The
Finnegan Papers
Tuesday, Jan. 08, 2002
- 9:03 a.m.
the drink of champions, part one
I'm just waiting for my morning cup of tea to finish brewing in the office kitchen. I like to let the bag sit for a couple of minutes so that the flavor can seep out. Then one or two teaspoons of sugar, and I have what I consider to be my perfect cup.
Ahh, nectar of the gods! One sip and my scruffy li'l brain already feels that much better. You know, I wonder how my "cart man" is doing, back on the school campus (I'm still in the middle of my one-month winter break). All New Yorkers should know what I'm talking about, the 8th Wonder of the World -- those loyal good people who man the breakfast carts, outside every major school and office building. Mine has this wonderful habit of keeping track of how many cups I've had that day. "Number ... two," he says, grinning. "Number ... three." "Four." "Five, Six, Seven," etc.
Today I've just got to finish up a list of Picasso museums for our press releases. Until recently, I've never really appreciated him, being the heathen that I am when it comes to all things art-related. I mean, heck, I visit the Met twice a year with a friend, because we enjoy the brisk walk through the exhibits. Oi. Barbarians.
