Psychosomatic

I drove Maria to work this morning in anticipation of car-shuffling later today when we hope to pick up my del Sol from the shop where its air conditioning is undergoing surgery.
Now I’m sipping coffee at Seattle Grind where the grassy strip along Stadium Avenue is covered with a flock of pink plastic flamingos, placed there to attract attention to the new yogurt shop next door.
But first, I drove down to Sam’s Club where I filled the tank for $3.44/gallon. Considering the spike in oil prices this week, the falling gas prices seem counterintuitive. Whatever. I’m gassing up and moving on.
I was listening to a local radio station on the way to Seattle Grind. Two drive-time radio guys were going on about sweet tea (For the Yankees, that’s pre-sweetened – usually with sugar – iced tea) and listing the restaurants that serve it. The conversation turned to the making of sweet tea when a caller shared her recipe – a little less than a cup of sugar in the bottom of a gallon jug, put a family sized tea bag in the basket of a drip coffee maker, brew the tea, pour the contents of the carafe into the jug and stir to dissolve the sugar, then top off with water.
One of the radio guys opined that the only way to make tea is to boil it on the stove in a pan his mother always used. This prompted his partner to call him “psychosomatic.”
Really. I swear it’s true.
But wait - it gets better.
I related this story to a local woman. She responded to the punch line with a blank look, then offered, "Well, there are different ways to make sweet tea..."
Lord help us.