Oh pumpkin pie.....

I am both sad and relieved that I used the last of my pumpkin puree yesterday. I'm sad because we've already eaten one of the two pies I made yesterday, and since I don't have another pumpkin to roast, once we finish the second pie, that's it. But....I'm relieved because I've eaten more pumpkin pie in the past few weeks that I would've though possible.

It's oh so good.

I watched 'A Good Year' last night. Despite all the bad press it got, I really enjoyed it. Then again, I do have a huge acting crush on Russell Crowe ("acting crush" -- I am in love with him on the screen...based mostly on talent. I don't really want to make out with him or anything. I'm just impressed by some of the roles he's done). Anyway, Sonja did production design for that one, so she's proud of it.

I finally ran out of deodorant at the end of the week. So I went to Boots (British version of Longs/Walgreens) yesterday to buy deodorant and a toothbrush and also to check and see if I could find a substitute for my expensive hair product that I've also run out of. Sadly, deodorant here is most an aerosol affair. Which is completely strange. Can't just buy a stick of shower fresh Degree. So I sort of stood in the deodorant aisle for a few minutes, comparing the few non-aerosol options that I had (to be fair, the local Boots isn't too terribly big, so it doesn't have a lot of selection). They did have my same toothbrush though. Hooray! And, as luck would have it, I also found a cheap replacement for my depleted stock of hair product. Double hooray! It was a good run to Boots.

My fingernails and toenails are painted bright pink at the moment. I'm feeling cheeky.

I have three essays due within the next three weeks. Sadly, this means I won't be able to do anything extracurricular until they all get handed in. Maybe I can get a jump on things and hand them in early....

I got locked out last night. Took some pie over to Neighbor Clare's house. Sonja, Julian, and Conrad had gone to a movie, so I had the house to myself. Anyway, took the pie over, got to chatting, next thing you know, it's midnight. Try to let myself back into the house.....the chain is on the door. Whoops. Slept on Clare's couch. Apparently they assumed I was in my room asleep and thus put the chain on. Whoops.

Okay. I'm going to watch 'Time Bandits' now. I keep falling asleep during the opening credits. Oh. Tea first. Then movie. Then sleep.

Keep on truckin'.....

Twice in one day!

There was frost this morning. So weird. It's cold.

I am very stir-crazy this week. Plans to leave town for the weekend have been thwarted because I forgot I agreed to tutor one of Conrad's friends on Saturdays (for a little extra cash, of course). And there's a side job that Sonja wants me to do, and since I know this is my last essay-free weekend until the end of the semester, I'm going to be a grownup and cancel my plans so I can tutor and do the job for Sonja. I'm not too pleased about it, but what can you do?

I have a weird almost-migraine at the moment. I'm going to take more ibuprofen, but my four hour interval isn't up yet. Sooooooooo........I've decided to do some cross-stitching and watch 'High School Musical'.

Yep. You read that right.

The problem with wanting to cross-stitch is that I need to have the TV on. Since there really isn't anything good on TV tonight, I needed to pick out a movie that it wouldn't matter if I just listened to it. I bought 'Clueless' on VHS a couple of weeks ago, but my VCR isn't cooperating. And it seems like all the movies that Sonja owns that I've already seen I'm just not interested in watching again. Can't watch a movie I haven't seen before because I won't really be watching the screen...need to keep an eye on my stitches. Enter 'High School Musical'. Haven't seen it before, but don't really care if I can't pay close attention since it's a stupid cheesy bad Disney Channel Original Movie. Perfect!

Good news for the day is that I've sort of figured out postmodernism a bit more. Enough to be intrigued by it to the point where I'm considering switching to that essay topic instead of the medieval vs. Renaissance historiography topic (which is so alluring because I'd get to ramble on about the importance of language...woot.).

In other news, my hair is too long. Thank god for bobby pins. And headbands. And hats.

I am also thankful for thick tights and skinny pants. Seems like combining the two is really good for keeping the chill out.

It is mighty cold. I plan on bringing back my heavy jacket. I don't care how dorky it makes me look.

Anyway, time to get back to the movie/cross-stitching. Hopefully this will calm me down as intended. If not, there's always Gone with the Wind....the book....don't have my copy of the movie....

Hasta luego.....

My iPod has a weird sense of humor

So I went a little crazy yesterday. The tile grout in the bathroom isn't too clean, and it finally got to me. So I attacked the dingy grout with a zeal that can only be described as obsessive-compulsive. The irony of Sonja's obsession with cleanliness is that she lacks the really heavy-duty cleaning chemicals to make it possible. They didn't even have a proper scrub brush.

We've got one now. And as far as the harsh chemicals are concerned, apparently it's a no-go because the bathtub is enamel. Damn. Maybe I'll sneak some Comet back in my suitcase. The grout is really gross. I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed for the better part of an hour yesterday and didn't even make a dent. Apparently the bathroom smelled really nice though, so you know, I got that going for me.

And, of course, I was spurred on by the wonderful playlist I had rockin' whilst flinging bleach foam all over myself. Any time my iPod decides to follow boy band fluff with semi-hard punk is cause for celebration and a renewal of the fervor with which I'm devoting myself to the task at hand.

I've decided I'd rather take the bus everywhere. Provided I can get a seat, and it doesn't take twice as long as usual to get me to where I need to go. Taking the tube is sort of like magic transportation. You ride the escalator down, snap your fingers, ride the escalator up, and POOF! You're at your destination. Or at least you're back outside, within walking distance of your final destination. You don't really get to see all the fun stuff between points A and B. The bus, on the other hand, lets you catch a glimpse of the wonders between tube stops. And it's cheaper.

Today I'm swearing at postmodernism. If somebody out there understands it, can you please give me a call? Not only can I not make heads or tails of what it's supposed to be all about, what I can understand seems like a big load of crap. Poo. I'll stick to Ranke.

School is for nerds....

I'm listening to John Denver. I need to get out of the city for a weekend. I'm feeling a bit stifled at the moment. But only enough for it to be slightly annoying.

But HOT DAMN! I love school! I haven't really been attending to this blog as of late, so tonight I'm making my first attempt to get you folks caught up with things, starting with the whole story of how I managed to get enrolled in Goldsmiths.

Basically, I talked my way into it. The process for applying to universities here is different from the US. There is one main clearing house type website you do your application on, and they in turn send it to the schools you've chosen. Because I came into the process so late, all I did was complete the application then call the universities directly. Much to my dismay, everyone had already started classes, except for Goldsmiths College, which is one of the twenty or so colleges that make up the University of London. I got an admissions guy on the phone on Thursday, impressed him with my high school AP test scores, went in on Friday to fill out paperwork and get my class schedule, then started school on Monday. Time lapsed from starting my application to starting class: two weeks. Not too shabby. I come to find out later that I really and truly lucked out. I've managed to get a spot in a good school.

So. I'm an English and History student, and I'm taking four classes and go five days a week. Each class consists of one hour of lecture and one hour of seminar. Lectures are obviously where you all go and take notes while an important-sounding professor talks about stuff, then you go to seminar and talk about the lecture in a smaller group. The really rad thing about seminars here versus the discussion groups I had to go to at UCSD is that the seminars are run by the professors, not TAs. The lecturers rotate lecturing responsibility in accordance with what their speciality is. Fan-tastic. And although the school year is broken up into three terms, I'll be in the same four classes for the entire year. Also fan-tastic.

Not so fan-tastic: a majority of my final grade in each class seems to rest on my perfomance on what will certainly be a nasty end-of-year exam-type thingie. Not sure about that....

So. The four classes I am taking are as follows:

1) Explorations in Literature: basically a survey course of the big 'uns in that are part of the literary canon. We started with 'The Odyssey' and end with Margaret Atwood. Along the way are Dante, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, Austen, Hardy, Woolf, etc etc etc. We basically read one book a week. I'm worried that Milton is going to break me. Dante tried but failed since I'd already read 'The Inferno'. The only really frustrating thing about this class is the lack of time we get to spend on each literary work. Two hours with Ovid's 'Metamorphoses' is just enough to gloss over the main points. I suppose that means that the more detailed analysis is going to come from our essays, but I'm going to miss having the chance to sort of test my essay ideas out on the rest of the class. Oh. I just re-read the syllabus and found out that I've got a three-hour essay test...three hours to write three essays. Oh dear. Well. I'll think about that when it gets closer to exam day.

2) Making of Medieval Europe: at the moment, my favorite class. This is the only class I got to pick. My other two choices were Renaissance history and modern history. I chose medieval because it's the one I know the least about. US schools K-12 spend tons of time on the Renaissance and modern times because that's all America was really around for. So I figured I'd change things up a bit. And boy oh boy, am I glad that I did! Thus far, I have been utterly fascinated with every topic we've covered. I really can't go any more into it, otherwise I'm likely to get lost on some tangent involving secular aristocracy or burial goods or good ol' Charlemagne. I may be starting to dig history more than literature...nah...lit will always be where my heart is...

3) Concepts and Methods in History: this is the tough one. Explorations and Medieval are classes that I would normally associate with literature and history majors...we read and discuss literature in Explorations and we read and discuss history in Medieval. Concepts and Methods as well as the last class are more like big how-tos on being history/literature students. At the moment we're charging through the entirety of recorded human history, focusing on the historians that jotted everything down. So these few weeks have been less about what happened as opposed to who wrote about it, and how they went about doing so. After that it's a few weeks on what constitutes a legitimate historical source, then a few more weeks on the specific approaches to history. Whew. It's some theoretical stuff. The difficulty of getting my brain to think in the way they want me to is compounded by my seminar professor. She's aggressive and confrontational, and although I really enjoy her teaching methods, it really sucks when she decides to fix her stare on you because you've said something stupid. Forces me to really focus on being prepared for class though, which is a good thing...

4) Approaches to Text: last but not least, my "how to read literature like a proper literature student" class. I am very bored with this one. The syllabus leads me to believe that it may pick up later on in the year, but it's really basic stuff right now that I've been doing already for ages. I have to read lots of literary theory stuff, which is sort of interesting, and of the four actual literary works that we're covering, I've only read one. Well, that's not true. I was supposed to read 'Frankenstein', but I got twenty pages into and didn't like it. Same thing with 'The Tempest', which is also on our list for this class. The theory textbooks for this class were expensive.

And there you have it. We're in week seven out of eleven for the first term and I couldn't be happier. I'm meeting new folks, making new friends, and stuffing my head with as much as it can hold. It's been hard to juggle nannying responsibilities with school responsibilities, but I'm starting to get the details of a good routine hammered out.

At any rate, I have to stop typing now because I have to finish up the reading for tomorrow's lecture/seminar. I'm going to try and post more tomorrow evening, but no guarantees....

Buenas noches!

Chicken tikka and naan

So after mentioning a couple of times tonight that I wanted Del Taco, I decided to stop at the drive-thru equivalent for some Indian food before I head off to sleep (I totally have a thing for naan...). I'll let you know later whether or not it's as good as a Macho Chicken Burrito for fighting off hangovers.

I went to my friend Helen's going away party tonight. She's quit her job at the Imperial War Museum in order to focus on her studies (which is where I met her...she's also an English and History student). I met some very charming people as well as some slightly doltish ones who didn't get the jokes I happened to be making at their expense. It basically was a bunch of people who work in museums getting drunk and referring to me as a "colonial". Which of course, I loved. Especially since it allowed me to say in a rather condescending tone of voice: "yeah, but if I'm not mistaken it was Tony Blair who spent a lot of time kissing American president backside, not the other way around." To be fair, that bit of nastiness only came out after IT Bob told me that soccer is "a man's sport." Needless to say, I got a bit testy after that remark.

Anyway, I had a very good time.

As I was walking back home after picking up some chicken tikka along with my favorite naan, it struck me yet again how happy I am here. Having met people like Helen and her friend Rob (who gave me a quick lesson on Australian politics after getting me to concede that Hilary might actually be a good president because she's such a centrist), I feel as though I fit in here more so than any other place I've lived.

The major downside being the distance between me and my family.

Anyway, I've finished my late night snack, and it's now 3AM, so I should probably go to sleep. More on what I've been up to later this weekend. After I finish ironing...

Much love to all, and I can't wait to get home for Christmas to see everyone!

The dangers of isolation and distance

I did not know about the extent of the wildfires in Southern California. I'd heard of the Malibu fire, but not about San Diego and certainly not Santiago Canyon.

Had I not spoken to my mom last night, I probably still wouldn't know.

I just got back from class and immediately went to the OC Register's website to learn more.

Having learned more, I almost wish I hadn't.

I hope they catch who's responsible and throw him/her/them in jail for a very very very very long time.

I'm glad to hear they've cancelled the evacuation for Lake Forest.

I hope everyone stays safe, and believe it or not, I've actually said a prayer for all this.

College ruled

Today is one of those days where tea strikes me as the most perfect beverage ever invented. I did laundry yesterday so I've got bras hanging everywhere whilst they dry, and I wish one of the cats would come up and join me, but they're all spooning on the couch downstairs. Whoops. I take that back. I called for Blue-Blue and she actually came up to see me! Fantastic. Now I've got a cat.

I want to order a pizza to commemorate my first serious homework session as a born-again college student. Double cheese and pepperoni please. Maybe I'll give Domino's a try.

Anyway, as I mentioned lst time, I am an English and History student at Goldsmiths College. Woot. Go me! The first week of class is over, and I can hardly put into words how utterly excited I am to be going back to school here. The process is very different from what I'm used to, but I'm happy to report that the system here works for me much much much much better than the system in the US.

---UPDATE---
...this is a fragment that I forgot to finish. I've posted it anyway....

Sardines

So this is what an empty car on the Northern Line looks like.

I've only seen an empty one once, at about 10:30 on a Sunday night.

Yesterday I got my first taste of what rush hour means to Londoners.

Take a look at the picture again, then imagine that space packed as tightly as possible with bodies. The seats, the aisles between the seats, the space in front of the doors. I didn't get to snag a seat, so I don't know what it's like to be seated for the crush of people. Standing is like one big spooning-fest where everyone is the little spoon and nobody gets to be the big spoon. I've lucked out this far and been sandwiched between metrosexual guys in suits and career women in heels. Lucky because those two types of people bathe regularly and use deodorant and/or some sort of cologne/perfume. I hate to think what it would be like to be stuck spooning someone with less than rigorous hygiene standards. Especially if they're the height of the guy I was next to yesterday, so that when they reach up to grab the ceiling rail to steady themselves, their armpit is right at your nose level. Since it's hard to move around (even re-positioning your feet is tough), you're pretty much stuck between stations. Once the train stops and people get off/get on, you can maneuver a bit, but not much.

If you manage to get a spot between the rows of chairs it's a little more bearable. There's space to hold up a book or newspaper or something so you can at least read while enduring the time it takes to get to your stop. Unfortunately, not even the empty air between the head of the person on the seat and yours helps alleviate the stifling scorching stuffiness of the tube. All those bodies warmly dressed for the chill of autumn, exhaling all that stale air. I took off my jacket this morning (with just a t-shirt underneath) and still broke a sweat comparable to running on a treadmill for forty minutes. Or standing outside in Vegas in the full heat of July/August. And if you're not right at the door, the breeze that comes in when the doors open at the stations never reaches you. Too many people crammed together.

I get off at London Bridge to either transfer to another line or take the aboveground train. Not only do I have to fight my way past other people to get off the train, I then have to fight through all the people trying to get on the train. If I'm riding the National Rail train, I then have to hustle to the London Bridge train station, buy a ticket, wait to find out the platform for the next train calling at New Cross Gate, then haul ass to the train since they don't seem to want to provide you with the platform number any more than five minutes prior to departure. All for a six-minute train ride. It's quicker than the tube though, and necessary on Wednesdays because I have a lecture at 9 am. I love the walk from the London Bridge tube station to the London Bridge train station. And I love the train station. Everyone is in such a hurry, and no one makes eye contact. There's just this massive flow of people from the platforms to the escalators and then out. Part of me want to leave super-early on Thursdays just so I can sit and have a coffee and watch all the folks rush by, inventing life stories for the more interesting-looking ones.

Oh, by the way, if you didn't know already, I talked my way into being accepted to Goldsmiths College (part of the University of London), in order to study for an honors BA in English and History. But more on that later. If you'd like you can check out the school's website: http://www.goldsmiths.ac.uk/.

Anyway. Would I rather sit in traffic on the freeway or smoosh into a subway train? Certainly a train. With traffic, you've got no idea how long you're going to be stuck in it, or how far up ahead it extends. With the tube you only have to stick it out until your stop. Granted, I'd rather be sitting, but since I'm on my way to spend an hour or two sitting on my ass inside a classroom, I think I can put up with standing all the way there.

Shopping and Bank Holiday

Despite the fact that it's only 10pm and I took a nap this afternoon, I'm somehow exhausted as all get and go. Poop.

But. I promised shopping and Bank Holiday, so here goes:

Oh my goodness! I wish I had tons and tons and tons of money! Some streets are just one long stretch of shop after shop with the most wonderful clothing/footwear items in their windows! If properly funded, I could very very very easily develop a thing for shoes here. And coats. And dresses, oddly enough. And matching bra/underwear sets. And socks. So yeah, basically everything. And there are so many places to shop in! The only one I'm going to talk about at the moment is Primark, because it is by far the store that is least like anything I'd ever seen before.

So. Primark. The one I've been to is down at the end of Oxford Street by Marble Arch. It's big....about the size of Kohl's in RSM. As far as what type of store it is....think Mervyn's or Kohl's without as much selection in the footwear and jewelry departments. And cheaper. Much much much much much cheaper. So cheap, you don't really expect the clothes to last through too many washings, but you don't really mind since you got them so cheap. I got a military-style wool coat for thirty bucks. Dress slacks for ten bucks. Cotton tank tops for two bucks.

So you're thinking "Great Britt, it's cheaper version of Kohl's. How does that make it so weird?"

(I just chuckled to myself when I typed that last line. I'm not sure how to properly describe what it is that makes Primark such a fascinatingly strange place to shop)

I've only ever been in there in the late afternoon/early evening, so I'm not sure if the shop is always in the state of complete disarray I always find it in. Everything is everywhere. If you find something you like, you'd better grab it quick otherwise the girl behind you will snag it. The entire store is one huge free-for-all. Don't ever expect to be able to just pop in real quick to check out their new arrivals. The store is a mess. I feel bad for the employees that sort of wander through the display racks, half-heartedly attempting to return things to their proper places. I wouldn't recommend attempting to try things on since the lines for the one set of fitting rooms are always atrocious. As such, sometimes I've seen women trying stuff on in between the racks.

And then there's the line to checkout. Last time I was there, I waited about an hour. From what I can tell, there are either three or four groups of cash registers. The big ones have close to twenty registers, and the smaller ones look like they've got about ten. I waited an hour in the line for one of the bigger ones. And there's nothing to do. Bring your iPod. And a book.

Or, you can do what I do (and what Primark is great for): PEOPLE WATCH!!!! There are so many different kinds of folks wandering around, you could spend a day just watching them. From the Muslim women with only their eyes peeking out and the trendy little hipsters in skintight jeans and lowcut tops, to the frumpy old maids and the sterile-looking career women, Primark's got 'em all. And you know that even the ones that dress like they've got lots more money than you do are still there for the same reason: Primark is cheap. Sort of like Wal-Mart clothing, only without the oppressive multi-national corporation that takes advantage of its employees and engages in immoral business practices. At least as far as I know, though I admittedly haven't done much research into Primark's parent company.

Anyway, Primark is a hoot and a half, and if you come visit I will most assuredly take you shopping there. Then we'll go to Regent Street afterward and drool over all the posh clothing we can't afford.

Okay, Bank Holiday. There really isn't much worth saying at this point, other than the weather was wonderful, I spent oodles of time sitting in Hyde Park reading a book, and I discovered I really have a thing for steeldrum music. If somebody can find me a recording of "The Entertainer" by a steeldrum band, I would forever be in your debt.....

There are pictures on facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=49663&l=4eac6&id=560310472

There are also videos of the steeldrum bands, but facebook doesn't give me a public address for them. I think most of my faithful readers are already on facebook, but if you're not, you should be! If you have problems finding me on that site, let me know.

Okay. So I think that's pretty much it for catch-up from the summer. I'm going to put another one up really quickly about rush hour on the tube. Then I'll get into things that have happened since school started again. But that'll be either tomorrow or sometime this weekend.....

Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry

So when you wake up early on a Tuesday because the kid's got some choir function that requires him to be at school half an hour earlier, plus he has to finish up some homework, and you open up your gmail only to find a big email from Grandma that ends with "Looking forward to reading more on your blog - it has been some time.", you know you've been slacking.

So here I am, with a brief update on what's been going on. I've been seriously craving pizza as of late, and the elation of discovering that Papa John's franchises exist over here has been completely shattered by their website informing me I don't live in the delivery area for any of their franchises. Rats. So I went to Pizza Hut instead and am happy to report that a Hawaiian Stuffed Crust pizza tastes pretty much the same here. I got a 2-liter of Diet Pepsi as well (in honor of Grandma), so I've been happily burping to myself while I get ready to iron for the rest of the afternoon. Junk food.....yummmmm.......

And to anyone who might give me a hard time for eating so crappily, I've really been behaving myself! Still haven't popped into McDonald's for breakfast, or KFC for mac & cheese, and I've generally been making nice healthy food for dinner (last night's chicken was a masterpiece of lemon, pepper, and various other things I threw into the marinade, along with the best brown rice I've ever had, which was prepared in a similar manner as the marinade).

So.....London Eye and Aquarium and such.....

I can't say I was too terribly impressed with the Eye. Granted, I do sort of have a phobia about Ferris wheels, and it was a gloomy day when we went, so I maybe wasn't in the best mindset to appreciate it. And the only picture I really really really really wanted to post up on the internet didn't turn out (a French lady had her Spandex trousers pulled up waaaaay too high and as a result had THE most ridiculous camel toe I've ever seen in public....I think she figured out I was taking a picture of her and turned away before I could get the shot. Rats). Took Conrad and his friend Harry, and they had lots of fun because I'd passed out bubble gum before we got on the thing. Simplicity.....

Now. The Aquarium made me happy to no end. Mostly because it had lots of placards everywhere with helpful little factoids about the aquatic word. And everybody knows, I love factoids (cross-reference Jeopardy! tattoo on left ankle)! So while the boys ran around to all the tanks, I took picture after picture of the factoid signs. I posted the better ones on facebook, links to pictures will be at the bottom of this post. I also discovered that I have a jellyfish fascination. Not the big ones with all the asymmetrical tentacles hanging off them, but the cute little ones that are all symmetrical and energetic. I want a tank of 'em. With like, a black light behind it so they glow. Living lava lamp! Wahoo!

Best thing overheard at the stingray tank in the aquarium: "Tommy! Don't lick your fingers please!"

So that was all 8/17/07. Got home that night, watched Hawaii Five-O with Sonja, Thai takeaway, and champagne. Sonja danced to the theme song. The boys had some champagne as well and got a bit tipsed (hi-larious).

Five days later, my life changed.

Well. Sort of.

I found a proper Mexican restaurant in London on 8/22/07! Woot. And not just a restaurant that serves good Mexican food by London standards, Cafe Pacifico is a restaurant that serves good Mexican food by my Southern Californian standards. I was in heaven. Got to have a margarita, a Dos Equis, enchiladas verdes, AND BEST OF ALL, sopapillas! Yummmm......

Which brings me to a side note that will probably wind up being the end of this post.

My Mexican food skills have improved so much since I got here, I impress myself. I've taught myself how to make tortillas! I think the reason why it's gotten better is because I don't have access to all the readymade stuff to be found in American grocery stores. Plus, I have to get creative with the ingredients I can get here, so that forces me to learn how to season and stuff in order to get the flavor I want. The only bummer is that the family isn't quite where I'm at with what they consider spicy. So more often than not I take out the seeds and membranes because otherwise Conrad won't eat it. Every now and again (especially if his friend Harry is over for dinner), we'll have jalepeno eating contests, but there's really no point to is as the boys can barely handle eating one without running for the milk. And they force me to eat the banana chilis which are just a little too much for me.

Oh lord. One of the cats is making a noise like it's brought me a present. Must go make sure it isn't a pigeon or a mouse.

Whew. Blue-Blue just wanted to bring me a piece of bark. Now she's merrily clawing away at me until she gets comfy enough to curl up. Her and I are two peas in a pod. Minus the clawing and the bark presents.

Anyway, I've decided to chase the pizza and Diet Pepsi with some serious ironing while watching Bulletproof Monk (which I can't believe Sonja actually owns), so I'm going to wrap this up.

Next post will probably be about shopping and Bank Holiday weekend.

Here's pictures from the London Eye and the London Aquarium: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=46266&l=c6c9e&id=560310472

Sorry about all the B&W shots.

Later skaters.....

Being homesick.....

....sucks.

It's a given that I am going to miss my family and the few friends that I left behind. I have been here 70.5 days, and I don't think a single day has passed where I haven't seen/heard/done something that reminds me of the people back home. I've learned that I cannot think about my baby kitten because I miss having her around so much I start to cry. Sometimes, when one of the cats here curls up with me (especially all-black Max), I feel terribly guilty. I can talk to people via email and the phone, but there's no way for me to tell Daphne that I haven't deserted her, and that I'll be back in December. I hope she remembers me. I wish I could bring her back with me. I looked into pet visas the other day, and it's a six-month process that I wouldn't be able to take care of here. I miss my baby.

And this is how my homesickness manifests itself. Like I already mentioned, I would really really really really really like to see everyone sooner as opposed to later, but I've managed to keep from getting completely depressed about it by either choosing not to think about it, keeping myself busy, or a combination of both. But every now and again, like tonight, something random and minor will set off a crazy slippery slope of homesickness that ends with me desperately wishing that I'd never gotten on a plane. Which actually turns out to be helpful. Once I've reached that extreme, I realize how silly I'm being, and start grudgingly working my way back up the slope I was all too happy to go careening down in the first place. I'm trying to teach myself how to meditate, and that's helping a bit, although I always seem to call up memories of sitting at Doheny whenever I get into it.

Tonight's homesickness trigger was making chocolate chip cookies. I think that because I don't acknowledge every little moment I get all wistful about back home, the little moments all build up until I can't bottle them up anymore and they all surge forth with startling swiftness. Sonja inspired me to make chocolate chip cookies around six this evening. Went to the grocery store, bought chocolate chips and my new secret baking ingredient, then immediately started baking once we got back. While mixing up the batter with Sonja's hand mixer, I longed for my grandmother's KitchenAid mixer, which would have done ten times the work of Sonja's mixer, without requiring any strength from me. While dropping cookie dough onto Sonja's single undersized cookie sheet, I dreamt of my cookie sheets, capable of making 30 cookies at a time, compared to the six I was able to fit on Sonja's. And every time I took a batch out of the oven, I yearned for the oven in my mother's kitchen, capable of turning out 60 cookies every 8 minutes. Sonja's manages six cookies every eleven minutes.

In all fairness, there simply isn't enough space for a KitchenAid or a big oven, and I'm not sure if my big cookies sheets would fit in the oven she's got. Before moving here, I'd always at least doubled cookie recipes. Hell, I octupled the snickerdoodle recipe once. Had to do it in two shifts of quadruples, and I still thought I was going to burn out the motor on my mom's mixer. I can't even remember how many hundreds of cookies I made that day. Can't do that here. Nobody would eat that many. And since I work where I live, I don't have the option of bringing leftovers to the office to be eaten.

But I'm rambling off topic. Tonight was baking. And the smell of somebody burning wood in their fireplace (Doheny.....can't wait.....). Last week it was a desire to see mountains, hills, anything besides the constant crush of buildings that is London. I want to drive my Jeep through Trabuco Canyon. I want to make cowboy coffee with a proper coffee maker. I miss junk food, haven't had a soda in weeks, and I'd love to eat about fourteen Big Fat Chicken Tacos, no tomatoes with extra sauce.

These are the things that make me cry for home while clutching Mr. Bear (since that's what I brought him for). Ridiculous.

And now I've fought my way back up Homesickness Hill. So all this melancholy whining of mine has served its purpose and purged all my unhappy feelings. Woot.

On a side note, the thesaurus does not have an entry for "homesick". It is listed as a synonym for "nostalgia", but does not have its own entry. Strange that such a common state of being is so singular in description.

But I think following that train of thought shall have to wait for another day.....

British Museum and Soane's Museum

Okay....so while I had every intention of sitting and updating this thing like a crazy person last weekend, I got sidetracked by gorgeous weather and steel drums. More on that later. Must catch up from where I left off first.

British Museum. 8/14/07. Because I got tired of the horrific tantrums Conrad threw at me every tutoring session, I decided to try something new: going to a museum instead of sitting in the living room going over math problems. So Conrad and I went to the British Museum.

Big mistake. I have never been so embarrassed by the behavior of a child before. He showed a very morbid interest in the Egyptian mummies, and behaved like a cranky toddler for the rest of the visit.

Needless to say, I was very disappointed that things went that way, because I had been looking forward to visiting the British Museum for, oh, I don't know, fifteen years (ever since I had my Egyptology phase as a kid). I have decided to go back later on without Conrad and after school starts in the hopes that there will be fewer people taking pictures of things I want to see.

Like the Rosetta Stone. Somehow I'd forgotten that it was on display there, so in a similar manner as my first glimpse of Parliament and Big Ben, I came around a corner in one of the museum's Egypt galleries and happened to wind up straight in front of the Rosetta Stone. Nerd that I am, the floor dropped from beneath me, my stomach joined it shortly thereafter, my eyes suddenly welled up, and goosebumps merrily traipsed across my entire body. But could I get close to the display case to see it up close in all of its tri-lingual, key-to-understanding-ancient-Egyptian, has-now-become-a-catchphrase-for-anything-involving-monumental-breakthroughs-in-translation glory? Nope. Too many jerks taking pictures with big lenses. I was forced to lurk around the fringes of this shutterbug mob, up on my tiptoes in a last-ditch effort to examine the marvelous piece of rock. Oh, and Conrad was ready to leave. I tried to explain to him the Stone's significance, but apparently I'm the only one who was blown away at ten by the Rosetta Stone.

We left and had hotdogs from the stand outside the gates. Sat in front of the museum and made short work of them. They were good.

Other thoughts on the British Museum: walking through the Chinese exhibit, I started thinking about how many of the exhibits are comprised of stolen goods. All that wonderful history, but should it be returned to the country of origin? White girls can't really go to Egypt, and Communist China seems risky and dirty. And there's no guarantee that those governments would make them freely accessible to the public. But the fact remains that some of it was stolen. So what do you do? I haven't decided yet.

Okay. So, still 8/14/07. Next we went to Soane's Museum. Long story short: wacky architect fellow designs the oddest house I've ever been in. Looks like this from the front (left), but inside is quite a different story. I liked it better than the Royal Pavillion for sheer zaniness. Unconventional staircases, tiny courtyards with dog graves right next to a room with the sarcophagus of Seti I or some other such Seti, along with a portrait room with hinged shutters so you can store more paintings than walls would normally allow. It was a fantastic little jaunt, and more importantly, Conrad enjoyed it as well.

It's along a pretty little park where they beheaded someone during the reign of Charles II. Now there are tennis courts.

So. Now to 8/15/07 and, coincidentally, hitching a ride on the no. 15 bus. Then I'm going to call it quits for the night and try to get some sleep.

Okay, so the no. 15 is one of those double-decker affairs, and both of my tour guides recommend riding it because it shows you "all the best and most famous sights". Only problem was, I'd seen most all of the sights it had to offer, like Trafalgar Square and so on. However, the bus ride itself was entertaining enough to be worth the £1 it cost me to ride from Marble Arch to the Tower of London. A Spanish family sat nearby, chattering away in Spanish, so when I closed my eyes, it was almost exactly the same as riding the bus to Huntington every when I was a junior lifeguard. And the bus driving itself reminds me of driving in Mexico...sort of a free-for-all that's really hard on the brakes.

Anyway. I have to say that the Tower of London was the first sight I'd seen that wound up being bigger than I'd expected. Lots bigger, in fact. Somehow I'd never learned that it was an old fort. I guess I was expecting something like the building where they keep the crown jewels in Copenhagen (which wasn't very big, just tall and forbidding). But the Tower just sprawls along beside the Thames. I'm going to have to go back and get a better look, and I think I might be able to talk Conrad into going with me.

So that about does it for the British Museum, Soane's Museum, and the no. 15 bus. Here's the link for the pictures:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=46020&l=166c4&id=560310472

Next post: the London Eye, the London Aquarium, and maybe more. Depends.

Catch you later.....

Exhaustion

Okay, so I know it's been a week since I last posted anything, but I've been so busy I truly haven't had a chance to sit and post again. I am terribly sorry. They're going to Ireland without me this weekend, so I should have a chance to sit and write everything down without any distractions. I promise to tell you about the following: British Museum, Soane's Museum, bus rides, the London Eye, the London Aquarium, Soho, Australians, why tutoring = torture, Oxford/Regent Streets, Uno marathons, and Cafe Pacifico.

Lots to cover. Will go bit by bit and break it down by each day.

Thanks for your patience....

Now that I'm comfortable, I wander!

Last Thursday was my last day without Conrad. Jayne (Sonja's friend/sort of business partner) does the Night Market greenery at Covent Garden on Thursdays, so I hopped a train down there. As it turned out, the theme for the day was going to be "it was smaller than I expected."



Starting with Covent Garden. To be fair, I really hadn't envisioned any sort of size, but the whole thing just seemed small. The Jubilee Market reminded me of the swap meet back home, just indoors and on a smaller scale. Pashmina scarves, two for £6.99! I think there was a guy selling designer sunglasses around the corner....

There was a guy there with a booth devoted to chiles, so I stopped by to find out if he knew where I could find New Mexico chile peppers. No luck. Asked for Hatch green chile, got a blank stare. I think he was impressed that I stumped him. So now it's back to the internet to find out if they go by another name, although I doubt it. Guess I'll just have to wait until I get back home.

Jayne told me of a candy shop just around the corner that stocks all sorts of American candy. I've been jonesing for proper bubblegum since I got here, so I decided to check it out. Expecting a huge place with floor-to-ceiling shelving and a ladder on wheels and a track so you could reach the top shelf, got a dinky little shop with cheap DIY shelving. No ladder necessary. However, heaven. I got bubblegum, Dots, Reese's Pieces, Twizzlers, Pop Rocks, Lemonheads, and Creme Savers. Oh, and Jolly Ranchers. Heaven. And, randomly, the guy behind the register is from Modesto. We chatted a bit about traffic, then I headed back to the tube station.

And of course, I got sidetracked. Saw a sign for Trafalgar Square, decided to go check it out in the daytime. It was weird being there with tons of other people. Finally got to take a picture of the double-decker bus with the O2 ad that's grammatically incorrect. Hoo-ray. Headed under the Admiralty Arch and walked past St James's Park to get to Buckingham Palace. Which was smaller than I expected it to be. Bear in mind, I've only ever seen one other royal residence (in Copenhagen), and that one was huge! Buckingham just didn't do it for me. Although I did enjoy the big Queen Victoria Memorial. She looks crankier in marble.

Walked to the station at Victoria and went home.

So I guess it's safe to say that I'm now at ease with riding the tube and walking everywhere. I really need to keep a street map with me though. And I need to learn the bus system. But for now, I need to go wake up Conrad and get the day going. We're playing catch-up with tutoring since I didn't stay at Bunny's house, and thus far it's been really rough. Lots of crocodile tears and tantrums. I'm hoping it'll get better by the end of the week.

Here's the link for the latest pictures: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=45191&l=1ca68&id=560310472

I'll explain more about the wig next post.

Hope you're having fun...

Weekend shenanigans...

It’s 10:00pm as I’m sitting down to write this. I’ve just finished a bowl of ice cream, and I’m working my way through a cup of tea. Why the mundane detail? I HAVE HEARTBURN!!!!

Utter ridiculousness. Missed making Mexican last night because nobody had gone to the grocery store yet this week, so I whipped up something tonight (chicken, vegetables, and quesadillas). I went a little overboard on Tabasco sauce tonight. Not sure why. I actually had to go and get two glasses of milk, my mouth was so completely on fire. And now I have heartburn. So I ate some chocolate ice cream. Yum.

But, I’m an idiot for getting heartburn.

So, since I can’t fall asleep until it goes away, I’m going to write a bit about my adventures last weekend.

As I’ve already mentioned, I went out to a pub by myself on Friday night, where I made some new friends. Two of these new friends got my digits and promised to call me on Saturday to invite me along to their friend’s birthday party. My first thought is “Right, you’re really going to call some quirky American you just met in a pub…” But to my utter surprise, I got a phone call late in the afternoon. Ate dinner, took a shower, and headed out to Soho Square and a bar called The Edge.

Lordy. After about five minutes, it’s apparent from the throbbing music and the primarily male patrons that I’m in a gay bar. This realization is coupled with a sigh of relief, as I no longer have to worry about guys thinking that I’m flirting with them, and I can just have a conversation. Fan-tastic. Danced a bit, tried Sambuca for the first time, talked about tamales with a Mexican girl, and before I knew it, we were leaving for some other club.

Which is where it got a little bit nuts. There were mostly-naked twinks frolicking in empty kiddie pools in the entrance, along with a UK version of the George Foreman Grill making free hamburgers for everyone coming in/going out. Weird. We headed upstairs to the bathrooms, and ended up hanging out at the dance floor there. Here’s where it went nuts. I hadn’t been dancing in a long long long while, and there’s nothing like shaking your ass at a gay club. Especially when it’s to cheesy US pop hits and terribly Eurotrash synth pop stuff. I danced, drank more beer, and generally had a fantabulous time.

I had told my new pub friends not to leave without me since I was going to ride the night bus back with them (they live two stops south of me on the tube). So we left the club around 3:30 and caught a bicycle cab to Piccadilly Circus (where Jamie was sure we’d be able to catch the bus we needed to take). So we start wandering around Piccadilly, and I manage to avoid being a tourist and kept my camera in my purse.

That lasted until we hit Trafalgar Square. I had to take pictures. Nevermind that it was past four, and the sun was beginning to come up, I was determined to take a picture. Jamie suggested we climb up on one of the lions. So we did. After that, we searched some more for the N155 bus, before finally giving up and hailing a cab. I crawled into bed at about 5:15 that morning.

At 9:00, Sonja came in and woke me up to go to Brighton. I groggily dragged myself out of bed and threw the necessities for a day at the beach into my backpack. Or so I thought. When we got to the train station, I realized I’d forgotten my bathing suit. Oops. But there was no going back, since it was already 10 and we had to catch a train. I had managed to make myself a Thermos of coffee (thanks Mom! I used my Christmas present old school Thermos thing!), so I nursed that the whole way, and tried to clear my head.

I was so happy to see the ocean. I can’t even begin to describe it. There were two strange things about Brighton: I couldn’t smell the ocean, and the pebbles. Maybe the ocean smell I’m used to is derived from all the gross crap that’s in the water in Southern California, or maybe the close proximity of cars, buildings, and other smell-reducing agents makes Brighton odorless. Who knows? I could, however, feel it in the air the second we got off the train. I love ocean air. I should become a mermaid.

Anyway, Brighton is adorable. There are tons of shops, and the buildings are all old, and it’s got a pretty sizeable gay/lesbian community. Had I been thinking, I would’ve taken a picture of the rainbow flags flying from the Queen Hotel. The flags seemed a bit redundant…

But the beach itself is made up of pebbles. There is no sand to be seen. Just pebbles about the size of silver dollar (a proper silver dollar, not a Sacajawea or Susan B. Anthony dollar). They’re really hard to walk on in flip flops, and they’re even harder to walk on barefoot. They are, however, really comfortable to lie down on. Especially right after you’ve gone for a swim and you’re slightly chilled. The sun has warmed both your towel and the rocks beneath, so it takes very little time to lose the chill of the ocean. And while there is no surf to speak of, there’s a really strong westerly current at Brighton, so the short swim that I took was extraordinarily tiring.

And yes, I did go swimming even though I didn’t have a bathing suit. I went in my shorts and wife beater. It was a weird feeling, swimming fully clothed, but the dip in the ocean finally cleared my head from the previous night’s activities. And it felt so damn good to be back in the water. I haven’t yet figured out how to hoodwink Conrad into letting me go back next week, this time with a proper bathing suit.

We also went to the Royal Pavilion while in Brighton. I suggest you look it up on the net. If you come visit me, I will definitely take you to see it if you’d like. It’s amazing, and that’s all I’m going to say about it.

But, my heartburn has faded away, and I’m starting to do the same, so I’m going to stop typing now. If you’d like to see pictures from my weekend, please check out the album I’ve posted on facebook: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=42859&l=e5cd4&id=560310472. If you haven’t joined facebook yet, you should.

Oh yeah. This is what the beach looked like that day in Brighton (the picture was taken from the pier)

Crazy.

The countryside

It's a nice day out again, and I should probably be outside enjoying the sun, but I've got the house to myself for a few hours, so I'm going to do some cleaning while there won't be anyone in the way. Figured I'd post a bit on my adventures in the countryside before I get to mopping.

The countryside, at first glance, appears to be just as it seems in movies and on television. The greenery is astounding. Everything is so soft and rounded, no jagged mountains mucking up the gentle roll of the terrain. The clouds stack up one right after another straight on to the horizon and beyond. It’s quite breathtaking. On the drive back to the train station, the parts I could see through breaks in the hedges were so beautiful, my throat closed up in response (and no, it wasn’t allergies….I’m not allergic to anything).

Bunny’s house is also something that seems so clichéd that it can’t possibly be real. The yard between the first and second gates is home to her chickens, ducks, and pigeons. There are so many trees, you can’t see anything from the lane. After the second gate, there is another yard, the end of the gravel driveway, and a rough wooden awning unobtrusively extending from the side of the house. Her flower garden out front is a wild tangle of growth, and there is a small arch to a side garden complete with wicker lawn furniture. The side garden gets full sun in the morning and early afternoon before the house gets in the way of things. The roof sags as though it’s weathered too many rainstorms to be anything more than grudgingly cheerful when the sun comes out.

The house itself is an old barn. There are two parts to it, the main barn and the long barn. Corn was kept in the main barn, while cows took up residence in the long barn. According to Bunny, there was cow shit piled head-high in the long barn when she found the place. The long barn is now her sitting room, with bookshelves and couches and a baby grand and everything else that makes a sitting room a sitting room. The side that borders the lane is about halfway below-ground, with big windows all along the opposite wall that look out into the back garden and the view beyond. There is a huge fireplace and gorgeous exposed crossbeams in the ceiling. The main barn houses the kitchen, dining room, and a water closet on the ground floor, and the three bedrooms and two bathrooms (one en suite) are upstairs. There is also an attic, two-thirds of which is storage, with the remaining space devoted to a fourth bedroom. It is accessible through a ladder in the ceiling of one of the bedrooms. The upstairs was designed and added by Bunny. It creaks like hell, but doesn’t feel unsafe or rickety.

Nothing in the house fits. Nothing is comfortable to sit on. The only thing that was really relaxing was the bathtub, but the separate hot and cold water taps on it kept it from being perfect. If you forget and stretch out your feet while filling it, you’re in for a nasty surprise.

All of the doors leading outside are split, so you can leave the bottom half closed and still let in a breeze and some sunlight. Unfortunately, this also lets in tons of flies and other buzzing insects, so I found that one needs to keep an eye out for bees and wasps at all times. The doors inside the house also feel like they’re part of the old barn, with old-fashioned iron latches rather than doorknobs. There are windows everywhere, so the house is filled with sunlight, weather permitting.

The back garden echoes the riot from the front garden, with a nice bit of open grass in the middle. The plants climb up the sides of the house and would probably claim the grassy area within a couple of months if they were allowed to. You can see the surrounding hills that are dotted with more fields, all of which have been clearly delineated by dark green hedges. Some of the fields in the distance are home to sheep, others have scattered cattle.

Directly behind the house is a big field that belongs to the gentry who live in the nearby castle (not a proper castle, mind you, it was built in the Victorian era, although I haven’t seen it, so it might be a decent imitation…). Cows wander through the field, grazing where it suits them. The arrive via the lane that runs by her house in a great clamor of hooves, moos, and whistles of the men driving them. Sometimes they come right up to the barbed wire fence that separates her house from the fields and look you square in the eye while they chew their cud.

Did I mention that the barn is listed in the Doomsday Book? If you don't know what that is, look it up. It'll tell you how old the barn is.

I've got some pictures of all of this, but I'm still trying to collage them together so you can get a good view of the whole front of the house.

Next on the menu: gay bars in Soho and pebbles in Brighton.

Time to get my mop on. Hooray.

The Rose and Crown

I woke up Friday with every intention of doing some serious cleaning around the house.

I got up, had breakfast, then went back to my room to get dressed. I tried to get into my wardrobe, which, because of its close proximity to my bed, will not open all the way. After the frustration of the past two days (which will be further explained in the next post), I simply could no longer abide by the difficulty presented by the too-near bed. I then decided I would re-arrange my room to better suit all the furniture I have.

I'm very glad I did. Despite the fact that it took me all day and caused me to work up a bit of a sweat (the sun is still gracing London with its marvelous presence), I now truly feel at home in my room. If you know me well, then you know how important my room, and especially my bed, can be to my sense of comfort. Today's re-arrangement is the first sign that I genuinely feel at home in my surroundings. Took long enough.

I still managed to do a bit of cleaning, mostly vacuuming and ironing, but by dinner, I felt quite accomplished, which was a welcome change after the disaster of my visit in the country (again, more later).

I had decided at some point during the afternoon that I should probably get over any lingering doubts about forging out on my own and just go to a pub by myself. After meeting Conrad's grandmother, I've had this overwhelming sense of homesickness that had yet to rear its ugly face since my arrival at the end of June. A night of fun might just help me focus on what I love about the people I miss, rather than just obsessing about missing them.

I like going to karaoke bars because people seem to have such fun. Folks forget their own vanity and go up to sing because they want to. The karaoke places I liked back in the states were dive bars and considered dirty, but the people inside didn't care about how much money you made or the car that you drove.

After some careful internet research, I found a place nearby that seemed promising. The Rose and Crown pub, which advertises karaoke on Friday and Saturday nights. So I went. It turned out to be everything I was hoping for. Old folks, strange karaoke choices, and reasonable prices. Even made a couple of new friends. I've been invited out tomorrow night. This whole time I've been here, I've thought that people aren't friendly or approachable. Turns out, I just need to go to a pub and ask someone if you have to tip the bartenders (which, as it turns out, you don't). Amazing.

So, after sorting out my room and going to the pub, I'm starting to agree with my assertion that moving to London is quite possibly the best decision I've ever made.

Cheers.

Oh my god.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/20097968/?gt1=10251

Ten and a half years of being pregnant.

Why? They don't live on a farm, so they don't need free field hands, nor do they own a family business that would profit from having all that free labor.

Why? Seventeen kids. And they're not done....

Sunburned? In London?

Yes folks, with a little hard work and complete disregard for good skin care, it can be done.

Check that out.

Only took two hours.

The sun came out to play today.

In fact, it was so nice out, I dried my laundry on a clothesline for the first time in my entire life.

I would love to write more, but I'm a bit wiped out after all the sun and some fantastic beef quesadillas that I made for dinner. Quick note: Conrad and I are going to stay with Bunny (his grandmother) out in the country for a spell. Not sure how long I'm going to be there. She doesn't have internet. I'm sure I'll have tons to share when I get back though.

Catch you later.......

Random musings...

So, today I’ve decided to transfer all of the random things I’ve jotted down in my notebook that haven’t made it into a blog yet. Brace yourselves….I think this is going to be a long one……

First and foremost, I am getting tired of people asking me if I’m an American. While I may lapse into British-esque pronunciations of words and phrases, ninety-nine percent of the time, I know I sound as American as can possibly be. Some random obnoxious fellows at the pub last week guessed Canadian, which was closer than the Irish assignment I got from the waiter at the Indian restaurant I went to the second weekend I was here. In all fairness though, the Indian guy didn’t speak English very well, so I suppose I should cut him some slack.

However, no leniency will be shown to any person for whom English is their first language.

I also have noticed that I need to cut down on how much American slang I use. For example, when discussing being propositioned for tutoring one of Conrad’s friends, I remarked, “Yeah, Harry’s mom hit me up to do some maths tutoring sometime in August.” That one got blank stares. Also confusing: “hit the lights”, “pick up your room”, and “bus your dishes please”.

On the other hand, I am quickly acquiring new words as well. I ask for local newsagents when I need to find a newsstand, tutor maths instead of math, and I now know the difference between pants and trousers (although I still use pants when I mean trousers….old habits).

New topic. Because of recent events (namely, trying to make a new friend), I have been forced to ride various modes of public transportation all by my lonesome. Hooray!! Now I’m comfortable enough with it to begin my adventures around the city, playing tourist until I’ve had my fill of landmarks and museums. Hopefully the weather will get decent enough to where I won’t have to be so concerned with getting caught in a downpour (although I have learned to carry an umbrella in my purse).

You’ll have to forgive me for being silly, but my first trip on the tube scared the crap out of me. Remember, I’ve lived my entire life in the suburbs, and my experience with trains had been a few rides on Amtrak during college. I own a car, and that pretty much explains it. I’m also a tiny bit claustrophobic, and a tiny bit phobic about being in crowds of people.

So, the prospect of being in an enclosed space with tons of strangers caused a rising panic as Conrad and I took the escalator down to the platforms at the local tube station. At Clapham South, there is one way in and out of the platforms: a single long escalator that seemed to stretch on forever that first time. Depending on the weather, there’s a breeze that rushes up the escalator and ruffles your hair. I could feel the weight of the ground above press down more and more insistently the further down the escalator went. Once aboard the train, I wasn’t prepared for how much motion there was. I am still reminded of Big Thunder Mountain every time I ride the tube, especially when the train goes around corners. I’ve also discovered that looking at the train cars ahead of me freaks me out a bit, and trying to watch the ads on the walls at the stations as the train moves past gives me vertigo.

But. I am ever so happy that I don’t have to drive. That alone outweighs any panic that might linger (which, thankfully, there doesn’t seem to be any anymore). There are lots of folks that make for interesting people-watching, and did I mention that I don’t have to drive? The only downside is that it’s hard to jot notes down when the train is moving. My handwriting gets all illegible.

I also saw Pharrell’s lovechild on the bus to Conrad’s tutor. He was calmly eating fried chicken. Amazing.

I’ve decided that it would be difficult for me to date a serious swimmer. They’d probably have smoother legs than I do, and that would just weird me out.

There is an Aston Martin parked up the way on my street. For those who aren't familiar, this is what constitutes "sex on wheels" in Great Britain.

I quite agree. The only thing wrong with this one? It's an automatic. So disappointing. That makes it lose at least 25 sexy points.

There’s a whole ‘nother bit about being a grownup, but I think that will have to wait for another day, as it’s quite lengthy.

More later…..

Waxing poetical....

I’ve discovered that I have had a secret love for rain for a very long time. As you may or may not have heard, there has been a pretty much non-stop rainstorm going for the past couple of weeks. Parts of England are without running water, the flooding has been so bad.

And yet, here I am, at 11:30 on a Saturday night, waiting to start the movie I picked to watch in order to sit and listen to the rain falling through the plants in the garden outside my window. Tonight isn’t a particularly vicious storm, just a gentle rain that sounds more like a stiff breeze pestering the greenery. I’ve got a cat curled up at my feet, freshly-laundered sheets, and took a long hot bath earlier, all of which adds up to be one of the most comfortable and comforting moments I’ve experienced lately. At least, that I can think of at this instant.

Part of me wants to sit on my windowsill until I get tired of being rained on. The other part is happy to remain where I am, snuggled up under the covers with Mr. Bear.

The rain has picked up, working its way to a steady patter outside. There’s a faint suggestion of thunder, but it’s more likely to be the rumble of a passing airplane. I taught Conrad the trick of counting the seconds between lightning and thunder to judge how far the storm is and which way it’s moving, but he wasn’t too impressed.

I discovered last night that Ben and Jerry have made their way to the UK. Terrible discovery, and thanks again to the evil person who brought it to my attention (you know who you are, and I’ll get you back someday). But somehow I think their coffee ice cream would make right now just about perfect.

It’s like watching a lava lamp, listening to the rain. You get so focused on the repetition, everything else fades out.

And you forget what you sat down to do in the first place. Like I have right now.

I am turning into a hippie. Rats!

Harry Potter and food

Harry Potter is done.

I'm not really sad, in truth, I feel sort of relieved. I don't like waiting for authors to publish the next book in a series. One of the other guys I'm reading likes taking at least two years to get the next book out because he spends too much time going to conventions and crap.

Anyway. I won't say anything about the book, so don't worry. I'm happy it's over. Now I can get back to reading other things, like Umberto Eco or Faulker.

But, before I can do that, I'm going to catch up with this first. Because it's something near and dear to my heart, and I love making it, I'm going to talk about food first.

First of all, I have never had so many different ethnicities to choose from. Everything from Portuguese to Nepalese. It's amazing. I've decided that I really enjoy Indian food. And fish and chips.

However, as I suspected, Mexican food is sorely under-represented here. The first week I got here, I didn't have tons of dinner ideas, so I figured I'd just fix fajitas one Tuesday night since most of the Mexican food I make is super-quick and super-easy. They were such a hit with Julian and Conrad, that it was declared that every Tuesday night should be Mexican night. In the grocery store, Mexican food fixings can be found in the "World Foods" section between Thai food spices and Indian food spices, and it gets about six feet of shelf space spread out over three shelves. You can buy do-it-yourself nacho kits, complete with instructions! And everything is Old El Paso brand. Auntie-Claus, if you read this, I desperately need Sadie's!!! Even the spicy salsa here is bland and too heavy on tomato paste.

And while one might think that you could make a fortune by opening a legitimate Mexican food restaurant, you'd never be able to serve anything truly spicy and manage to be successful. Oddly enough, one of the mini-grocery stores carries Tabasco, so I bought some to pep things up this week. As I shook some out onto my burrito, Julian made this terrible strangling gasping noise as though he had started to choke on something. Turns out it was just shock at how much Tabasco I put on my food. Conrad had a friend spending the night, so the two boys had a competition to see who could put more drops on their food. The competition stopped after two drops. Drops. Not tablespoons, not teaspoons, drops. This inability to handle spicy food is a bit confusing when you take into account the popularity of Thai and Indian foods. The curries from both groups can be painfully spicy, and I've had Thai food that sends me running for milk and TUMS. Somehow it just doesn't get translated over to Mexican food. Oh well. So long as I can get the necessary ingredients to make it for myself, I'm not too worried about the lack of El Toritos here.

I am happy to report that the burgers here are pretty much on par with the burgers back home. But then again, it's pretty hard to screw up a hamburger. I will say that I have found that I prefer English chips to American French Fries. I'm tempted to stop into a McDonald's to see if the fries are the same, but who wants to go to McDonalds when you can get fish and chips?

Speaking of fast food joints, I've seen Domino's, Pizza Hut, KFC, and McDonald's. Oh, and Subway. But why the hell you'd pay for Subway when you can walk into any grocery store or go to a Pret a Manger and get THE best readymade sandwich you've ever had in your life for half the price is quite beyond me. Without a doubt, the sandwiches are incredible.

Starbucks was worse than it is in the states. And the guy looked at me blankly when I asked for a venti coffee. I then asked for a large drip coffee. Still got a blank stare. Asked for a filter coffee. Still with the blank stare. I finally resorted to pointed and mouthing "coffee", which actually worked, but then he discovered that there wasn't any ready. Are you kidding? You mean I actually managed to walk into a Starbucks that didn't have any plain black coffee ready to go? Not only that, but the kid didn't even know they didn't have any ready. Unbelievable. And the coffee was crap. But I knew that was going to be the case, I was just a touch homesick that day and thought that chicory-heavy coffee would be just the remedy. Oops. Safe to say, I won't be going back any time soon. Besides, I have since discovered that Caffe Nero makes a fantastic Americano.

Rats. I'm tired and it's late. Tutoring has been going well, and I am very happy that the weekend is very nearly here. I may try and get out this weekend and see some more sights, or at least take an actual day off and get out of the house.

At any rate, time for bed now. Hasta luego!

Tourism and pubs....

Right.

So things have been going along quite fantastically since I last wrote. Conrad and I now do an hour of tutoring after breakfast every morning, and today I discovered that he understands the basics of simple algebra (x + 15 = 27......x = 12.....etc, etc, etc). This gave me tons of hope for actually being able to improve his ability to do math before he goes back to school in the fall. Basic algebra at 10. Good times.

But......tourism and pubs, before I digress....

I went to two excessively touristy things on Tuesday. The weather was gorgeous, so we got on the tube headed toward the London Eye. I didn't know exactly where it was in relation to some of the other extraordinarily well-known landmarks in London, all I knew was that you could see a lot of them once you got up in the ginormous ferris wheel. I'm a bit scared of ferris wheels, on a side note. Anyway, once we got down there, I decided that the line to get on was way too long, but that Conrad and I could just wander around and check out whatever happened to be in the vicinity. Our first plan was the aquarium, until I found out we had to pay to get in (I hadn't brought that much cash with me, and I had no idea how much admission was going to be. So we kept walking towards the Thames, and then turned left.

Parliament. Big Ben. I was so completely unprepared for seeing them both, I had to stop walking. I got goosebumps and my eyes went all misty, and it finally hit home that I am not in Kansas any more. Fantastic. Of course, my camera isn't working again, so I'd left it at home.

Then Conrad decided he wanted to go to the Star Wars Exhibition. Needless to say, I didn't require too much persauding. A tourist trap to say the very least, but I was so entertained by the "Jedi Training" little show, I've decided it was worth the money. There were also lots of production-type things on display, which I also enjoyed. Natalie Portman is waaaaaaaaay tinier than I had originally thought (they had a bunch of Amidala costumes). So that was the first super-touristy thing I did.

The second involved two orders of fish and chips and a big wall. Conrad and I were hungry, so we walked to a restaurant that did takeaway and both ordered fish and chips. We walked back to the river and ate lunch across from Parliament. I got to hear Ben chime both the quarter and half hours. Again, goosebumps. Second touristy thing I did.

At least I didn't take pictures.

Okay.

So. Now, on Wednesday, after the exhiliration of teaching algebra to a 10-year-old and actually having him understand, I met a wonderful chap for drinks. Had a fabulous time making fun of just about everything, and each round tried a different beer, and enjoyed each different one. If only I could remember the names.....Wiggledance or something was one......tried Fruli (strawberry beer...a bit sweet, but tastes great).....Oyster....which was a better version of Newcastle......and something else that has a high alcohol percentage.

Good times.

Anyway, towards the end of the night, we were sitting downstairs making fun of "that girl" (you know, the one who gets too drunk and winds up making out with the horrifically unattractive fellow because she's got beer goggles that make everyone look like Brad Pitt).....when I notice that the guy across from us (not the one making out with "that girl") is drinking a Corona.

What?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

With all the good beer to be had, why on earth would you drink Corona? I maybe could've understood if he'd had super-spicy enchiladas or something (since I'm under the impression that only Mexican beer can reduce the spicy of Mexican food....not counting milk, the wonderful cure-all for any food that is too spicy).

We laughed about that too.

But. It's late, and since I have to tutor every morning, I really should get some rest.

More later.....

But I've been busy.....

Okay, so I know I’ve been a bit lax about putting something new up, but it’s been really really really really busy here. I will post a few within the next few days because I have tons to cover.

First thing: Justin Timberlake.

That’s right, I got to go to a Justin Timberlake concert. Jealous? You should be. Fergie was the opening act, and Timbaland joined Mr. Timberlake for a few numbers. Timbaland also got half an hour to himself to just spin some phat beats during this weird intermission which I think was just to allow Mr. JT$$ (JT Money) to take a rest because not only was he singing and dancing, he’s also learned how to play both the piano and the guitar. AND THE KEYTAR. Yep. That’s right. The keytar. A white one. I almost peed my pants.

Lost respect for him though when they did a tequila shot onstage and he made a face after it was over. Come on now, don’t drink tequila if you can’t drink it without making faces. You’d think he’d be able to afford Patron if he can't handle Cuervo Gold.

Anyway, the concert actually was completely entertaining, and I had an awesome time. I didn’t get to shake my bum like I normally would because I was there with both Conrad (the kid) and Julian (the dad), so I didn’t want to do anything that would cost me respect points. Like showcasing the tricks I learned from Neena and Veena’s Bellydancing for Beginniners (woot). I bought a concert t-shirt and a button, and Conrad and I both had cotton candy (which they call “candy floss” over here, and it comes in a bucket, not on a stick…poo). I was also excited to hear American accents again (hadn’t heard any since I got off the plane…)

And the sexy was brought back. I’m so glad it had gone missing, because otherwise I would not have been able to experience its return.

Okay, so that was Sunday, July 8th. Today is Wednesday, July 18th. Ten days to cover. I’ll sort of gloss over things and make a promise to go into further detail about the following topics: Northcote Road, Kings Road, the age of everything, being a grownup, and swim club. For now. I’m sure there will be more.

So. After ending/starting the week with JT$$ on the 8th, it was time for Conrad’s last week of school. The painters came by again on Monday and finished up, so I rolled up my sleeves and got to work cleaning the house after I dropped Conrad off at school on Tuesday morning. Six hours of nonstop cleaning later, it was time to get Conrad, and I had just finished the downstairs. Here are pictures of the living room and kitchen, which are the only two rooms downstairs:

Yeah. Not a whole lot to clean. But I had been told by everyone that Sonja (the mom) is a ridiculous neat freak, and she was due back from Morocco on Thursday, so I wanted to get everything nice and sparkling before she got back (the cleaning lady that comes on Thursdays does a crap job). I oiled the wood furniture and polished all the metal, swept, vacuumed, mopped, washed windows, bla bla bla. My mother taught me how to clean. I was exhausted by the end of it all. Find out that Wednesday is the school’s sports day, so Julian’s mom picked me up after I took Conrad to school that morning, and we trundle off to one of the commons to watch the kids compete in a few different track and field events. I meet some of the other parents, but they deserve their own post entirely, so I’ll save those details for that…

We froze our asses off at sports day. I had half a dozen cups of instant coffee from the PTA’s refreshment table, plus a double espresso from the semi-ritzy Italian pizza joint across the street. Suzy (Conrad’s grandma) and I chat about child psychology as it pertains to Conrad, her fussy digestive system, and she asks about my tongue ring and whether or not I’ve noticed anything strange in my body functions since everywhere is an acupuncture point and she wonders which one the tongue ring has gone through. Had fun, but was glad to get out of the cold once it was all over. Had my first batch of English fish and chips for dinner. Fan-tastic. I think I’ll have to have another post about the food I’ve had since I got here……

Thursday is open day and prizegiving. Basically, it’s a big open house lasting most of the day, with a sort of awards assembly in the evening that all the parents sort of dress up for. The open house was fun, until Conrad ditched me at lunchtime and I sat on the curb, reading one of the books I picked up at a local thrift shop (I have made it my mission to go visit more thrift shops, as they are wonderfully fabulous, and once I’ve made it to a few more, they will get their own post as well). I don’t mind being the only one reading a book, but I felt a bit awkward with all the kids running about and the parents chatting with one another. I did meet another au pair, but we didn’t really get on that well, and there’s a bit of a language barrier (I don’t speak French).

Prizegiving is ridiculous, and will have to wait for its own post. Sorry.

So that brings us to Friday the 13th. Last day of school. Things are a bit of a blur now because Sonja is back. If you know her, then you understand what I mean. If you don’t….well….Hard to explain.

Grocery shopping on Saturday. I’m now starting to get the hang of grocery stores. Hooray! Barbecued for dinner, and had amazing sausage along with my ever-popular mashed potatoes.

Made one of my famous cheesecakes Sunday morning (used crème fraiche instead of sour cream. I think I’m one step closer to the perfect cheesecake recipe…although I will never use a springform pan for cheesecake ever ever ever ever ever again…should’ve listened to Alton Brown on that one…..)

Also went to Kings Road to go to a shop to order more shelves for Conrad’s room. More on Kings Road and the posh shops later….

New carpet got installed on Monday, so we spent Sunday afternoon/night bringing everything from the bedrooms upstairs to the living room downstairs. It was 75 degrees with 80% humidity at 11:30 on Sunday night. Ridiculous. And not a breeze to be felt anywhere, even though we had every window in the house open.

New carpet on Monday, then have to bring everything back upstairs. Not fun, and also very sweaty. Again.

I also got introduced to what ironing is like with Sonja. Basically, I’m supposed to iron everything. Except for knickers (underpants) and bras. And that includes ironing bedsheets, duvets, pillowcases, and towels. Took me half an hour to figure out how to successfully iron a fitted sheet!! This is what my pile looked like when I was half finished:
I still have ironing to do. It’ll probably take me a couple of hours to finish up. Crazy. I have a super-nice iron to work with though, which is wonderful. If I had to iron that much with a crappy Wal-mart iron, I think I’d commit suicide with the power cord.

Now. Tuesday Conrad and I go back to Kings Road to go to Peter George, to exchange Conrad’s John Lewis school rugby jersey. Peter George is a department store, and John Lewis is a brand name. I want to meet John Lewis, he’s everywhere from all-purpose cleaner to shower curtains to school uniforms and everything in between.

Conrad and Sonja both have decided to make a project out of me. Sonja claims she’s going to get me away from beer and over to champagne, with nice posh boyfriends who drive ritzy cars and buy me nice presents. Conrad seems to have the same designs. We’ll see. I’m not saying that I won’t let them influence me at all (because let’s face it, working at Sole Technology really put me into a jeans and t-shirt rut), but I’m going to do my best to resist any snobbery they may try to impart upon me.

So that brings us to today, Wednesday, July 18th. Conrad and I walked forever to go to the fabric store and get the things needed to make me a new purse (I think it’s going to be really cute…). The weather was gorgeous, and he and I only got into one major power struggle/boundary test/battle of willpower over setting the table for dinner. It’s getting better every day….Although next week we have to start our daily tutoring sessions. That’s going to be like pulling teeth for at least a couple of weeks.

In other news, I am starting to get pictures uploaded onto http://www.kodakgallery.co.uk/

Here is a link to the latest ones…..
http://www.kodakgallery.co.uk/I.jsp?c=92h06vdp.6xh4zep9&x=0&y=ie0j24

As always, I am keeping up with posting pictures on facebook.

It is now very late, and I am very tired, so I’m going to end it here. Either tomorrow or this weekend I will work on the individual topics that I’ve promised separate posts on. We’ll see how busy Conrad keeps me.

Hope everyone is having fun….

Weather and such

As I've mentioned previously, the clouds here are fantastic. The only problem is, the pretty fluffy white ones often end up being not so pretty.

It was quite warm this morning. I walked to the grocery store around 10, and I considered putting on my bikini top and sitting out in the garden in order to get a bit of color. Realized I had a bunch of ironing to do, so I vetoed the idea.

The weather continued on smashingly well until I realized it was about time to leave to pick Conrad up from school. Rather than a lightbulb overhead, I got a thunderclap. Hastily threw an umbrella into my purse, and ran out the door.

About 20 steps later, the skies opened, the wind picked up, and I managed to get fairly wet in the scant amount of time it took to fish out the umbrella and get it sorted.

At least I got the thunder, otherwise I would've gotten a cold.

First things first....

So I’ve been in the UK for a week now, and I’ve finally gotten some time to sit down and write the first of many updates that I will be posting through the course of my adventures in Britland.

To be covered today: Wal-mart, Don Imus, romance novels, and various other things.

So, from the beginning…

Got up sinfully early last Friday in order to begin my travels. Had my last cig ever on the way to the airport, and got onto the plane to PHX, no problem (remember, I’m flying space available the whole way…). Plane pushes from the gate, begins to taxi toward the runway, and the captain gets an error message about his flaps. Wonderful. Return to the gate, where the fine MX crew at SNA fixed the problem, and we were off. I think I slept, not sure.

I really dislike the PHX airport. Of all the airports I’ve been in, PHX is the only one that reminds me of Wal-Mart. People are so casual when flying these days. I saw more people in pajamas and sweatpants than I did in slacks and a nice shirt. I’m not saying that everyone should wear their Sunday best, but goodness gracious, how about a little effort? I felt completely out of place in my dress, even though it is a simple cotton affair. And my cute heels just compounded the problem (especially when I had to run to the other end of the airport for a flight that I ended up not getting a seat on). Got a seat on the second flight, however, and fell asleep before we pushed back from the gate. The captain gets an error message about the cargo door hydraulics while we’re waiting to taxi to the runway (some idiot ramper probably forgot to close the door all the way). Wait for MX, who has to re-cycle the system. Everything checked out, so on we went.

PHL is an interesting airport. Some of their cops ride Segues. I had a private gigglefest after I saw that. Once again, I had to walk from one end to the other, and I didn’t have time to stop at the airport’s cheesesteak stand, but I did get some cold medicine and more water. After lots of calls back and forth with Mummy, I got on the plane. And, because I have the bestest, most prettiest Mother in the whole wide world, I got to sit up in first class (although on US Airways it’s more like business class). Heaven. And I didn’t feel out of place because I was wearing a dress. Ate filet mignon, drank champagne, watched Pan’s Labyrinth, fell asleep watching The Lion King. Woke up, ate breakfast, then began our final descent into London Gatwick Airport. My first impression once we broke through the clouds was “Damn, it’s green!”

Got harassed by customs, struggled to get all of my luggage on the train, but managed somehow and took a seat. Picked the wrong damn car. Bunch of obnoxious old people from Newport Beach were seated just ahead of me. What are the odds? I travel halfway around the world to get away from OC snobbery, and then manage to sit in the same train car with it. Bonkers. Meet Julian (the dad) and Conrad (my charge) at London Victoria Station (which is huge), go outside to the car, and, force of habit, try to get in on the right. Der. That’s the driver’s side. Feel like an idiot, blame jet lag and lack of sleep, and go on my merry way.

So now I live in Balham. I haven’t gotten a chance to take pictures around town (my camera isn’t working at the moment), but the few I was able to take are posted on facebook. Leave a comment with your email address and I'll let you know how to get to them. Below is a picture of the street I now live on...
The house is adorable. Enough books I haven’t read and movies I haven’t seen to keep my busy for several months. My room is perfect, and it’s fantastic to be sleeping in a bed again. I haven’t really watched much TV yet, although I was a bit taken aback when I heard someone drop the f-bomb several times during a reality show about British binge drinking. No censoring, no beeps, just the f-word in all of its shocking auditory glory.

They have 4 cats, all of whom are prone to curling up on your lap if you sit down on the couch, although they don’t seem to be too keen on sleeping at the foot of one’s bed.

My weekday routine is as follows:
Wake Conrad up at 7, 7:30, eat breakfast, get him ready for school, leave the house by 8:05. Walk him to school. After I get back, I usually fix myself a cup of tea, then sit down for a bit and either read or watch a movie. After that, I do dishes and tidy up the house. This past week, there have been two friends of Sonja’s over to paint the hallway, and I’ve had a good time chatting it up with them. I then walk to pick up Conrad, then, depending on the day, get him ready for swim club or tutoring, or get him started on his homework. We have dinner around 7, after which he empties the dishwasher, and I do dishes. We watch a bit of a movie, then, at 9, he gets ready for bed, and I read to him until 9:30, when it’s lights out (I’m reading him The Hobbit, we’re only on chapter two). After that I might do some ironing, or just go straight to bed, as I’m usually pretty tuckered out by 10. I have weekends off (usually).

Conrad’s school was built in the Victorian Era, and I think I would’ve gladly given up at least a pinkie finger to go to school in a place like that. Here he is in front of it:

They’ve offset the 1800s feel of the place by putting a rock-climbing wall along the back, along with a cricket batting cage. When I pick him up in the afternoons, he has to let his teacher know he’s seen me, after which they shake hands, and Conrad is free to go. I’ve decided that all little children should speak with British accents (toddlers and such). Too cute.

Julian was telling me that Conrad’s school is located in an area affectionately termed “Nappy Valley”. Not the Don Imus variety, mind you, but the British variety (“nappy” is diaper). Apparently, this area had the distinction of having the densest population of people under 5 years old in the entire EU. My walks to and from school are a lesson in avoiding harried women with babies in strollers. Sometimes they’ve got more than one. And although I haven’t gone to check it out yet, there’s a road nearby that’s got all the OC mainstays (Starbucks, etc), where all the yuppie moms go to hang out while their kids are in school. Sounds like a haven for some of the dirty old men I know…..

I’m convinced that the authors of all those romance novels I’ve read that are set in Victorian England have never actually been here. They never mention rain, clouds, or the general gloom that has pervaded the place since I got here. Yesterday was the first day that the sun broke free of the clouds for an extended period of time, and today I’m sitting in the garden, enjoying a perfect 70 degrees with some of the most gorgeous fluffy white clouds that I’ve seen (as a general rule, the clouds have been amazingly pretty, even when it was hailing on Wednesday). The sun is making up for last week, it seems, and I think I may get a bit of color while I’m out here. I get to watch planes flying into Heathrow, and the cats come curl around my ankles every now and again. KEarth 101 has an internet broadcast, so I’m bopping to their late-night DJ (it’s something like 4 in the morning in the US while I’m writing this). Every once and a while the breeze winds its way back here, and if I close my eyes, it’s almost like being back home. There’s a lot of humidity in the air, so it always feels like I’m at the beach.

I need to go fix lunch soon, so I’ll end this with a picture (being worth a thousand words...although this one, I think, is worth one thousand and two....)