How It All Started
Tami and Evi found themselves seeking warmth from the woodstove in Tami’s living room, or as Tami called it, theparlor. Having not completely adjusted to life in Upper Michigan, Tami still clung to the notion that manners and social graces accounted for something, and to her a parlor is where one received and entertained visitors. Evi was visiting so therefore, the erstwhile living room was a parlor. Furthermore, Tami and Evi Maki, cousins thrice removed, wereat tea such as one might be invited to if in England. Interestingly, there was no tea present, but rather a fresh box of white wine, which Tami and Evi frequently pressed into service via the handy spigot located front and center. But for purposes of public information (i.e. gossip), the ladies were having tea.
“These little sandwich things are to die for,” said Evi as she popped a third one into her mouth. Tami had made some tea sandwiches with miniature squares of cocktail bread, cream cheese, smoked salmon and cucumber slices garnished with a little sprig of dill. These went down well with their emblematic tea.
“Thank you, Evi, I found it in myLiving High on Tea book, along with my scone recipe.”
“I love your scones, too,” said Tami as she eyed the plate of crust-less sandwiches, looking for her next victim. “I wonder what the boys are having for their lunch,” she said, as she used a freshly-ironed linen napkin to dab a dribble of wine from her chin.
Tami snorted and shook her head in disgust. The ladies’ spouses, Toivo and Eino, were likely engaged in their own emblematic tea somewhere in the woods at the Maki hunting camp. Instead of a tidy parlor with doilies on the armchairs, they preferred a sagging couch that likely harbored enough microbes to destroy the world. Napkins would be absent as would any other tools of civility, such as proper silverware and dishes. Toivo and Eino loathed washing dishes and preferred using their hands as eating utensils. They weren’t great about washing their hands either, for that matter. Mostly they used their Leatherman tools (unwashed) as eating utensils and wiped them “clean” on their pant legs (also unwashed except when their wives could confiscate them along with their ratty flannel shirts to throw into the laundry).
Tami took a dainty sip of wine, contemplating the bane of her