deb.teatime

I'm Deb. I'm 57, I live in Minneapolis with my husband Gary, our two grown kids (who both moved back home this year, which is a whole other post), and Rudy, an African grey who is 31 and says "oh for heaven's sake" in my late mother's voice. I was in hospital HR for nineteen years until June. I am now between jobs, which my therapist says I should stop describing as "falling off a cliff." I came to all this late. My first burn was a tiny regional in Wisconsin last year and my second was the big one this August. Both times I served tea at our camp from about midnight until sunrise, with real mugs, and people told me things they hadn't told anyone. I told them things too. Probably too many things. Gary and I have an open marriage that we worked out very carefully in couples counseling, so I'm here for friends first and I'm honest about the rest. I lift four days a week. I listen to true crime while I do it. I'm aware this is a lot. Sorry, this got long.

Other people who started this later in life. Women my age who lift. Anyone who wants a cup of tea and doesn't mind if I talk too much.

Weightlifting (my deadlift is 205 and I will tell anyone), true crime podcasts, loose-leaf tea, my parrot, rereading old journals at night when I can't sleep

Steel Magnolias. Fried Green Tomatoes. I'm not embarrassed.

My mother. My therapist. The woman at camp who taught me to put a tarp under the tea table so the dust doesn't get in the sugar.