Ohhhhh Say Can You See

A Vagillion Points of Light

2011-07-14T18:53:00.001+01:00

"We can find meaning and reward by serving some higher purpose than ourselves, a shining purpose, the illumination of a Thousand Points of Light...We all have something to give." - President George Herbert Walker Bush

I would like to take this a step further by suggesting a not a million, a billion, nor even a trillion - but a vagillion points of light. It appears that this beauty salon in Lincolnshire agrees with my thinking and is prepared to make this happen for me and like-minded ladies. How much more of a shining statement can one woman make? Score one for the Bush-meister!

Holey Pants? Not it this family!

2011-07-12T20:07:00.000+01:00

My daughter and I have had it pretty easy on the relationship front. She is normally pretty easy going and I am normally pretty able to go with the flow (with her only BTW - I am NOT a go with the flow person whatsoever). One breakthrough area with me has been her wardrobe. I don't need a girlie-girl - and I PRIDE myself in not needing to dress Maddie in all pink and frills and lace and dresses. Trust me at 4 she can ROCK her blue jeans and mud brown Henry Vilas Zoo t-shirt! Would it KILL HER though to not DEMAND to find the most:

1. Ill-fitting
2. Stained
3. Holey
4. Eye sore

parings of clothing every freaking morning and refuse to wear all of the:

1. Clean
2. Weather appropriate
3. Matching
4. Just plain damned cute

clothing that she owns.

I have allowed myself to let her have choices in what she wears even if the colors clash or its actually a pajama top (only once). I do put my foot down on dirty and full of holes. I don't care if she comes back from school looking that way, but I will be damned if she goes in looking like it.

Which is the discussion we had this morning.....while she was on the toilet......clutching her purple leggings because they were her teacher's favorite color.....with me ripping them out of her hands because they were filthy and full of huge holes. It took 30 minutes to get her to agree to something else and by agree I mean we were running so late I threatened to drop her off in her underwear if she didn't choose something else. She eventually released her kung fu grip on the leggings and told me that this house wasn't fair and she didn't want to live here anymore (which she thought better of when I mentioned that snacks weren't readily available 'on the road').

She did finally manage to choose some clothes that fit, were clean and had no holes (although they didn't match but a small concession on my part). After we both apologized to each other for the very crappy morning we induced upon each other Maddie asked me on the way to school why I made her change her clothes. I had to remind her that pants (in all varieties) are important and that is just how we roll in this family!

Tonight we pre-chose an outfit for tomorrow that I approve of (because I hid all of the stuff that I don't). Done and Done! This motherhood thing is like being a magician sometimes - smoke and mirrors baby!

Summer Ball Gown Extraordinaire

2011-07-07T16:29:00.000+01:00

Summer Ball time is just around the corner (like next week) - let the festivities begin! This year may just be the year that we make it all the way to the champagne breakfast. We have always left around 2 or 3am, because even with somebody watching Maddie overnight, we still have to tend to her the next day and it would be irresponsible and just plain ugly to do it on no sleep (and fairly tipsy). This year, though our neighbours are not only watching her overnight, but taking their kids and Maddie to Sundown Adventureland the following day - all day - so.....the potential is there if we are up for the challenge. I'll let you know next Saturday!

I wasn't going to buy a new dress this year because I have loads of ball gowns now and I thought I would not spend the money and instead re-wear one (gasp, horror, shock)!

Then I saw this one and I felt it would have been a crime against humanity to not buy it.....and wear it... and sleep in it....for at least a couple ~~nights~~ weeks. I don't have anything to go with it shoe or jewelry wise and don't really have time to look, but I don't care. I will go barefoot and jewel-less. (Happy sigh).

Joy and Rapture

2011-05-22T13:46:00.002+01:00

I am sure that you may have heard that the Rapture was meant to come yesterday. BTW - it didn't. But I don't see it as a total loss. I mean sure, now I have to go to work on Monday and there are the 13 loads of laundry I was hoping to put off......

That aside, Isn't it great how crazy people like Harold Camping bring out the best in all of us. Let us look at a glass half full. Who else but a nut job could inspire so many people to get creative and have a giggle. Here are a few nuggets that I have found delightfully laugh worthy. Don't stop Harold - I may need more laughs in the future.

A little practical joke you can plan on friends, neighbors and strangers the next time a Rapture opportunity presents itself.

Obviously this guy's family knew something he didn't.....

I think this one is my favorite. What an awesome day this guy had. First, drinking beer whilst doing a number 2, then getting to meet the big guy in the sky. My only question is, did he have a chance to wipe?

I am going to see if I can order this billboard for the side of my house.

I'm just saying.......

I have some wonderfully twisted friends in California that would probably be on board to make this one happen. If you need extra hands for the big release, please give me a call and I will get on a plane and be there. That is one party I do NOT want to miss.

I think this just says everything. Blame it on Bill Gates.

INSTALLING RAPTURE.
███████████████░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ 44% DONE.
Install delayed....please wait.
Installation failed. Please try again. 404 error: Rapture not found.
EVENT "Rapture" cannot be located. The rapture you are looking for might have been removed, had its name changed, or is temporarily unavailable. Please try again later.

Enough said. LMAO. I am going to go do my 13 loads of laundry with a smile on my heathen face.

The one where I thank my brother for helping Matt for get it so right.

2011-04-03T21:14:00.001+01:00

Today is mother's day in the UK and it is third one out of five since Maddie has been born that I am spending it without my husband. Yesterday morning was bittersweet because Matt was leaving again and had only been home for 3 weeks.

After dropping him off at work to catch his plane, Maddie and I came home and I closed the front door feeling an overwhelming sense of emptiness. It felt so lonely that the dog had to fill the void with an alarming amount of gas.

When the doorbell rang 5 minutes later, I welcomed the possibility of company and the strong fresh burst of air that I knew would clear out the cloud of nastiness that still lingered from the dog.

What I didn't expect was my neighbour holding a massive bouquet of flowers with a sheepish smile saying "these were delivered while you were out".

The flowers were from Matt. The card simply read: Don't thank me. Thank your brother. Happy mother's day, you are really amazing.

It was a bit of an inside joke really. Last week my brother's wife posted pictures on facebook of some gorgeous flowers that my brother had given her. In response to a comment that someone had written, she replied that my brother gave her flowers all the time - special occassion not necessary. To which I responded "tell my brother to have chat with my husband...lol". Some facebook banter ensued and the rest (as they say) is now history. My younger brother has apparently schooled Matt in the art of some fine flower gifting.

What I really didn't expect was for another flower delivery today. I thought that it must be either a mistake or maybe flowers from my mom (she is awesome that way)!

The card read: Don't thank me, thank Uncky J. (my brother), love Maddie. Now Maddie is great with a computer but even she doesn't have the skill set to order and pay for flowers online (or does she)??? It would appear that my lovely husband got me another bouquet of flowers and sent them in Maddie's name. I don't think the delivery person was ever caught in such an awkward moment when I started weeping "I can't believe he did this! Why would he do this?" She backed away quite quickly perhaps confusing my incredulous reaction with anger (it is not like I said it whilst shredding the flowers with a pair of scissors.....)

Those flowers made my weekend and I don't think that either my brother or Matt will ever know how much. Thank you Jeremy for being such a great man (and husband to Maria) and thank you Matt for being the most wonderful husband and getting it so, so right!

You do realise that the bar has now been set........

Counting Down the Days

2011-03-29T20:19:00.000+01:00

You may (or may not) know that my husband is in the Royal Air Force. He is an engineer. When we got married I knew that there was the possibility of him spending some time away here and there. I never expected to have him gone quite as much as he has since Maddie has been born. The last year or so has been rough - he has been away for 4-5 months or more out of the year.

I know to some that this doesn't seem like much. I know that some people in the forces spend 18 months or more away from their families at a time. I don't think I could be married to somebody that has to have that kind of commitment to their job - power to the wives, girlfriends and families that do.

Matt left in early January for what was to be the last deployment for a while. When he got back 2 1/2 weeks ago I could have wept. I was tired, stressed, overworked and unbalanced. I was really looking forward to having some time for us to be a family again. To have somebody share the (wonderful) burden of caring for a 4 1/2 year old child and an 11 year old dog with bad gas and even worse breath.

We got the first call about 4 days after he came home - deployment......again.....

He was meant to leave mid-May. I was heartbroken, but thought "okay at least we have a couple of months to spend together. At least I have a while to re-charge my batteries before being a single parent yet again. At least Maddie can relish in the possibilities of having 2 parents to dote on her."

The second call came not long after. Things had changed. Deployment moved up. Leaving on the 2nd of April. "Crappity, crap, crap." I do believe that my actual reaction included a wild variety of bonus words that I will not type here just in case somebody gets offended. But to give you a glimpse of the conversation that went down between me and the man I will say that the "F" bomb was dropped at least a half a dozen time as well as some vocabulary that would probably see me going to hell for a good long while in at least 6 of the major world religions. By the way - I swear like a sailor - just thought you should know.

Matt will have been back for less that 25 days when he leaves again. He is on standby to leave fairly soon. I want to scream and cry but everybody I know is in the same boat or worse and pity parties don't last very long when you are a RAF wife. My friends and acquaintances that don't have partners in the Forces aren't always understanding, implying "you knew what you were marrying into....." I want to slap them, but I don't (okay sometimes in my head I do and seriously I have got a great imagination so it is AWESOME when it plays out). I usually bite my tongue. I smile. I make a joke. I let everyone know that it will be okay. In the meantime I just keep counting down the days.

No 'poo' Day 5 - The one where I find a solution....

2011-02-24T21:51:00.004Z

Okay, Day 5 of no shampoo and I wake up and expect to run my fingers through....well I didn't expect to 'run' my fingers through anything. When I went to bed last night, my hair had congealed into a mass that had practically stuck to my pillow.

I was mildly surprised to find that although my hair felt a little off - it wasn't greasy at all. It felt heavy and lifeless, but not greasy. Perhaps true progress was being made and these women were really on to something.

I decided to brave my day out with my friend Alla whilst sticking to my experiment and opted for a long shower with a baking soda rinse (unlike the paste I had used previously, this was about a teaspoon with 2 cups of very warm water). I ran that through my hair and scrubbed my scalp until I thought it might bleed. Then I followed it up with the Apple Cider Vinegar, which everyone has sworn by. The ACV smelled pretty foul in the shower, but when I got out my hair felt AMAZING. It had a squeaky clean, but not stripped feel to it. The roots didn't feel laden with oil and it looked really shiny (okay it was wet, but it was really, really glossy).

I started to blow dry and actually saw a bit of volume (and this was with no product in it). I kept blowdrying and realized that I was not really getting anywhere. My hair was taking 10 times longer than normal to dry and still reaked of vinegar.

I thought long and hard about some of the other research I had done on the subject and thought I would give my hair one last option. The great news is that it worked a treat - my hair looked soft, shiny and smelled lovely.

The wonder product in the end was - SHAMPOO!!! Yeah, I caved, and I caved bad!!! I didn't feel guilty either. I felt that I had successfuly completed the experiment to my satisfaction. 2 of the biggest motivators for women to do this was time and money, I wasn't saving either of those. I know that many women want to ditch all the chemicals in their shampoo, but I looked at mine - 80% organic with non of the bad stuff all these websites tell you to avoid. I do feel that with the right hair style/type, and lots of time and self esteem this would probably work. Since I never seem to have all of these at the same time, I think that I would never make it through long enough to reap the fruitful rewards of ditching the suds.

I have been loving on my hair all day - swishing, flaunting and running my fingers through non-greasy strands for hours. I may have a bald patch by tomorrow from all the hair fondling, but it will be well worth it. Tonight I am going to wash my nasty pillowcases and drift off to the sweet scent of my perfectly styled, silky coif!

Nighty Night!

No 'poo' Day 4 - Robert Palmer eat your heart out....

2011-02-23T22:11:00.000Z

Day 4 of no shampoo - yes, Day 4. I have to say that I felt really sluggish today and I am officially blaming it on my lack of hair volume. Now that I got that off my chest here is how today played out.

After yesterday's debacle I didn't have very high hopes for today from the get-go. Maddie and I had NO plans today, so I decided to skip the wash and just do a rinse instead. Also, because the ends of my hair felt so dry, I put a tiny bit of conditioner in.

Although my hair felt a bit better (still greasy but not so dirty) it looked derranged. I decided that the only thing to do would be raid Maddie's hair band basket and grab some accessories. I opted for two ponytails with a zig zag part down the middle. I kept the 'tails' up high and slightly forward. I looked like an insane mouseketeer - DO OVER! I tried a headband but looked scary. I finally settled for slicked back in a double banded ponytail. Not terrible, but I kind of looked like somebody who had just given up on life or spent a week in the hospital. I decided to overcompensate with makeup and went with very smoky eyes and dark red lips. Now, not only could nobody think I didn't care about my appearence, but might actually mistake me for one of the girls in the Addicted to Love video!

A fantastic red silk scarf, swingy black mid length trench coat, jeans and killer earrings later, I decided to brave the real world with Maddie. We went bowling. I think this was a bit of a strategic move on my part because I was running on the assumption that many people at the bowling alley wouldn't be in full makeup with a bold wardrobe choice. I was pretty much on the mark - although I was secretly coveting every woman's hair there. The good news is I didn't get stared at with looks of distain or pity. I gave today a 4.5 out of 10.

Tomorrow I may cave - I am meeting up with a friend of mind so our daughters can play at Rand Farm Park. This friend is Ukranian and VERY stylish - I have never seen her look anything less than amazing. She may not want to hang out with me anymore if I can't get my hair to pass muster and I really enjoy her company.

In a last ditch effort to follow this through and not look like a sleazebag tomorrow, I did a bit more research today on how to manage manky hair. It seems that Apple Cider Vinegar is supposedly the way to go. Everyone has been swearing by it even the women with baby fine chin length bobs like mine. I shall give it a go, but friends, I really do feel that this may be a lost battle.

No 'poo' Day 3 - Introducing the Hair Apparent

2011-02-22T22:10:00.000Z

Okay, so on Sunday I began what was to be a week of hair experimentation - namely me ditching commercial shampoo. I had read up on advice, tips, and testimonials of all of the wonderful things that this would apparently do for my hair in the long run. The trick was making it through the short-term process of jumping off the shampoo rollercoaster.

Day 1 went reasonably well. I rated my hair a 6.5 out of 10 - not bad at all. I used a paste of baking soda and water to wash my hair and a vinegar rinse. It was manageable, stylable and didn't smell badly like I thought it would.

I decided to really go cold turkey yesterday with nothing but a rinse in the shower. That was - not so fine. My hair felt quite greasy at the roots and the ends felt quite dry. I was still able to style it, but it didn't look great. I would rate it a 5/10. I was confortable enough in the village (went to the shop and post office) and taking the dog out for a walk. It helped that the weather was horrid and drizzly and I took comfort in the fact that everyone's hair looked a bit worse for the wear.

I woke up this morning with the day planned out. I was supposed to go into town to meet with woman who is putting together a womens' wellbeing convention where I am speaking. I was basically going to bring Maddie down to the centre where she was going to show me the layout and we would figure out where I would be set up. The bonus was I knew this women (she's one of my members). I guessed it would take about 15 minutes. After that Maddie had a playdate to go to with our neighbor's daughter.

Because I was going into town I decided to re-try the baking soda and vinegar trick again. My hair was beginning to take on a life of its own and not in a good way. I had such decent results on Day 1 that I figured it would be good enough to get me through my morning.

I 'washed' and rinsed then started to blowdry. Lets say that my hair didn't respond as well as the first go round. My hair felt like a thick lump of oil and yet was also so dry that anything that came near it set it off like a Van de Graaff generator. It was bad enough that I had to dig out one of those pinchy-type hair clippy things and do a half-up/half-down 'do'. The result was less than flattering, but would work - its not like I was going anywhere that I needed to impress people with my tresses. Aside from that I didn't have time to do anything else.

What actually happened that morning when I got the the Convention Centre was mortifying. Imagine showing up at a place where you expect to be shown a couple of rooms (by somebody you know), discuss a couple of needs and then leave - and instead walking into your worst nightmare.

For instance a full-blown, sit down formal meeting with 20 of the most fabulous women in the area (all professionals who will be presenting at the event). These women are all dressed to the 9's, made up and bejewelled with perfectly coiffed hair done up in fashionable hair accessories that match their outfits and nails. Imagine the horror as you slink in 5 minutes late (with your 4 year old none the less) and find 20 pairs of eyes looking at you with a mixture of pity and disdain. Imagine the mortification as your daughter decides to occupy herself by playing with your 80's themed hair clip and breaking it, leaving the hair that was clipped into it standing up at a jaunty angle. You've seen 'Something about Mary', yes?

I fought off the need to speak up in the middle of this meeting to explain my hair plight (maybe they would find it amusing), by slowling twirling a finger around the patch of runaway hair that had escaped from behind my ear. (Note to self - don't try to distract people from an embarrasing situation by drawing attention to the problem). I tried to meet each and every woman's gaze with a bright smile and devil may care attitude. At one point during the 2 hour meeting I ran to the toilets with Maddie and glimpsed at my hair...........

Holy crap how was I ever talked in to doing this? My hair was beyond sad looking and quite frankly, brought my whole look down a notch (or 5). To make penance I now have to show up at this event looking abso-frickin-lutely fabulous which will probably set me back some serious cash at my hairdressers and some more serious cash finding an outfit to compliment my expensive hair.

Because the meeting went so long I took Maddie out to lunch where I ran into several old co-workers - another hit to my self esteem - and by the time we returned home I wanted to jump in the shower and shampoo my hair until my scalp bled. But I prevailed. After all - we just had to go to a playdate across the street and I could slink back into my home with my head of yuck. The playdate was great - although my neighbor had just had her hair 'done' and was so obviously enjoying her new hair affair - flaunting her flaxen mane in my general direction every time she turned to speak......

All in all I would rate today a 3/10. This is not hair I would really want to be seen in public with - but not quite bad enough to want to shave it off. Also I think I have come to the conclusion that I am much to shallow for this to have any real money saving effect (unless of course this takes a giant turn around at some point) as I will have to fork over a load of dough to salvage my self esteem when I go to this convention. Here is a picutre - shocking isn't it.

Here is a picture of my hair looking lovely just to balance out the universe and to look at my awesome summer ball gown again........

So far I have not saved any time, nor any money with this crazy scheme and am beginning to lose the plot. The prospects for tomorrow are frightening and I am not really sure I can do this for another 5 days. Wish me luck!

No 'poo' for a week?!?

2011-02-21T20:51:00.000Z

This post is not possibly as gross as the title implies - or maybe it is, but just not in the way you thought when you read it. I was reading an interesting article a couple of weeks ago about a movement of women who were ditching their shampoo and soap in favor of more skin and scalp friendly alternatives. Many of these women are not dread-locked, granola eating hippy-types, but those more classically prone to NOT wearing patchouli oil and wearing their armpit hair au-naturel.

BTW - I have nothing against women who wear patchouli oil, refrain from shaving, or eat granola - hell - I alomst became one of those women during a brief period of insanity when I almost moved to kauai to sleep on a beach in a tent.....but I digress.....

These women decided that between the many nasty chemicals in shampoo, the cost and the time spent shampooing they were going to give it a rest. The interesting thing was that many of them decided it worked for them. After a week or so of greasy uneasiness, their hair settled in to a more natural rhythm of being. According to many studies, the chemicals in modern day shampoo force your scalp to produce more sebum (oil) therefor perpetuating the need to shampoo more frequently. By stopping this cycle you can get away with washing your hair far less often and (here's the kicker) it will actually look and feel better.

I brought this topic up at the gym and was met by a very divided group of women. Many said that yes the science sounds probable and some said - please, that is disgusting, nobody could ever convince me that not shampooing would work. The debate grew for a few days with women bringing in 'tidbits' of info that they had gatherered whilst doing some 'research' on the subject. Vehement arguments broke out on whether to 'poo' or not and at the end of last week I would say that it was pretty split down the middle.

Here is where I came in (again). I decided that I would take one for the team and test drive this theory to prove for once and for all if it works. If I'm being honest I was kind of bullied into it but - semantics.

Let me preface this experiment by explaining a few things:

1. I have a love/hate relationship with my hair. See my last hair blog for more proof.
2. I have shampooed every day if not more for the better part of 25 years.
3. I have baby fine hair that has not an ounce of volume without some serious products (which require washing out).
4. The hair fairies work mysteriously at night to my hair into an intricate weave of knots, necessitating a good shampoo and bucketful of conditioner to fix it.
5. If left to its own devices, my hair would solidify into a single, pathetic, limp noodle.
6. One of my favorite things in life is finding my next great shampoo/conditioner combo - perfect shine, swishability, volume, style prospects and scent.

To go without shampoo was not a challenge I undertook lightly - so several members had to sweeten the deal by backing me financially (jokingly threatening to quit). I decided that this week would be the perfect week undertake such an experiment because Maddie was on half-term and I wouldn't be working and therefore could hide out in my house with the curtains closed.

I read up on some tips and tricks for getting through the first few days. These included washing your hair with a paste made from baking soda and then rinsing it with vinegar, squeezing lemons through your hair while showering, wearing a hat, and spritzing witch hazel in your roots when you got up in the morning.

Today was DAY 1 and I decided to go the baking soda and vinegar route because the whole lemon thing sounding like it might sting in the shower and I haven't held witch hazel in my possession since the early 80s.

I made a paste and schlepped it on my scalp. I was not only disappointed to not get a sudsy lather, but disgusted at the fact that my head felt covered in gritty sand......sand that would not wash out.....sand that would not go away. After rinsing for what felt like 30 minutes (note to self this might not be the most environmentally friendly experiement) I followed up with the vinegar rinse. Again - NOT what I wanted to smell at 8am. I thought to myself that these women were either nuts or had way to much time (and water) on their hands.

I was mildly suprised though, at how soft my hair felt when I got out and combed through it - wait - could this possibly work???

I got out the blowdryer because that really is the final test for me - and I have to say that aside from feeling very slightly 'fly away' my hair actually looked decent enough to be seen in public. I took Maddie and her friend out to Crazee Bongos and nobody stared or held their nose as I walked by, withering from the stink of vinegar. I gave today a 6.5/10 rating on the scale of great hair. None of the WOW factor, but decent and admissable in public - done and done!

Tomorrow should be interesting because I am going to not shampoo at all and just rinse. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm........

Pictures to come!

Might as well be my inaugural blog........oh....and I made some cool stuff!

2011-01-22T23:41:00.000Z

I don't even want to look at the date of the last blog I wrote - I think it was last June. I could bore you with all of my lame excuses (for the 3 of you that read this) as to why I haven't written in so long. So far I've come up with:

1. I've been really crazy busy at work.
2. I've had writer's block.
3. My dog ate my computer (she's been such a pig lately that this one isn't that far out there).
4. My future self came back and told me that something that I would write in the last 6 months would cause parts of the world to implode and therefore NOT writing would really be saving the world.
5. I lost the ability to type the letter "A" and nobody would get nthing tht I cme up with.
6. It's not you, it's me.....

Instead of dragging these very obviously real possibilities out on the webbernet I've decided to show you what Maddie and I did today instead. (No pig dogs were harmed in the writing of this blog).

We made Crayons. Okay so we did not actually make crayons, but we did melt down her supply of nubs to make some pretty funky NEW crayons. The project chewed up a good couple of hours of what would have otherwise been an afternoon of whining, siging and f*&ing Peppa Pig.

Maddie has a box of old crayons that is HUGE. I hate old crayons so I buy her a new box about once a month. Add that to all of the free crayons that she scores and.....needless to say we have loads.

The crayon box is the bane of my existence. Her favorite thing to do is dump it on the living room floor so she can see all of her options. The nubs get ground into the carpet, their teeny tiny bits of paper peppering the landscape in a fashion that could only be described as crayon mass murder sight.

I have often thought of just throwing them away, but it seems a bit wasteful. I've thought of donating them to her playgroup, but who has time or mental capacity to remember to actually load the box into the car and bring it to playgroup? Sadly, not I.

So today, in a fit of rage and boredom I decided that the crayons needed a new lease on life (one not encased in paper).

We started by soaking the crayons in water to get the paper off. I filled our kitchen sink in warm water and we 'husked' the crayons one by one.

When they were de-papered we separated them by color and shade into different bowls (yes I am borderline OC a fact that Maddie will just have to get used to in me and in the genes that I have undoubtably handed down to her).

Then we found a small baking tray that my mom sent us last valentines day with little heart shapes. We broke up the crayons and filled the tray.

The tray went into the oven at about 325 F. We checked every 5 minutes until the crayons had melted.

Took them out and popped the tray in the fridge.

When they were cold they popped out of the mold. And VOILA - new crayons.

We got a bit crazy after the first 2 batches of hearts and decided to move on to bigger and badder crayon combos (I seriously had so many crayons to use up).

I took a larger muffin tin and loaded the crayons into paper muffin cups. For these we mixed our colors with wild abandon and made some crayons that looked like Reeces Peanutbutter cups would if you had ever taken a hit of acid (I never have so I am really going on testimony for this one).

Maddie had a great time sorting out shades and blending different colors. I got to throw away every last scrap of crayon paper that was left in the house and the dog was left bewildered yet intrigued by the scent coming out of the oven. All in all - a good day!

Kittyn

'Maddie-ness' The Art of Being 3.5

2010-08-10T23:43:00.000+01:00

Yesterday Maddie wanted to go outside into the back garden to show me the butterfly feeder that she had made at the Minster School. I had just come home from a long day at the gym and she was very excited to show me her creation. I had to stop her though, from going outside because:

1. The back garden has not been mowed and has prickers (and dog poo if I'm being honest) everywhere
2. She was not wearing shoes
3. It is August and we have had a wasp invasion
4. She was stung by a wasp 4 days ago
5. Again with the not wearing shoes thing

She asked me why she couldn't go outside and I explained that I didn't want her to go out in her bare feet.

Maddie: What is bare feet?
Me: That is when you aren't wearing shoes.
Maddie: Why?
Me: That is the word for it.
Maddie: Why can't we go out in bare feet?
Me: Because you might step on something.
Maddie: Like what?
Me: Well, as wasp for one.
Maddie: That would sting.
Me: Yes.
Maddie: Or...I could step on something slimy?
Me: Yes.
Maddie: Or something prickly?
Me: Yes
Maddie Or something pooey?
Me: Certainly, yes.
Maddie: Or a dead body?
Me: Where do you think we live?
Maddie: Bardney!
Me: Yes......why would there be dead bodies in our back garden?
Maddie: I don't know........do you?
Me: Not a clue.....but honey there are no dead bodies in our back garden.
Maddie: But there might be wasps.
Me: Yes.
Maddie: So there might be dead bodies....
Me: Well presented...

Note to readers: At the last check we have NO dead bodies in the back garden that we are aware of. There are the dead shells of about 2 dozen wasps that have met their demise with a can of Raid, but no dead bodies other than that. We will (on Maddie's request) be keeping a close eye on the possibility of dead bodies in the back garden and will keep you informed if any turn up.

Things That Are Off The List

2010-07-22T10:57:00.000+01:00

Following a recent conversation with my best girlfriend (who shall remain nameless for now), I have decided to re-instate things that are off the list. The original LIST was permanently displayed in marker on my other best friend's (yes you can have more than one) wall. The original list included Mandy Moore and the Caliph (a drag queen bar) for reasons that I am not going to expand on at this moment. This list was added to from time to time until the day that his girlfriend made him paint over it before they moved. The new house was not allowed to have permanent marker on the wall (go figure) so the list was restarted in the garage where it presumably still grows today. Yesterday, my girlfriend jokingly (?) decided to start a list of her own which included me on it (right after the pool vaccuum) - NICE! In response here is my list (in no particular order of the off-ness that they are.)

1. Watermelon
2. Lucy the dog (you know what you did)
3. Advertisers
4. Pollen
5. Talking iphone apps
6. Washable kids paint
7. Porridge (Maddie added this one)
8. Thunder Flys
9. Playgroup Committee
10. HSBC

Happy Thursday - Feel free to add your own Off the List and share!

Planning the Perfect Family Holiday

2010-07-11T09:21:00.000+01:00

Earlier in the year Matt and I were talking about vacations and holidays:

1. The only place we go on vacation is the States to see my friends and family (this isn't all bad because we go to Kauai often enough).

2. Matt never gets to choose (okay he was kind of whining about this, but since it was basically true I let it slide).

3. We have not taken a family holiday to a foreign destination in years (I don't count Tenerife as a foreign holiday destination because it is just one giant English pub along an expanse of sand).

Matt decided that he would like to take the family on holiday and that HE would CHOOSE the destination. My inner control freak was ~~a little bit~~ a lot uncomfortable with allowing him this heady freedom, but the rest of me agreed that it was only fair. After thinking long and hard (about 2.48 minutes) he informed me that we would go to Italy.

And so we began to plan and in planning got really, really excited. Think of how great it will be:

1. Sitting at a sidewalk cafe sipping espresso in Rome.

2. Enjoying a langorous 6 course dinner in Tuscany.

3. Marvelling at the ruins of Pompeii.

4. Drinking in all of the sights we could cram into 8 days.

5.Having Maddie to ourselves the whole week and Maddie having us at the same time.

We decided to go in June because if we were to wait until Summer Holidays, the prices just about triple. The week of the 8th was chosen, tickets were booked and diet was started in anticipation of eating my was down the West Coast of Italy. Matt convinced me that renting a car would be the best way to go - screw public transportation - let's have the freedom to go where we want, when we want.

me: "are you sure you will be comfortable driving over there?"

matt: "why not - it shouldn't be much different that driving in Germany or the States"

me: "okay, if you are sure......they have really good trains...."

matt: "stop it"

Car was booked (with trepidation), dog was book (to the kennel a.k.a 'the dog hotel'), hotel in London was booked so that we didn't have to drive to Heathrow the day of our flight. Next thing to do:

1. Figure out exactly where we wanted to go.

2. Book some places to stay.

Matt decided that he didn't want to:

1. Know EXACTLY where we would go - he wanted to have a loose game plan and see where the trip took us.

2. Book places to stay as we wouldn't really know where we were staying until we got there.

I convinced him to a least book a hotel in Rome for our first night so that we weren't stuck driving in a strange city during rush hour looking for a hotel. I made this happen by booking the hotel as 'my treat'. I found a great place right next to the Vatican and mere walking distance away from more sights than we could possibly take in. We then decided that it would be prudent to book a room near the airport on our final night as our flight was early-ish and we didn't know how long it would take to get there from the city.

As for the rest of the trip we made our game plan which consisted of spending a night and following day in Rome, driving North through Tuscany and stopping in Florence and Pisa, then cruising back down South to the Amalfi Coast and Pompeii, finally returning to Rome for a final evening.

Done and done - let the holiday begin. We were so ready for a break and as the weeks got closer our excitement grew. I love traveling - don't you?

Raced my little heart out

2010-05-27T18:20:00.000+01:00

I signed up about a month ago to do the Race for Life here in Lincoln. It is something that I have wanted to do for a number of years, but have never done because life kept getting in the way of the race. This year, however, I found myself committed to racing with about 8 other women from my gym (some staff, some members).

I knew from talking to others who have participated that it was going to be a light hearted event (although in support of a very serious cause). I had seen pictures on the race for life website with women wearing pink wigs, tutus, etc. I was prepared to dress up for the event by doning a pink tutu although I made the decision to not put it on until I got there and met up with everyone, in case I was the only one looking a bit silly.

How underdressed did I feel when I pulled up to the event and saw the 4,000 women already there dressed like they were going to nightclub on acid. Wigs, tutus, ballgowns, dayglow fishnets, fairy wings and tiaras. I slipped my sad little tutu over my shorts and waited for the rest of the gang to arrive.

I had no expectations of the event so when I got there was delighted to find out that that were giving out free body tatoos and pink water to everyone (a bit like being at Coachella or Burning Man, but with all girls and some running thrown in).

They split everyone into groups of runners, joggers and walkers. Four of us decided to 'jog' and the rest to walk. Off we went in the hot sun, 4,000 shades of pink bobbing along the tarmac at RAF Waddington. About 2 km in I realized:

"Hey, I didn't eat breakfast this morning....it is 80 degrees with no wind....and I have done a proper race in about 7 years....I feel a bit sick to my stomach and I think my ankle is about to give...."

By the 4th kilometer, not even the bagpipe band and screaming masses were enough to keep me going. I stopped to walk for a bit. I felt really shitty and sorry for myself for about 500 meters. Then I felt really shitty about being such a lame-ass. I started thinking of my friend Helene, whom I was racing for, as well as all of the other women who have battled and are currently battling cancer. These women get up every day and live their lives with uncertain futures and the pain and sickness that comes with fighting their own bodies. Those that I know personally have done it with grace and courage and who the hell was I to be whining about a sore ankle and nausea. I felt shame at even allowing self pity to seep into my brain at that point and instead focused on their strength, which gave me enough strength to run like an olympic sprinter for the final furlong.

Seriously, remember that scene in The Firm? The one where Tom Cruise is running like his ass was on fire because the mafia was chasing him? Well that, my friends, is how I ended my first Race for Life - glorious!!!

(I actually almost elbowed that small child in green to my right to stay ahead of her -

nothing says charity race like showing a 10 year old whose boss!)

As I always do after doing something crazy,exhausting, or physically demeaning - I rewarded myself with a large plate of nachos when I got home. As I ate them, I thought of my friend Helene and how much she would laugh if she could have seen how funny I looked crossing the finish line in a pink tutu with my hair plastered in sweat and my arms flailing like a monkey.

I am certainly marking this event in my planner as one to do next year. I think I may start planning my costume now.

Help Me Decide

2010-05-25T22:03:00.000+01:00

Summer Ball time is here and I am trying to decide on a dress. You may gather from most of the pics that I am loving green this year. Please leave a comment and tell me which dress you like. If you don't know me I have a chin length blondish bob and will hopefully be a bit tan as we will be just returning from Italy when I wear it. Please also note that this ball (although a summer one) is in England.....last year it was so cold and rainy we were calling it the Christmas Ball. Thanks for your feedback!!!

R.I.P. Selena - Hairdresser Extraodinaire

2010-05-17T20:39:00.000+01:00

Okay - so my beloved hairdresser is not really dead - but she may as well be - she has left the scene and left no traces of where or how to find her (why didn't I get her last name)!?!?!

I happened across this gem of a hair artist about 2 years ago just before I opened my gym. There is a salon in the same complex and I decided that:

1. I needed to stop coloring my hair myself (it just stopped working right after I had a baby - maybe the hormones???)
2. Making nice with the owner and hairstylists would be good for my buisness.
3. I really needed a good professional cut and re-style after the great post-pregnancy hair loss of 2006 (seriously, there weren't bald patches but it could pull out clumps of hair every morning).

I made an appointment and was booked in with Selena. Our first date was a bit off-putting at first:

1. She was a bit moody and weird. She didn't really like to talk and seemed slightly disinterested.
2. She refused to give me an opinion - kept asking me what I wanted and when I waffled she left decisions to me saying "it's your choice."

I don't know about you but I am clueless about hair. I need for somebody to tell me what will work. I do not always agree and usually end up having an opinion if I think it is too extreme, but I found her lack of input frightening.

When I finally described the style I was going for, she cut and colored my hair and IT WAS FABULOUS. I have never had such a gorgeous cut and color. Well, there was the one hairdresser in San Diego that I went to once, while back there on vacation from England. He charged more than some people pay for a mortgage payment and took 5 hours to complete my look (I get shivers thinking about how wonderful my hair looked after he finished).

I stayed with Selena ever since, letting her play with color and texture and style. Our relationship was still weird - she didn't really like to talk and left me to alot of the decision making, but each and every time I walked out of that salon I felt like I was shooting a hair commercial.

When she left I tried 2 other stylists at the salon and they were - not so good. Everything I asked for them not to do, they did:

1. Did I ask for twin rat tails streaming down the side of my face?
2. Do I have to pay for the extra strip of color you left on the back of my neck?
3. Oh, please, please straighten my already stick straight and baby fine hair so that it hangs, pasted down my scalp?
4. Is that a duck tail in the back of my head?
5. Really, mullets are back in style?

They both had an overbearing opinion about everything and my hair left feeling very sad both times.

My 3 inch dark brown roots flecked with platinum (yeah - they are not silver it is blonde) have decided that it is time to move on and find a new stylist. I have booked an appointment on Thursday with a girl at a very posh salon who is supposed to be 'magic with hair'. I hope she lives up to her reputation. If she does the first question that I will ask her is: "What is your last name?"

OMG - Cheese and Bacon HEAVEN

2010-05-15T17:46:00.003+01:00

I type this with heavy fingers.....from the water I am retaining following last night's feast of all things cheesy, bacon-y and filled with nitrates. My neighbor and her daughter came over for dinner last night and it being Friday I was not in the mood to make an overly fussy dinner. I wanted to hang and enjoy the company. I decided to get some pizzas and garlic bread (easy as it gets) and supplement it with a recipe I have been eyeballing for awhile.
The recipe comes from a cookbook that I picked up last year for ~~Maddie~~ myself, called 'Cookbook for Girls - Fabulous Food for Gorgeous Girls'.

They call this dish 'Cheesy Potato Skins', but I immediately coined it 'ohmygodithinkijustdiedandwenttoheavenican'tbelieveiameatinghalfaslabofbaconandapoundofcheese'

Here is the recipe:

4 Large Baking Potatoes (prick with fork brush with oil and bake for 1 hour 400F)

Take these bad boys out of the oven when crispy and let cool slightly
Cut in half the long way and scoop out the insides (leaving a layer of potato)
Cut in half again the long way and place on a baking tray
Season skins with a bit of paprika (I used chipotle spice)

Fill them with:

A layer of cooked and crumbled bacon

Grated cheese mixed with green onion (I used cheddar, but bonus points for creativity here)

Finish off with a layer of more bacon

Pop them back in the oven until the cheese melts (I did this then gave them 1 minute under the broiler)

Serve with sour cream and chive dip and salsa (or the condiments of your choice)

Feel your arteries harden and your heart simultaneously curse and bless you at the same time.

You are welcome in advance.

'Maddie'ness' - The Art of being 3.5 (oh yes there is more)

2010-05-15T09:13:00.000+01:00

Last week I was at rehearsal for our new one act play. We normally rehearse on Wednesdays and when Matt is gone (or working nights) I take Maddie with me. She has literally grown up back stage at Whittle Hall, knows most of the directors and actors, and where to find the good biscuits in the girls dressing room back stage. Everyone there has watched her grow up from a tiny newborn (seriously, I auditioned for a play when she was 5 days old), to a stubborn toddler who would yell for me to come on stage (even if it wasn't my turn), to the cute and funny girl who watches us rehearse while quietly putting in her two cents every now and again.

We had just wrapped up on a couple of run throughs and the director wanted to have a bit of a de-briefing with us. Usually at this time, Maddie likes to come up on stage and run around a bit. She was really hamming it up this time, trying out the props, sitting on the furniture and singing a little song. One of the directors turned to Maddie and said:

"So - are you going to be an actress when you grow up"
Maddie replied "NO! I am going to be a rescue dog" (duh)

At which point I piped in and said "I don't think that you can actually be a rescue dog - because you are not really a dog."
Maddie: "I know - I'm just pretending"
Me: "Oh- carry on then"
Maddie: "But really when I grow up I am going to be...."

wait for it.......

"...23"

We all pretty much lost it at that point, which really pissed her off.

Maddie: "That's not funny - I can BE 23 when I get big and then you are not going to be my best friend anymore"

Me: "Okay - you can be 23 when you get big, but can we still be friends?"

Maddie: "I'll think about it."

Little Gems

'Maddie'nes - The Art of Being 3.5

2010-05-13T21:16:00.000+01:00

My daughter has been filled with 'Maddie'ness' over the past week (okay so really it was like 3 weeks ago now, but I have been busy and SICK and haven't finished this post). She often comes up with hysterical musings, but ~~this week~~ 3 weeks ago had been one non-stop rollercoaster ride of gems. Here are just a few:

St George's day was a few weeks ago and Maddie's school had sent home a note asking that children wear something red to celebrate. Lucky for me, Matt had bought her an England football jersey that was RED. I brought it downstairs on Friday morning and Maddie took one look at it and said:

"NO"!
me: "But Maddie - you told me yesterday you wanted your room painted red - that is was your favorite color..."
maddie: Slight pause "I did like it, but I don't now"
me: "Well Maddie, everyone is dressing in red today to celebrate St George's Day, so you need to wear this shirt"
maddie: "NO, I SAID I D-O-N-T W-A-N-T T-O-O-O!!!"
me: "It is getting late now, please put the shirt on or you will hurt St. George's feelinings"
maddie: "What is a St. George"
me: "St. George is a man - he is the patron Saint of England and today you are celebrating him"
maddie: "Well..............he must be really old.........because I don't know him"
me: "Yes he is really old"
maddie: "Is he your friend mommy?"
me: "Yes, and he called this morning and asked if you would please wear a red shirt"
maddie: "You didn't say THAT!!! Okay, but only because he is your friend."

A couple of days later while she was taking a bath she asked what her body was. I replied that it was everything from her head to her toes.

maddie: "Even my bones?"
me: "yes your bones and your muscles."
maddie: "muscles? What are those?"
me: "They make us strong so we can do things."
maddie: "Like play?!?!"
me: "Yes and run and walk and help mommy move heavy furniture and unload the dishwasher..."
maddie: "Where are the muscles?"
me: "Well, we have muscles in our arms and stomach and legs."
maddie: "And our BUMS?" (giggle)
me: "Acutally yes - it is called our gluteous maximus."
maddie: (laughing hysterically now...) "glue masticuffs? That's a silly name."
me: "Yes it is."
maddie: "Big people have big bums like you and little people have little bums like me."
me: "This is true."
maddie: "And my brains are in my body."
me: "yes they are inside your skull."
maddie: "What are brains?"
me: "They help you think of things."
maddie: "Like toys?"
me: "Pretty much."
maddie: "What's a skull?"
me: "The bones around your brain to keep it safe?"
maddie: "Safe from monsters so it can think of toys?"
me: "You got it!"

At this point Maddie made a really funny face and I asked her why she was making it.

maddie: "My brain is trying to play with my skull, but the skull won't share."
me: "Oh - I hate it when that happens - not nice."
maddie: "No it is NOT - that is why my brain is very grumpy right now!"

Welcome to my Monday (3 weeks ago)!

Dear So and So...

2010-04-16T19:43:00.000+01:00

Again, I would like to thank Kat over at 3 bedroom bungalow for introducing me to an amazing way to blog and to my friend Rachel at Diapers, Dogs and Cooking in Heels for nagging me for a month to try it.

Dear Rand Farm,

I would like to thank you for having the foresight to stock such wonderful delicacies in your organic and locally sourced farm shop. You may have just given me the inspiration that I need to complete another item off my 25 Things List (make/try a new recipe) because of this little number that was gracing your shelves:

What's not to love about Dragon's Breath Mustard? I also picked up this little beauty which was sitting right next to the 'bad breath in a jar':

I would love to invite you (Rand Farm Staff) and all your livestock (leave the goats behind they are rude) over for dinner some night - how 'bout Sunday?

Most Sincerely, The Dragon Slayer

*******************************

Dear ~~Brown Mass~~ Aloe Plant,

Sorry about the sun and water - how was I to know? Hope you like your new home as much as I enjoyed completing another item off my 25 Things List. Really, really sorry.

Forgive me, P.E.N.O (Plant Enemy Number One)

**********************************

Dear cold virus,

Why do you have be like that? In the future, just make your appearance and then leave (a little etiquette my friend). You don't need to lurk around for days like a stalker then disappear only to come back unexpectedly with a weapon. And your timing.....seriously? Perhaps if you respected me and my boundaries, I wouldn't be forced to eat raw cloves of garlic and scare the neighbors. You are lame and I want nothing more to do with you. Go and pick on the woman who told me I looked like I had gained weight a few weeks ago - she needs a friend like you!

Sniffle sniffle, kittyn ;p

Does it Count - Take 2

2010-04-15T21:22:00.001+01:00

In a desparate attempt to keep Maddie entertained yesterday while I was battling an ugly cold (and losing), we decided to set up a pretend grocery store in the living room and take turns being the shopkeeper and the customer. I lined up a table with some items from our cupboard and Maddie found some 'coins' that the customer could use to purchase the stuff.

We went 2 or 3 rounds of selecting items, paying for them and then swapping roles. We kept adding things to the game to keep it interesting. A piece of toilet paper that originally served as our 'receipt' was replaced by some real ones that I dug out of my purse. A bag was procured to place purchased items in. The store grew from 7 items from my kitchen to include a random variety of Maddie's toys (the shop was expanding into new markets).

It was my turn to be the customer and I decided to purchase a pink camel. I asked at the 'till' how much my purchase would be and Maddie responded "45".

"But I only have 5 coins"
Split second pause before...
"Well then you better use a card"
Wait - a credit card had not been introduced into the game...
"What did you say", I asked choking back tears of laughter and some phlegm that had risen in my throat (I was SICK)!
"I said - use a CARD - go on - you heard me!!!"
I sheepishly went into the kitchen to fetch an old credit card out of my purse and when I handed to Maddie she said, "Not that one, the silver one - its better" (it truly is but how did she know?)

Today while out shopping I spied a toy cash register that had a built in 'scanner' and 'credit card machine'. It also contained a small basket filled with some plastic 'food items'. When we unwrapped it at home I got a better look at the food items contained within: Ketchup, Milk, Animal Crackers, Sardines, Mints and Fruit Cocktail. Kind of a bizarre mix for a kids toy, but hey - to each his own. After playing shop for a couple of hours, Maddie announced that she was going to bake me a cake.

Then the phone rang and it was my best friend Rachel (Diapers, Dogs and Cooking in Heels). While chatting with her, Maddie kept popping into the kitchen to let me know about the progress of my 'cake':

1. She was getting all the stuff
2. She was putting it into a bowl
3. She was mixing it
4. The dog was licking the bowl and please tell her to stop
5. She had to start over because of the dog spit, but was using the same bowl and it was okay
6. She was putting it in the 'oven'
7. She was putting it in the 'fridge' because I was taking too long on the phone
8. \She was serving it NOW because she didn't want to wait any longer for cake

Still on the phone, I was presented with a plate of 'cake'. When asked what was in the cake, the response was:
Ketchup, Milk, Animal Crackers, Sardines, Mints and Fruit Cocktail. Nice! I have to say that I enjoyed my piece while Rachel was on the other end laughing her ass off.

Sooooooooooo. Technically I can cross another thing of my 25 Things List which is - try new recipe that I have never had before (okay really it was meant to be made by ME, but.....). I can honestely say that I have never had a pretend cake made with Ketchup, Milk, Animal Crackers, Sardines, Mints and Fruit Cocktail. What do you think - does it count?

Lake + Dog = Happy Day

2010-04-10T21:40:00.001+01:00

At the rate I am going I am going to have everything done of my 25 Things List by next weekend, leaving me with nothing to do for the other 5 weeks Matt is gone. On that end, we have just completed:

Take the Dog to Whisby Lake to mucky her up a bit

Unbeknownst to Lucy (the dog) and Maddie (the child), I had planned to do something fun today. After the misery that was yesterday I needed to:

1. Be outdoors
2. Put a smile on everyone's face
3. Be outdoors
4. Get Lucy some hardcore off the lead running time
5. Be outdoors

Did I mention it was supposed to be almost 70 degrees (it was)!

We packed up a bag with a picnic lunch and off we went. Whisby Lake has about 9 walking trails which surround a maze of small lakes. They are all dog friendly, however, we always choose the one where you can let dogs off the lead. It is only about 1.5 miles around and has a fence around the perimiter so dogs can't stray too far. Lucy absolutely loves it there. The minute we let her off the lead she does 5 things in the exact same order:

1. Runs ahead out of sight at a terminal velocity
2. Dives into the shallow river to the right of the path
3. Runs back up the slope onto the path and SHAKES the water off onto anyone standing next to her
4. Crosses over to the left and jumpes down a steep incline into the lake
5. Runs back up and takes a massive dump

These 5 things are usually repeated several times during the stroll with the occassional stop to:

1. Chase some swans
2. Sniff some prime dog butt
3. Roll around on the gravel and dirt path like a crazy dog covered in bees
4. 'Point' into the bushes (we are sure she was a hunting dog before we got her)

Today we had the extra bonus of meeting up with, quite frankly, one of the funniest dalmations I have ever seen who ran like a bucking bronco through the shallow water. The dog had about a 3 foot vertical and could practically jump over Lucy. I am not sure of the physics involved in this, but it was fairly extraordiary to watch. Lucy was perplexed by the thrashing and jumping and seemed game to try to join in, but got bored after 5 minutes and just wanted to play fetch.

2 hours, 257 ball throws, 1 swan, 26 butt sniffs, 3 poos, 1 picnic and an icecream later we headed back exhausted and happy. Lucy is getting a grooming tomorrow she is so mucky, which means I can also cross another item off my list!

2010-04-09T21:45:00.000+01:00

I love these letters on 3 bedroom bungalow and thought I would link up to write a few of my own.

Dear ~~Demon Child~~ Sweet Princess,

I am so happy that you have taken to your new bedroom like I take to cheese. Please enjoy it for at least 12 hours so that I can love you again tomorrow.

Yours,
Overtired in Bardney

*****************

Dear Matt,

Next time you get deployed to an island, you will be bringing 3 extra bags - one for me, one for Maddie and one for the dog. If you don't have enough baggage allowance leave the laptop and me at home and take your darling daughter and dog (they love the beach).

Love,
The woman you once knew

***************

Dear Fur Beast,

You owe me a new set of sheets. The incessant bed licking has rendered most of ours disgusting. Lick your paws like a real dog - I'm just saying!

Gag,
Your Owner

*************************

To my new face cream,

You promised me so much, but I see no signs of improvement. Get off your lazy ass or I am chucking you in the bin.

Regretfully,
Crowsfeet

Does it Count?

2010-04-09T13:39:00.001+01:00

One of the items on my 25 Things List was to let Maddie stay at the playground for as long as she wanted even if I was feeling cold/bored/tired...........

Technically:
I could cross that item off my list today.
I took my daughter to the playground.
We didn't leave until she wanted to.

Really:
Not sure if the trip met all the requirements
We left in a flood tears from a whopper of a Maddie Meltdown
We weren't there long enough for me to get cold/bored/tired

The Scene: The local village playground
The Participants: Maddie and several playgroup friends that showed up with their mums
The Turning Point: When I wouldn't/couldn't lift Maddie overhead to get her to the top of the slide

So there we were at the playground, when to Maddie's delight (and mine), her best friend Emily showed up with her mum. I was thinking it was going to be a nice afternoon - someone for Maddie to play with and adult conversation for me. This lasted about 2 minutes, when Maddie suddenly decided her legs didn't work and wanted to be lifted to the top of a climbing frame. The overhead lift required was something I was not prepared to do for several reasons:

1. My shoulder is out of whack and I CAN'T lift 35 pounds of wriggling weight that high
2. Maddie's legs work just fine (I checked)
3. A line was drawn I was going to be damned if I gave in to sacrifice ever being able to pick up even a fork again.

I sat down on a bench with Emily's mum while Emily ran off to play with some other friends that had appeared. What did my daughter do? Followed me to the bench screaming and crying at the top of her lungs for me to carry her. After ignoring her for several minutes, I noticed she was calming down a bit. After 5 minutes, she was able to scoop up her dignity and go play with her friends. Ahhhhhhhhh bliss.....

......until she decided that she wanted to be lifted on to things of height again and I again declined.

Cue: Screaming, tears, foot stomping and a final cry of "I want to go home!!!"

So we did - does it count?

Kits ;p

Gave my Child a Larger Room - Sacrificed my Shins (and Sanity)

2010-04-07T21:42:00.003+01:00

Today I swapped Maddie's bedroom over to the much larger guest bedroom (and vice versa). We love our houseguests when they visit and hope they have fond memories of the large digs, but our daughter's ever expanding array of ~~crap~~ stuff necessitated some serious changes.

Matt and I had originally chosen the smaller room for Maddie because:

1. We live in a 3 story house (our bedroom is on the top floor) and her bedroom on the 2nd floor was right at the bottom of our stairs.
2. We wanted to keep her in the bedroom away from the bathroom so that if we did have guests and they flushed in the middle of the night, it wouldn't wake her up.
3. He bedroom was away from the staircase leading downstairs and we wanted to encourage her to come up to us and not downstairs on her own.

We agreed to move her over because:

1. We rarely have houseguests and Maddie sleeps like a log so nobody is going to wake her if she doesn't want to be woken.
2. Maddie usually comes up to get us when she gets up in the morning because she doesn't like being downstairs by herself. Occassionly she meanders downstairs on her own, fires up the MacBook Pro and grooves on the the Nick Jr. website, where she will sit quietly until we hear the music and freak out, but not normally. You think I'm kidding, don't you.....
3. Her current room is squashed full of stuff and there is nothing she is ready to part with (okay in fairness I did 'lose' a couple of items today).

So, one more item checked off my 25 Things List and one step closer to that charming insance asylum in the next village over. I must be a glutton for punishment, because it was akin to ripping all your teeth out one by one and putting them back in another sore and bleeding mouth socket the whole time wondering why the hell you would do something so stupid. Sorry for the rotten visual, but you really need to know how bad it was.

We started at 9am and, well if I am being honest, are still not completely finished. The rooms are swapped over so I can cross it off my list, but the new guest room I've started calling 'Little Beruit'. It started off quite merrily - Maddie was really excited to 'move' and really wanted to 'help'.....for about 25 minutes. Then she really just wanted to spread out all of her toys and 'play', while I heaved heavy furniture through doorways.

I got stuck at least 9 times in uncomfortable positions between door frames and heavy objects - each time injuring a part of my body in a new creative place and loosening my grip on my normally feminist initiative. I started muttering things like:

1. Where is your father? (on the beach in Cyprus)
2. Women weren't cut out for this! (gasp)
3. Where is a strong man when you really need him? (shudder)
4. Maddie - I know you're 3, but man-up and hoist a bit higher on your end! (seriously)

We got about half way through and I was going to call it a day because Maddie was starting to re-assess her loving feelings towards me and I was tempted to:

1. Find a cold beer
2. Drink it
3. At noon on a Wednesday

Because there was no cold/warm/hot beer in our house (and Matt would skin me alive if I broke open his bottle of Private Stock), we took a lunch break instead. We got some freash air and took the dog out for a walk then came back and finished getting everything organized in Maddie's new room. I managed to get all of the heavy furniture moved by myself with the exception of Maddie's bed. It needed to be taken apart and could I find the alan key I needed to do that one little last task - could I, could I, could I? I was almost resigned to letting her sleep on the queen size guest bed that was already in her room, but didn't want her getting used to it (the child LOVES a big bed). Fortunately I found the desired tool and (with Maddie's help of course) took apart her bed and moved it.

As we speak Princess Madison is asleep in her new room and thankfully has decided she likes it (like it would matter at this point - I would rather shave my eyebrows off than move her again).

She has decided she wants it painted yellow and I have decided that I will be waiting until she goes back to school before undertaking that little job. Actually - I might be waiting for Matt to come to undertake that one for me!

Kittyn ;p

Redecorated the gym

2010-04-06T15:43:00.000+01:00

I must be insane because I spent 6 hours on Easter Monday redecorating the gym. Everything in the back was moved up front and everything up front - well I think you know where I am going with this. The end result is: The jury is still out on this one. I am not sure if I love it or hate it. I am not always receptive to change and this was a big one (even though it was self imposed). When I opened my gym 18 months ago, I spent ages analysizing the space I had and where I wanted every last little thing to go. When you spend that much time on a project (months), it can be hard to watch it disappear. The change needed to be done for several reasons:

1. Members get bored after time and something as simple as moving the workout equipment can boost their interest.
2. We had added a new piece of equipment and the circuit was getting a bit tight where it was.
3. I wanted to break out of my comfort zone and try something new.

What I love about it:
1. Lots of space on the circuit now
2.Members' area is in the back which is a nice little space and near the kitchen where they can get a cup of coffee or tea.
3. Less pounding sunlight up front where the equipment is, which will be cooler in the summer.
4. It lets people see what we are all about when they hit the top of the steps - it screams - I AM A GYM!
5. My diet and nutrition classes can be held while the gym is open because we are around the corner from the music.

What I hate about it:
1.The reception desk is going to need to be moved to the rear of the gym which kind of defeats the point (that job is going to involve some re-wiring and was too major to undertake in a day).
2. When you walk into the gym you are immediately in the middle of - well - the gym. If a person walks to enquire about membership or is there for their first appointment, it can be a bit intimidating to be in the middle of a group working out.
3. We will never be able to hear another phone conversation again because the music just floods the place.

We'll see what the feedback is this week - I am prepared to move it all back again if it doesn't work (sorry Kayleigh and Kaz)...........

As soon as I get some pictures I will post them and maybe you can give me your feedback as well!

Chicken Run

2010-04-04T19:51:00.011+01:00

Today I entered the 2nd Annual Chicken 5k Fun Run and Walk.

A few of us from the gym had talked about doing it and I decided to go for it because:

1.  I had done the Santa Run earlier in the year and had a ball.
2. I personally had nothing better to do.
3. I love an opportunity to dress in theme.
4. Lucy really needed to be taken out for a serious walk.

In the spirit of the event I was prepared to:

1. Dress up like a chicken.
2.  Walk with my dog and my child (in a stroller) whilst having a good conversation with my friends.
3. Make a fool of myself.
4. Have a good time with some fun men and women.
5. Not win.   We were placed at the back of the race with all the other people with animals and kids who were walking for fun so as not to get in the way of the 'serious' runners. Seriously? Who can be serious about running in a chicken suit......I'm just saying...
6. Be cold - the high was supposed to be 48 degrees with a strong wind and chance of rain.

I was not prepared to:

1. Run most of the 5k trailing behind my dog whilst pushing my 35 pound kid in her stroller.
2. Feel disappointed, when after gaining quite a bit of ground during a 10 minute sprint I had to stop while my dog pooped for England. I watched, dejected and angry, at all the runners I had passed, pass me by with smiles on their faces (you know who you are).
3. Have my left arm ache so badly (arms aren't something that are normally sore after a race unless you have a large dog dragging you around a course or are involved in some sort of crazy wheelbarrel relay) .
4. Watch my dog get a medal for completing the 5k (although she really deserved one).
5. Sweat so badly in my fur chicken suit and head-dress. I am almost always cold when running in England (except in the height of summer). I was ready to strip nude by the 2nd mile which would have turned more heads than the girl wearing fishnets and a playboy bunny leotard (???)

Okay - we did not come in first, or second, or even 50th, but I do believe we finished at at least the 50th percentile, which isn't too shabby considering I was hampered down by a fur beast and kid. All in all not a bad day - next year I think I will let the dog off the lead and let her go for it - really we were holding her back. ;)

So that completes one whole item of my 25 Things List. If I can stay awake until Maddie goes to bed and have the strength to catapult myself into the bathtub, I might just complete another item as well - my all inclusive spa night. I will let you know tomorrow if it happens!

Kittyn

25 Things

2010-04-03T19:45:00.004+01:00

All around blogger-land people seem to have lists of things to accomplish before a milestone event (their 30th birthday for instance). To amuse myself while my husband is gone and make the time go by more quickly, I have compiled a list of 25 things to do before he gets back (end of May). Here they are in no particular order of importance:

1. ~~Teach Maddie to use the toilet at night~~
2. ~~Repot my Aloe Vera Plant~~ and the offshoots (to give to friends)
3. Have a spa evening at home complete with treatments, candles and music
4. Have my eyebrows 'threaded'
5. Take the dog to the DIY dog wash to hose her down
6. Take the dog to Whisby Lake to mucky her up
7.Do the Chicken Run in full costume
8. Swap Maddie over into the larger room
9.Plant some flower seeds in the front garden
10.Redecorate the gym
11.~~Lose 10 pounds~~
12.~~Make a dish I have never tried before~~
13.Go on a mini road trip for the day to a random place on the map (I might let Maddie decide)
14.~~Get the best icecream ever from that place in Woodhall Spa~~
15.~~Hook up our old computer to the TV downstairs ala Sully so I can cruise the net on the big screen~~
16.Find the perfect dress for Summer Ball
17.~~Stay in my PJs all day with Maddie and watch movies~~
18.~~Stay at the playground for as long as Maddie wants even if I'm getting cold and bored~~
19.~~Do some trampolining with Maddie~~
20.Get the Living Room Carpet professionally cleaned
21.~~Fly a kite in the park~~
22.Take my daughter out for dinner - in a real restaurant
23.~~Fix the mole hill destruction in the garden~~ fix the new mole hil destruction in the garden
23.Paint our Wooden Garden Furniture
24. Complete at least one piece of beaded jewelry
25. Finish my super secret project (this does not include world domination, solving the theory of everything, keeping the house clean for a whole day or buying the house I really want behind Matt's back).

Village Dining (a 3 part story) The last one folks...

2010-03-28T09:05:00.003+01:00

It has taken me ages to write the last part of the saga that was our Valentines dinner in the village. Partly because it contains odd bits of conversation that might not make sense to the random reader and partly because I have been too busy downloading apps on my iphone and doing taxes. I have realized, however, that if I don't get it out I might never write another blog again. So here goes, the remainder of our evening.

If you recall, during our dinner we:

1. Did NOT get eaten by zombies.
2. Did feel strangely uncomfortable by the fact that we were the only people there for the better part of 30 minutes.
3. Thought the olive plate was our 'starter sampler for two'
4. Found out we were wrong

Dinner was finally served after the montrosorous (it's a word ask any of us) appetizer and while we were eating our entrees, Matt and I embarked upon the type of conversation that we normally have when in public, social situations - random and bizarre.

It began when I picked up my silverware to cut into the sausage stuffed chicken I had ordered. As you do, I picked up my utensils, cut the meat, set the knife down, switched my fork to my other hand and took a bite. After the third run through of this, Matt commented that he had only ever seen American's eat that way - except for a guy he once knew. The guy, he explained was teased for eating this way, until he bragged that he lived in the States for awhile (apparently that made it okay).

Brits keep their knife and fork at hand, using the knife as a kind of pushing vessel to ram food onto the fork. I have actually found myself eating this way more often than not over the years and Matt wondered why the change. I said that I really enjoyed being able to wield a knife around while dining (very liberating). I have found that gesticulating with a knife in your hand will ensure your table mates are listening to your story - every time. It is also particularly useful when sitting at a large table and you need to point to an item out of reach.

"Why wouldn't you just ask for the item?"
"Most likely my mouth would be crammed full of food - pointing with a knife is the less rude option."
"That's true."
"You're agreeing with me that it is the less rude option?"
"No that your mouth would be full of food."

The utensil story segued into a conversation about making vile things sound edible at fine dining establishments. The item in question that evening was black pudding. There was a delicious menu item that I had almost chosen but it was accompanied by the stuff. Black pudding (in my opinion) is nasty. It is a coagulated blood sausage-type thing - don't ask me what actually goes into it - I don't care to know. We decided that the French were masters at disguising the nasties and came up with an apt name - Pud Noir. Doesn't sound so bad does it? We were just about to recommend a menu change to the waiter in between fits of giggles when I looked at the time - it was about 8:30 and we told our neighbor we would be back by 9 at the latest.

By now the restaurant was busy and we had a hard time getting our waiters attention (Matt dared me to snap my fingers and make a writing gesture on my hand to signify we wanted to get the check, but I didn't fall for that one again). The waiter finally arrived and asked us to make a dessert selection - when we politely asked if we could have it to go I thought he was going to choke on his tongue. Was everything not okay, did we hate it and the restaurant, were we on to the whole zombie conspiracy? We explained that everything was lovely, but we had to get home. He agreed to box up some Bailey's Cheesecake and dropped off the bill.

As Matt was signing the bill I asked him why he didn't sign the credit card slip in cursive writing. I kid you not folks - he looked at me point blank with this innocent expression and said:

"What, like with swear words? Is that like explative writing?"
"No - you know cursive writing - loopy"
"I don't know what you mean and I am not loopy"
"You know you call it..." (I was struggling to find the right words) "conjoined writing"
"What like twins?"
"Huh?"
"Do you mean joined up writing?"
"I guess so - joined up sounds like a 5 year old coined the term though"
"What do you think the French would call it?"
"I am not sure, but they could probably make it sound good"

On that note - we left with our boxed up cheesecake in hand (with the entire restaurant watching us leave) and headed home after our first dinner in the village.

Village Dining (a 3 part story) Part Deux

2010-03-01T20:31:00.002Z

At the end of Part 1 - Matt and I had just been seated in a cozy, quaint and very empty restaurant in our village on Valentines Day. Being the only people there, we were a bit nervous about the diner to staff ratio going on and briefly thought the whole thing was a scam.

After we were sat, our waiter (and also one of the owners as we later found out), explained how the evening was going to proceed. The Valentines menu was a 4 course dinner including:

A set starter platter for two

A choice of entrees

A choice of desserts

Coffee, chocolates and mints

We were encouraged to peruse the menu for our entree and told again that the platter for two had no choice - it came as is. He took our drink order and walked away. He came back about 2 minutes later with our drinks and asked us if we had any questions, were we ready to order, etc? The entrees sounded spectacular and we did not want to hurry our choice (plus I was debating on the best option/combo so that I could get Matt to 'share'). We were again reminded to "take our time, table's ours for the evening." A few more minutes rolled by and he came out holding what amounted to a large side plate on which sat:

A small bowl with 6 olives

2 celery pieces about the size of a thumb filled with something

2 small filo dough parcels filled with something else

Still not ready to order, we sent him away. The ensuing conversation went something like this:

Matt: 'do you know what you want?'
Me: 'I thought I did, but now I'm not sure.'
Matt: 'Why?'
Me: 'If this is the size our our sampler starter for two, then I might go with a larger entree.'
Matt: 'Hmm? What? Do you think this is the starter platter?'
Me: 'Well, I suppose it could be an amuse bouche, but we are in Bardney - my money is on the platter'
Matt: 'They can't seriously charge that kind of money and expect to pass this as a platter'
Me: 'To quote the great Eddie Izzard - it is Britain - scale it down'
Matt: 'That is a bit beyond scaling it down - that would be taking the piss.'

The waiter arrived again to take our order (on which we had finally decided) and started to remove our half eaten "platter". I almost grabbed his arm to force the plate back on to the table whilst screeching 'leave it!' There were 2 olives left in the bowl and was going to be damned if he was going to take them away. In my defense, I must mention that I was STARVING and had half a gin and tonic fueling the situation. He relinquished the plate and walked away. I decided that I was going to make those 2 olives last until our dinner came. I made it a challenge - took teeny, tiny bites. Every couple of minutes or so our waiter walked by to see if the plate was empty so he could remove it. It became almost unbearable and I started to wonder if we weren't going to get served until the last olive was gone. No sooner had I popped it into my mouth in a frenzy, than the waiter came around the corner holding what looked like a banquet serving tray.

Now - I failed to mention that at this time the restaurant had slowly started filling up. When I saw the tray I assumed that it was for the large table of the owner's friends/family that had arrived.

Me: 'Obviously pays to know someone.'
Matt: 'I think that it is ours.'
Me 'Holy shit, I think you're right - obviously it pays to be cute'

At this point the waiter is trying to wedge this tray full of food onto our petit table for two. I can't remember everything on it but here goes:

Langustinos

Chilled Meditaranian Vegetables

Deviled Eggs

Fig and Passionfruit Salad

Smoked Herring

Cold Salmon

Canapes

At this point I was wishing I had gone with my first entree choice of salmon instead of upgrading to a hefty sounding portion of chicken stuffed with sausage. Matt and I sat staring in amazement at the amount of food.

Me: 'This is ridiculous'
Matt: 'Who eats this much'
Me: 'Do you think they heard me complain about the olive plate'
Matt: 'Maybe - you are easily heard'
Me: 'Why would anyone eat this much before dinner'
Matt: 'I'm not eating anything with eyes - you can have the langustinos'
Me: 'I don't have to shared the eyed creatures?!?!? This is the best Valentines Day ever!'

That concludes part 2 (of our 3-part story). In my final segment I will regale you with fascinating conversations about cursive writing and cutlery use and conclude my tale with how things went when we asked to take our dessert 'to go'.

I would also like to leave you tonight with a question: Have you ever been to a restaurant where you have been either overwhelmed or underwhelmed by the quantity of food (or confusingly both at the same time like I was on V-Day)?

Village Dining (a 3 part story) Part One

2010-02-28T05:17:00.002Z

A couple of weekends ago, my husband and I went out to eat in the village. There is actually a restaurant (which I kept forgetting about) and we decided to give it a try on Valentines Day. I thought I should call first (since it was kind of a last minute thing) to see if they even had a table (I was warned that they were small). I took the liberty of calling and this is what I got:

ring, ring, ring

"Yes?"
"Hi, I was wondering if you had any space available for this evening?"
Pause "for a room?"
"Uhm, no.....are you a restaurant?"
Longer pause (like he was thinking about it) "yes."
"Do you have any tables available?"
"Hold the line, I'll check"
Hand over mouthpiece and screams "do we have space?"
Hand off mouthpiece "yes."
"Great, I'd love to book a table"
"Okay - we'll see you tonight - goodbye"
"Wait, do you need to know what time we are coming or is it a set seating"
"What time are you coming?"
"Uhm, 7:30?"
"Hold the line, I'll check"
Hand over mouthpiece "she wants to come at 7:30...."
Uncomfortably long silence "7:30 is fine - see you then."
"Wait, do you want my name?"
"Go on then."
"Davies."
"Right then, 7:30 tonight."

Although unsure if we had an actual reservation, Matt and I were giddy with anticipation - we rarely go anywhere by ourselves and on this night our neighbor was kindly watching Maddie for us. We both got semi-tarted up and made the 10 minute walk to the place. We entered this old building (historic old, not falling-down old) and were presented with a very cozy and quaint candle lit restaurant. There was space for about 6 or 7 tables. As we made our way in we were greeted by a waiter who led us to our seats and explained that the table was ours for the night so "no rush". It was apparent at this time that we were the only ones there - with the entire staff watching our entrance with anticipation! Suddenly it was AWKWARD! Perhaps we were the first booking of the night (gulp) perhaps the only booking all night? Perhaps they were all cannibal zombies and we were on the menu this evening?

Obviously we were not eaten, because I'm blogging this (or am I)? The rest of the story will have to wait. Stay tuned for Part Two.

And THAT, folks, is what we in the business call a "cliffhanger'...

Car Trips - A Love Hate Story

2010-02-22T20:57:00.001Z

I have just gotten back from a car trip - a long car trip (more on it in a minute) - and it got me thinking about some of the best and worst car trips I have ever had. Here they are (in no particular order of bestness or badness) within respective categories:

Best Car Trips

1. Driving from Wisconsin to Florida for Spring break my sophomore year of college with my best friend (and her awesome mom) on a whim. We decided about 2 days in advance to do it - Kim's mom was going down there and suggested we follow her down. She agreed to pay for our hotel and food because she thought the company would be fun and was just plain cool. We left at 3 am and made it to Georgia before calling it a night. So excited we were by the call of the road, that we all decided that come hell or high water, we were going to get to the beach by morning. We got back up at 3 am again and finished the drive down to Panama City in time for pancakes on the beach. The trip could have been sponsored by Wilson Phillips and Budweiser because that is all we listened to and drank the entire time (obviously we were not drinking Bud in the car, just to clarify).

2. Driving from Ke'e beach to Polihal'e State beach in Kauai with anybody. There is basically one main road that follows the coast around the island and it is beautiful! We normally (by we I mean whoever is with me) stop off at our favorite places along the way and if we see a beach that looks good - we stop! This drive is best in a convertible, but I have found it almost as enjoyable in a jeep or sedan.

3. The trip from Peterborough to Belfast, which was my first solo journey in the UK. I had been in the country for about 5 months and had to make my way back to Northern Ireland after dropping Matt off at a course that he was on for a week. I hit the road with a map, tickets for the midnight ferry and a promise that I would call Matt repeatedly. I dropped Matt off at 7 am and the first call I made to him was at 7 that night - from our home. I had made it up to the ferry so early that I caught the one leaving at 4. I was so proud of myself for navigating not just the motorways of Britain, but the country roads of Scotland all by my lonesome. After spending half a year completely dependent on someone for getting me by, it was a nice change to be in control again.

The jury is still out on:

The drive I made with my brother when I moved from Wisconsin to San Diego. It was cramped (bad), we bickered alot (normal), he ended up ditching me in Vegas (bad) and we didn't speak for almost 2 years (the worst). On the other hand, while we were fighting over what music to listen to, my brother and I bonded as adults in a way I don't think you can if you are not trapped in a car with another family member for over 30 hours. (good). I got to see many parts of America that I had only dreamed about (good). I had this sense of independence and freedom that I had never felt before and just KNEW that my life was about to change (the best).

Worst Car Trips:

1. The trip from Florida to Wisconsin with my parents and brother coming back from a Disney Vacation gone awry. The trip back was awful - it was the coldest winter on record and freak ice and snow storms crippled most of the South. My father scratched his cornea about 6 hours into the trip and my mother had to do the driving herself - 5 miles per hour through Georgia, Kentucky and Tennessee. At one point I believe our car broke down and we had to get it fixed which took ages. Oh - and did I mention that I had been throwing up for 4 days and showed no signs of stopping on the journey home? NICE! My mother still cannot watch the movie 'Vacation' without gagging a little bit and muttering "never again".

2. The car trip from San Diego to Kansas with an old boyfriend who had a mustang convertible. Why do you ask would this be a bad trip? Ummmmm - it was 115 degrees and he had no air conditioning! To cool off we would roll up all of the windows in the car until we were sweating and about to pass out from heat exhaustion, then we would roll down the windows just to feel the hot air blow the sweat away. I lost about 10 pounds of water weight which I guess was kind of good (I like to look for a silver lining.) Outweighing my water deprived weight loss, however, we were going there to pick up his daughter who had been staying with his parents for a few weeks. On the ride home she asked if she could call me mom. I was 25, had heat poisoning, hadn't peed for a week and decided that I was not ready for such a romance. We broke up not long after we got back.

3. The trip across Lincoln to get from my gym to the Staples store (and Starbucks if I'm being honest). It is 3 miles and takes about 45 minutes. They say there is a fine line between love and hate, but on this one friends I can tell you that I don't ever cross the line - it is a hate, hate, hate thing!

4. The drive I made yesterday with my neighbor, her two kids and Maddie, from Bardney to North Yorkshire. In. A. Blizzard. In fairness to the kiddies - they were pretty awesome, considering that we created a 10 hour journey out of what should have been about 5 1/2. I don't know which was the worst:

Getting stuck off the main road and spending an hour fish-tailing through the fog on a road the size of a hair, hoping we weren't going to die
Trying to reverse my car up a steep gradient to avoid getting stuck at the bottom with the other 2 stuck cars and blowing out my transmission.
It could have been the part where poor Lucy threw up pink milk in the back seat while the other 2 kids were groaning "eeewwwww what's that smell?"
But then it also could have been the part where we finally had a game plan to get out of where we were stuck, which involved several terrifying freefall-type slides down 25% gradient hills only to realize we had to get back up the other side and repeat the process 3 times.
It also might have been the jerk on the road who decided that - even though the road conditions were hazardous - he would talk on his cell phone and tail me for about 30 minutes.

(this is not actually my car, but the picture pretty much represents what we were dealing with minus the steep hill)

Yesterdays journey reminded of a couple of things:

I love to drive
I am pretty awesome in a lot of situations and pretty crappy in others
It is not just the journey but who you are with
Don't EVER reverse your car in packed snow up a steep hill
Long trips (good or bad) have the potential to be messy - bring lots of baby wipes and a towel!

Trimming the Fat (a closet makeover)

2010-02-18T12:35:00.001Z

I am pretty sure that 90 percent of the population has seen the TV show Friends. That is probably an overstatement, but I am going with it anyways - roll with me folks! There is an episode that is particularly endearing because, well, it is all about me. I am talking about the one with Monica's secret closet.

If you have never seen Friends then here is a quick synopsis. Monica is a clean freak. Her friends have put up with it for years. One day her husband notices a closet in their apartment that he had never seen. It is locked. When he finally picks it open he is bowled over with decades worth of stuff that has been shoved in there - untidily. This closet is her answer to a junk drawer and this is where my story begins.

I too am a bit on the tidy side, although not quite as mental as my Friends friend Monica. I too have that closet. Here is where my story gets sad. My closet is not some random, spare nook tucked away at the back of the house. The closet in question is MY closet - and I can barely open it without being knocked on the head from something falling off the top shelf. Here is a quick list of some of the stuff in there:

1. Clothes (summer, winter, dressy, too small, too big, too old and OMG why?)
2. Games
3. Wrapping Paper (about 20 rolls)
4. Ceremonial Swords
5. Roller Blades
6. Box full of stuff that I have visions of putting in a scrap book
7. An empty scrap book
8. 5 large carrier bags filled with different holiday decorations
9. Suitcases
10. Some of Maddie's old baby toys
11. A box full of Matt's old toys (nothing sick, but please don't ask)
12. An electric guitar amp
13. Old School Papers
14. Hangers that breed at a rate that would make rabbits ashamed

This is not a complete list - I think you get the mental picture. If not, here is a real one (don't look if you suffer from low or high blood pressure or are on any medications for anxiety, OCD or acne). Please appreciate that this photo does not convey the depth or bottom half of my closet.

Now on one hand I work in a gym, so my daily garb doesn't include anything that needs to be dry cleaned or even hung for that matter. Because of this, I have tended to use my closet as a dumping ground for anything I don't want showing when company comes over to stay. The guest bedroom is actually like crap limbo in our house and my closet, its final resting place.

I decided that today would be a great day to do 'something' about this eyesore. For starters I have run out of drawer space to put anything that isn't yoga pants, for another I really need to lose some post holiday weight and thought that an afternoon reconnecting with beautiful garments that don't fit me might be just the impetus needed.

I decided that the best way to start was to take everything out of the closet and dump it back into crap limbo. This was the result.

Then I started separating clothes into categories:

1. Things that were in season now, things that would be in season soon and things that can never be worn in England.
2. Things that needed to be mended and things that would be heinous even if they were fixed
3. Things that I will probably never fit into again thanks to having a kid and things that I could probably get into if I just followed my own advice and worked out more.
4. Things that are precious to me and things I don't remember buying
5. Hangers

Once the categories were decided I only put back the clothes that were in season and fit me. After hanging up those 2 pieces I decided I had room for a bit more so I added some spring pieces and some formal wear as well. The result:

I still need to sort out what to do with the rest of the space up top. Oh yeah - and figure out what to do with all of the limbo crap - because it can not stay in our guest room. I think this will be a work in progress. Tomorrow the party supplies will find a new home - that is my goal and I'm sticking to it!

Do you have a secret Monica drawer, closet, room? Send me a picture so I can feel better about myself!

Happy Birthday to YOU Rachel Doyle!

2010-02-16T19:04:00.001Z

It is the day of my best friend's birth and firstly, I would like to personally thank her parents for coming up with such a great invention. Rachel and I have been friends for 11 years now (how I wish I had met her sooner) and have maintained our friendship through 2 moves, 6 time zones, the addition of 1 husband (mine - she was married when we met), some major life hiccups and 2 babies (one each). Through thick and thin, I do believe what has kept us so close is the fact that:

1. We have respect for each others differences
2. We both love cheese so much it hurts
3. We don't take ourselves (or each other) too seriously most of the time
4. We both have a disturbingly similar sense of humor (we like watching people fall down)

We both met at a time in our lives when (for many) the BFF in your life has already been a BFF for about 10 years. I don't know about you, but the older I get, the harder I find it to make great friends. Don't get me wrong - I have met plenty of lovely people as an adult - many of them good friends whom I adore and hang out with regularly. I am not talking about those types of friends.

I am talking about the kind of BFF who can hold your hair back while you are puking tequila out of your nose because you are laughing so hard at the chick who just slipped in her 4 inch platforms on a wooden bar floor and is now sprawled out with her thong showing, screaming at her boyfriend to pick her up.

The kind of BFF that you can call at 4 am (even though you know she would really prefer it if you didn't) to tell her that you are angry that she moved to Texas and why won't she just come back so you have somebody to do stuff with.

The kind of BFF that forces encourages you to re-take up ballet at the age of 28, because she too remembers how great it felt to be a ballerina and needs a partner in crime.

The kind of BFF that will sit in the back of a convertible (top down), while it is pouring rain and allow you to pull over (not to put the top up) but to snap a picture of her soaking wet.

The kind of BFF who can convince you to tart it up to THE MAX in Vegas, comandeer a sequined saddle on the empty stage in the entry lounge bar of the Stratosphere and (politely) ask a group of Japanese business men to snap some pics (then offer autographs).

The kind of BFF that will let you dress up in her evening gowns and every piece of jewelry she owns while she dons her wedding veil to play some crazy Texas Hold'em with the girls.

You know the kind of friend I am talking about? If you don't have a friend like this, I highly suggest that you find one, you can't have Rachel, she's my BFF and I don't share well. She is a southern bundle of hospitality, charm and wit and makes the best damned cheese-based dishes I have ever had the pleasure to stuff myself with.

I wish, more than anything that I could spend her birthday with her - unfortunately due to work/child commitments I am stuck here in England. This blog will have to do (and the Lush stuff being sent her way)!

Happy Birthday to YOU Rachel! I love you more than I love to watch people trip and hurt themselves!

Smooches........Kittyn

Why I might never eat cheese again...

2010-02-09T21:37:00.005Z

I write this blog with a heavy heart (and an even heavier digestive tract). If you do not know me, you won't understand the complex and long-term relationship that I have with cheese. Even if you don't know me, perhaps you have seen me stuffing my face with it in a restaurant, my car, the library....

To me, cheese is the food of Gods. It goes with everything - like beige. Cheese is the food equivalent of your favorite pair of neutral khakis. You can put cheese with salty foods, spicy foods, bland foods, sweet foods, junk foods and healthy foods. Of course, if you are a cheese purist, you can also eat it BY ITSELF!

I had a close encounter with cheese last night, however, that has left me with a lump in my throat and the desire to never eat cheese for the rest of my life (or at least a week, which ever comes first).

So, last night I was contemplating a very late night dinner. I was tired and a container of Mexican Rice I had made a few nights ago was calling my name. Seriously - it said "Robyn" as I was opening the lid. As I opened the container I did a sniff test - I do this with all left overs even if it was made the night before. I also did a visual check - and it was all checking out just fine! I was about to put the dish in the microwave when I spied a bag of mozarella and thought outloud "this rice and this cheese NEED to be together as one!" So I grabbed a fistful (okay 3) of the cheese and sprinkled blanketed the rice. Shoved it in the microwave. Waited for the 'ding'. Took it up 3 flights of stairs to my bed to eat while watching some crap TV. I got about 2/3 of the way through the delicious dish when I happened to look down at the bowl. "hmmm - I don't remember putting green herbs into this rice dish!" As I am putting the next forkful into my mouth it dawns on me - "coulditbethecheesenoIamsureIwouldhavecheckedohgodcoulditbemold?" For a split second I actually considered finishing it, because it tasted lovely but then my SANITY took over and I flew back down all three flights, flung open the fridge door and grabbed the bag of cheese I had used. As I am doing this I was really thinking "don'tbesillyyouwouldneverbesodaftastoputmoldycheeseonyourriceandnukeitandeatitfortenminuteswithoutnoticing!" I opened the bag of cheese and what greeted me was a bag of very moldy cheese that I had just zapped in the microwave - AND EATEN!

Now I know that many types of cheese have mold. I also know that it will not kill you and probably not even upset your stomach, but knowingly eating moldy cheese (of the non blue veined variety) is not nice when you come to the realization. Surprisingly - I did not get sick. Not surprisingly - I did drink 5 large glasses of water and brushed my teeth 6 times all the while saying the mantra "itsnotthatgrossitsnotthatgross".

I woke up this morning with what felt like a ball of lard in my stomach. I have not eaten yet today because my body is still digesting the fist size ball of melted cheese mold that I ate last night. The thought of cheese is making me ill right now. I think I have found the cure for all addictions. Cover your addiction in mold and eat it. You will want to stop - immediately! The addict in me right now is trying to justify a situation where cheese might be acceptable. Tonight folks - that situation is not coming to mind.

And so I go to bed tonight on an empty stomach with visions of cheese mold dancing in my bowels!

Pancake Mirth

2010-02-08T20:17:00.001Z

Mardi Gras is right around the corner and every year reminds me of why I love my husband so much and why I agreed (practically on our first date) to marry him. Matt and I met around Halloween in California and got married just before Christmas of the same year (judge all ye like, it was love at first sight and I am convinced that I was not drugged in any way). You may then wonder why Mardi Gras came into my decision to marry him, being that it was about 5 months away. I will tell you the story.

So there we were sitting in a breakfast cafe in Ocean Beach on a lovely October morning. We had recently kidnapped each other from a costume party that he had crashed and I was ready to leave and thought breakfast sounded appropriate. At this restaurant (I use the term loosely it was really more of a greasy spoon), Matt was staring at the menu with wonder in his eyes.

"I can't believe a breakfast menu is 6 pages long - we have like 4 choices at home"
"We Americans like our breakfast"

More page flipping, more wonder and then his mouth turns up in the largest grin I have ever seen which turned into him spurting out in fits of laughter...

"This is the best place ever! They actually serve pancakes for breakfast - I have never seen that!"
"What - you have never seen pancakes on a menu before?"
"Not really, no."
"Don't they eat pancakes in England?"
"Of course they do - but it isn't an every day thing!"
"Why - when do you eat pancakes - Pancake Day?"

I am trying to be cute, flippant, funny and cool all the same time and am satisfied that I am pulling it off when he replies in a deadpan voice...

"yes"

To which I actually start choking on my coffee in fits of laughter, trying not to roll off the side of my booth bench and knock myself out on the cement floor. I was LOVING his sense of humor.

"Nice one - wait - seriously?"

Okay - I actually thought he was pulling my leg and then I realized - he wasn't!

"So, when is this so called 'Pancake Day'? Do they have a 'muffin day' and a 'bagel day' too?"
"Don't be ridiculous"
"Sorry - so Pancake Day - the celebration of pancakes then! Do pancakes mean a great deal historically in England?"
"No - Pancake Day marks the start of Lent"
"Ahhhhh - you mean Mardi Gras"
"What? I don't think so/"
"Mardi Gras is the start of Lent. Also known as Shrove Tuesday or Fat Tuesday."
"Must be then. We just call it pancake day"
"And do you eat pancakes all day?"
"That's just silly - no - we just make a batch of pancakes and eat them."
"I am liking your country more and more my friend!"

This actually led to an entire discussion about food including:

Pancakes versus Flapjacks
Flapjacks versus Granola Bars
Pigs in Blankets versus Sausage Rolls
Bucks Fizz versus Mimosas
(more on these at a later date)

Ever since that morning we have celebrated Pancake Day and still have a laugh about that first breakfast eight years ago. BTW - The pancakes they use here are really more like crepes (very thin ones). They are traditionally served with lemon juice and powdered sugar. Here is a recipe in case you too would like to make some pancakes to celebrate Mardi Gras.

Pancake Day Pancakes:

150g plain flour
2 large size eggs
300ml milk
150ml water

1 teaspoon vegetable oil
Butter to grease

Method

Sift the flour and make a well in the centre. Break in the eggs and mix in the flour with a wooden spoon.
Gradually add the milk and water, stirring well so that it becomes completely smooth. Add the oil and leave to stand in a cool place for 3 hours.
Lightly grease a heavy-bottomed frying pan. Heat to exactly the right temperature, but not so hot that it smokes the fat or burns the pancakes.
Cook a tablespoon of the mixture at a time, spreading it over the pan. You may need to loosen the edges of the pancakes from the pan before you toss them, and allow a minute on each side to cook them through. Stack on pieces of greaseproof paper before using.

A Weekend of Firsts

2010-02-07T21:19:00.004Z

This has been an overwhelming weekend of FIRSTS for us in the Davies' household. It involved a trip to the hospital, a missing binkit and a hair trim.

To start, my husband Matt is from Portsmouth and lurves him some football.

Being from Portsmouth he supports Pompey Football Club with every fiber of his English being. His brother Stew does as well (also hailing from Portsmouth). Stew's wife Sue and myself are honorary Pompettes and both made a pact during the marriage ceremonies to respective brothers to live and die by the mighty Pomps (I get gifts so it is cool). This weekend Pompey was playing Man United in Manchester for £50 a pop (no small price). Matt really wanted to go and asked about a month ago if I also wanted to go and see Sue and Stew and the big game. I was really excited to see Sue and Stew at their house in Buxton (nearish to Manchester), but was not so excited to sit outside in February to watch Pompey get crushed (sorry fans) by Man U with my 3 year old for 50 quid a ticket.

A plan was quickly hatched - Let us all go to Buxton for the weekend. Matt and I would take separate cars since Matt was spending the next week away at a training course not too far away from where we would be staying. We would get there Friday night and have some drinks, eat some snacks and catch up. Saturday morning Matt and Stew and Sue would get the train to Manchester to watch the game while Maddie and I hung out in Buxton - a great town with probably the best park EVER (the pictures here are the park/gardens/pavillion). An extra plan was hatched on Friday night that Sue and I were going to go out on Saturday night while the boys watched Maddie and then Sunday we could chill out (and stuff ourselves sick on Stew's Indian cuisine) until it was time for us to go. What a better way to spend a weekend!

Here is how it played out:

After finally making it to Buxton in the snizzle and fog I was looking forward to re-lax-ing! It was just when my tension headache from driving whilst squinting went away that I realized I had left something very important at home. That's right folks - I left my daughter's Binkit (blanket) on the couch! She has not been apart from this stinky piece of mango colored fluff since she was about 9 months old. Explaining to my overtired child that she was going to have to cope without it was:

1. heart breaking
2. headache making
3. exasperating since she was rapidly trying to convince me that driving the 2 1/2 hours back to get it would not actually be much of a sacrifice if I really loved her.

She did actually manage okay, after I explained about mistakes and forgiveness. In all fairness she had just broken a cat magnet of Sue's (who had forgiven her) and I did use this as ammo.....

Saturday the whole crew left for the big game and Maddie and I were left with the whole glorious day spread out before us. What would we do? We decided that we would walk to the park/pavillion, perhaps do a bit of shopping, get some crafts to make homemade Valentines cards and then make a slap up Mexican feast for the crew on their return. I can tell you how the day went:

1. Walked to the Park/Pavillion
2. Played on the Playground
3. Rushed to find a toilet because Maddie had to go
4. Were about to go shopping after we found a toilet because I was getting cold
5. Got manipulated into going back to the play area
6. Went 36 rounds on the rope bridge before it won and sent Maddie head first from 6 feet up
7. Called 999 for an ambulance
8. Rode in my first ambulance with my 3 year old strapped up to oxygen and BP monitors while trying t to call my husband who was at a football match and couldn't hear me.
9. Hung out in the nearest hospital to Buxton (40 minutes away) until the doctors were convinced that Maddie was not concussed and would be safe if taken home.

Sunday, Maddie and I had an uneventful drive home to Lincoln, stopped for lunch where I almost had to give her the heimlich (sp???) maneuver to remove a lodged french fry from her throat. Seriously, whenever Matt is gone we can not go more than 24 hours without something paramount to a Greek Tragedy happening.

After finally making it home in one piece we unwound ... and at bath time I decided that Maddie really needed a haircut. This one may not sound like a big deal but she has never had a single head trimmed from her head. This might not be entirely true as I am fairly sure Matt has had to cut crap out of her hair on more than one occasion and I am fairly sure as well that he has admitted at least one instance to me out loud. Let me explain Maddie's hair. She has a strip of baby hair that is about 4 inches longer that the rest of the blonde curly tendrils that flank her head - and it lies on the top of it like dead straw. I am not sure why I chose tonight to do it but was on a mission: the rat tail had to go. I convinced her to let me trim it and although she was a bit apprehensive, she actually let me do it. I would like to say that I lovingly draped her with a towel and snipped it off lovingly in tiny bits. Truth was, I saw an opportunity, grabbed the 'tail' with my fist and chopped it off in a oner. I am happy to report that she now has a gorgeous shoulder length bob and the rat tail has been lovingly tied in a ribbon and stuffed in her baby book. The 'haircut' completed our weekend of firsts.

I am exhausted and hope not to have a week of seconds (left behind loved things, ambulance rides or missing hair)! As is typical, however, when Matt is away surely:

1. I will end up in the Emergency Room
2. My car will break down
3. The dog will need to go to the vet
4. Maddie will get ill

Did I mention that the above four things happen in three's?!? Send me some good karma kind peoples - I really need it right now ;p

Welcome to the Workend - Cocktail?

2010-01-31T17:39:00.001Z

It came to me a few workends ago, that we have been robbed as a society (at least amongst my peers) of proper weekends. I can not remember the last time (while not on vacation) when my husband and I both had a weekend off - completely off - to relax, catch up and just BE! I am thinking it has been AT LEAST 17 years. Okay, since we've only been married 7 years that may bit a b-i-t of an exaggeration, but it seems like that long.

Usually workends go something like this:

Friday
Pick up Maddie from school
Entertain Maddie after school
Cook dinner for Maddie
Cook dinner for us
Freak out about the amount of paperwork I didn't finish during the week
Collapse from exhaustion

Saturday
Wake up at the crack of dawn with Maddie
Realize that I am going to be late for work if I don't jump in the shower
Jump in the shower
Run out the door
Work
Work some more
Come home to the realization that dinner needs to be cooked and the weekend is almost over
Collapse from exhaustion

Sunday
Wake up at the crack of dawn with Maddie
Put on a 2 hour puppet show for her (okay these usually are fun)
Do 13 loads of laundry
Go grocery shopping
Clean the house
Finish up all of the paperwork that I didn't do during the week
Go into the gym to clean
Make dinner
Sit and wonder why tomorrow is Monday already...

In the past my weekends used to go:

Friday
Finish work with happy hour with friends
Order a pizza and watch a movie
Sleep

Saturday
Whatever - sometimes errands were involved, sometimes not
Meet up with friends for a night out or in
Sleep

Sunday
Sleep
Brunch
Catch up with emails
Watch crap TV or shop
Sleep

Okay - so all of my weekends of yesteryear did not play out just like that (their were roadtrips thrown in and even a couple of working days). Many of the reasons my life has changed and brought about a lack of personal chill time, I am grateful for. I have a wonderful business, I love most of the responsibility my work brings and adore my family (most of the time). Sometimes I just lust after the bygone years of wasted and wonderful weekends. This year I am going to try to get one weekend a month to shamefully throw away into the abyss - are you in?

Mole Hill Hell

2010-01-13T21:11:00.002Z

Okay, so we just got back from the States on Friday and I stopped over to see our neighbors that night because our pipes had frozen and we had no water. While trading banter about the holidays, the weather, our water problems and the like, my neighbor lamented about the moles that had molested her back garden. She pointed out the back window to show me the damage, but as there have recently been about 123 snow storms that have come through, I couldn't really see much more that a couple clods of dirt laying on top of the snow.

Side Note to Americans: When one refers to one's back garden over here they mean their backyard - not necessarily a flower or vegetable garden. Calling someone's back garden their 'yard' is kind of an insult I remember reading somewhere that it stemmed from the days when a yard was literally the amount of outdoor space you had if you were a lower classed city dweller. Since I hate to make a statement that I can't back up I decided to do a bit of research on the subject. Sadly, I can find nothing to support this 'theory' that I was taught somewhere. Now that I think about it, it may have been in a pub and involved a few pints. Anyways - people here do get a bit funny about the whole yard issue and from this point forward I shall call it the garden, but please do not confuse this with something planted in bedding.

So there I was listening to our neighbor's mole woes and feeling sorry for her. Her husband loves his garden and is very proud of the fact that he maintains it faithfully, has a gorgeous lawn for their kids to play on and has created a nice little space in a new development on the edge of an old village. (He is also out of the country for the next 3 months and hasn't actually seen it yet). The mole(s) had dug up 4 holes and had destroyed portions of their back GARDEN. The next day I retold the woeful story to my husband who agreed that it was a shame and that our neighbor's husband would indeed be up in arms when he saw the mess.

A couple of nights ago I was taking out the garbage when lo and behold - I see a couple clods of dirt in our garden. At this point it was still really covered in snow so it didn't look like too much. Then the rain set it, the snow melted and our once snow covered back GARDEN was free of the white stuff. Strangely it was also almost free of the green stuff - as in GRASS.

23 mole hills in our back garden. 23!!!!!

I don't know if you have ever seen the destruction those little effers can reap, but let me tell you it is not pretty. Our back garden is basically destroyed. I am actually praying for more snow to cover it back up. Several more holes pop up each day - what to do???

We got a tip from a friend who told us to bury glass bottles in the ground because the wind blows over them and makes a scary noise that they don't like and they will bugger off. This is either scientifically sound and the person who told us will be my new messiah, OR he is just messing with us because he wants to see the crazy American burying glass bottles in her GARDEN.

Any thoughts on this before we land mine our grass with glass?

When She Gets Big

2010-01-12T17:13:00.005Z

My 3 year old and I had a very serious conversation tonight over dinner about all of the things she is going to do when she gets bigger AND older. I thought I would get them written out so that:

1. She has a set of clearly defined goals to work toward
2. I have something to embarrass her with later in life (when she gets big AND old)

Her is her list so far:

1. Drink Tea
2. Drive a Car
3. Drink Diet Coke
4. Make Dinner Herself
5. Open the Door by Herself
6. Be a Baby Again
7. Be a Puppy (I told her this one was probably not possible since, once born human we kind of stay that way. She said if she changes her mind about being a person she should get to re-choose what she is).
8. Take the Dog for a Walk
9. Chew Gum
10. Play with Knives

The list, I am sure, will continue to grow but I think this is a pretty good start, don't you? What do you want to do when you get bigger AND older?

Night of the Living Dead

2010-01-09T20:04:00.002Z

Transatlantic flights are almost never fun when travelling with a 3 year old and are particularly gruesome when traveling in hazardous winter conditions (in both locales). Every time we fly back home from the States there is that first day/night at home when we don't know if we are coming or going. Is it day, is it night, what time zone are we in?, am I hungry, it it appropriate to drink a beer? The 6 hour time difference sucks when you are flying East - some may argue with me about that but this is my life so shush. The first day back after flights like these are like the Night of the Living Dead - we are awake, but not really. We are more like zombies cruising through the house trying to get our bearings and deciding on a plan of action.

Our latest journey ended yesterday evening at around 7pm GMT. Our latest journey began at noon the day before - in a quasi blizzard. After spending one trillion hours in transit (do the math yourself I am still really tired) we finally made it home - to NO WATER! Yes folks our pipes had frozen. Let me list the things you cannot do without water:

Get a glass of water
Make your daughter corn on the cob (her only request)
Make your own night of the living dead curry (recipe to follow)
Flush the toilet
Wash RAW chicken off your hands (from the NOTLD curry)
Take a shower
Give the dog a drink

So here WE are - me, husband, child and dog and WE are - stinky, tired, thirsty and needing to use the toilet. Bring on Night of the Living Dead! Oh did I mention that Maddie had slept for the entire flight AND the whole 3 hour drive home and by 7pm was AWAKE!!!!!

7 pm-10 pm - Like zombies Matt and I tried ringing our water supply company and making dinner - basically going through the motions. Finally told by water company that no one could come until the morning - does this mean we can go to bed?

10 pm - we both thought we were going to collapse we were so delirious with exhaustion. Plead with daughter to convince her that she really is tired and just confused by the time difference.

The next couple of hours I am going to have to wing, because I was in zombie form and that self doesn't always communicate with me. I vaguely remember doing a puppet show, watching Annie, reading several hundred books and perhaps some gymnastics (I could be making that up).

12 am (midnight) Maddie - STILL NOT TIRED. I basically had to put her in her room with my iphone and an apology because my body wouldn't stay awake. The resulting apocalypse that ensued was beyond anything I could have imagined. Matt and I passed out at that point and luckily at some point (I'm thinking about 3ish) Maddie did too.

I hate the Night of the Living Dead feeling - happens every time so I don't know why it catches me off guard every time. I have created a great curry though that we normally make for just such occasions! Here is the recipe (don't make this if you don't have running water for the obvious and not so obvious reasons):

Chicken - cube it
Peppers and Onions - roughly dice
Garlic
Garam Masala
Chicken Stock
Tomato Paste
Diced canned tomatoes
Cumin
Turmeric
Curry Powder
Rice

Cut up anything solid and fry in some olive oil (onions, garlic and peppers followed by chicken is normally best)
Chuck in the spices, with a little stock a can of tomatoes and some tomato paste - figure out amounts based on the consistency you like your curry - I am still tired so I am not going to figure it out for you!
Boil some rice - seriously if you can't make your own rice I can't help you

Heat up some naan bread and serve when everything is ready - OR when you feel like you can't stay awake much longer to eat!

I am going to bed - Night!!

How to make yourself feel great in 15 minutes - Thanks Lush

2010-01-02T21:13:00.001Z

Rachel and I love to pamper ourselves and a couple of days ago went to Lush to get some 'stuff'. We realized this morning that we had yet to use our stuff and so decided that when baby Lily went down for her nap we were going to shave 10 years off of ourselves in a oner.

This is really easy to do - here is the tutorial:

Go to Lush and stock up. You will need:

Aquamarina face putty (seaweed soap)
A fresh facemask - I recommed: The Sacred Truth which combines ginseng, green tea and fresh papaya
H'Suan Wen Hua Hair Mask (so good you will want to eat your own hair)

Slap all that stuff on with your best friend, try not to lick your own face (or your friend's) and give it about 15 minutes.

Wash it off

When we were done we both felt amazing (and smelled really good). I am convinced that Lush has some secret ingredient that they use in their products that can make anybody feel super in the blink of an eye. Oh yeah - and the rum and diet coke that Rachel provided didn't hurt either!

PS - If you do not have a Lush where you live you can order it online (although it is not the same as walking into a store). If you are unfortunate enough to not have a Lush or the means by which to order it then send me an email and I will get you some. Believe me - every woman needs this stuff and I will be more than happy to act as an angel of Lush Mercy for your benefit!

Starbucks on Speed

2010-01-02T20:35:00.002Z

Okay to preface - I did not go to Starbucks on any kind of upper (for those that know me that would just be silly). I did however, go to Starbucks this morning with my friend Rachel and her WAY to gorgeous baby Lily and was overwhelmed by the difference between the service at her Starbucks and the service at mine.

Hers:
"Hi y'all - Oh my goodness, will you look at that baby - she is gorgeous - what can I get y'all today. Two lattes with very specific instructions - great - y'all have a marvelous morning and enjoy your coffees - enjoy that precious baby - she is too cute for words!"

Mine:
"Are you ready to order? We can't make that."

Hers:
There were about 10 people ahead of us and we still got our order in about 2 minutes.

Ours:
If more than 2 people are in front of you - expect to wait 10 minutes (per person).

Most of England is just not about customer service in the way that much of America is - I am not saying it doesn't exist, but over here it is more of the norm. What is weird is that I have lived in the UK long enough now, that I sometimes feel that the friendliness that smacks you in the face in places like a Starbucks are a bit disconcerting. I was taken aback by the thought of them caring so much about my day and then I realized that I missed it very much. Okay, so in reality they might not have actually cared at all, but if I had to choose between my Starbucks and hers - I say bring on the Southern hospitality!

Texas Style New Year

2010-01-01T22:53:00.000Z

Matt and Maddie and I have been visiting the States and for the past couple of weeks have been in Madison, Wisconsin. This week saw us flying down to San Antonio Texas to visit my very bestest friend and her husband AND their nearly new baby (Rachel, Don and Lily Ruth). After a VERY LONG flight down (seriously it took almost as long to get from Chicago to San Antonio as it did to get across the pond) we arrived to the promise of Texas Welcome Water and some grub (tequila, steak and fries).

New Years Eve day Rachel and I were very fortunate to have the boys take the baby out on an impromptu trip to San Marcos leaving us the entire afternoon to do what we love to do together - pamper, shop, chat and eat! Specifically this involved:

1. Eyebrow waxing from a darling so cute that I wanted to package her up and take her back to England.
2. Spa pedicures in massage chairs so comfortable that I wanted to package them up and take them back to England.
3. Asian fusion food so good that I wanted to wrap it up and bring it back to England.
4. A Trip to Lush - this one we already have in England so I had no desire to bring it home.

After an entire day of feeling great we ended up with what felt like 30 minutes to get ready to go out to dinner. We went to this very cool french restaurant that was not of the stuffy variety. The food was tasty, the wine was delicious and afterwards we headed over to see some family friends who were have a soiree. The host and hostess in an odd twist of the evening were both from the UK (she from Dundee and he from Upminster). On top of that they were both ex RAF - how strange. After spending about an hour there we made our way back home to crack open some bubbly and ring in the New Year.

I am fairly confident nearly all of us were asleep in some manner before the strike of 12. I know for a fact that I was snoring - LOUDLY because my husband had to poke me in the ribs to let me know. We did manage to miss the countdown, but were able to make a toast and watch some fireworks on TV - Goodbye 2009!

New Years Day has made me miss living in a warm climate and just being back in the States in general. We took a long walk down the River Walk enjoying the bright blue sky and sunshine. This has been followed by watching the Rose Bowl on TV (go Oregon). I am not sure what the rest of our week here is going to entail, but I am filled with the promise of happiness, excitement and good food!

Bring It On 2010!

Easy Christmas Yum

2009-12-16T17:43:00.001Z

I needed an easy treat to package up and hand out to all of Maddie's teachers this year. I usually make and decorate hundreds of cookies (with help of family and friends). This year there is NO TIME. I wanted something cute, pretty and tasty. This is a no bake recipe I found for coconut ice. I know my friend Rachel is disappointed as she reads this because a) she loves new recipes and b) she hates coconut.....but for all of you out there who fit description a) only I think you will like this.

Coconut Ice:

14 oz Condensed Milk
12 oz Desiccated Coconut
1 lb 2 oz Powdered (Icing) Sugar
Red (or pink) food coloring
8' Square Pan
Waxed or Parchment Paper

Line pan with paper
In a large bowl mix everything together but the food coloring
Divide mixture in half
Color half the mixture pink with food coloring
Press layer of white into pan followed by layer of pink
Refrigerate until set

Cut into cute squares and place into a festive tin or jar or box

voila - coconut heaven! (just try it Rachel - be a big girl)

Christmas Shopping (RIP Circle Bar)

2009-12-14T17:38:00.000Z

This should technically fall under the header 'Things I Miss Most - Part II', but since Christmas is a special time of year, I thought it should have it's own title. Christmas shopping each year is often times a reflection of my life - sometimes it is chaotic and last minute, sometimes it is well thought out and organized. There have been years that I have been so broke that I have skipped gifts all together and other years when I felt the need to prove my self worth by buying extravagant gifts for everyone on my mailing list. Some years are crafty, some are more store bought. My favorite years Christmas shopping (EVER) where the years I spent it shopping with my best friend Sig. For about 4 years in a row, Sig and I created some of my best Christmas shopping memories. Try as I might to re-create them, I cannot. Let me tell you the story.

It started one Christmas when Sig and I were roommates. Actually he owned a house and I had just broken up with my boyfriend (who kept our house to himself). Sig offered me shelter and I took it. That first Christmas Sig told me that I was invited to both his huge family get together (on the 23rd), but also to his close family get together (on the 24th). I was told that the party on the 23rd involved a gift raffle of sorts and that everyone needed to bring 1 gift. I was also told that I was not expected to bring gifts for his whole family on the 24th (which I knew I had to ignore).

December started slipping by and I started panicking about getting gifts. Time was running out and the news was filled with terrible tales of shopping malls filled to capacity, 2 hour long lines, freeways coming to a standstill......If you know me then you may be aware that I have the patience of a gnat. The thought of the lines, the waiting, the searching, the waiting, the fighting just left me cold.

The 22nd arrived and I was plotting my own death all to avoid having to go into town. Luckily Sig had procrastinated as well. See he had a new girlfriend at the time and was looking for something special for her. Sig hatched a plan that involved braving the drive to fashion valley mall, getting valet parking so we wouldn't have to look for a space, and having lists that we could tackle together. Oh - did I mention that tequila was involved? We decided that we would stop at the Circle Bar on the top of the mall every time we got a certain amount of gifts checked off our lists. We were NOT allowed to take a break until we had each done so. Let me tell you how that worked out. After the first shot of tequila started to kick in we were quite enthralled by the possibility of another. This lead to some fast and hard shopping decisions and some cunning purchases. After about the 3rd shot of tequila, we just didn't care so much about what we got for people. We were having such a good time that even those 'hard to shop for' friends and family members had gifts within minutes! This is how Sig's mom ended up with a hand blown monkey head christmas tree ornament (actually make that 2).

Each year after that we kept up our tradition of meeting at the last possible moment, going to fashion valley, eating appetizers and drinking tequila and getting some GREAT gifts. After a few years my friends who knew about this tradition actually asked to be put at the end of the list so that they would get something funny.

I have had many lovely Christmas shopping experiences since, but they somehow don't quite live up to the memory of Sig and the Circle Bar (RIP).

British Cuisine

2009-12-03T19:40:00.002Z

The UK gets a bad rap when it comes to food, but it really isn't all bad. One of my favorite dishes to make is Shepherd's Pie (or cottage pie depending on what type of meat you use. I love it because it is very easy to make, can be made in advance and cooked right before serving (great for company) and you can really get creative if you need to use stuff up in your fridge. I will give you my recipe, but be aware that I don't measure anything and the recipe changes a bit every time I make it so here goes and enjoy!

Shepherd's (or Cottage) Pie

Preheat your oven if you are going to fully bake this right away. I would suggest a middle setting. In Celcius it is about 175, but as long as the oven isn't too hot you can't really go wrong as everything is pre-cooked!

You will Need:

Something to bake the Pie in. I make mine in a large Le Crueset Lasagne pan, but you can use anything you like - preferably an oven proof pan of some sort

Maybe a pound or so of ground lamb (shepherd's pie) or ground beef (cottage pie). My recipes use 500 grams - you can do the conversion and math if you want. You will basically need enough to fill up about a third of your baking vessel of choice. I prefer lamb - it has a much better flavor in my opinion than the beef, although the beef is good too.

Potatoes - 7 or 8 good sized potatoes for mashing (more or less if you love potatoes). Again the recipe I think calls for about 750 grams of mashed pot, but I am not doing math tonight! Wash, peel and quarter them.

An onion - or two

Some minced garlic

A couple of carrots - sliced

Some peas - fresh, frozen or canned

A little bit of butter

Milk or soured cream if you are feeling like you need the extra calories

Schwartz' Shephard's Pie Spice Mix - now this is not readily available in the US but it can be found. I found mine at Woodman's in Madison last time I went back (shock). If you have a large grocery store that stocks ethnic foods it is usually on a small shelf under 'other'. If you don't have the pre mixed stuff here are some things you can use to add some flavor: Worchestershire Sauce, beef bullion cube, rosemary, thyme, parsley, paprika, perhaps some Lawry's seasoning or anything in the grocery store that is aimed at seasoning meat or making a gravy. If you are desparate for the Schwartz' send me an email and I will send you some - it really does make a nice jumping off point (I always start there and add my own).

Here we go:

Boil water for the potatoes and plunk them babies in. Give them about 15 to 20 minutes (until they are soft enough to mash). If you are a garlic fiend add some whole peeled garlic cloves right into the water.

While the potatoes are boiling you need to fry the ground meat with the onions and garlic until browned. Add the seasoning throughout the process to sear it in. you will need to add a little water to make a gravy out of whatever you are using. Add the carrots and peas, cover and simmer for about 20 minutes. The consistency you are looking for is thick and rich.

While the meat mix is simmering - drain potatoes and mash with some butter and milk (or soured cream). The you will need the mashed potatoes quite fluffy so they are easy to spread.

When the meat mixture is done add the whole lot to your baking dish and spread out evenly. Drop large spoonfuls of the mashed potatoes evenly on top of the meat and then use a spatula (or fork, or knife) to spread that evenly.

Use the end of a spoon or knife to 'drill' about 6 holes through the potatoes. This will keep the meat mixture from exploding over the edges.

If you are feeling fancy, drag a fork across the top of the potatoes to make lines. Sprinkle with some paprika and parsley.

I personally think it is better to let the whole mixture sit and cool before baking, but if you are in a hurry, chuck that bad boy in the oven pronto.

Bake until the potatoes are golden brown on top.

Cut into squares and serve with some seasonal veg and garlic bread!

Let me know how it turns out (if you haven't already invited me over for some)

Some thing you may not know......

2009-11-29T19:06:00.003Z

Moving to the UK from Southern California was a bit of a culture shock. I knew it would be different, but never realized how different it would actually be. Part of the culture shock was probably due to the fact that I married a man in the Royal Air Force and, never before having ANY experience with military life, was subjected to a realm of existence beyond anything I knew. Even without military life thrown into the batter here are some things that you may or may not know about (my) life in Britain.

1. The post office does EVERYTHING - aside from delivering your mail half the time. I just love spending my lunchtime standing in line for what seems like an eternity waiting for people to:

Exchange money for their travels
Pay their Gas and Electricity bills
Cash their pension checks
Get their car taxed and registered
Have their nails done (okay I'm going a bit far now)

2. Many/Most retail stores shut at 5 pm. Except on Thursday. Apparently it is shopping day for all of Britain and stores may stay open until 7 or even 8. Many stores do not open on Sunday at all.

3. Grocery stores only seem to re-stock once a week. I am guessing that it is on a Monday, cause if you want to go to the store on a Sunday to buy food - they will most likely be out of what you need. Also grocery stores shut at 4 pm on Sunday. Even more odd - the stores open at 10 am on a Sunday, but you cannot pay for anything until 11 am. That one was sorely unappreciated one Sunday morning when we realized that baby Maddie was out of diapers....and had the trots....and did I mention no diapers?! Drove to the store and arrived at 9:55. Waited the 5 agonizing minutes for the store to open. Ran in to buy said diapers and go to the checkout at 10:05. Was told I would have to wait 55 minutes before purchase. One of the few times in my life that I actually almost rationalized shoplifting. Still trying to work the Sunday opening hours over here.

4. Until very recently pubs shut at 11 o'clock - including weekends. I always found this astounding since their is such a long standing tradition of pub-going over here, but I guess everyone is too pissed (that is drunk to my American friends) to carry on any later.

5. More people over here follow more soap operas than politics. That well may be true for Americans as well, but not where I come from. I do not watch soaps and so am blocked from many 'water cooler' conversations revolving around one of the 32 soaps that permeate the airwaves.

6. Many households still do a Sunday roast. This is basically a full Thanksgiving dinner every Sunday at about 2 o'clock. If you don't have one you may be considered unsavory and neighbors may cross the street to avoid you.

7. Many women I know over here don't drive. I would say at least 50%. That is not an exact figure, and again my figures are only a reflection of my small pocket of life. I could not live without a car. I got my license the week of my 16th birthday and have not looked back since. I am not going to tell you how many years I have been driving - if you know me you can do the math. Maybe they are put off by the tests. I had to re-take a theory and a practical test to get licensed and I flunked both of them the first time around. The theory questions I actually got 100% on and finished 30 questions in under 3 minutes. The 'let us play a video game of things you could possible hit' simulator was not so good. Apparently I pressed the mouse button too quickly. So spotting things well in advance is not so good over here. After slowing down my response time to what seemed like a near-death experience - I passed! I flunked my practical test because while reversing around a corner - more on that one later. Thankfully I finally got myself passed - life here would suck without wheels!

8. Grocery stores do not pack your bags for you. And the check out help gets very cranky if you don't pack fast enough to keep them moving. This usually means many squashed things in the very flimsy plastic bags (I will NEVER remember to bring my own) that will eventually break on the way to the car, in the rain, while your child is screaming for a cookie.

These are just a few things - and believe me - there are many, many, many more to come!

An American in Panto

2009-11-27T16:54:00.005Z

In America, men who walk around dressed in ladies things are usually drag queens, halloween revelers or frat boys during Hell Week. In England men dressed in ladies things are usually actors. This normally occurs around Christmas and these actors would most likely be the starring Dame in their local Panto.

Panto is short for Pantomime - a traditional Christmas play which is about as far from the Nativity as one could imagine. These plays normally involve song, dance, comedy, slapstick, audience participation and mild to strong sexual innuendo depending on the audience and how drunk the actors are on the final night. The plots are often loosely based on traditional children's stories. Panto is steeped in a number of traditions and superstitions - most of which have remained over the years:

• The leading male character is called the Principal Boy and is almost always played by a woman usually dressed in short, tight fitting skirts accompanied by knee-high leather boots and stockings.

• The pantomime dame is usually played by a man - the bigger the better in my opinion. They get the best costumes, at least 4 wigs changes, fake knockers that would put Dolly to shame AND they get to wear more makeup than KISS.

• There is plenty of audience participation - which can be a bit daunting if you have never been on stage with people yelling things at you. The best bit about it (as I found out) is that the cast can yell back! Also, the audience is usually forced to stand up and sing a really awful song or two while cast members throw sweets to the kids. Although these days with health and safety laws the candy can't be flung anymore - boo to that!

• Depending on whether or not the character is a 'goodie' or a 'baddie' they will always enter and exit on the right side of the stage 'goodie' or the left 'baddie'. An astute (and awake) audience will spot a naive director if a mistake is made.

• In pantomime the last lines spoken in the finale; (traditionally in rhyming couplets) should never be spoken in rehearsal as this is considered very bad luck. Instead the actor will normally replace the lines in rehearsals by saying 'rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb'. The actual lines are uttered for the first time on the opening night (if the actor can remember what they are). There has been more than one occasion on opening night when the beads of sweat break out on the actor's forehead as he/she desperately tries to NOT say 'rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb'. I really hope I am over here long enough to have that happen. Because it would be funny.....and some of us would do anything for a laugh.

• The last actors to appear on stage in finale are traditionally the Principal Boy and Girl, who have usually gotten married at the end of the show.

• Whistling in a dressing room is a bad omen and if you care caught doing this you have to leave the room, turn around three times, knock and re-enter, usually uttering a curse. Okay, in fairness, I have never heard of this but it does sound like something the British would invoke.

The first time I was asked to audition for a pantomime I actually thought they meant miming - and I was NOT interested. The director gently explained what it actually was (whilst wiping away the stream of tears that were the product of laughing so hard she cried). I thought - okay this sounds like fun - I'm in. When I later found out that she wanted me to play one of the lead roles I was over the moon. When I even later found out that the lead role she wanted me to play was King Arthur I was back under the moon (I did not want to dress up like a man). When - after several glasses of wine - the director told me I could wear fishnets and the stripper boots I had acquired in Las Vegas, I was intrigued. When I found out that the only reason I was being given the part was because I was the only person who could fit into the costume I didn't care - I was finally going to get an opportunity to wear my boots!!!

And so began several years of playing principal boy on stage. Luckily some other girls finally showed up on the scene who could also fit the costumes and I could say good-bye to playing a man on stage. I am sad, however, that I now do not have a good reason to wear fishnets and stripper boots. Perhaps Guy Fawkes Night could use a new traditional garb?

British Celebrations - Take 1

2009-11-24T20:43:00.005Z

So Matt is upset because this is the first year since the beginning of time (his words), that he has (in his opinion) celebrated more American holidays than British ones, the most recent being Halloween. I have to digress a minute here and reiterate AGAIN (to my lovely UK brethren) that Halloween is NOT an American holiday. It is an amalgamation of many beliefs dating back to Roman times, so stop bitching to me about how Americans have taught the whole wide world how to beg for candy and smash things in the streets like hooligans (I'm done now). I have gotten a lot of grief this year over the Americanization of England and how Halloween has taken over more traditional celebrations as Guy Fawkes Night. This brings me back to my husband and the fact that so far this year we have:

1.Blown things up on the 4th of July,
2.gone begging for candy door to door but.......
3.didn't do diddly squat to pay homage to poor old Guy Fawkes.

When I moved to England I had never heard of Guy Fawkes, nor knew of any sort of celebration in his honor. I would like to take the next 20 minutes of my life (with my husband as my historical sherpa) to enlighten you and perhaps bring you a better understanding to the CRAZINESS that is the foundation of many English traditions including an evening dedicated to Mr. Fawkes.

Here goes:

Once upon a time (I'm pretty sure it was 1649) James I was king of England and he was either Catholic or Protestant (don't know which). Guy Fawkes didn't like James I because he was of the opposing religion (as was his gang). So the big group of anti-Jamesters planted a shit load (Matt's words) of explosives under the Houses of Parliment. The scheme was rumbled by James' gang and Guy Fawkes was burned at the stake.

350 year on, The English no longer plant explosive things under Parliment, but they DO build massive bonfires in public places to mark the occasion and even chuck effigies of Guy Fawkes onto said flames. They also let off fire works as a re-enactment of what could have been and give sparklers to the kids.

All in all Guy Fawkes night is the British version of Independence Day, but the effigy stuff - taking it to the extreme. I have just been told that there is no food associated with said night. Typical. This may need to be changed if I continue to live here. I might recommend Mexican (it can be explosive).

Thanks for the Giving...

2009-11-23T17:44:00.001Z

Most Americans I know celebrate Thanksgiving - some with more excitement than others. Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite holidays because:

1. It falls around my birthday and up until the age of about 8 I really did think that the huge family get-togethers, turkey and pumpkin pie were all about me. Friends that know me also know that this spirit of 'It's all about me' is one that I still carry with me to this day.

2. It is a good warmup for Christmas.

3. Many times Thanksgiving is a day where we are forced into close and prolonged contact with people (family) that we only see once of year, many of whom we either don't know very well or don't particularly like. This is a great recipe for brewing socially awkward situations - which I LOVE!

4. Up until my move to England, Thanksgiving meant a Friday morning flight to Hawaii to see my parents and have fun.

Since moving to England I have always tried to continue the great American tradition of Thanksgiving by opening up our home to British friends who have had the misfortune of never experiencing this delightful day. Every year it inevitably happens that I get a panicked phone call the night before the big event, by a guest who is unsure of what gift to bring and what is going to occur. When I tell them that no gift is necessary, they seem at first relieved and then perplexed.

"What is Thanksgiving?"
To which I always reply - "it is eating - ALOT."
"Is that IT?"
"Well, there is also some football, some parade watching, some drinking and the potential of a verbal altercation thrown in"
"But we don't have American football here..."
"Nope!"
"Or a parade on TV....."
"That's Right!"
"So that would just leave......"
"Your family, my family, enough liquor to sedate a horse, some turkey and possibly a catfight!"
"You Americans are sooooo funny!"
"There is nothing funny about it - this is serious business, be here at 1 o'clock or face death."

This year we are inviting our neighbors who we knew in Northern Ireland. I am waiting for the phone call as we speak!

Try This on for Size

2009-11-22T11:45:00.002Z

So I have a gym - and on a regular basis am faced with the horrified gasps of women as they stand on a scale and face their worst fears. Each time I see the expression on their faces and hear the stream of words sputter out "wait, that can't be right, are you sure, really could you check again", I am reminded of my first time clothes shopping in England. I had moved over in January, from San Diego and the temperature difference was, how can I put this, EXTREME. I didn't have very weather appropriate clothes, like socks, closed toe shoes and to be honest many pairs of trousers. I had jeans, but not much else so on a weekend meeting my husband's best friends for the first time, Matt suggested that Nerys take me out clothes shopping. So off we went to the mall, where Nerys introduced me to a store called New Look.

Luckily I found lots of clothes that I liked and started grabbing things in my size which at the time was an American size 8. I saw the look on Nerys' face as I was grabbing things and I read the look as "hmmmm interesting choice". We went into our separate fitting rooms and as I went in Nerys kindly said "the sales girl can get you more sizes if those don't fit". To which I thought "wait - are you saying these won't fit me?" I was a bit miffed, to say the least, but set about trying on the first pair of pants. Which fit.......up to my knees......then wouldn't budge......WTF?!?!?! In a panic I started muttered "waitthiscantberighttheirhastobeamistakeperhapsificheckthelabeligrabbedthewrongsize" Label checked - size 8, gasp, maybe strange cut. Tried on the next, and the next, and the next. Decided to self that English food must be avoided because made me a porker in the span of a month. Heard Nerys knocking on door to fitting room. I came out with sheepish look on my face and explained that they didn't fit. Nerys (who was a good size smaller than me) said "I thought they looked a bit small - I wear a size 10 - I think their is a size difference of 2 - try a size 10 or 12. " At that point in my life I had always been lucky enough to avoid double digit clothes and I would be damned if I was going to start now - size difference or not. I almost walked out empty handed, but luckily for me Nerys had the sense of mind to convince me that size 10 in England = notafatass. I bought a pair of pants, which I now (7 years on) wish upon a star will fit me again one day!

Things I really miss - Part I

2009-11-22T08:37:00.007Z

Like anyone moving to a foreign country, there are certain things that I miss so desperately that sometimes I cry (just a little to myself). Oddly enough the things that I miss the most are not what I expected - like my friends and my family. Okay well I do really miss them to, but at least I can call, facebook and skype them and get a small if not tangible dose of them. No, the things I miss the most are small everyday things that I took for granted.

Foody things like: hazelnut coffee, tortillas, hot sauce, sushi, Libby's canned pumpkin and Kraft Mac n' Cheese (just to name a few).

Shopping places like: Whole Foods, Rite Aid (really any 24 hour store), Bath and Body Works

Random stuff like: Victoria's Secret Underwear, Not having to wear a winter coat, Fahrenheit, top loading washing machines, EmergenC, The Southern California Freeway system. Now I know on this last one you might be asking yourself (is she CRAZY?) Forgetting about LA for a minute, the freeway system that surrounds San Diego in my opinion is phenomenal! You can get just about anywhere in 20 minutes or less. That is amazing for such a large city.

Some of my saddest days are driving into Lincoln. a city of about 90,000 people (maybe less, that could be with surrounding villages). It sometimes takes me 45 to get across town (across town being about 3 miles). The traffic here is nasty, because they have no freeways. And yes I know that freeways are ugly, but so are nervous breakdowns! I often get pangs of longing when I see a queue (that's a line to you) of 20 cars trying to get through a traffic light lasting 5 seconds, knowing that their problems would be solved by 6 lanes - IN EACH DIRECTION.

Note to self, get certified to get on planning board of Lincoln City.

Well Hellllllooooo.......

2009-11-21T15:56:00.001Z

Okay, since I cannot have friends showing me up (you know who you are) I have decided to blog about my life as a crazy (really just misunderstood) American living in the UK. I truly thought that after 7 years the differences between our cultures would begin to blend or to at least not provide so many opportunities for jokes. How wrong could I have been?! I am now in the position to say if you can't beat it - flaunt it and so I sit today ready to unleash some funny stories from the recent past and hopefully of events to come (because trust me it just doesn't go away).

To start - a bit of the boring. I am 37, married to a Brit nicknamed Arse (age 36), with one daughter (age 3) and a dog (6?). My husband is in the RAF and we live in Bardney, England. Bardney is a very small village in Lincolnshire, although the people in lincolnshire would probably argue that it is actually quite large for a village. I couldn't tell you how many people live here but can say that it boasts: 2 pubs, a SMALL grocery store, a butcher, a post office, a primary school and a newly added Indian Takeaway. It is also home to about 7,542 dogs who all use the village green as a toilet. We are about 15 miles (or a 4 hour drive) from the East Coast of England, the coast bordering the North Sea which means we have CRAZY weather here. As I write this I can 1)hear the wind ripping across the plains and 2) see that the wind has picked up our neighbors 14 foot trampoline which is now sitting atop their 6 foot fence. But I digress.....more on Bardney in another Blog.

I own a gym in Lincoln which is a City, not a town and NOT a village. I have about 400 members who I adore and who I think tolerate me pretty well. My daughter's name is Madison (after my hometown) and she is almost as crazy as I am. Her favorite things are playing on my iphone and hijacking the laptop. She looks so much like her father that sometimes I wonder if she is actually mine! My husband, Matt is an engineer and lately we hardly ever see each other (not by choice). Our dog Lucy is really like our oldest child. She is bossy, charming and a bed hog. Also recently her breath has started to stink.

I am orginally from Madison, WI, but lived in San Diego for what seems like eternity before meeting my husband and moving to England. I am fairly certain that he drugged me with something to get me to agree to the move. We lived in Norfork for 8 weeks before moving to Northern Ireland (that life deserves a blog all its own - don't get me started) for 3 years. Finally settling down in Lincolnshire, were we still get shuffled around like sheep!

All said my life is pretty fine - if only I could understand what the heck people are shouting at me all the time!