1835 hours found Tyr and Tam busy with last minute preparations. He was putting the finishing touches on dinner and Tam was policing their quarters, making sure everything was just right.
Then she was back harassing Tyr for a snack. He gave her a small bowl of baby carrots, snow peas, and a bowl of humus.
“That's what you get for not eating all day.” he fussed. What have I told you about that, Tam?” he asked.
“I'm sorry, Babe. It was just an incredibly hectic and busy day.” Tam replied.
“Tell that to your poor abused and neglected body. Do I have to supervise your meals now?” Tyr queried.
“Oh no! You'll have me eating roots, shoots and twigs!” Tamara declared.
“I will not. If you mean the total elimination of junk food from your diet. . . .” Tyr started. One of the first things he had done was to get rid of her “stash”.
“I don't eat much. Just a bag of potato chips once in a while.” Tamara cut in.
“Potato chips are poison. They contain nothing but salt and grease.” Tyr warned.
“Two important food groups. Salt and grease.” Tamara stated and smiled. Tyr shook his head and checked his pots.
“Bye the way, Babe, can you do me a huge favor?” Tamara asked. Tyr looked up at her from what he was doing with his intense gaze.
“Before you two mix it up with her, please let me know so I can close our link.” she said. Referring to the marital mental link they shared.
“Close our link?” Tyr asked and frowned. That didn't sound good.
“I'm not cutting the link. It'll be more like closing the door so that the two of you can have some privacy. If I don't, I will wind up being a mental voyeur.” she replied. “When it's over, you can come back and I will reopen it.” she continued.
“Then we will need some kind of code word or phrase.” Tyr said as he considered and tossed out about ten phrases right then.
“I've got one.” Tamara smiled and pipped up. “How about 'knock, knock'?” she asked. Tyr didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so he simply did the face in the palm. Tamara sensed his distress through their link.
“What's the matter, Babe?” she asked innocently.
“Knock, knock?” Tyr asked incredulously.
“What's wrong with it? It is simple, concise, and to the point.” she replied and smiled. “Or would you prefer antidisestablishmentariansm?” she quipped.
“I . . .” Tyr, started. But the door buzzer sounded, signaling the arrival of their guest.
“Saved by the bell! Knock, knock it will be!” Tamara said triumphantly, as the door bell continued to buzz, stridently.
“Get the door, Babe. I'll finish up in the kitchen.” Tyr said.
* * * * * * * *
Tamara answered the door and none other than Lieutenant Commander Xena Anol stood there, dressed in her Nietzschean best. That meant brown leather boots, pants, vest and bejeweled gauntlets. Both women greeted each other with a hug, and Tamara led Xena to the living room where they seated themselves on the sofa.
It was going to be at least ten minutes before dinner was served so both ladies used the time to cluck away like hens, while sipping a drink Tamara had poured for herself and Xena.
Xena took the first sip and rolled it around in her mouth like a good wine before swallowing.
“I taste banana, coconut, and crushed ice of course.” Xena stated with the precision of a forensic expert as she held the glass eye level.
“You are correct. I call it a Banana Colada. A Virgin Banana Colada since it contains no alcohol.” Tamara replied. Along with junk food, the health conscious Nietzscheans also frowned upon consuming alcohol.
“My Dad was into juicing and taught me how to put together different fruit and vegetable combinations for certain conditions. For example, the Banana Colada is supposed to be an energy booster. There are others to calm and produce sleep, to help brain function, etcetera.” Tamara continued.
“I have heard Humans do that with teas.” Xena said.
“My Mom was the resident healer in our family. Anyone got sick, she had a “bush tea” to cure it! I don't like teas to this day, because most of them smell and taste bad! At least with juices, you can add fruits to sweeten your drink.” Tamara replied.
“With your knowledge, have you ever thought of opening your own business?” Xena asked after finishing off her drink.
“You mean teas and juices?” Tamara asked.
Xena looked back at her with an expression which said “Duh!”
“Perhaps after I retire from Starfleet.” Tamara replied.
“Do you know what Drago said about that in Ancestor's Breath?” Xena asked.
“No.” Tamara replied. She felt guilty that she had completed reading only the first third of Drago's treaties on Nietzschean life. Pon Farr had a way of upsetting one's applecart so.
“Live for the moment, for you may not see tomorrow.” Xena quoted.
“How? How . . . . . .?” Tamara asked.
“You are a very intelligent woman. You'll find a way. And if you need help, do not hesitate to ask.” Xena replied. Tamara smiled in return.
She was glad Xena was going to become a member of their family. In fact, she was just about to say so when Tyr called them into the dining room. Dinner was ready and being served.
NOTE TO READERS:
First: Lt. Cmdr Xena Anol ( Tyr's #2 Consort ) looks like Angelina Jolie. Just picture her wearing leather, chain mail, festooned with weapons and course we can't forget the BONEBLADES!
Second; The words “bush tea(s)” is a West Indian term for teas which grow wild on bushes, back home on the islands in many people's back or front yards. When someone gets sick, either the mother or grandmother will send someone to go out and “pick some leaves off yon bush”. Where they will proceed to boil it and make it into a tea for the sick person to drink as a cure.
Third: I hope I didn't spell “antidisestablishmentarianism” wrong, because Spell Check refused to deal with it. . . . . I wonder why?
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.