I'm pretty sure my yoga teacher has had a nervous breakdown. There's an odd immutability to his smile, a smile that never wavers, never gets bigger or smaller depending on circumstance. An air stewardess smile. He has a manner that cries out 'cheerful', 'life is fabulous', and eyes that are just a little too bright, a little too sparkly.
Or maybe that's just what happiness and inner peace look like and I'm just to English too realize.
I had a maths teacher with the same kind of look when I was in the sixth form, and he had had a nervous breakdown. His was the same plastic smile, the haunted eyes that said 'I've been there and what I saw will never leave me'.
I'm not saying I'm about to have a complete mental collapse (not right now, I've just made a cup of tea), but I'm becoming more aware of the masks people put up, and the hundred different metaphors we use for it. Serene as a swan on the top, paddling like a mother-fucker down below, stiff upper lip, I'm alright Jack, putting a brave face on things. I've just had a letter from my Nanna admitting to a long wintery depression and that coupled with our nuclear-mushroom cloud of a mortgage and the economy in general have made me to want to put the mask down and come clean.
I've been longing to write that post, the one about how we so nearly didn't make it with the condo conversion project we're in the middle of. I so desperately want to be on the other side right now, the 'phew, things looked really bleak there for a moment, thank the Lord everything turned out just fine' side. Right now I spend 20% of my time being absurdly excited about the future, about the opportunities this project will afford us, about how lucky we are to have been pointed in the right direction by a mentor who told us absolutely no to buying a condo 3 years ago (thankyou, thankyou, thankyou). I spend 60% of my time keeping my fingers crossed, slapping a fake smile on my face, wishing for the best, worrying for the worst, and trying to just preoccupy myself with the small joys of life. I spend the remaining 20% of the time absolutely paralyzed by fear. As you can imagine, that's making for a bit of an emotional rollercoaster.
I can still see a future in which we complete this project, and sail on thankful that we're one of the few people to have been lucky and well-advised enough to weather this recession and come out on top. I still really think that'll happen. Even when I read the Economist. I still think I'll be writing that 'wow, things looked a little thin there for a while but I can't believe our good fortune' post. As a very wise friend said, 'it's always darkest before the dawn'. To that I feel like adding, you just have to have faith that there will be a dawn.
It is absolutely not the done thing to admit defeat over here. I know it's perceived as very British not to moan, to keep a stiff upper lip etc, but it is quintessentially American to be up shit creek and still maintain the appearance of a completely successful and optimized lifestyle. If you can afford a nice car you should be driving a nice car, if you can make your smile brighter and whiter you should do it. It is completely unfathomable to the American psyche to not try and strive for the best and to appear like you're on the up and up. I suppose this post is me saying, this is real, this is honest and for the record I was really scared. I know things could be a hundred times worse. I only have to look as far as my friends to realize what a lot of class it takes to keep smiling while the world repeatedly screws you over. This is not intended to be a pity post. I do realize that in the grand scheme of things my life is a cake-walk. In all honesty my most pressing fear right now is that Anna will wake up before I've had chance to finish writing this. I suppose I'm just trying to admit the fear of the unknown, that it's hard to keep smiling when you're facing so much uncertainty.
I knew I was starting to lose it when we had a contractor (a builder) over to give us a bid for the renovations, and I literally had to stop myself asking 'how do you feel about this project, what's your gut feeling, are we going to make it?'. I'm sure he would have looked at me and said 'somebody get this chick outta here'.
This post doesn't have a tidy ending, because right now there doesn't appear to be an ending. Although I did just ask the Magic 8 Ball if we were going to make it and it said:
"My sources say no"
Farging bastages.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Armageddon Wet
It's raining
It's pouring
And my old man is snoring....
LK works outside, so when it rains, he pours.....himself another large cup of coffee and settles in to watch the Australian Open. And crikey did it pour down today. It may not rain often in this dear old town, but when it does it is a thing to behold. No polite British drizzle here, the storms slam in straight from the Pacific and literally spew rain.
Here's a quick shot of some disappointed car owners only a couple of blocks from our house:
So there's me thinking that after working all day, dealing with feisty transcriptionists and a backed up office sink gushing rainwater that I'd earned some downtime. In our cobbled together marriage rules, working trumps not working in terms of Anna-sitting and sundry domestic duties so I'm driving home thinking, I'm chuffing golden.
Imagine my surprise when I suggest the vaguest possibility of going to the pictures with the girls and he says:
....'but you had a bath last night'.
If there was ever a sentence that summed up marriage after children it would be that one. And for the record, I did go to the movies, which must kill my free time allowance until about March I'd say.
It's pouring
And my old man is snoring....
LK works outside, so when it rains, he pours.....himself another large cup of coffee and settles in to watch the Australian Open. And crikey did it pour down today. It may not rain often in this dear old town, but when it does it is a thing to behold. No polite British drizzle here, the storms slam in straight from the Pacific and literally spew rain.
Here's a quick shot of some disappointed car owners only a couple of blocks from our house:
So there's me thinking that after working all day, dealing with feisty transcriptionists and a backed up office sink gushing rainwater that I'd earned some downtime. In our cobbled together marriage rules, working trumps not working in terms of Anna-sitting and sundry domestic duties so I'm driving home thinking, I'm chuffing golden.
Imagine my surprise when I suggest the vaguest possibility of going to the pictures with the girls and he says:
....'but you had a bath last night'.
If there was ever a sentence that summed up marriage after children it would be that one. And for the record, I did go to the movies, which must kill my free time allowance until about March I'd say.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Ramble On
I feel like I'm getting a cold because, what, it's been almost two weeks since my last brush with viral death so I'm clearly overdue. What the chuff immune system?
Now I realize that I'm lucky enough to be woken up most mornings by a crusty snot-covered toddler breathing heavily into my face or, double-trouble, licking my nose whilst meowing and pretending to be a cat but sheesh, where's my bug fighting stamina? I'm beginning to think that somewhere in my monogamous 10 year marriage I've managed to contract AIDS. Did I tell you that after my last dose of flu I had a raging yeast infection in my mouth? I really hope you're not reading this first thing in the morning, with a visual of little mushrooms growing on my tongue. Sorry. After much urgent 3am googling I discovered that's a sign of a depleted immune system, oh or AIDS. Despite appearance to the contrary I am still sane enough to figure out that I might just be a little stressed and run-down. Do you know how I know that? Because I'm hiding at work right now....
It's late and everyone's gone home and it is so deliciously, beautifully quiet. Just me and the hum of several dozing office machines. Aaahh. Off the clock obviously, but it is just so peaceful here that I'm finding it hard to leave. No-one to demand I wipe their bottoms, no-one asking me questions about construction loans or renters. I'm tempted to pull an all-nighter - all I'm missing is a large glass of wine.
It's too late now to pick up my dry-cleaning, which is a shame because my cold-weather winter wardrobe consists of 3 cashmere sweaters from Costco all of which are now locked away for the night at the dry cleaners. I have no idea what I'm going to wear tomorrow to keep warm - maybe my entire summer wardrobe all layered on top of each other? It is cold here - I heard that harumph New England, but really, it is verging on the chilly. I had to spend five minutes de-icing my windscreen this morning. You can trust that 4.5 minutes of that was spent locating the de-icing doohickey on my new car, but still. Actual ice, and all me woollens are being held prisoner.
Sniffle.
Now I realize that I'm lucky enough to be woken up most mornings by a crusty snot-covered toddler breathing heavily into my face or, double-trouble, licking my nose whilst meowing and pretending to be a cat but sheesh, where's my bug fighting stamina? I'm beginning to think that somewhere in my monogamous 10 year marriage I've managed to contract AIDS. Did I tell you that after my last dose of flu I had a raging yeast infection in my mouth? I really hope you're not reading this first thing in the morning, with a visual of little mushrooms growing on my tongue. Sorry. After much urgent 3am googling I discovered that's a sign of a depleted immune system, oh or AIDS. Despite appearance to the contrary I am still sane enough to figure out that I might just be a little stressed and run-down. Do you know how I know that? Because I'm hiding at work right now....
It's late and everyone's gone home and it is so deliciously, beautifully quiet. Just me and the hum of several dozing office machines. Aaahh. Off the clock obviously, but it is just so peaceful here that I'm finding it hard to leave. No-one to demand I wipe their bottoms, no-one asking me questions about construction loans or renters. I'm tempted to pull an all-nighter - all I'm missing is a large glass of wine.
It's too late now to pick up my dry-cleaning, which is a shame because my cold-weather winter wardrobe consists of 3 cashmere sweaters from Costco all of which are now locked away for the night at the dry cleaners. I have no idea what I'm going to wear tomorrow to keep warm - maybe my entire summer wardrobe all layered on top of each other? It is cold here - I heard that harumph New England, but really, it is verging on the chilly. I had to spend five minutes de-icing my windscreen this morning. You can trust that 4.5 minutes of that was spent locating the de-icing doohickey on my new car, but still. Actual ice, and all me woollens are being held prisoner.
Sniffle.
Friday, January 18, 2008
A Little Pivacy Pease!
In the true spirit of revolution, reminiscent of women burning their bras, Anna has decided to potty train herself. She is saying no more! to nappies, and don't let the door hit you on the derriere to diapers. Her plastic Elmo potty lies dusty and discarded, untouched for months. No, Anna suddenly decided she wanted to use the 'Big Potty' and with very little else in the way of coercion, maybe a few chocolate-covered pretzels, she is now using the 'Big Potty' several times a day.
I've bought a couple of those plastic child-seat inserts because the sight of her tiny white peaches teetering on the edge of that massive precipice made me a little nervous. Not for her you understand, just the possible humiliation of being that parent whose child drowned in the toilet. So, safe in the knowledge that she's protected from diving head first down the Big Potty I left her to her 'privacy'. And yes, two year-olds in this day and age do ask for privacy, I even heard one of her preschool friends the other day saying he needed 'to hydrate'. Precisely.
So, Anna asked for privacy, and I knew I'd childproofed the bathroom.
I will freely admit that I was the one who installed the plastic childproof latches on the bathroom drawers, and I will also confess that I'm more Spongebob than Handy Manny, but I was not expecting this after her requisite five minutes of 'pivacy':
...and a poop! Everyone's a winner!!
Is it just me or does she look like Courtney Love?
I've bought a couple of those plastic child-seat inserts because the sight of her tiny white peaches teetering on the edge of that massive precipice made me a little nervous. Not for her you understand, just the possible humiliation of being that parent whose child drowned in the toilet. So, safe in the knowledge that she's protected from diving head first down the Big Potty I left her to her 'privacy'. And yes, two year-olds in this day and age do ask for privacy, I even heard one of her preschool friends the other day saying he needed 'to hydrate'. Precisely.
So, Anna asked for privacy, and I knew I'd childproofed the bathroom.
I will freely admit that I was the one who installed the plastic childproof latches on the bathroom drawers, and I will also confess that I'm more Spongebob than Handy Manny, but I was not expecting this after her requisite five minutes of 'pivacy':
...and a poop! Everyone's a winner!!
Is it just me or does she look like Courtney Love?
Recycling Is Good For The Soul
Goodbye old bills, hello free guinea pig bedding.
It's so poetic to know that our guinea pig Louis gets to treat these old bills with the respect they deserve - and poop all over them.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Geography
I'm working on a post about place, about what it means to me. For any survivor of a modern Human Geography course it's a word fraught with meaning and half-forgotten murmurings of 'post-modernism', 'urban polemic' and horror of horrors 'social justice and the city'. Did you know that the field of Human Geography barely even exists in the US? That Geography over here is relegated to GPS mapping and everything else is lumped in with Geology?
In the meantime though I'm finding it hard to concentrate on serious writing, because the chuffing fleet's in town, and what am I doing tapping away at my computer when Santa Barbara's literally awash with 6,000 sailors!
Six THOUSAND sailors. Surely one of them could babysit? Surely one of them is over the age of 17 (on initial inspection during my morning power-walk along the beach I would have to say, no, sadly they all looked thoroughly prepubescent -or maybe it's just the ludicrous trousers?).
So, in lieu of a deeply thought out post, check out this fantastic article about Geography written by Guy Browning of The Guardian:
How To....Do Geography
In the meantime though I'm finding it hard to concentrate on serious writing, because the chuffing fleet's in town, and what am I doing tapping away at my computer when Santa Barbara's literally awash with 6,000 sailors!
Six THOUSAND sailors. Surely one of them could babysit? Surely one of them is over the age of 17 (on initial inspection during my morning power-walk along the beach I would have to say, no, sadly they all looked thoroughly prepubescent -or maybe it's just the ludicrous trousers?).
So, in lieu of a deeply thought out post, check out this fantastic article about Geography written by Guy Browning of The Guardian:
How To....Do Geography
Geography is the study of where things are, what they're doing there and why they aren't somewhere else. In the old days, it used to be the study of places and maps. This is now seen as an outdated approach, and to suggest that a certain place might actually be somewhere else is bordering on cultural imperialism.
Geographers have many unique skills. For example, they are the only class of people who can ask for directions and then understand where to go after they've heard them. Geographers also have an instinctive grasp of spatial layouts, and can walk quickly through any given department store to its toilets without walking through the centre of the lingerie section.
Many geographers opt to study the sexier side of geography, which is natural disasters. For example, a lot of work has been done on how volcanos can wipe out advanced civilisations that stupidly decide to live near volcanos. Another favourite topic is tectonic plates and earthquakes, and why California is about to experience the tectonic equivalent of a Greek wedding.
Human geography is a study of who is doing what where. That sounds gossipy, but in reality tends towards the study of tram systems with which geographers seem to have an almost mystical bond. Physical geography, on the other hand, is excellent for understanding the landscape and answering tricky questions such as "Why do rivers always flow straight through the middle of big towns?" and "Why does the sea fit so snugly round our coastline?"
Geographers like nothing better than studying the effect of ice on the landscape and how early man survived on Glacier Mints. A trained geographer can pick up a loose piece of rock and explain exactly where it came from, how old it is and what forces have acted on it. No one will be there to listen to him, but it's pretty impressive in its own way.
Like other academics, geographers love conferences. Interestingly, they can never decide where to go or how to get there. When they all finally get together, it's noticeable just how much corduroy geographers wear. That's because in long meetings they can look closely at their jacket sleeves and imagine they're studying ridge and furrow cultivation on a periglacial landscape.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Blogging About What I Had For Lunch
LK often says that I'm a creature of habit, to which I reply you're damn lucky I am mate otherwise I'd be flinging my ovaries at any sailor in a fine pair of trousers. And then we laugh and both wistfully look around for that sailor.
Anyway, I have my little routines and today, I threw caution to the wind and did something different. I can understand that to the casual observer someone capable of moving thousands of miles from home may not seem like a nervous Nelly when it comes to change - but it's one thing to make the decision to emigrate, another entirely to live with it. As this blog is endless testament to.
I've been feeling a little hemmed-in lately, with a creeping desire to push my boundaries and try out the unknown. The last few years of our life have been so crammed full of change that I comforted myself with the known, the routine. Buying your first property two weeks before you have your first child, then trying to remodel whilst learning how to be landlords made 2005 a bit of a corker. I'm finally recovering, and I'm not sure if it's the advent of the New Year, or just fiscal restrictions making me want to break out, but I'm wanting to move on. I thought lunch would be a safe place to start.
For once I decided to forgo the catered lunch at work (so long California Pizza Kitchen, one too many BBQ chicken salads has sent me in to the arms of another.....) and I headed for pastures new. Someone had recommended a deli that has opened in the new hospital multi-storey carpark. I know, that's what I thought! What the chuff! You don't have to be a geographer to think that someone wasn't exactly thinking location, location, location. More like how are we going to get this giant parking structure past the City Planning Board. I know! Spanish architecture and a deli selling Peet's coffee. Sold! I have to tell you though, it was gobsmackingly good, and what's more a fresh Caprese sandwich with couscous salad and a frothy Peet's mocha only set me back $7 which in this town makes you wonder whether Concepcion knew how to operate the till.
Thus in conclusion, change is good. At least for today.
Anyway, I have my little routines and today, I threw caution to the wind and did something different. I can understand that to the casual observer someone capable of moving thousands of miles from home may not seem like a nervous Nelly when it comes to change - but it's one thing to make the decision to emigrate, another entirely to live with it. As this blog is endless testament to.
I've been feeling a little hemmed-in lately, with a creeping desire to push my boundaries and try out the unknown. The last few years of our life have been so crammed full of change that I comforted myself with the known, the routine. Buying your first property two weeks before you have your first child, then trying to remodel whilst learning how to be landlords made 2005 a bit of a corker. I'm finally recovering, and I'm not sure if it's the advent of the New Year, or just fiscal restrictions making me want to break out, but I'm wanting to move on. I thought lunch would be a safe place to start.
For once I decided to forgo the catered lunch at work (so long California Pizza Kitchen, one too many BBQ chicken salads has sent me in to the arms of another.....) and I headed for pastures new. Someone had recommended a deli that has opened in the new hospital multi-storey carpark. I know, that's what I thought! What the chuff! You don't have to be a geographer to think that someone wasn't exactly thinking location, location, location. More like how are we going to get this giant parking structure past the City Planning Board. I know! Spanish architecture and a deli selling Peet's coffee. Sold! I have to tell you though, it was gobsmackingly good, and what's more a fresh Caprese sandwich with couscous salad and a frothy Peet's mocha only set me back $7 which in this town makes you wonder whether Concepcion knew how to operate the till.
Thus in conclusion, change is good. At least for today.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
British Beer vs. American Beer
Or rather, the battle of beer commercials, because I'm recovering from another bout of the flu and have spent too many invalided hours playing around with youtube.
One of the things I miss about the UK is the adverts, the commercials over here just aren't as entertaining. Shame really, considering they're on all the chuffing time. To generalize wildly (and what is this blog if not an overtly biased account of a Brit who clearly can't remember how rubbish the UK is?!), American commercials give you the hard sell. They're full of 'our product is bigger, better, 20% more efficient and far more erect than the competition', who they actually name. British ads just try and make you laugh, the result being you remember the ad, but not the product. Hmm.
Take for example, this all-time classic ad from when I was growing up. It manages to combine all that is dear to a Brit's heart; football, the dambusters, beer and us getting a spanking from the Germans on penalties. Still funny many years later:
The yanks did manage to retaliate in style though. Check out this corker:
Evil Beaver!
So who's the winner? British beer or American beer? I think I'm still going to have to say Britain. For the record, both Carling Black Label and Miller Genuine Draft are crap. Nothing beats a good Old Speckled Hen.
One of the things I miss about the UK is the adverts, the commercials over here just aren't as entertaining. Shame really, considering they're on all the chuffing time. To generalize wildly (and what is this blog if not an overtly biased account of a Brit who clearly can't remember how rubbish the UK is?!), American commercials give you the hard sell. They're full of 'our product is bigger, better, 20% more efficient and far more erect than the competition', who they actually name. British ads just try and make you laugh, the result being you remember the ad, but not the product. Hmm.
Take for example, this all-time classic ad from when I was growing up. It manages to combine all that is dear to a Brit's heart; football, the dambusters, beer and us getting a spanking from the Germans on penalties. Still funny many years later:
The yanks did manage to retaliate in style though. Check out this corker:
Evil Beaver!
So who's the winner? British beer or American beer? I think I'm still going to have to say Britain. For the record, both Carling Black Label and Miller Genuine Draft are crap. Nothing beats a good Old Speckled Hen.
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Happy Chuffing New Year!
I'd been toying with the idea of writing a brief adieu to 2007, but seeing as I woke up feeling slightly fragile this morning (hangover or flu or both, I can't decide) I'm stealing a meme instead.
1. What did you do in 2007 that you’d never done before? Parented a 2-year old. Bought a car. Went to Paris. Possibly had a miscarriage.
2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year? No, in retrospect they were pretty challenging. I mean, drinking more water what was I thinking?
3. Did anyone close to you give birth? My good friend Robin had a baby, Hannah. Hannah and Anna, the palindromes. That's going to get more and more annoying.
4. Did anyone close to you die? No thank goodness, but crikey I had to come closer to thinking about it in 2007 than at any other point in my life. When Mum was rushed to hospital while we were visiting in May and they told us they'd found an abdominal mass but they couldn't tell us anything further we were forced to face the unthinkable. I don't think I realized at the time quite how terrified I was. I actually slapped LK across the face at one point, full-on bitch slap, I can't honestly remember why now, except that I was so scared and strung out. It really brought it home how I'd been in the immensely privileged position of not having to worry about the health or safety of those who meant the most to me. That being turned on its head threw me for a loop. I did a lot of growing up in 2007.
5. What countries did you visit? England, ostensibly to help my Mum celebrate her 60th birthday, in actuality to visit her for 2 weeks in hospital. Oh, and Paris. Neither of us had ever been before, the weather was dreary and bleak, but waking up each morning and heading out the door with coffee and only the vaguest idea of where we were headed each day, that was brilliant.
6. What would you like to have in 2008 that you lacked in 2007? Financial security, and maybe a second child. I am laughing as I write this as I realize they are pretty much mutually exclusive.
7. What dates from 2007 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? Again I would have to say my Mum's 60th birthday:
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? I suppose I should say getting a personal best in the triathlon, getting final ABR approval for our construction project, or even completing NaBloPoMo (ha!), but in actual fact it was probably getting Anna in to the preschool we wanted. That makes me sound like one of those nobbers who put their fetus down on the waiting list at Eton, but it was so hard to find a decent preschool here that managing to go seamlessly from nanny sharing to a great preschool, with no loss of childcare in between is still amazing to me. The fact that this is my biggest achievement of 2007 just shows how much my priorities have changed.
9. What was your biggest failure? Probably failing to keep my cool when challenged about my 'hugging issues'. I think my classic composure-failure came with me yelling 'I don't have a problem hugging, I just have a problem hugging you'. Nice.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury? I'm sick as a dog right now thanks very much 2007.
11. What was the best thing you bought? My brand new Honda Pilot. I can't even tell you how long I'd needed a new car. Oh, and a carpet steam cleaner which has already saved us hundreds of dollars in carpet cleaning thanks to a toddler/white carpet death combo.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration? Anna, on so many levels, but not least because she took 10 flights in 2007 and didn't spack out once. She is an amazing traveler.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? For fear of being Dooced I'd better not say.
14. Where did most of your money go? 99.9% went to the bloody mortgage companies, and the rest to Baby Gap.
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? My brother getting engaged. Obviously because he'd landed himself a winner, but I can't deny a large percentage of the excitement came from knowing I'd have an excuse to fly home in 2008.
16. What song will always remind you of 2007? Wonder Pets Wonder Pets we're on our way!
17. Compared to this time last year, are you: a) happier or sadder? Happier and more content. I've no idea why, but I have a sneaking feeling it has something to do with our project moving towards fruition, oh and Anna's 3-hour naps haven't hurt. b) thinner or fatter? Pretty much the same, fitter than I was last year although Christmas has wreaked havoc. c) richer or poorer? Hard to say, 2008 is going to be the decider though. Literally make or break.
18. What do you wish you’d done more of? I wish I'd had more date time with LK. I also wish I'd looked after myself a bit better, more yoga, fewer 5th glasses of wine at dinner parties, more time by myself.
19. What do you wish you’d done less of? Worrying. Without a doubt.
20. How did you spend Christmas? At home in SB with my Mum and Dad. A perfect Christmas, even without the roast turkey and Christmas pud.
21. Did you fall in love in 2007? Not in the literal sense, but being re-proposed to on or 10th anniversary could certainly count. The Tiffany ring didn't hurt either.
22. What was your favorite TV program? I know I'm several years behind the times on this one, but I'd have to say Grey's Anatomy. I've been ploughing through each series on Netflix and can't remember when I've enjoyed a TV series as much.
23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? Hate's a strong word, but not strong enough when it comes to Verizon customer service.
24. What was the best book you read? I read a lot of really good stuff in 2007, and some pretty whacky stuff too courtesy of my 'It's not about the Book Club', but they came up trumps with 'A Thousand Splendid Suns' by Khaled Hosseini. I haven't enjoyed any book as much as this one in a long long time.
25. What was your greatest musical discovery? Anna singing Trinkle Trinkle ittle star.
26. What did you want and get? Honda Pilot. Honda Pilot. Honda Pilot.
27. What did you want and not get? Building permits and a construction loan. Keep your fingers crossed for us.
28. What was your favorite film of this year? I'm embarrassed at how few films I saw in 2007, despite starting 'Film Club' in the latter half of the year. I would have to say 'Knocked Up' with the caveat that I really need to get out more.
29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? 34. We were supposed to be at LK's Dad's cabin in Utah waking up to utter peace and tranquility halfway up a mountain. In the end, things didn't quite pan out, courtesy of our aged cars, and I ended up going to work instead.
30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Sad to say, but large amounts of cold hard cash, and being able to jet to and from the UK on a whim.
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2007? Denying myself a new pair of jeans until I'm done popping out sprogs.
32. What kept you sane? Sleep.
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Daniel Craig. Woof!
34. What political issue stirred you the most? The sup-prime mortgage crisis probably had the greatest personal bearing for us, but what stirred me the most was the assassination of Benazir Bhutto. I saw that headline and immediately had the strongest feeling of icy dread. The BBC is warning about the increasing Talebanisation of Pakistan, that this is a country with nuclear weapons and a large population in the UK scares me tremendously.
35. Who did you miss? Obviously my family. Every day, particularly when Mum was readmitted to hospital and I was back in the States. Also, my friend C, my first friend in California who moved to Tex-arse this summer. Damn her.
36. Who was the best new person you met? I'd have to say baby Hannah, my friend's daughter who made her appearance in February. She has the biggest baby grin I've ever seen.
37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2007. I wish I could trust in this with all my heart, but I would have to say learning that financial security is not the be all and end all. That you can always start over, but you can never replace those people in your life who mean the world to you.
38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year. Wonder Pets Wonder Pets we're on our way!
1. What did you do in 2007 that you’d never done before? Parented a 2-year old. Bought a car. Went to Paris. Possibly had a miscarriage.
2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year? No, in retrospect they were pretty challenging. I mean, drinking more water what was I thinking?
3. Did anyone close to you give birth? My good friend Robin had a baby, Hannah. Hannah and Anna, the palindromes. That's going to get more and more annoying.
4. Did anyone close to you die? No thank goodness, but crikey I had to come closer to thinking about it in 2007 than at any other point in my life. When Mum was rushed to hospital while we were visiting in May and they told us they'd found an abdominal mass but they couldn't tell us anything further we were forced to face the unthinkable. I don't think I realized at the time quite how terrified I was. I actually slapped LK across the face at one point, full-on bitch slap, I can't honestly remember why now, except that I was so scared and strung out. It really brought it home how I'd been in the immensely privileged position of not having to worry about the health or safety of those who meant the most to me. That being turned on its head threw me for a loop. I did a lot of growing up in 2007.
5. What countries did you visit? England, ostensibly to help my Mum celebrate her 60th birthday, in actuality to visit her for 2 weeks in hospital. Oh, and Paris. Neither of us had ever been before, the weather was dreary and bleak, but waking up each morning and heading out the door with coffee and only the vaguest idea of where we were headed each day, that was brilliant.
6. What would you like to have in 2008 that you lacked in 2007? Financial security, and maybe a second child. I am laughing as I write this as I realize they are pretty much mutually exclusive.
7. What dates from 2007 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? Again I would have to say my Mum's 60th birthday:
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? I suppose I should say getting a personal best in the triathlon, getting final ABR approval for our construction project, or even completing NaBloPoMo (ha!), but in actual fact it was probably getting Anna in to the preschool we wanted. That makes me sound like one of those nobbers who put their fetus down on the waiting list at Eton, but it was so hard to find a decent preschool here that managing to go seamlessly from nanny sharing to a great preschool, with no loss of childcare in between is still amazing to me. The fact that this is my biggest achievement of 2007 just shows how much my priorities have changed.
9. What was your biggest failure? Probably failing to keep my cool when challenged about my 'hugging issues'. I think my classic composure-failure came with me yelling 'I don't have a problem hugging, I just have a problem hugging you'. Nice.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury? I'm sick as a dog right now thanks very much 2007.
11. What was the best thing you bought? My brand new Honda Pilot. I can't even tell you how long I'd needed a new car. Oh, and a carpet steam cleaner which has already saved us hundreds of dollars in carpet cleaning thanks to a toddler/white carpet death combo.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration? Anna, on so many levels, but not least because she took 10 flights in 2007 and didn't spack out once. She is an amazing traveler.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? For fear of being Dooced I'd better not say.
14. Where did most of your money go? 99.9% went to the bloody mortgage companies, and the rest to Baby Gap.
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? My brother getting engaged. Obviously because he'd landed himself a winner, but I can't deny a large percentage of the excitement came from knowing I'd have an excuse to fly home in 2008.
16. What song will always remind you of 2007? Wonder Pets Wonder Pets we're on our way!
17. Compared to this time last year, are you: a) happier or sadder? Happier and more content. I've no idea why, but I have a sneaking feeling it has something to do with our project moving towards fruition, oh and Anna's 3-hour naps haven't hurt. b) thinner or fatter? Pretty much the same, fitter than I was last year although Christmas has wreaked havoc. c) richer or poorer? Hard to say, 2008 is going to be the decider though. Literally make or break.
18. What do you wish you’d done more of? I wish I'd had more date time with LK. I also wish I'd looked after myself a bit better, more yoga, fewer 5th glasses of wine at dinner parties, more time by myself.
19. What do you wish you’d done less of? Worrying. Without a doubt.
20. How did you spend Christmas? At home in SB with my Mum and Dad. A perfect Christmas, even without the roast turkey and Christmas pud.
21. Did you fall in love in 2007? Not in the literal sense, but being re-proposed to on or 10th anniversary could certainly count. The Tiffany ring didn't hurt either.
22. What was your favorite TV program? I know I'm several years behind the times on this one, but I'd have to say Grey's Anatomy. I've been ploughing through each series on Netflix and can't remember when I've enjoyed a TV series as much.
23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? Hate's a strong word, but not strong enough when it comes to Verizon customer service.
24. What was the best book you read? I read a lot of really good stuff in 2007, and some pretty whacky stuff too courtesy of my 'It's not about the Book Club', but they came up trumps with 'A Thousand Splendid Suns' by Khaled Hosseini. I haven't enjoyed any book as much as this one in a long long time.
25. What was your greatest musical discovery? Anna singing Trinkle Trinkle ittle star.
26. What did you want and get? Honda Pilot. Honda Pilot. Honda Pilot.
27. What did you want and not get? Building permits and a construction loan. Keep your fingers crossed for us.
28. What was your favorite film of this year? I'm embarrassed at how few films I saw in 2007, despite starting 'Film Club' in the latter half of the year. I would have to say 'Knocked Up' with the caveat that I really need to get out more.
29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? 34. We were supposed to be at LK's Dad's cabin in Utah waking up to utter peace and tranquility halfway up a mountain. In the end, things didn't quite pan out, courtesy of our aged cars, and I ended up going to work instead.
30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Sad to say, but large amounts of cold hard cash, and being able to jet to and from the UK on a whim.
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2007? Denying myself a new pair of jeans until I'm done popping out sprogs.
32. What kept you sane? Sleep.
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Daniel Craig. Woof!
34. What political issue stirred you the most? The sup-prime mortgage crisis probably had the greatest personal bearing for us, but what stirred me the most was the assassination of Benazir Bhutto. I saw that headline and immediately had the strongest feeling of icy dread. The BBC is warning about the increasing Talebanisation of Pakistan, that this is a country with nuclear weapons and a large population in the UK scares me tremendously.
35. Who did you miss? Obviously my family. Every day, particularly when Mum was readmitted to hospital and I was back in the States. Also, my friend C, my first friend in California who moved to Tex-arse this summer. Damn her.
36. Who was the best new person you met? I'd have to say baby Hannah, my friend's daughter who made her appearance in February. She has the biggest baby grin I've ever seen.
37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2007. I wish I could trust in this with all my heart, but I would have to say learning that financial security is not the be all and end all. That you can always start over, but you can never replace those people in your life who mean the world to you.
38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year. Wonder Pets Wonder Pets we're on our way!
Monday, December 31, 2007
Parlez-vous Nemo?
This will probably only make sense if you've seen Finding Nemo as many times as I have, but then if you have even a passing relationship with anyone under eight I'm sure that includes you anyway.
Anna, sitting on a bench waiting for our friend to fail to appear from the Santa Barbara Air Bus (upon seeing it pull up she squealed 'Ganny & Ganddad are back!', ouch).
Anna, to random nice lady: 'My name is Anna'
RNL, 'hi Anna, my name is Random Nice Lady'
Anna, 'I have a lot of Nemo toys at my home. A LOT'.
RNL, smiling a little nonplussed, 'really?'
Anna, 'yes, twenty-ten'.
RNL, 'how old are you Anna?'
Anna 'I am two'
RNL, 'two, wow I'm impressed, you speak well'
Anna, brightening, 'I do speak whale, oo-ee-arr-oo'
RNL '----'
Anna, sitting on a bench waiting for our friend to fail to appear from the Santa Barbara Air Bus (upon seeing it pull up she squealed 'Ganny & Ganddad are back!', ouch).
Anna, to random nice lady: 'My name is Anna'
RNL, 'hi Anna, my name is Random Nice Lady'
Anna, 'I have a lot of Nemo toys at my home. A LOT'.
RNL, smiling a little nonplussed, 'really?'
Anna, 'yes, twenty-ten'.
RNL, 'how old are you Anna?'
Anna 'I am two'
RNL, 'two, wow I'm impressed, you speak well'
Anna, brightening, 'I do speak whale, oo-ee-arr-oo'
RNL '----'
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Goodnight Moon Indeed!!
Because I know I'm not the only one labouring under a big black post-Christmas cloud, I bring you this:
Honestly, get your minds out of the gutter. What did you think it was? Clearly it's a drawing of a moon and stars by the very talented 3-year old daughter of friends of ours.
It was thoughtful of the teacher to annotate it though wasn't it? Just in case there could have been the slightest confusion as to the artist's intent?
Oh, and I have regained enough sanity to realize that adding another child to the K family might bring Mum and Dad back for one more visit - but would bite us in the arse and more importantly the wallet very soon thereafter. Taking a look at Expedia for April's flights to England and realizing the creature would need her own ticket for this trip was enough to do that. It's about time someone swapped some Finding Nemo time for some cold hard cash earning time I think. Anyone want to hire a 2 year old?
Honestly, get your minds out of the gutter. What did you think it was? Clearly it's a drawing of a moon and stars by the very talented 3-year old daughter of friends of ours.
It was thoughtful of the teacher to annotate it though wasn't it? Just in case there could have been the slightest confusion as to the artist's intent?
Oh, and I have regained enough sanity to realize that adding another child to the K family might bring Mum and Dad back for one more visit - but would bite us in the arse and more importantly the wallet very soon thereafter. Taking a look at Expedia for April's flights to England and realizing the creature would need her own ticket for this trip was enough to do that. It's about time someone swapped some Finding Nemo time for some cold hard cash earning time I think. Anyone want to hire a 2 year old?
Friday, December 28, 2007
Auf Wiedersehen
I've just said goodbye to Mum and Dad, something that never gets any easier. A sadness and a heaviness sets in, like grief. One thing I've learned over the years is that the throat-tightening and the tears will go away, but that the heaviness needs to be dealt with, that being sad is such a ridiculous waste of time.
The only way to do this is to have a plan - I need to have the next visit if not booked then at least penciled in. This time I am lucky enough to be seeing them in only three months as it's my brother's wedding in April. Usually when we say goodbye, sad hugs saying all that we cannot, it's for at least a year. This time they will be seeing Anna before she's grown much bigger, before she makes another giant unrecognizable leap from babyhood. Crikey, three months might not be enough time for them to recover from the last fortnight of non-stop Dora, WonderPets and Nemo.
The fact that I'm seeing them soon made this morning a little more bearable. It certainly made me a nicer person to be around over the last couple of days. Usually I'm so eaten up with anxiety and portentous gloom that I have LK looking at me wondering what on earth he's got himself mixed up with and where my loyalties truly lie. On those lines it doesn't help that I know that this situation is entirely self inflicted. Just add a big dollop of guilt to that simmering stew of loss.
Saying goodbye, even if it is only auf wiedersehen does seem so very wrong. A fact that's inescapable when you break down because your toddler has just asked 'are you coming back Ganny and Gandad?'.
Ouch.
So I've concluded I need to take matters in to my own hands. Not move back to the UK of course (have you seen the exchange rate?!), no I've decided that having another child will force Mum and Dad back for a visit - and besides right now the exercise would do me good. Talk about making your bed and then lying in it!
OK - I realize that was a bit drastic. I know I'll stop being sad soon. As LK said 'think about poor me, my Mom's been gone for a whole month'.
The only way to do this is to have a plan - I need to have the next visit if not booked then at least penciled in. This time I am lucky enough to be seeing them in only three months as it's my brother's wedding in April. Usually when we say goodbye, sad hugs saying all that we cannot, it's for at least a year. This time they will be seeing Anna before she's grown much bigger, before she makes another giant unrecognizable leap from babyhood. Crikey, three months might not be enough time for them to recover from the last fortnight of non-stop Dora, WonderPets and Nemo.
The fact that I'm seeing them soon made this morning a little more bearable. It certainly made me a nicer person to be around over the last couple of days. Usually I'm so eaten up with anxiety and portentous gloom that I have LK looking at me wondering what on earth he's got himself mixed up with and where my loyalties truly lie. On those lines it doesn't help that I know that this situation is entirely self inflicted. Just add a big dollop of guilt to that simmering stew of loss.
Saying goodbye, even if it is only auf wiedersehen does seem so very wrong. A fact that's inescapable when you break down because your toddler has just asked 'are you coming back Ganny and Gandad?'.
Ouch.
So I've concluded I need to take matters in to my own hands. Not move back to the UK of course (have you seen the exchange rate?!), no I've decided that having another child will force Mum and Dad back for a visit - and besides right now the exercise would do me good. Talk about making your bed and then lying in it!
OK - I realize that was a bit drastic. I know I'll stop being sad soon. As LK said 'think about poor me, my Mom's been gone for a whole month'.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Perspective
I haven't been near the computer in days and now I'm terrified to even look at bloglines for fear I have 600 new posts to check. Sheesh. My Mum and Dad arrived on Wednesday and since then I've been in Hallmark Channel heaven watching Anna play with 'Ganny' and 'Ganddad' while I bask in the knowledge of all that babysitting to come.
I'm so full of the joys that I'm prepared to do something completely out of character. Put that wineglass down? Surely you jest? No, inspired by Little Britain, I'm going to list the things about my life in America that I love. Here I am, secure with all my peeps in town, able to take a step back and be broadminded *gasp*.
So here in no particular order and with very little sarcasm is a little list of what I love about life over here:
1. Going out for breakfast. Growing up in the UK this sounded as absurd a concept as going out to clean your teeth, but it's something I've grown to love. If someone had told me 15 years ago that I would spend every Sunday going for a half mile ocean swim followed by breakfast at a restaurant on the beach the anti-America chip on my shoulder would have fallen off in shock. I still won't put syrup on anything, but guilt-free Eggs Benedict after an icy swim? Now that's a lifestyle.
2. Having an English accent over here generally makes life so chuffing easy. This is a country that loves all things English (albeit a hashed together Disney-fied version of England). Moving from a continent that universally villifies anything British this change is shockingly refreshing. It's an automatic opener at cocktail parties, and only causes a few problems when talking on the phone. Generally, a good thing.
3. Food glorious food. It's very hard to stay skinny in this country there is such abundance and variety. Some of the things I would miss if we ever moved back to Blighty are; ranch dressing, jalapeno Cheetos, Mexican food, Philly Cheesesteak, Hass avocados, decent cocktails and anything from Trader Joes. Oh and free refills. As I said, hard to stay skinny.
4. Sunshine on tap. OK this is obviously a California thing, and probably not going to win me a lot of friends while the rest of the world shivers through yet another ice storm, but the advantages of a climate that never, ever varies are manifold. The thing I will never get used to is being able to schedule an outdoor activity three weeks in advance knowing full well that the weather won't ruin it. Want to play tennis a week next Thursday? Want to have everyone over for a barbecue Tuesday week? No problem. That is a luxury that I won't ever tire of. Putting sunscreen on every time you leave the house is a small price to pay.
5. Bum-protectors. What? I think the official term is 'toilet-seat covers'. Those filmy pieces of waxy paper that are supposed to prevent other people's arse-germs tainting your saintly derriere. I'm sure they're about as effective as a chocolate teapot but the faux-reassurance level is high. I was very surprised at how much I missed them on my last trip home.
6. US Mail. I realise many of you have just sprayed coffee all over your computer screens, but yes, the US Mail rocks, for the reason that you can have them pick up your stuff if you just put up that little flag jobbie on your post-box. No trawling around town trying to find a postbox over here! Try asking the postman to pick up your post in England. Didn't think so, he'd have a hard time trying to get his hand through that letterbox for a start.
7. Have a nice day. Not necessarily true in Brooklyn or downtown LA, but for the most part Americans are absurdly polite and well, nice. We Brits tend to be rather cynical so if a shop assistant welcomes you in to a store and starts offering to 'start a room for you' it's a knee-jerk reaction to think they've just identified you as a shoplifter and are subliminally telling you to watch yourself mate, I've got my eye on you. Customer service here is rampant and not deemed beneath your dignity.
8. Driving. It is so much easier to drive over here. Firstly cars are mostly automatics, which make driving with that latte less of a first-degree burn hazard, secondly most roads were built after cars were invented so they are spacious and being forced to overtake is almost unknown (you haven't truly learned to drive in the UK unless you've had to overtake a tractor on a narrow, blind corner with 17 angry motorists in tow). Plus, the weather in CA makes driving a dream. It rains 2 or 3 times a year, other than that conditions are always perfect, no snow, driving rain, freezing fog, black ice, nothing.
9 People. I've met some pretty kick-ass people out here who I would miss terribly. Smart, funny, warm-hearted, genuine people. Friends who smile politely whenever I say 'shedule' instead of 'skedule' and who feign interest in England's inevitable defeat on penalties. And they all drink and serve great wine, hell, some of them even own wineries. What's not to love?
I know for completeness' sake there should be 10 things but don't push me OK? This was painful enough as it was.
I'm so full of the joys that I'm prepared to do something completely out of character. Put that wineglass down? Surely you jest? No, inspired by Little Britain, I'm going to list the things about my life in America that I love. Here I am, secure with all my peeps in town, able to take a step back and be broadminded *gasp*.
So here in no particular order and with very little sarcasm is a little list of what I love about life over here:
1. Going out for breakfast. Growing up in the UK this sounded as absurd a concept as going out to clean your teeth, but it's something I've grown to love. If someone had told me 15 years ago that I would spend every Sunday going for a half mile ocean swim followed by breakfast at a restaurant on the beach the anti-America chip on my shoulder would have fallen off in shock. I still won't put syrup on anything, but guilt-free Eggs Benedict after an icy swim? Now that's a lifestyle.
2. Having an English accent over here generally makes life so chuffing easy. This is a country that loves all things English (albeit a hashed together Disney-fied version of England). Moving from a continent that universally villifies anything British this change is shockingly refreshing. It's an automatic opener at cocktail parties, and only causes a few problems when talking on the phone. Generally, a good thing.
3. Food glorious food. It's very hard to stay skinny in this country there is such abundance and variety. Some of the things I would miss if we ever moved back to Blighty are; ranch dressing, jalapeno Cheetos, Mexican food, Philly Cheesesteak, Hass avocados, decent cocktails and anything from Trader Joes. Oh and free refills. As I said, hard to stay skinny.
4. Sunshine on tap. OK this is obviously a California thing, and probably not going to win me a lot of friends while the rest of the world shivers through yet another ice storm, but the advantages of a climate that never, ever varies are manifold. The thing I will never get used to is being able to schedule an outdoor activity three weeks in advance knowing full well that the weather won't ruin it. Want to play tennis a week next Thursday? Want to have everyone over for a barbecue Tuesday week? No problem. That is a luxury that I won't ever tire of. Putting sunscreen on every time you leave the house is a small price to pay.
5. Bum-protectors. What? I think the official term is 'toilet-seat covers'. Those filmy pieces of waxy paper that are supposed to prevent other people's arse-germs tainting your saintly derriere. I'm sure they're about as effective as a chocolate teapot but the faux-reassurance level is high. I was very surprised at how much I missed them on my last trip home.
6. US Mail. I realise many of you have just sprayed coffee all over your computer screens, but yes, the US Mail rocks, for the reason that you can have them pick up your stuff if you just put up that little flag jobbie on your post-box. No trawling around town trying to find a postbox over here! Try asking the postman to pick up your post in England. Didn't think so, he'd have a hard time trying to get his hand through that letterbox for a start.
7. Have a nice day. Not necessarily true in Brooklyn or downtown LA, but for the most part Americans are absurdly polite and well, nice. We Brits tend to be rather cynical so if a shop assistant welcomes you in to a store and starts offering to 'start a room for you' it's a knee-jerk reaction to think they've just identified you as a shoplifter and are subliminally telling you to watch yourself mate, I've got my eye on you. Customer service here is rampant and not deemed beneath your dignity.
8. Driving. It is so much easier to drive over here. Firstly cars are mostly automatics, which make driving with that latte less of a first-degree burn hazard, secondly most roads were built after cars were invented so they are spacious and being forced to overtake is almost unknown (you haven't truly learned to drive in the UK unless you've had to overtake a tractor on a narrow, blind corner with 17 angry motorists in tow). Plus, the weather in CA makes driving a dream. It rains 2 or 3 times a year, other than that conditions are always perfect, no snow, driving rain, freezing fog, black ice, nothing.
9 People. I've met some pretty kick-ass people out here who I would miss terribly. Smart, funny, warm-hearted, genuine people. Friends who smile politely whenever I say 'shedule' instead of 'skedule' and who feign interest in England's inevitable defeat on penalties. And they all drink and serve great wine, hell, some of them even own wineries. What's not to love?
I know for completeness' sake there should be 10 things but don't push me OK? This was painful enough as it was.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
It's The Thought That Counts
I need your help.
I need to know what to get Anna's preschool teachers as a Christmas gift. I was thinking Coffee Bean gift cards, but I'm sure that's what everyone gets them, so what then? $20 in an envelope? I expect that's what most poorly paid preschool teachers would like - cold hard cash.
I asked Anna if she had any suggestions, but my question of 'what would your teachers like for Christmas?' was met with the reply 'a lot of rainbow coloured bunnies in a cage'. Hmm, note to self, don't include a 2 year old in the decision-making process. On the plus side, I now know what to get her for Christmas. Well, that and a diamond.
So in an effort to please I actually asked a teacher from the class above Anna. I said I was new to the 'thank the teacher' thing, and did she have any suggestions? She literally grabbed me by the hands, pulled me to her chest and looked me straight in the eye to say 'anything you get that is from the heart would be gratefully appreciated'.
Waaaahhhh!!! Inappropriate body contact. Inappropriate talk about feelings. I'm too English. Waaahhhh!!!
So, I need your help, because I'm not bloody asking another live human being. The hug risk is too acute.
I need to know what to get Anna's preschool teachers as a Christmas gift. I was thinking Coffee Bean gift cards, but I'm sure that's what everyone gets them, so what then? $20 in an envelope? I expect that's what most poorly paid preschool teachers would like - cold hard cash.
I asked Anna if she had any suggestions, but my question of 'what would your teachers like for Christmas?' was met with the reply 'a lot of rainbow coloured bunnies in a cage'. Hmm, note to self, don't include a 2 year old in the decision-making process. On the plus side, I now know what to get her for Christmas. Well, that and a diamond.
So in an effort to please I actually asked a teacher from the class above Anna. I said I was new to the 'thank the teacher' thing, and did she have any suggestions? She literally grabbed me by the hands, pulled me to her chest and looked me straight in the eye to say 'anything you get that is from the heart would be gratefully appreciated'.
Waaaahhhh!!! Inappropriate body contact. Inappropriate talk about feelings. I'm too English. Waaahhhh!!!
So, I need your help, because I'm not bloody asking another live human being. The hug risk is too acute.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Who's A Pretty Girl Then?
I've always loved advent calendars, the countdown to Christmas marked out with each tiny door. I remember my Mum showing us our first calendar when I was 5 and my brother was 4. We would take it in turns to open it, revealing the Christmas picture within. December 1st was a christmas pudding. I remember that because we had the same advent calendar throughout my entire childhood. After 15 years you start to remember whether the picture of the christmas crackers falls on the 13th or the 15th.
This is America though, so Anna who's 2 has an Advent-Calendarpalooza courtesy of her Nani. No paltry piece of cardboard for her, not even a candy-filled yuletide marker. No, she has giant wooden calendar with an individually wrapped present for each day. I'm not even going to write about how spoiled she's going to become, or how, if we ever move back to the UK she's going to think she's moved back to the dark ages. I am going to write about what happens when a 2 year old gets a Santa ink-stamp on day 9 and you nip upstairs to go to the loo:
If you look closely you can see each individual Father Christmas. How I managed to produce a daughter so obsessed with make-up is beyond me. She's even adorned each eye.
So, did you get anything just as exciting in your advent calendar today??
This is America though, so Anna who's 2 has an Advent-Calendarpalooza courtesy of her Nani. No paltry piece of cardboard for her, not even a candy-filled yuletide marker. No, she has giant wooden calendar with an individually wrapped present for each day. I'm not even going to write about how spoiled she's going to become, or how, if we ever move back to the UK she's going to think she's moved back to the dark ages. I am going to write about what happens when a 2 year old gets a Santa ink-stamp on day 9 and you nip upstairs to go to the loo:
If you look closely you can see each individual Father Christmas. How I managed to produce a daughter so obsessed with make-up is beyond me. She's even adorned each eye.
So, did you get anything just as exciting in your advent calendar today??
Friday, December 07, 2007
Seven Silly Stories About Me
With apologies for the satellite delay, here's the meme that Villa Luna tagged me on. I'm not sure if they all qualify as 'silly' but they're all pretty chuffing embarrassing.
1. Late one night in my first year at University a group of friends decided to come round to my room for the evening. Uncertain of the state of my room and not wishing to embarrass myself, I decided to race off in front so I could do a quick tidy before the hoards arrived. Unfortunately in my haste I tripped on a flight of stairs. My guests were greeted by the sight of me sprawled on the concrete, skirt over my head flashing a very questionable pair of knickers.
2. When my brother and I were very small I wanted to put a picture up in my room. We decided where it was going to go, and he kindly offered to bang in the nail for me. My Dad happened to be walking past my bedroom window at the time - approximately three seconds before my brother would have hammered that nail an inch above the light switch and electrocuted himself to death.
3. I once asked a French teacher how to spell 'double-v' (W).
4. I've been involved in 3 minor car accidents. Two of them have been in a garage.
5. When Anna was seconds old and handed to me for the first time I was so deranged I thought 'bloody hell, a baby'.
6. When LK and I first met we drove cross-country together from CA to NY in a VW Rabbit (a Golf to you Brits). For a reason that is too complicated to explain we had a surfboard on the roof. Whilst driving through Arizona we passed through a torrential downpour. I went "oh no, the surfboard" to which LK replied "shit yeah, we'd better not get it wet".
7. When I was very much younger I 'found' my cervix (don't ask), and thought I was dying of cancer. I never told a soul.
1. Late one night in my first year at University a group of friends decided to come round to my room for the evening. Uncertain of the state of my room and not wishing to embarrass myself, I decided to race off in front so I could do a quick tidy before the hoards arrived. Unfortunately in my haste I tripped on a flight of stairs. My guests were greeted by the sight of me sprawled on the concrete, skirt over my head flashing a very questionable pair of knickers.
2. When my brother and I were very small I wanted to put a picture up in my room. We decided where it was going to go, and he kindly offered to bang in the nail for me. My Dad happened to be walking past my bedroom window at the time - approximately three seconds before my brother would have hammered that nail an inch above the light switch and electrocuted himself to death.
3. I once asked a French teacher how to spell 'double-v' (W).
4. I've been involved in 3 minor car accidents. Two of them have been in a garage.
5. When Anna was seconds old and handed to me for the first time I was so deranged I thought 'bloody hell, a baby'.
6. When LK and I first met we drove cross-country together from CA to NY in a VW Rabbit (a Golf to you Brits). For a reason that is too complicated to explain we had a surfboard on the roof. Whilst driving through Arizona we passed through a torrential downpour. I went "oh no, the surfboard" to which LK replied "shit yeah, we'd better not get it wet".
7. When I was very much younger I 'found' my cervix (don't ask), and thought I was dying of cancer. I never told a soul.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Follow Through!
As LK says every time he watches me play tennis "follow through, follow through, oh for the love of God, nrrghhgrrnnn". So, in the interests of continuity, and well, sense, I'm following up on the last couple of posts. Thankyou for all your lovely comments. I knew you all had diamond car stories and you did me proud.
Firstly, a Honda Pilot. We got a Honda Pilot. It would have been useful to perhaps mention this, as several of you kindly suggested, when writing about my new car. I chuffing *love it*. Apparently so does LK who drove it last night to get milk - 300 yards to the shop across the road.
Secondly, to answer my own question, how did we choose it? Well, I obviously had to solidify my reputation as a mainstream maven, ergo it was either a Toyota Highlander or a Honda Pilot. We are sick to the back teeth of our Ford and its random ailments, and my Honda Accord had eleventy billion miles on it with absolutely no care or attention from me, so another Honda was looking pretty likely. Plus one of my book club cohorts recommended the Pilot over the Highlander because it's bigger and you can haul an entire soccer team in it. That sounded like a nightmare to me, but apparently you want to be that Mum, the 'chauffeur-Mom', because they're the ones who get to listen in on the kids conversations while driving little Xavier/Madison/Ryland and Dave home. Another instance of book clubs ruling the chuffing world.
I will miss Jaffa though, and as my friend the fabulous Ms T. reminded me, I will miss its automatic seatbelts that felt you up every time you put the key in the ignition. I'm sure automatic seatbelts did seem like a great idea in 1990, but bloody hell, if you're driving that self same model 18 years later and the electric's on the blink, nothing screams new car like being constricted to death by an overly-enthusiastic seatbelt that's overridden it's shut-off.
Finally, to follow up on this post, no Cinderella story for Harrogate Railway, despite some very Yorkshire pluck and stick-to-it-iveness. You can read the match report here. They lost 3-2, almost a last gasp equalizer, and I particularly love this comment, 'And in the last minute Davidson, who works for a building society, shot powerfully at goal from the edge of the area.' Stupid building society. If only it'd been a bank that shot would've gone in. Click on the link to the interviews if you can. I may have been away from North Yorkshire for a decade, but Railway's Manager does not have a strikingly Yorkshire accent. Unintelligible yes. If only I could muster that much enthusiasm on the greatest day of my life.
Also, I've been tagged by villa luna, and I'm working on it OK? Seven silly stories coming up. I promise only one of them involves my cervix.
Firstly, a Honda Pilot. We got a Honda Pilot. It would have been useful to perhaps mention this, as several of you kindly suggested, when writing about my new car. I chuffing *love it*. Apparently so does LK who drove it last night to get milk - 300 yards to the shop across the road.
Secondly, to answer my own question, how did we choose it? Well, I obviously had to solidify my reputation as a mainstream maven, ergo it was either a Toyota Highlander or a Honda Pilot. We are sick to the back teeth of our Ford and its random ailments, and my Honda Accord had eleventy billion miles on it with absolutely no care or attention from me, so another Honda was looking pretty likely. Plus one of my book club cohorts recommended the Pilot over the Highlander because it's bigger and you can haul an entire soccer team in it. That sounded like a nightmare to me, but apparently you want to be that Mum, the 'chauffeur-Mom', because they're the ones who get to listen in on the kids conversations while driving little Xavier/Madison/Ryland and Dave home. Another instance of book clubs ruling the chuffing world.
I will miss Jaffa though, and as my friend the fabulous Ms T. reminded me, I will miss its automatic seatbelts that felt you up every time you put the key in the ignition. I'm sure automatic seatbelts did seem like a great idea in 1990, but bloody hell, if you're driving that self same model 18 years later and the electric's on the blink, nothing screams new car like being constricted to death by an overly-enthusiastic seatbelt that's overridden it's shut-off.
Finally, to follow up on this post, no Cinderella story for Harrogate Railway, despite some very Yorkshire pluck and stick-to-it-iveness. You can read the match report here. They lost 3-2, almost a last gasp equalizer, and I particularly love this comment, 'And in the last minute Davidson, who works for a building society, shot powerfully at goal from the edge of the area.' Stupid building society. If only it'd been a bank that shot would've gone in. Click on the link to the interviews if you can. I may have been away from North Yorkshire for a decade, but Railway's Manager does not have a strikingly Yorkshire accent. Unintelligible yes. If only I could muster that much enthusiasm on the greatest day of my life.
Also, I've been tagged by villa luna, and I'm working on it OK? Seven silly stories coming up. I promise only one of them involves my cervix.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Chitty Chitty Bling Bling
I almost feel like I'm tempting fate by writing this, as if somehow my good fortune will disappear, like the England team always managing to snatch defeat from certain victory:
I have a new car.
This is absurdly overdue, as I've already mentioned, here and here.We have been in crisis mode with both our cars for a long time, managing to staunch vehicular hemorrhaging with regular oil changes and duct tape. My car was in particularly poor shape, because:
1. Smoke would curl ominously from the bonnet every time I drove on the freeway.
2. I didn't feel comfortable driving it more than 15 miles for fear it'd blow up.
3. Last time I went to get my oil changed the bloke said he couldn't do it. He couldn't change the oil if I didn't have any oil. That's how I found out I had an oil leak.
3. I was rear-ended about 4 years ago and as the insurance paid us rather than a garage and as the car was bashed up but still drivable we never had it fixed. The advantage to this was having the only easily recognizable Teal Honda Accord out of a sea of similar ones in Santa Barbara.
4. It was a 2-door. When I was pregnant I knew it would be impossible to get an infant in and out of a car-seat in a 2-door car. Almost three years later, I can add that it's almost impossible. As she got larger and larger I was flirting with the laws of physics to get her in to the back seat. Recently it was proving impossible to do it without banging Anna's head an the car roof as I literally had to fling her 28lb frame in to her car-seat as I couldn't take her weight with my arms outstretched. She's a great car passenger mostly due to a constant state of mild concussion.
The only cons to getting a new car were:
a. Paying for the damn thing.
b. Our tenants thinking we're living large off their hard-earned rents and keying the new car out of spite. Oh how I wish we were living large off their rents.
c. Having 14 feet 2 inches of pristine paint on each side of the car, and a narrow parking space. (this last comment seems to have been added by LK while I was away from the computer - thanks love).
Well, we've thrown caution to the wind and I now have a terrifyingly brand new SUV. Hello Soccer Mom-dom! This is a momentous occasion, as this is the first vehicle other than a bike that I've had any hand in choosing. All my other cars have been hand-me-downs. Not that I'm ungrateful you understand, but I have always merely ended up owning a car, I've never been instrumental in the decision-making process. I mean God Almighty, I drove a red Geo Storm for months that LK bartered from a friend (technically a 'Torm' as the S fell off never to be found). That car blew a head gasket after a matter of months - some would call it assisted suicide.
Going through the car-buying process has made me wonder though - how do you pick a car? There seem to be so many choices out there - how did you end up with yours? Was it a carefully weighed decision made with Consumer Reports in hand? Or did you just nick one you fancied from the local mall parking lot? Does anybody really say yes please, a brand new Dodge Neon, that's the car for me? What's the story behind your car?
I have a new car.
This is absurdly overdue, as I've already mentioned, here and here.We have been in crisis mode with both our cars for a long time, managing to staunch vehicular hemorrhaging with regular oil changes and duct tape. My car was in particularly poor shape, because:
1. Smoke would curl ominously from the bonnet every time I drove on the freeway.
2. I didn't feel comfortable driving it more than 15 miles for fear it'd blow up.
3. Last time I went to get my oil changed the bloke said he couldn't do it. He couldn't change the oil if I didn't have any oil. That's how I found out I had an oil leak.
3. I was rear-ended about 4 years ago and as the insurance paid us rather than a garage and as the car was bashed up but still drivable we never had it fixed. The advantage to this was having the only easily recognizable Teal Honda Accord out of a sea of similar ones in Santa Barbara.
4. It was a 2-door. When I was pregnant I knew it would be impossible to get an infant in and out of a car-seat in a 2-door car. Almost three years later, I can add that it's almost impossible. As she got larger and larger I was flirting with the laws of physics to get her in to the back seat. Recently it was proving impossible to do it without banging Anna's head an the car roof as I literally had to fling her 28lb frame in to her car-seat as I couldn't take her weight with my arms outstretched. She's a great car passenger mostly due to a constant state of mild concussion.
The only cons to getting a new car were:
a. Paying for the damn thing.
b. Our tenants thinking we're living large off their hard-earned rents and keying the new car out of spite. Oh how I wish we were living large off their rents.
c. Having 14 feet 2 inches of pristine paint on each side of the car, and a narrow parking space. (this last comment seems to have been added by LK while I was away from the computer - thanks love).
Well, we've thrown caution to the wind and I now have a terrifyingly brand new SUV. Hello Soccer Mom-dom! This is a momentous occasion, as this is the first vehicle other than a bike that I've had any hand in choosing. All my other cars have been hand-me-downs. Not that I'm ungrateful you understand, but I have always merely ended up owning a car, I've never been instrumental in the decision-making process. I mean God Almighty, I drove a red Geo Storm for months that LK bartered from a friend (technically a 'Torm' as the S fell off never to be found). That car blew a head gasket after a matter of months - some would call it assisted suicide.
Going through the car-buying process has made me wonder though - how do you pick a car? There seem to be so many choices out there - how did you end up with yours? Was it a carefully weighed decision made with Consumer Reports in hand? Or did you just nick one you fancied from the local mall parking lot? Does anybody really say yes please, a brand new Dodge Neon, that's the car for me? What's the story behind your car?
Friday, November 30, 2007
Thank The Lord
Oh Thank God. Hello December.
I have enjoyed NaBloMoFo really, in the same way that I enjoy training for a triathlon and then it being over. The pressure though, bloody hell. Sitting at the computer each morning sent me straight back to being 8 years old and sitting on the piano bench with my fingers poised over the keys only to hear my Mum yell from the kitchen "Ali, you haven't done your piano practice" (how very middle class). Every time I log on I'm constantly reminded that I haven't yet performed.
I had stuff to write about too, stuff with substance. Want to hear about my battle with US immigration? Want to know the real differences between Americans and Brits, other than we have better bread and chocolate (I'm sorry America, we do. Deal with it.) Don't they sound entertaining? Well, you're probably right. A few token photos and Anna-ecdotes was all you got, and you're probably much happier for it.
**Edited for content**
I have enjoyed NaBloMoFo really, in the same way that I enjoy training for a triathlon and then it being over. The pressure though, bloody hell. Sitting at the computer each morning sent me straight back to being 8 years old and sitting on the piano bench with my fingers poised over the keys only to hear my Mum yell from the kitchen "Ali, you haven't done your piano practice" (how very middle class). Every time I log on I'm constantly reminded that I haven't yet performed.
I had stuff to write about too, stuff with substance. Want to hear about my battle with US immigration? Want to know the real differences between Americans and Brits, other than we have better bread and chocolate (I'm sorry America, we do. Deal with it.) Don't they sound entertaining? Well, you're probably right. A few token photos and Anna-ecdotes was all you got, and you're probably much happier for it.
**Edited for content**
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Third Time's The Charm
I don't have a good success rate with Disneyland. The first time I went was two weeks after arriving in the States, back in 1996. Last century. I've honestly attempted to go back but it's never worked out. LK and I tried to go with his sister and her kids about 7 years ago, but my boss wouldn't let me have the time off work. Funny, I don't work there any more. We tried again a few years later, but the morning of our scheduled departure I decided to get a bit of early triathlon training in, cycled into a tree and badly broke my collar bone:
We called my sister-in-law from the ER to say 'sorry to break it to you' pun intended, and she suggested I get bandaged up and hold the bags and sodas while they went on the rides. I think she was joking.
On Monday night Anna woke up screaming in pain. She's never been a crier so we knew something was horribly wrong. After what seemed like hours of 'use your words', 'point to the owie', 'stop crying or I'll really give you something to cry about' (my suggestion not LK's) we concluded that something was hurting in the ears/mouth/teeth area. We did what any thoughtful, caring parents did and dosed her up on baby Tylenol, put Wonder Pets on extended play and kept our fingers crossed our trip to Disneyland hanging in the balance. She eventually fell asleep and that was that. Another Disneyland nuclear-mushroom-cloud averted.
Or so we thought.
Turns out she had hand foot and mouth disease. We noticed the blisters on her hands and feet when we put her in her carseat to drive back home to SB. It's a fairly mild but incredibly virulent virus that is now affecting every single child under five who went to Disneyland on Tuesday.
Our bad.
We called my sister-in-law from the ER to say 'sorry to break it to you' pun intended, and she suggested I get bandaged up and hold the bags and sodas while they went on the rides. I think she was joking.
On Monday night Anna woke up screaming in pain. She's never been a crier so we knew something was horribly wrong. After what seemed like hours of 'use your words', 'point to the owie', 'stop crying or I'll really give you something to cry about' (my suggestion not LK's) we concluded that something was hurting in the ears/mouth/teeth area. We did what any thoughtful, caring parents did and dosed her up on baby Tylenol, put Wonder Pets on extended play and kept our fingers crossed our trip to Disneyland hanging in the balance. She eventually fell asleep and that was that. Another Disneyland nuclear-mushroom-cloud averted.
Or so we thought.
Turns out she had hand foot and mouth disease. We noticed the blisters on her hands and feet when we put her in her carseat to drive back home to SB. It's a fairly mild but incredibly virulent virus that is now affecting every single child under five who went to Disneyland on Tuesday.
Our bad.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Anna in the Mouse Hizz-ouse
Sorry to leave you in the lurch, but I have to take the creature to Disneyland today. If we manage to fight the LA traffic and get back before midnight I'll post some pics.
I know, my life is hell, pure hell.
I know, my life is hell, pure hell.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Sunday Walk
If there was ever a photo that summed up my family it would be this one:
As I've mentioned before, the Sunday walk was one of the things my brother and I would dread, particularly in our petulant teens, as if staying at home and watching The Waltons was any better alternative. I miss it now though. These photos my Mum sent make me long to grab my wellies, some kendal mint cake and that extra pair of thick socks.
Of course, it's completely possible to hike in SB, and there are some beautiful trails. It's just that you have only two options; you either hike straight up to the top of the mountains, or you walk along the beach. There is nothing in between.
So here's a picture of me struggling with the inequity of living in Southern California and not being able to walk through some muddy cowpat-strewn field in my wellies:
Sometimes I don't know how I manage.
As I've mentioned before, the Sunday walk was one of the things my brother and I would dread, particularly in our petulant teens, as if staying at home and watching The Waltons was any better alternative. I miss it now though. These photos my Mum sent make me long to grab my wellies, some kendal mint cake and that extra pair of thick socks.
Of course, it's completely possible to hike in SB, and there are some beautiful trails. It's just that you have only two options; you either hike straight up to the top of the mountains, or you walk along the beach. There is nothing in between.
So here's a picture of me struggling with the inequity of living in Southern California and not being able to walk through some muddy cowpat-strewn field in my wellies:
Sometimes I don't know how I manage.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Come on you Railway!
England didn't qualify for Euro 2008.
The more I think about it (and I have had a few days to mull this one over) the more I'm certain this is akin to rabbits eating their young so the fox won't get them. If we don't qualify, then we won't lose on penalties will we?
Being an ex-pat means experiencing this kind of thing in a vacuum. It is strange to have something so personally momentous happen and for it to cause so little stir in your immediate surroundings. As if a tree fell in a crowded forest and no-one heard a thing.
Being an England fan this kind of travesty is nothing new, and fortunately, being a football fan you can usually find something else to cheer about (even if it's only Chelsea losing at home). My silver lining to England's giant nuclear mushroom cloud is Harrogate Railway still being in the FA Cup.
For those of you not in the know, the FA Cup is a competition any football team in England can aspire to win. Any team no matter how lowly can work their way up through grueling early rounds played on dodgy pitches with only two old blokes and a dog for support, to having the BBC film your next match. Can you imagine that happening in baseball or basketball? I don't think so.
These are not professional players, they all have full time jobs elsewhere, my brother used to play the occasional game for this side, and now the BBC are to pay £75,000 for the rights to show the match because they've hung on long enough to reach the 2nd round where the League Teams are introduced. Hopefully some of that money will trickle down to the players this time.
The match is to be played on Sunday December 2nd - I'm sure you'll want to check ESPN or your local listings(!) If they win this match they get through to the 3rd round where the really big boys enter the fray, the Premiership sides. I can see it now, Manchester United v Harrogate Railway.
Stranger things have happened - as it says in the flyleaf of my Christening Bible, '1973 The Year Sunderland Won The Cup.'
Come on you Railway!
The more I think about it (and I have had a few days to mull this one over) the more I'm certain this is akin to rabbits eating their young so the fox won't get them. If we don't qualify, then we won't lose on penalties will we?
Being an ex-pat means experiencing this kind of thing in a vacuum. It is strange to have something so personally momentous happen and for it to cause so little stir in your immediate surroundings. As if a tree fell in a crowded forest and no-one heard a thing.
Being an England fan this kind of travesty is nothing new, and fortunately, being a football fan you can usually find something else to cheer about (even if it's only Chelsea losing at home). My silver lining to England's giant nuclear mushroom cloud is Harrogate Railway still being in the FA Cup.
For those of you not in the know, the FA Cup is a competition any football team in England can aspire to win. Any team no matter how lowly can work their way up through grueling early rounds played on dodgy pitches with only two old blokes and a dog for support, to having the BBC film your next match. Can you imagine that happening in baseball or basketball? I don't think so.
These are not professional players, they all have full time jobs elsewhere, my brother used to play the occasional game for this side, and now the BBC are to pay £75,000 for the rights to show the match because they've hung on long enough to reach the 2nd round where the League Teams are introduced. Hopefully some of that money will trickle down to the players this time.
The match is to be played on Sunday December 2nd - I'm sure you'll want to check ESPN or your local listings(!) If they win this match they get through to the 3rd round where the really big boys enter the fray, the Premiership sides. I can see it now, Manchester United v Harrogate Railway.
Stranger things have happened - as it says in the flyleaf of my Christening Bible, '1973 The Year Sunderland Won The Cup.'
Come on you Railway!
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Friday, November 23, 2007
Don't Let Your Daughters Grow Up To Be Cal Girls
Today is 'Black Friday' - a bit of American 'kulcha' for you - Black Friday is the day after Thanksgiving when everyone wakes up from their triptophan haze and says 'fuck me, it's officially Christmas time, I must shop NOW'. Unless like me you woke up at a friendly 8:30am realizing you were already 3 1/2 hours too late for the JC Penney sale. WTF America? Who needs this so chuffing early, or quite honestly at all?
No, I did the next best thing and rolled over to ask my bleary-eyed toddler what she wanted for Christmas.
"Spongebob-underpants" was her reply - eyes glued to the telly. This of course prompted LK to say "I love lamp".
Not to be undone by her flagging attention span, I tried again.
"Anna, if you could have anything you wanted for Christmas, something you don't have perhaps, what would you like?"
Ha, this time there was a glimmer of recognition, of the enormity of the question, the potential ramifications. She thought long and hard, and came up with;
"A diamond"
Don't let your daughters grow up to be Cal girls.
No, I did the next best thing and rolled over to ask my bleary-eyed toddler what she wanted for Christmas.
"Spongebob-underpants" was her reply - eyes glued to the telly. This of course prompted LK to say "I love lamp".
Not to be undone by her flagging attention span, I tried again.
"Anna, if you could have anything you wanted for Christmas, something you don't have perhaps, what would you like?"
Ha, this time there was a glimmer of recognition, of the enormity of the question, the potential ramifications. She thought long and hard, and came up with;
"A diamond"
Don't let your daughters grow up to be Cal girls.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Happy Turkey Day
Happy Thanksgiving, or if you're reading this from the UK, Happy Random Thursday!
Obviously this is a quintessentially American holiday, but honestly I'm surprised it hasn't caught on in the UK, because a holiday devoted entirely to food - how brilliant is that? It's definitely a holiday I would carry back to the UK should the situation ever arise. Much better than that other American holiday, July 4th which I'm still struggling to get in to. A little too much jingoism if you ask me (perhaps I just need to get over the fact that you lot won).
The only downside to mountains of mashed potato, gravy, turkey and pie is the familial guilt that's often involved. So thankyou English family who are no doubt right now helping at 'Riding for the Disabled' or at either badminton or pilates. No guilt - more food! I think for Thanksgiving to be a success you have to either have an unbelievably amicable relationship with both sets of in-laws, or one set has to be foreign and happily oblivious.
Whilst mashing a Matterhorn of potatoes this morning I told Lance that come the inevitable divorce I would quite happily let him have the kids on Thanksgiving. He took a thoughtful sip of coffee and said 'nah, there's always an amazing swell on the holidays, you have them'.
How could I divorce a man like that?
Obviously this is a quintessentially American holiday, but honestly I'm surprised it hasn't caught on in the UK, because a holiday devoted entirely to food - how brilliant is that? It's definitely a holiday I would carry back to the UK should the situation ever arise. Much better than that other American holiday, July 4th which I'm still struggling to get in to. A little too much jingoism if you ask me (perhaps I just need to get over the fact that you lot won).
The only downside to mountains of mashed potato, gravy, turkey and pie is the familial guilt that's often involved. So thankyou English family who are no doubt right now helping at 'Riding for the Disabled' or at either badminton or pilates. No guilt - more food! I think for Thanksgiving to be a success you have to either have an unbelievably amicable relationship with both sets of in-laws, or one set has to be foreign and happily oblivious.
Whilst mashing a Matterhorn of potatoes this morning I told Lance that come the inevitable divorce I would quite happily let him have the kids on Thanksgiving. He took a thoughtful sip of coffee and said 'nah, there's always an amazing swell on the holidays, you have them'.
How could I divorce a man like that?
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
I'd Like To Thank.....
Memes are to NaBloPoMo as Baby Einstein DVDs are to parents of infants. After a while you have to give in and use them because you've run out of options.
StickyFeathers tagged me yesterday on 7 random facts. I'm going to tweak this one a little, because I'm fresh out of random facts (I'm simply not that random) so in deference to the upcoming holiday I'm going to list 7 things I'm thankful for:
1. The 10 days in November & December when we don't have house guests.
2. Interest rates being cut. Oh you have no idea.
3. The upcoming 5 day holiday (yup I'm tacking on Monday too).
4. I finally got upgraded to OS10 at work. So long hamster!
5. Anna's kick-ass 3 hour naps that have been going on for months now.
6. The fact that I not only love but genuinely like my family.
7. You, my faithful bloggy readers - yes all three of you! Your comments, and support regularly make my day - even though some of you are clearly insane.
Christ, 7 things, that was a toughie.
OK, I'm sending this to a few of my favourite people. I need 7 things you're thankful for. Points for sarcasm.
Sticky Feathers, Dafodilly, Currently, Scribble Nation, Fresh Hell, Amy, Little Britainer
StickyFeathers tagged me yesterday on 7 random facts. I'm going to tweak this one a little, because I'm fresh out of random facts (I'm simply not that random) so in deference to the upcoming holiday I'm going to list 7 things I'm thankful for:
1. The 10 days in November & December when we don't have house guests.
2. Interest rates being cut. Oh you have no idea.
3. The upcoming 5 day holiday (yup I'm tacking on Monday too).
4. I finally got upgraded to OS10 at work. So long hamster!
5. Anna's kick-ass 3 hour naps that have been going on for months now.
6. The fact that I not only love but genuinely like my family.
7. You, my faithful bloggy readers - yes all three of you! Your comments, and support regularly make my day - even though some of you are clearly insane.
Christ, 7 things, that was a toughie.
OK, I'm sending this to a few of my favourite people. I need 7 things you're thankful for. Points for sarcasm.
Sticky Feathers, Dafodilly, Currently, Scribble Nation, Fresh Hell, Amy, Little Britainer
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
My Commute
I've been tagged on a meme by stickyfeathers, but it's another 7 random things, and I've just posted 10, so you'll have to bear with me on finding another 7 - maybe tomorrow!!
So in lieu of a meme, it's finally come down to this - if you thought my last posts were scraping the barrel, I bring you:
My Drive To Work
I have a five minute commute so this is going to be a short post. A tiny commute, but four distinct socio-economic zones. How fascinating is that? OK, maybe you're not all geographers.
1. High School
We live a stones throw from a high school, so close in fact that it's impossible to get out of our road between 7:45am and 8am without getting sucked in to the schoolkid drop-off vortex. Still, as I sit there, waiting for the slowest kids of all time to shuffle across the crosswalk I do get the opportunity for some stellar people-watching. The outfits are obviously the main draw. There are so many distinct cliques that it would take a proper post, not a bit of NaBloPoMo fluff to do them justice. Let's just say I am so glad that I got to hide my nerdiness and relative pauperism behind a school uniform when growing up.
2. Financial District
OK, that's really a tad euphemistic. This is a few blocks of downtown SB that's home to most of the financial and legal firms, where it seems you have to wear the Santa Barbara business uniform of chinos, pale blue cotton button-down shirt, navy tie and styrofoam cup of coffee. Women and men. I think this is the only area of town where people don't wear flip-flops to work. Honestly.
3. Athletic Grannys
Just before I get to the hospital I have to drive through a neighbourhood full of fiercely exercising Grannys. It's an area of large multi-million dollar homes, up by the Santa Barbara Mission. Beautifully manicured properties, sprinklers gently spritzing the perfect lawns and Mexican gardeners coiffing the bouganvillea. A place where no person under the age of 70 can afford to buy, and the only reason these old zealots are hanging on financially is because they come from old moneyed East Coast families and their property taxes haven't changed since 1923. The power-walking Grannys are always out in force as I scream through at 7:58am. They have a uniform of sweats, hats with ludicrously large brims, and absurdly large sunglasses (the kind with the wraparound sides). Their skin has not seen daylight for decades. They generally appear in packs of 3 0r 4 and they move with a fierce intensity towards who knows? Coffee? Sanatogen Smoothies?
Hospital
Lots of medical people wearing scrubs and white coats with stethoscopes snaked around their necks. Don't be alarmed pedestrians, we are medics and are here to save the world!
Told you I was scraping the barrel.
So in lieu of a meme, it's finally come down to this - if you thought my last posts were scraping the barrel, I bring you:
My Drive To Work
I have a five minute commute so this is going to be a short post. A tiny commute, but four distinct socio-economic zones. How fascinating is that? OK, maybe you're not all geographers.
1. High School
We live a stones throw from a high school, so close in fact that it's impossible to get out of our road between 7:45am and 8am without getting sucked in to the schoolkid drop-off vortex. Still, as I sit there, waiting for the slowest kids of all time to shuffle across the crosswalk I do get the opportunity for some stellar people-watching. The outfits are obviously the main draw. There are so many distinct cliques that it would take a proper post, not a bit of NaBloPoMo fluff to do them justice. Let's just say I am so glad that I got to hide my nerdiness and relative pauperism behind a school uniform when growing up.
2. Financial District
OK, that's really a tad euphemistic. This is a few blocks of downtown SB that's home to most of the financial and legal firms, where it seems you have to wear the Santa Barbara business uniform of chinos, pale blue cotton button-down shirt, navy tie and styrofoam cup of coffee. Women and men. I think this is the only area of town where people don't wear flip-flops to work. Honestly.
3. Athletic Grannys
Just before I get to the hospital I have to drive through a neighbourhood full of fiercely exercising Grannys. It's an area of large multi-million dollar homes, up by the Santa Barbara Mission. Beautifully manicured properties, sprinklers gently spritzing the perfect lawns and Mexican gardeners coiffing the bouganvillea. A place where no person under the age of 70 can afford to buy, and the only reason these old zealots are hanging on financially is because they come from old moneyed East Coast families and their property taxes haven't changed since 1923. The power-walking Grannys are always out in force as I scream through at 7:58am. They have a uniform of sweats, hats with ludicrously large brims, and absurdly large sunglasses (the kind with the wraparound sides). Their skin has not seen daylight for decades. They generally appear in packs of 3 0r 4 and they move with a fierce intensity towards who knows? Coffee? Sanatogen Smoothies?
Hospital
Lots of medical people wearing scrubs and white coats with stethoscopes snaked around their necks. Don't be alarmed pedestrians, we are medics and are here to save the world!
Told you I was scraping the barrel.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Phoning It In
I've just deposited an Anthem BlueCross BlueShield check for $0.03.
Thanks, Anthem - thorough!
(and the NaBloPoMo award for shortest post goes to......)
Thanks, Anthem - thorough!
(and the NaBloPoMo award for shortest post goes to......)
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Word To Your Mother
Here for no particular reason (other than sweet f.a. to write about) is a list of words I have to continually look up in the dictionary. I simply cannot make these words stick:
Atavism - nope, not a clue.
Sobriquet - aliblahblah
Sardonic - a sardine-like smile?
Sanguine - if there is a word least like 'cheerfully optimistic' I'd like to know it.
Solipsism - moi darling
Polemic - it is impossible to write a Geography paper without this one.
It's as if my brain reached maximum capacity at 21 and simply refuses to learn anything new.
Of course, I am blonde.
Atavism - nope, not a clue.
Sobriquet - aliblahblah
Sardonic - a sardine-like smile?
Sanguine - if there is a word least like 'cheerfully optimistic' I'd like to know it.
Solipsism - moi darling
Polemic - it is impossible to write a Geography paper without this one.
It's as if my brain reached maximum capacity at 21 and simply refuses to learn anything new.
Of course, I am blonde.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Earthquake in Santa Barbara!
We had an earthquake last night!
I know everyone who lives in the UK thinks we have ten earthquakes before breakfast here, but no, sorry to disappoint.
My very first morning in California I woke up thinking crap, this is it, it's an earthquake, only to realise next door had their washing machine on. I used to look at people's houses, with their rows of wine glasses on shelves and think 'God you complete muppets, these'll be gone within the week'. Several false alarms later (train rolling past, overly enthusiastic neighbour on treadmill) I stopped giving it a second thought despite SB being built on one big fault line.
I've experienced only three earthquakes since being here (bloody lucky I know) and one of them was last night!
Look, do you see that big blue box at the bottom of this map? That's our chuffing house!
It was only a baby earthquake, more of a foetus really at 3.4 but SB was the epicenter which explains why we felt it. There was just one large jolt, as if a really big lorry had just driven by. I honestly didn't think much of it until Red Fox called to confirm. Then Mooks called to say she'd got in to a fight about it as her husband had yelled 'get in a doorway' and she was not sufficiently spry and would clearly have faced IMMINENT! DEATH! if it was a bit more powerful.
So, what do you do if you've just experienced nature's fury? You go out dancing that's what.
LK and I went out on the town and tore it up K-style, and this morning I woke up wobbly and bleary to find Anna munching away on my 'guaranteed hangover cure' Jalapeno Cheetos from the night before. That child is like a waste disposal.
I know everyone who lives in the UK thinks we have ten earthquakes before breakfast here, but no, sorry to disappoint.
My very first morning in California I woke up thinking crap, this is it, it's an earthquake, only to realise next door had their washing machine on. I used to look at people's houses, with their rows of wine glasses on shelves and think 'God you complete muppets, these'll be gone within the week'. Several false alarms later (train rolling past, overly enthusiastic neighbour on treadmill) I stopped giving it a second thought despite SB being built on one big fault line.
I've experienced only three earthquakes since being here (bloody lucky I know) and one of them was last night!
Look, do you see that big blue box at the bottom of this map? That's our chuffing house!
It was only a baby earthquake, more of a foetus really at 3.4 but SB was the epicenter which explains why we felt it. There was just one large jolt, as if a really big lorry had just driven by. I honestly didn't think much of it until Red Fox called to confirm. Then Mooks called to say she'd got in to a fight about it as her husband had yelled 'get in a doorway' and she was not sufficiently spry and would clearly have faced IMMINENT! DEATH! if it was a bit more powerful.
So, what do you do if you've just experienced nature's fury? You go out dancing that's what.
LK and I went out on the town and tore it up K-style, and this morning I woke up wobbly and bleary to find Anna munching away on my 'guaranteed hangover cure' Jalapeno Cheetos from the night before. That child is like a waste disposal.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Football v Basketball
Proof positive that LK is having a serious effect on UK culture:
For some reason he didn't believe my Mum and Dad when they said they'd run in to a Lakers Bar near Keswick.
Perhaps basketball is going to become the world sport after all (!)
Maybe you lot can weigh in on this one for us. The first night I met LK we got into a debate about whether football (soccer) or basketball would be the most global sport in 50 years time.
I said football he said basketball (well, duh).
It's scary to think that so far 10 years have already passed but I'm quite confident that I still have the upper hand here.
I have been known to be a tad biased though, so any thoughts?
For some reason he didn't believe my Mum and Dad when they said they'd run in to a Lakers Bar near Keswick.
Perhaps basketball is going to become the world sport after all (!)
Maybe you lot can weigh in on this one for us. The first night I met LK we got into a debate about whether football (soccer) or basketball would be the most global sport in 50 years time.
I said football he said basketball (well, duh).
It's scary to think that so far 10 years have already passed but I'm quite confident that I still have the upper hand here.
I have been known to be a tad biased though, so any thoughts?
Thursday, November 15, 2007
There's an animal in trouble.......
The phone! The phone is ringing!
Some of you with small children will already know what I'm talking about.
The phone! We'll be right there!
Anna's favourite show right now is Wonder Pets! Supplanting even Dora in her devotions. A guinea pig, a duckling and a terrapin who all don capes after preschool hours and save animals from certain doom. Stuck in some tree sap? Paw caught in a brambly bush? They'll be there just as soon as they get that call.
There's an animal in trouble!
She absolutely refuses to watch this show alone, presumably because of the ABSOLUTE! HORROR! of a bee being stuck in some jam and unable to fly, and it MIGHT RAIN! I suppose it's good that she's not watching telly by herself at the tender age of 2 (although when else am I supposed to blog??), but this theme tune, repeated every 4 minutes throughout the show is like a mental chinese burn. I have been singing it all day. My subconscious is ready to grab a cape and go.
Oh yes! My brain is melting!
There's a animal in trouble and it's me.
Some of you with small children will already know what I'm talking about.
The phone! We'll be right there!
Anna's favourite show right now is Wonder Pets! Supplanting even Dora in her devotions. A guinea pig, a duckling and a terrapin who all don capes after preschool hours and save animals from certain doom. Stuck in some tree sap? Paw caught in a brambly bush? They'll be there just as soon as they get that call.
There's an animal in trouble!
She absolutely refuses to watch this show alone, presumably because of the ABSOLUTE! HORROR! of a bee being stuck in some jam and unable to fly, and it MIGHT RAIN! I suppose it's good that she's not watching telly by herself at the tender age of 2 (although when else am I supposed to blog??), but this theme tune, repeated every 4 minutes throughout the show is like a mental chinese burn. I have been singing it all day. My subconscious is ready to grab a cape and go.
Oh yes! My brain is melting!
There's a animal in trouble and it's me.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
You Are What You Eat
I am flying, heart racing, palms sweating from a hastily downed lunch of left over pasta and thickly buttered bread - the remnants of yesterday's pharmaceutical company sponsored lunch. We get a catered lunch practically every day as drug reps vie for the attention of our doctors. I know, your overpriced prescriptions are feeding my face. I feel guilty I do, but there's no time for a debate on the ethics of drug sales, sorry, this is NaBloPoMo, I have no time. Must post fluff!
What I wanted to talk about is, 'You Are What You Eat', and right now there's a carb-bomb going off in my stomach. I've been glued to this program on BBC America where a fearsome Scot terrorizes people with visions of what they've eaten in the past week. Then she guides them towards the peppermint tea and celeriac casserole. The trainwreck/salvation aspect of this program does make compelling viewing (more compelling than Dora) but I have several issues with the show. Firstly, the presenter is the most terrifyingly pinched and anaemic looking nutritionist. She doesn't glow with health, just with zeal for converting people. Mostly though, I'm cross at how it's always the woman of the house who's faced with making the Aduki Bean Casserole for the family dinner, from scratch, using four hours of her 'spare' time each day. While blokey no doubt sits down in front of the telly sneaking a can of lager and some prawn cocktail crisps.
What I find interesting is not the inevitable, 'wow don't we look better we've lost weight' reveal at the end of the show, it's how the people feel better, have tonnes more energy, their sex drives leaping about with very un-British candour. I like how she addresses each mineral's particular job, how so many Brits, overweight or not, are malnourised when it comes to some key nutrients like B-vitamins and zinc. She has a very interesting way of judging your health by examining your tongue, and then your poop. Apologies if you're eating. I am fascinated by the idea of kick-starting my flagging immune system and energy levels by just eating better. But why is it so hard to remember that before you down that giant bag of jalapeno Cheetos?
If you can, try and catch the show, because not only might you learn something, you can't deny the comedy aspect of some bloke from the dodgy end of Leeds clutching his shopping list and trying to find quinoa and miso soup in his local Co-op. That's worth watching right there.
What I wanted to talk about is, 'You Are What You Eat', and right now there's a carb-bomb going off in my stomach. I've been glued to this program on BBC America where a fearsome Scot terrorizes people with visions of what they've eaten in the past week. Then she guides them towards the peppermint tea and celeriac casserole. The trainwreck/salvation aspect of this program does make compelling viewing (more compelling than Dora) but I have several issues with the show. Firstly, the presenter is the most terrifyingly pinched and anaemic looking nutritionist. She doesn't glow with health, just with zeal for converting people. Mostly though, I'm cross at how it's always the woman of the house who's faced with making the Aduki Bean Casserole for the family dinner, from scratch, using four hours of her 'spare' time each day. While blokey no doubt sits down in front of the telly sneaking a can of lager and some prawn cocktail crisps.
What I find interesting is not the inevitable, 'wow don't we look better we've lost weight' reveal at the end of the show, it's how the people feel better, have tonnes more energy, their sex drives leaping about with very un-British candour. I like how she addresses each mineral's particular job, how so many Brits, overweight or not, are malnourised when it comes to some key nutrients like B-vitamins and zinc. She has a very interesting way of judging your health by examining your tongue, and then your poop. Apologies if you're eating. I am fascinated by the idea of kick-starting my flagging immune system and energy levels by just eating better. But why is it so hard to remember that before you down that giant bag of jalapeno Cheetos?
If you can, try and catch the show, because not only might you learn something, you can't deny the comedy aspect of some bloke from the dodgy end of Leeds clutching his shopping list and trying to find quinoa and miso soup in his local Co-op. That's worth watching right there.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Marbles, What Marbles?
Just when you thought it was safe to stash the old bikini in the bottom drawer, it's chuffing 80º here today. I'm roasting in my rather tasteful cable knitwear. That'll teach me not to watch the weather forecast before leaving for work.
Having lived here for over a decade *breathe* I know this to be typical Thanksgiving weather. Nothing says let's roast a 18lb turkey in the oven for hours like it being over 100º outside.
I don't have anything of value to write about, and for that I apologize. I have so much work sitting on my desk, so many sheafs of paper that I'm thinking of executing a controlled burn. Nothing major, just a very localised inferno.
There is one refreshing thing about working where I do though, and that is just when you think you're so busy you're going nuts, you're reminded what it's really like to be losing your mind:
Case in point, I overheard this particular gem this morning.
Elderly Patient: What's the date please?
Receptionist: It's the 13th
Elderly Patient: Of?
Receptionist: Of? Oh, November
Elderly Patient: And the year?
Having lived here for over a decade *breathe* I know this to be typical Thanksgiving weather. Nothing says let's roast a 18lb turkey in the oven for hours like it being over 100º outside.
I don't have anything of value to write about, and for that I apologize. I have so much work sitting on my desk, so many sheafs of paper that I'm thinking of executing a controlled burn. Nothing major, just a very localised inferno.
There is one refreshing thing about working where I do though, and that is just when you think you're so busy you're going nuts, you're reminded what it's really like to be losing your mind:
Case in point, I overheard this particular gem this morning.
Elderly Patient: What's the date please?
Receptionist: It's the 13th
Elderly Patient: Of?
Receptionist: Of? Oh, November
Elderly Patient: And the year?
Monday, November 12, 2007
Move Over Destiny
Scribble Nation recently sent me a superb double CD 'A Rose is a Rose', a collection of great female musicians. Now I am to music what dub-ya is to world peace, but I am always interested in hearing something new. What I had not expected was to stumble on an old friend. Her collection rightly included a song by the amazing Nina Simone.
I think everybody has that one song, the one you played on continuous repeat for hours on end as it spoke so perfectly to what you were going through at that particular point in your life. 'I got it bad (and that ain't good)' is that song for me. Hearing Nina Simone on Scribble Nation's compilation was like a time-travelling punch in the gut, back to emotions I haven't felt in a long time.
I played it on continuous repeat for old times sake yesterday, and damn that's a good song. What's amazing to me now is how the lines 'Lord above me, make him love me' use to resonate with me. Had I no self-respect, no sense of self-worth? I suppose the generous response is, who honestly does have a solid sense of self-worth in their early 20s, but crikey, note to 20-year-old self - if he doesn't think you're the dogs bollocks, move on, and hit shuffle on that bloody CD player.
I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize to my former flatmates who probably hear that song now and have to fight an urge to open a cheap bottle of Rioja and fling it towards my bedroom door.
At the time, my friend and internationally famous flatmate S. tried to put things in perspective (oh so many times, and over oh so many bottles of wine). We were standing outside the Porters Lodge at College, and she flung out her arms in desperation and said 'Look Als, if he was your destiny, there'd be some sort of sign' - as he cycled past waving.
God it felt good to laugh.
So what's your song?
I think everybody has that one song, the one you played on continuous repeat for hours on end as it spoke so perfectly to what you were going through at that particular point in your life. 'I got it bad (and that ain't good)' is that song for me. Hearing Nina Simone on Scribble Nation's compilation was like a time-travelling punch in the gut, back to emotions I haven't felt in a long time.
I played it on continuous repeat for old times sake yesterday, and damn that's a good song. What's amazing to me now is how the lines 'Lord above me, make him love me' use to resonate with me. Had I no self-respect, no sense of self-worth? I suppose the generous response is, who honestly does have a solid sense of self-worth in their early 20s, but crikey, note to 20-year-old self - if he doesn't think you're the dogs bollocks, move on, and hit shuffle on that bloody CD player.
I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize to my former flatmates who probably hear that song now and have to fight an urge to open a cheap bottle of Rioja and fling it towards my bedroom door.
At the time, my friend and internationally famous flatmate S. tried to put things in perspective (oh so many times, and over oh so many bottles of wine). We were standing outside the Porters Lodge at College, and she flung out her arms in desperation and said 'Look Als, if he was your destiny, there'd be some sort of sign' - as he cycled past waving.
God it felt good to laugh.
So what's your song?
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Sunday Bloody Sunday
In order for me to get everything done today I need Anna to nap for approximately 7.5 hours.
So far she is on her third viewing of the same episode of Dora and while my back was turned (OK, while I was on the pompooder) she has managed to do this with my earrings and a doorknob:
That does not bode well for the banging sounds I now hear coming from her bedroom.
Her father is currently golfing and I am going mental as her favourite word is now why? Why is poop stinky? Why Anna no haf Hallowe'en candy? Why he haf no trousers?
Why who haf no trousers young lady?!
I usually work four days a week. Four days followed by a three-day weekend. I highly, highly recommend it. What you lack in bank balance you make up for in sanity. My rationale is that I get to spend more time with Anna in her important formative years, but truly, I'm wondering how I can get my employers to spin this out til Anna goes to college because working five days a week is for the birds. I know this because for the last couple of weeks I have been back to my old five-day-a-week schedule and it's doing my head in. I am thinking of scheduling time to cut my fingernails.
Which reminds me, I really should go and cut my fingernails.
So far she is on her third viewing of the same episode of Dora and while my back was turned (OK, while I was on the pompooder) she has managed to do this with my earrings and a doorknob:
That does not bode well for the banging sounds I now hear coming from her bedroom.
Her father is currently golfing and I am going mental as her favourite word is now why? Why is poop stinky? Why Anna no haf Hallowe'en candy? Why he haf no trousers?
Why who haf no trousers young lady?!
I usually work four days a week. Four days followed by a three-day weekend. I highly, highly recommend it. What you lack in bank balance you make up for in sanity. My rationale is that I get to spend more time with Anna in her important formative years, but truly, I'm wondering how I can get my employers to spin this out til Anna goes to college because working five days a week is for the birds. I know this because for the last couple of weeks I have been back to my old five-day-a-week schedule and it's doing my head in. I am thinking of scheduling time to cut my fingernails.
Which reminds me, I really should go and cut my fingernails.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Vincent Van Chuff
Love is blind. A recent thankyou note from someone who received some of Anna's artwork:
"I see the talent in the brush strokes, the placement of colors. She paints with her soul."
"I see the talent in the brush strokes, the placement of colors. She paints with her soul."
Friday, November 09, 2007
Wait, I Have A Few Suggestions Myself
Anna just had her yearly flu shot, and was her usual stoic self. I don't know how I ended up with such a die-hard daughter. My Dad would faint at the sight of a needle, and I'm not the bravest. While the needle was being prepared (even writing that makes me shudder) I had her singing the ABCs, so that by the time the nurse did the evil deed Anna was part way through the 'now I know my ABCs....' part and didn't stop singing, she just looked over her shoulder at the nurse as if to say 'dude, you are so not helping me here'.
I did not get a flu shot. I feel like I've already had my yearly dose courtesy of Anna, and I'm not pregnant or sickly, so there's all the more for you, you pregnant sickly people of SB. It took me 3 weeks to get over the last bout of pre-school flu, finally having to resort to antibiotics, which I'm usually deathly allergic too and for me is rather like playing microbial russian roulette. Ha! You think this sinus infection is bad, why not try anaphylactic shock on for size.
What I did get was a surprisingly large amount of advice about colds, and infections, and immune systems. I suppose three weeks of me going 'bI'm bine bankyou' had people doubting my cold-fighting techniques. I did receive some very helpful suggestions, and some, well, less so. Large amounts of tequila (helpful), whisky lemon and honey (right this way nurse), washing your hands (less helpful).
It amazes me how many people will tell you that, "Hey! You know what works for me so I don't get colds. Basic hygiene! Why not try washing your hands and not picking your nose?!"
Gosh thanks, that's very helpful particularly when you're woken up at 3am by a snot-nosed toddler meeowing and pretending to be a cat whilst licking your nose and mouth.
That's when you need the tequila apparently.
I did not get a flu shot. I feel like I've already had my yearly dose courtesy of Anna, and I'm not pregnant or sickly, so there's all the more for you, you pregnant sickly people of SB. It took me 3 weeks to get over the last bout of pre-school flu, finally having to resort to antibiotics, which I'm usually deathly allergic too and for me is rather like playing microbial russian roulette. Ha! You think this sinus infection is bad, why not try anaphylactic shock on for size.
What I did get was a surprisingly large amount of advice about colds, and infections, and immune systems. I suppose three weeks of me going 'bI'm bine bankyou' had people doubting my cold-fighting techniques. I did receive some very helpful suggestions, and some, well, less so. Large amounts of tequila (helpful), whisky lemon and honey (right this way nurse), washing your hands (less helpful).
It amazes me how many people will tell you that, "Hey! You know what works for me so I don't get colds. Basic hygiene! Why not try washing your hands and not picking your nose?!"
Gosh thanks, that's very helpful particularly when you're woken up at 3am by a snot-nosed toddler meeowing and pretending to be a cat whilst licking your nose and mouth.
That's when you need the tequila apparently.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
I Hate You Pompooder
It's a grey and dreary day today here in the 'Golden' State. I'm thinking of cooking lasagne. Can you tell that I'm running out of things to regale you with? I have a fabulous lasagne receipe that I won't share with you, because it's not mine. It belongs to my friend C, and it makes me smile every time I use it because not only is it wantonly loaded with meaty-cheesy goodness, but the recipe was also hand-written by C's older sister and contains such gems as 'it's in the green jar in your fridge' and 'stick your finger in it to see if it's done'. All of the comments are those that an older sister would make who has serious misgivings about her sibling's cookery skills. You can almost feel her going 'for the love of God, move over, I'll do it'.
I miss my friend.
Anyway, a lovely comment from one of my 3 readers has led me to my first official 'you've been tagged' meme. I'd link to her here but I'm blogging on an archaic machine powered by a hamster, so I'll just have to say, check out her link on the sidebar - Squishy Thoughts!!
So, here goes, 10 random facts about me:
1. I cannot stand men whose torsos are longer than their legs. I'm pretty intolerant of men with short legs in general actually.
2. I support Manchester United
3. Growing up I was a huge Anne of Green Gables fan. In 2004 I realized a dream by travelling to Prince Edward Island. I was really bummed not to come home with a decent souvenir. Until 3 weeks later I realized I was pregnant.
4. I could groom my hair for split ends for hours. Literally. It's probably my most unappealing habit.
5. I am a chronic worrier and planner. I know to the day when our next car insurance payment is due, I've figured out our next vacation around 2008's quaterly tax payments and I know enough about our mortgage to wonder how I sleep at night. Actually this IS my most unappealing habit and sometimes I wish someone would just put a bullet in my brain. I once joked to LK that I might accidentally be pregnant and he said 'W, I've seen how you are with our bank accounts, you're not going to be accidentally anything'.
6. I am a situational alcoholic.
7. I drive a car that's old enough to vote. If it could vote, it would probably ask to be put out of its misery.
8. I am a brilliant sleeper. When not worrying about mortgages or immigration I can easily sleep 9-10 hours a night. My daughter is also a champion sleeper. It's one of the things I love most about her although it shouldn't be.
9. Courtesy of Anna I now call computers pompooders, DVDs deebee-deebees and flowers shadows. She might be college-aged before she learns the truth.
10. Anna still sleeps with us most nights. She'd better kick that habit before she's college-aged, for the sake of our marriage and the sake of any future siblings.
I miss my friend.
Anyway, a lovely comment from one of my 3 readers has led me to my first official 'you've been tagged' meme. I'd link to her here but I'm blogging on an archaic machine powered by a hamster, so I'll just have to say, check out her link on the sidebar - Squishy Thoughts!!
So, here goes, 10 random facts about me:
1. I cannot stand men whose torsos are longer than their legs. I'm pretty intolerant of men with short legs in general actually.
2. I support Manchester United
3. Growing up I was a huge Anne of Green Gables fan. In 2004 I realized a dream by travelling to Prince Edward Island. I was really bummed not to come home with a decent souvenir. Until 3 weeks later I realized I was pregnant.
4. I could groom my hair for split ends for hours. Literally. It's probably my most unappealing habit.
5. I am a chronic worrier and planner. I know to the day when our next car insurance payment is due, I've figured out our next vacation around 2008's quaterly tax payments and I know enough about our mortgage to wonder how I sleep at night. Actually this IS my most unappealing habit and sometimes I wish someone would just put a bullet in my brain. I once joked to LK that I might accidentally be pregnant and he said 'W, I've seen how you are with our bank accounts, you're not going to be accidentally anything'.
6. I am a situational alcoholic.
7. I drive a car that's old enough to vote. If it could vote, it would probably ask to be put out of its misery.
8. I am a brilliant sleeper. When not worrying about mortgages or immigration I can easily sleep 9-10 hours a night. My daughter is also a champion sleeper. It's one of the things I love most about her although it shouldn't be.
9. Courtesy of Anna I now call computers pompooders, DVDs deebee-deebees and flowers shadows. She might be college-aged before she learns the truth.
10. Anna still sleeps with us most nights. She'd better kick that habit before she's college-aged, for the sake of our marriage and the sake of any future siblings.
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