Aloha and Sun Tea

It's official.  Summer has come to my world, and not just because the temperatures are soaring, the dogs are lying sprawled and gasping on the coolness of the kitchen floor, or because the ceiling fan is slowly stirring the heated air overhead.

No.  Summer is officially here because I've moved my Hawaiian shirts to the front of my closet, and I have a container of Sun Tea steeping on the back steps.

I'll be curious to see how the Earl Green comes out after being in the hot sun for the rest of the afternoon.  I usually use a stronger tea for this, but I wanted to experiment with the flavors in this blend: Ginger, Rose, Bergamot and Orange.  It looks very weak, but had only been steeping for a few minutes when I took the picture (ten minutes ago).  In the end though, it is a green tea so might not get much darker.

For my own reference:  this is a gallon of water, with 16 tea bags.  If I were using my usual tea, 16 bags would be way too many.  I'm also not exactly going to know when enough is enough.  After years of making Sun Tea with a regular blend, it will be trial and error to figure out when this one is ready.

**********************************

Now for a true confession.  One shrouded in secrecy, fraught with the power of an evil, consuming addiction...

Okay, okay, just kidding.  So far no one has ever really tried to stop me, or call for an intervention, though Alan asked me once when I was going to quit.  I replied, voice laced with scorn, "Never!"

I blame it on my travels, of course.  Once you've lived in the tropics, or been caught in stupefying humidity, steamy enough to melt freckles, you learn how to dress.

Loose.  Cotton.  Airflow a necessity.  (I won't go into where the air should flow, but it's necessary).

In Britain they called a certain style of long flowing skirt BoHo Chic.  I call most of mine Gypsy skirts.  Anyone around in the 60s would probably say they're just plain ol' hippy skirts.  Whatever you call them, if you're a woman, it is heaven on a scorching, breathless day to move fluidly in a soft, gauzy skirt.

This isn't my addiction however.  Gypsy skirts are just a mere accessory to the true obsession.

Hello.  My name is Terri and I'm an addict.  I love Hawaiian shirts.  I have many, many Hawaiian shirts.  But I want more.  I must have more.

Here's a sample of some favorites...

I love, love, love this one.  The red, the red, oh the red.

  
This isn't technically a true Hawaiian shirt.  I just adore the art on the back...plus it's not only South Sea, but Rhythm and Blues.  Can't get much better than that...

This is one of the oldest; I've probably had it for 20 years or so.  One of the reasons my shirts have lasted so long is due to all the years I lived in Scotland--a climate not conducive to wearing tropical clothing.  (I did take a few with me to Italy though, which was great).

Diamond Head, ginger blossoms and outriggers.  Hawaii in a shirt.

This one is a beauty.  The back is a total picture of palms, ginger blossoms and a beach.  Sigh.  Oh, how I love my shirts...



These are just the tiniest little tip of the iceberg...I have close to three dozen shirts and am always looking for more.  What can I say?  I've already confessed, I make no excuses or apologies.  And if there was an Addicted to Hawaiian Shirts group, I would have to join. 

Because I would need to find out where they got theirs...