Over the last 10 years it has been my quest to begin liking things that I hate and “grown ups” like. Like wine or politics. I just never seem to be able to find that elusive desire for the yucky things. Although I do enjoy more vegetables now than before so there is hope.

One thing I have tried on occasion is tea. I don’t really like tea. It smells beautiful and rich, fruity and spicy, but it tastes like nothing. Well, next to nothing. Maybe like boiled grass or cigarrette ash soaked for 30 seconds in water, not that I’ve actually ever tried that. But either way, most of my attempts are fruitless. I can drink down an apple cinamon or some similar concoction, if I let it steep for about 10 minutes but I would just rather add on 350 calories and 42 marshmallows and go for a hot cocoa. But now? I have found that one elusive tea love.
On our way back from Queens last week, the Husband just barely survived the trip into Queens, through Queens to Long Island, and out of Long Island. It was painful to watch him try to stay awake that I, having slept for a full 4 hours the night before, decided to take over the driving. Except, I only had 4 hours of sleep the night before and no sleep that day. I needed caffine and since I was in the mad rush to find the perfect tea (yet again) I went to Starbucks.

I don’t think I have ever, in my life, been to a Starbucks.

Fortunately Sarah, who shares my dislike of tea, was with me and recommend her new love. The Chai Latte. Let’s pause for a moment while the angels sing, shall we? Okay, moving on.

I drank this nectar of the gods and at last found my personal Nirvana. It had flavor and it was like candy, and really isn’t that a wondreful bonus? I drank my chai and set myself on a quest to find that flavor again. In the last week I have bought 3 different types of chai from the store and tried the latte at Panera’s. The verdict? So far, I like Tazo Chai and only Tazo Chai. But it’s a start. Now if only I could like politics…

I have a husband that apparently makes my friends jealous with his gift-giving ability. He’s not perfect and occasionally his gifts are (Husband, stop reading right this instant) off, but so many times he is just awe-inspiring with what he is able to pull out of his brain that the off times are sufferable.

(Ok, you can continue reading again).

Some of this will be familiar to those you who know of other journals I keep. Sorry.

The Husband and I agreed that we would not buy each other gifts for Hanukkah. After all, we had just paid for a new kitchen and will be going to Kuaui for vacation so we need to keep spending to a minimum. So what did I receive on Friday, the first night of Hanukkah? A gift. Of course it’s just not any gift. It’s the best gift ever.

Well, maybe not ever but it comes close.

I received a magic box. It’s a beautiful glass box with two white stones added inside and a note that read,”This is a magic box. It is fueled by the contents found within. With each day it becomes more powerful. On the 8th day, you will understand.”

On each day of Hannukah I received two more stones and with it more questions. What would the gift do in the end? Will the stones turn into a nice rock, a.k.a some sort of diamond? Doubtful, because I don’t wear much jewelry, mostly just my engagement and wedding rings, but on occasion I start pining for something. Had I been pining? Or maybe the 8th day arrive and I’d be carted off to a location the stones represented?

A few days into the game, I decided to add a quarter into the box. I figured that I may be required to participate with the box and thought to test the theory. I was also curious as to how the box would respond, if it would think it was funny. The next day I ran to the box and found that the quarter had changed into a Canadian quarter. Thank goodness I didn’t add yarn, it may have ended up as a spool of thread. Useful, but not yarn.

Then on the last day of Hannukah, my box produced a note (as follows)

“Inner Workings of the Magic Box

The sole predictable power of the magic box is replication. Specifically, that of a rare stone which can only be found growing in pairs deep within the mines of Tibet. The magic box is at it’s most powerful during the Jewish holiday of Hannukah, when it replicates nightly, although no one seems to know why. Normally, the stones only replicate once a week until such point that any of the stones are removed from the box for an extended period of time. The stones themselves have no discernible power besides being a fuel for the box. However, because of their rarity, they do maintain a street value of approximately ten dollars (US) each, which, given enough time, might add up to the value of a reasonably large item…say, a spinning wheel, for the lucky recipient.”

Have I mentioned that I love this gift? And that I think it is one of the Husband’s best gifts ever. Over eight days I would smile thinking that I had a magic box and noone else did. At a funeral we attended on Saturday, I broke out into a grin several times. People were dead, but I had a magic box. Why yes, I’m going to Hell, but after a few months of my magic box building up value, I’ll be riding my way into Hell on my nifty spinning wheel.