensible stylish flat shoes and matching hat.

It was not the shoe or hat that created the imposter in the mirror but the dress.

It was not the hat. I wear hats all the time without apology. When I turned thirty-three I determined I was not waiting until fifty to wear hats. I love hats.

It was not the shoe. I have small and very wide feet so comfortable and stylish shoes are my passion. A search for the proper shoe is always an excuse for a shopping foray. Size six very wide, please.

A flower dress. A simple bodice with a sweeping skirt in a lovely floral print. Or -- a flutter sleeve print dress in supple silk. Or -- an ombre broomstick dress, soft and flowing in crumpled pleated crepe, a full twirl of a skirt. Hand wash. Block dry. Imported fabric.

I have a small collection of these. When was the last time I wore one? I cannot recall. Perhaps I have never worn them except in front of a mirror in my bedroom. If I had a garden, would I sit in that dress under a tree with a cup of tea in my hand? Oh, what a lovely vision.

No. I would be in my flannel pajamas and garden clogs with a sweater that does not match pulled over my shoulders against the chill of the morning. In the heat of the afternoon I would kick off my high heels and strip off my nylons and lounge in my straight skirt and silk top with the jacket thrown just anywhere. In the evening I would be in comfortable casual pants and a too-big tee shirt, laughing over my shoulder at something my husband related about the day's work. I would be drinking coffee in the morning, diet coke in the afternoon, and single malt scotch in the evening.

But not in a flowered dress with flutter sleeves.

So I presented myself in disguise at this Sunday afternoon tea. I wore a pencil thin, mid-calf skirt with wide-brushed tan hieroglyphics on black linen, a silk knit top in taupe, a black crop-waisted cashmere sweater, square-toed 2 1/2 inch high heels, a black wool tam o'shanter with mink tossle and black sweater gloves.

I had a wonderful time. I enjoyed everyone I met and the food was delicious.

I was however asked on more than one occassion, you are a guest, right?

Annoying Habit

I have an annoying habit. I listen to radio to go to sleep. I listen with earbugs so it doesn't disturb my husband and I have a little Sony radio that tucks up under my pillow. The volume is low to protect my hearing.

If I go to bed without the radio, I toss and turn, fluff my pillow, move my legs. My restlessness disturbs my husband. If I finally get to sleep without it, I wake at 3:00 AM and will stay awake until about 4:30 AM when I fall into a very deep sleep and then can't wake up to get up in the morning.

Sometimes when I am sleeping with the radio bug in my ear, I have the oddest dreams. My dream is going in one direction and yet there is a person talking about something not related to the action. That is the radio.

This habit started 2o years ago when I moved out (divorce) and got hooked on meditation/relaxation tapes. I listened as I was laying in bed. You know the tapes: "relax your feet then your ankles, your calves" etc, going up your body until your breathe was slow and deliberate. Then this was followed by New Age music with subliminal messages. Affirmations of your basic worth and power to achieve inner peace.

I would listen to the tapes after long hard days at work and lonely evenings.

Then I thought, what if I misunderstand the subliminal messages and heard encouragement to -- oh, you know, go to work and pound my arrogant, self-important boss to a pulp.

So I changed to a little bedside radio and found this program in the dead of the might called Voices in the Night. It plays restful spiritually oriented music and the dj has a very calm voice. He asks deep questions that put me in a serene state of mind. I'm pretty sure that he would not urge me to harmful actions during my waking hours.

I discovered a problem. I would fall asleep and the radio would still be on. A program in the real dead of the night might have someone ranting and raving about -- oh, you know, sin and hell. That could be pretty upsetting to be floating along on a nice dream and someone in the corner persistently draws my attention to my shortcomings, of which there are many. In my waking hours my mind and my faith point me to propitiation of the Christ. But in the middle of the night some sins weigh heavier than intellect and faith can lighten.

So I went back to tapes but this time without the subliminal messaging. Still, I would wake at -- oh, you know, 3:00 AM and start thinking about work, people, family, pets, finances. On went the radio and a search commenced for a guided tour of tranquil landscapes.

That turned out to be as disturbing to relaxation as incessant thinking about work, people, family, pets, finances.

A little radio with earbugs and preset channels was the solution. Years ago I discovered this solution. I fall asleep to one and if an irritating program comes on later, I sleepily find the little radio and touch a preset.

And now here I am. I take my little radio with me on vacation, on business trips. I remember camping out on the Oregon coast and being fascinated at the division of radio reception at Cape Perpetua. In Yachats, I could get Seattle in the middle of the night, at the Oregon House, Sacramento.

I thought that I would wean myself this November when we went on a cruise through the Caribbean. I had no withdrawal symptoms. The lovely rolling of the ship was soothing. I haven't slept so well since -- oh, you know, before I started listening to electronic devices in the night.

I think, just go to bed, Pajama Girl. Take a bath in lavender; have a cup of chamomile tea and pop a supplement of calcium magnisium citrate; sneak up on sleep.

Doesn't work.

I'm relaxed and I think -- oh, you know, maybe just a few minutes of Radio Revisited Network. Just tonight. Tomorrow evening I'll give it up.