Friday, April 5, 2013

Strawberry Teas.

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Every spring on the prairies there were a zillion "teas" like we were supposed to be impressed that we were throwing off the heavy blankets of our strong coffee winters and embracing light and airy tea because nothing says spring like "tea."

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I mean it is not like we didn't have cute little farm animals being born and pretty flowers blooming in the fields and even young men and young women getting frisky but oh my gosh ... spring ... tea ... you get the connection right??

Me neither.

But we had many many many spring teas. One such tea was the annual "Strawberry Tea." They obviously were building on the "let's throw words and concepts together that have zero connection or meaning to what we are doing" concept as I don't ever remember there being any strawberries anywhere not in the tea and not in the cakes.  Strawberries don't even grow in the spring!  But we pretended.

We were women and we were all going to pretend that we all knew what we were doing and why it was happening. Women do that well. Look how we breeze through puberty and do the whole getting married, having babies and stuff.  None of us have a clue what any of that is about but we fake it ... and we look good while we fake it.  AND that perhaps was more to the point of why a spring tea ... because it meant we could take off the flannel underwear and let our pasty white legs feel a little sunshine.

I always tried to amp it up a little .. insisting that we do tea pot juggling, or have in the local witches coven to do the tea leaf reading, or even have the older ladies in their wheel chairs race around the room while we tried to rope and hog tie them. They always declined and decided to have someone read some lame poem or a couple of people sing, or have someone play the accordion.

I would stand there with my arms folded and tell everyone who came into the tea, "Welcome to the Strawberry Tea, there aren't any Strawberries you know?  This sucks." I usually got asked to do dishes. But not like "get out of here and do dishes,"... nope they were always like, "the thing I could do that would help them so much, because only I knew how to do them right, would be to do the dishes." (you should stick your finger down your throat and gag here because it really was that pathetic) 

My grandmother said it was a "special time," just for women, and that us girls were invited as kind of a rite of passage. I really envied the rites of passage you read about in National Geographic where you hunt and kill a wild boar and paint your face with blood, or you leap off a high platform with only vines tied to your ankles...

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Let's face it ... you can blame politics all you want for not amping up the tourist interest in coming to the prairies but I would take a serious look at the Women's Church Groups and their stupid Teas.

Tea for crying out loud.

Here, you are now a woman ... have some tea! THIS is your identity ... pass her the cream Martha ...
I am screaming "whee" and holding tight to my crinolines as I type this ... the excitement is almost too much.

I know, this year honey ... forget Disneyland ... let's go to the Canadian prairies and watch the Spring Tea ceremonies!

What chance did we have??


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