"Forgive me, Father..."

Not that I'm Catholic, just works as a title for this.

I'm a coffee girl in the morning, and occasionally mid-afternoon. (I can seriously recommend Black Dog coffee if you want a really fresh roast and a guy who does exceptional customer service; if you're local he even delivers.) All my grandparents drank coffee, but oddly, neither of my parents. My mom gets her fix with Coke, which she mainlines all day, but only her first one of the morning has caffeine. My sister Joyce only does tea.

Mind you, I love tea. I lived in England for six years, and there was nothing I enjoyed more about that country than going in a tea room after a day of shopping and having a relaxing, refreshing cuppa. When my eldest was born, my idea of heaven was to get her down for a nap, make a pot of PG Tips, and have some chocolate-covered McVities.

So I have a LOT of tea. I like it strong. My current favorite is Lapsang Souchong, but when I first get into work in the morning, I have a cup of Yogi Tea...either the regular Detox or the Peach Detox. I like the idea of starting the day by flushing toxins out of my body. As a side benefit, the bag tags have pithy little Yogi-like sayings - not the bear or baseball player for those of you with a pop culture mind, but the spiritual leader sort. They are often uplifting or thought-provoking. Try any of their teas and you'll see what I mean.

Today's little message gave me pause, though. It said, "The body is a temple. Take care of it." Well, gang, I have seen myself, and it's time for confession. I'm pretty sure that somewhere along the way I've blasphemed.

Can a Goddess do that?