Say No to Hippies

Saturday morning Baby Daddy and I went to breakfast at the The Hi-Life in Ballard and then decided to take a mini walking and shopping trip through Ballard and Fremont. My goal—a tea strainer and some teas for my mom’s birthday gift. His goal—new sneakers. But not running shoes, and they can’t be black, brown or tan. They have to be GREY. (I’m dating a bit of a metrosexual. But tits okay. I enjoy a man with style.)

Ballard has a well-known teashop that we stopped into. Teashops are quite overwhelming. I had NO idea there was such a subculture in tea. You could buy all sorts of imported teas from Asian with names like “Oriental Beauty” and “Green Goddess.” Now really. I have no idea what “Oriental Beauty” tastes like and prefer tea canisters that give it to you straight. “Peppermint,” “Orange Blossom,” or “Vanilla.” Those I can handle. But there wasn’t just tea, the shop was filled with fancy tea sets, even sets to-go with zippable cases and handles, antique tea tables, and all sorts of contraptions and devices for drinking, preparing and serving tea that I never knew even existed. I didn’t find a basic tea strainer, which is what my mom was wanting. So, the owners kindly directed us to a “natural and herbal” store on the opposite side of the building.

When we pushed open the shop’s door with a tingle from the hanging bell, an overwhelming smell rushed out of incense and Patchouli oil. “Uh Oh…. HIPPIES!” I whispered to Baby Daddy. But, the first table I saw was covered in teapots and mugs, which included strainers for loose teas. Perfect. I picked one up in cornflower blue (my mom’s favorite) and walked through the store to check out their other items and perhaps find a tea to accompany the mug. There were small bags of loose tea, but each looked like a bag of dried weeds and listed ingredients like honeysuckle and catnip. “CATNIP?!” I exclaimed out loud.

“I hope you don’t have a furry friend to compete with at home,” the shop owner said.

Yes. I do. And so does my mom. I’m most certainly not gifting my mom tea with weeds and catnip, or other weird, natural hippie ingredients. “Here mom! I picked up a handful of lawn clippings and mulch from the yard recycle bin, you can drink them as tea, and you can even smoke them!”

I decided against buying tea and wandered over to where Baby Daddy was looking at some incense and soaps. In a display shelf next to where he was standing, there was a sign and a basket of little colorful cloth squares with snaps, in all sorts of fun fabrics. “Hmm. What are these?” I thought, and picked one up, turning it over in my hand. I slowly leaned over to read the description hanging on the shelf.

"All Natural, Re-Usable and Washable Menstrual Pads"

HUHHHHHHHH.

In case that doesn’t translate, it’s supposed to be a sucking in of the breath, shocked and disgusted sort of a sound.

Hippies are dirtier than I ever thought.

Currently Feeling: Slightly better, but still pretty anxious.
Currently Anticipating: My day off for Good Friday tomorrow.
Currently Loving: The patience and understanding that resides in my boyfriend.