Totally a Big Deal to Me

They know my name at Perkins Cleaners.  I walked in this morning and they said, "Hi, Jenny!" 

I'm pretty sure I'm their favorite American out of all the Americans in my neighborhood. 

Thanks, guys!

Also, Morgan Freeman

I am going to complain about you...

Why didn't you tell me that baby penguins died in your movie???  You sit there, all calm, talking about the Marching Penguins, and then spend the last 15 minutes of the movie - killing the babies!!! 

Why didn't you do something?  Surely the crazy predator bird would have listened to YOU!  With your crazy smooth, sympathetic voice???

Ugh.

The One Where I Complain About the Blogs I Read

After a stressful morning, I like to sit around for THE REST OF THE DAY poking around on line.  And if the people who write the blogs I read haven't updated their blogs...then, tell me, what am I supposed to do?  Even perezhilton was having a slow day.  And nothing was happening on Facebook.  And then my sister-in-law stopped emailing me - because "she had to work."   

Come on, people.  Entertain me.  Fill my mind with useless trivia and cat videos.  I want to see cute pictures of your dogs!  Haven't your kids done anything sweet/dangerous/aggravating all weekend?  That's two whole days...

Ugh.

My cat is disappointed in you.

Carpet Cleaning and Starbucks Snoring

We had our carpets cleaned yesterday.  Not that they were super bad or anything, but after having the movers come up and down the stairs with all our dirty boxes that had been shipped on the HMS Mudbox - we thought it might be nice to start with a clean slate.  And since we have a boat load of stairs (today's blog apparently has a naval theme) I didn't want to rent a machine and do it myself.  We paid someone else to do it and they did a great job - thank you Ethos Carpet Cleaners!

Anyway...carpet was cleaned.  I had some lunch and then opened a bunch of windows to help dry the carpet/clear the air.  Except it's cold out.  We've actually got some snow here in London...so - open windows didn't last very long.  

Time for hot chocolate at Starbucks.  Took my book (BIRDSONG, good stuff) and set out. 

I was soon joined by some other guy who promptly fell asleep in one of the really comfy chairs there.  And this man WAS OUT.  WAY ASLEEP.  A Snoring Machine!  Super loud.  And the rest of us in Starbucks basically found it amusing.  It's not as if he was sitting at my table or anything. 

Cut to about 40 minutes later and a new guy comes in.  Snore Machine starts up again - and New Guy gets up and walks over and says, "Wake up.  You're snoring very loudly."

I found New Guy's behavior more disturbing and disruptive than the snoring.  I don't know why, but it really irked me.  The Snoring Machine's only crime was that he got too comfortable in his armchair while reading a book, and fell asleep after a warm mug of something.

If the guy was snoring like this at the movies or a play I can see saying something...I don't know - would you wake someone at Starbucks?  Like, get up from your seat and walk across the place to tell someone they were snoring?

I think it was weird. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

At least in America. Where they do it right:)

I am thankful that I got up early enough to make it down and over to St. Paul's Cathedral for the...
THANKSGIVING DAY SERVICE for the AMERICAN COMMUNITY in LONDON

It was really spectacular.  First of all, because I've never been to a church service in an actual cathedral.  You can really feel the size, spectacle, and the mass of the crowd.  And the cold.  I can't imagine how expensive heating a space like that must be.  I imagine it to be a lot and that's probably why it was cold.  I certainly regretted taking off my jacket.  (I couldn't put it back on because it was too crowded.)

Secondly, it was really overwhelming to be in a place with so many Americans (not that Hampstead isn't crawling with them).  So many other Americans who were far from home and possibly missing their families and their traditions as well.

It was a really beautiful service celebrating America and it's special relationship with England.   And I'm thankful for that relationship this year.  How kind of them to offer us a place, this beautiful and grand place, to gather and celebrate our holiday.  It's so nice to be in a country that is at once so familiar and welcoming and yet different enough to surprise me. 

Which, when I think about it - is a lot like family.  At least my family.  And I'm thankful for all of them. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

I'll Tumble For Ya!

So...you may remember that I saw BOY GEORGE my very first weekend here in London. If you don't remember, it probably means that you don't like me. But you can read that post here. It's super short and won't take you long; it basically says that I saw BOY GEORGE.

Anyway...jumping to November. Today. At Lunch. And this guy walks into The Rosslyn Arms where I was having lunch with a super cute dog. Well, I was having lunch with Tony, who is not a super cute dog. Let's try this again...stupid grammatical clarity.

While I was having lunch at Rosslyn Arms with Tony, a guy walked in with a super cute dog. And since I miss my cat soooo much, I was pretty obsessed with looking at this dog. Well, the dog's person looks at us (me and Tony), smiles, and says, "Hi!" We said hi back and that his dog was cute. And then it hit me. I was talking to Jon Moss. ANOTHER member of The Culture Club! And then he asked if he could have the pepper and Tabasco. Sure, Jon! Help yourself!

So, now I've seen 2 out of 4 of them. 2 more and I'll have a complete set of Culture Club! AND...Mr. Moss was voted Hampstead's Friendliest Celebrity by the Hampstead Village Voice. I agree. He seemed very nice.

I'm borrowing this picture from The Daily Mail.
It might be subject to copyright.
They'll let me know, right?

THE 2010 GREAT BIG STILL WATERS GIVE AWAY!!!

Woo-hoo, Everybody! The 2010 GREAT BIG STILL WATERS GIVE AWAY has finally arrived!!!

All you have to do is...ummm...say something funny in the comments - whoever I think is funniest...WINS!

Wins what? You might ask. And then I would tell you that you're being nosy. And if you want to win something you should just try to be funny. How hard can it be?

I don't know - maybe I'm not really doing a give away. But it seems like every other blog IN THE WORLD right now is. X-boxes, cameras, other stuff that I can't remember. And I guess those are the blogs that probably have more than 15 followers (plus those of you that secretly read - there's no shame). So companies probably give the bloggers things to give away to their readers. I'm just guessing...oooo...somebody should sponsor my blog. Yes! That would be cool. Unless it was Wal~Mart. That would probably be lame. Unless Wal~Mart really wants to sponsor me - and then - I'd think about it.

Well, what would you want? Obviously, I don't have an X-box to give you. And I like my camera and there is NO WAY I'm giving you my cat - so don't even ask...

Big News

I got a hairdryer!!! Isn't that wonderful???

No, really. It is. It's wonderful. I can actually dry my hair. Whenever I choose.

and now...I look awesome

Adventures in Grocery Shopping

So. The things I like most about living in a foreign country are:

1. Forgetting which way I pronounce words like chamomile and via
   
2. Weird flavor combinations, especially in potato chips, excuse me, crisps. Who wants lamb and mint crisps? Anybody???
3. Discovering that I have no idea how to perform a previously very simple task

Case in point: Grocery Shopping. Specifically, getting a cart. Or trolly. Or trolley, whatever.

So. I went to Sainsbury's. A big chain here. The inside looks like many other grocery stores I've been to in my life. A little like Meijer's, a little like Busch's, or even Super Wal~Mart (which I've only been to once, against my will).

Anyway, everybody else was walking around with carts and I didn't see them anywhere. And I looked. Trust me. I asked to two security guards (!) sitting at the front of the store where the carts were.

"Excuse me. Can you tell me where I can find the shopping carts."
"You mean, trolleys?"
"Umm..yeah. I guess so."
"They're outside."

OK, no problem. I can go outside. So I did. And I saw all the carts. That was easy.

Or so I thought.

Because they were all locked up. Chained to each other...like, a chain gang of shopping carts. And I didn't have a key!

Thankfully, there were two people getting their groceries out of their cart nearby. So I asked them how can I get a cart.

"How can I get a cart?"
"You mean, trolley?"
***They didn't actually say that - I just thought it would be funny. What they did say was...
"You have to pay a pound."
"You have to pay to use a cart?!?!"
"Yeah, isn't that a rip off!"
"I'm not going to pay to use a cart!"
"Well, you get your pound back when you're done."

WHAT??? It turns out that each cart has a little notch that a one pound coin fits into snugly. And when you insert the coin - your cart is unlocked from its fellow cart-prisoners.

Except I didn't have to do that because the nice people just gave me their cart with a pound coin in it already and I in turn gave them my pound coin.

But the entire time I was shopping I was so worried that somebody was going to come by and steal my pound! That' like a $1.62 right now - the right to shop with a cart doesn't come cheap here.

Turns out that you can only release the pound with the key from another cart. Even though my cart has its own key - the chain is too short to reach around and release the coin. I hope this makes sense...not a spacial thinker, which means I'm not a spacial writer either.

Anyway - it all worked out - I passed on my cart to some lovely ladies in exchange for their pound coin.

Fast forward to this week when I went to the store. I am now a shopping cart PRO! I know where they are. I have my pound coin. I.AM.READY. And I did fine. Got my cart, did my shopping, took my cart back outside, and put it away. There was no one there who was ready to take over my cart, so I was excited to lock it up! And I did. So. My cart was locked snugly with the cart in front of it. I had my coin back, but...

I had locked my groceries into the bellies of the cart prisoners. And I couldn't get the bags out. I tired. A couple of times. Turns out, I had to put the stupid coin back in, pull the carts apart, and free my groceries.

Duh.

Look at all those guilty carts!
Lock 'em up!!!

Don't Worry

I haven't forgotten about you. I've just been blogging in my head. Which is great for me. Might be a little boring for you. But I have things to put up here. And I'll get around to it. Trust me.

Just so you know, I'm going to the movies this week. With a friend! I have 2 now. Things are looking up:)

And I'm going to a store that sells A&W Rootbeer! I'm going to have an ice-cold A&W before the week is out! Isn't that amazing??? Something I can use my dorm room fridge for...finally.

For Dad

So. Before we moved to London, my Dad had a request. He wanted me to describe things. How things were different. How when you walk into a shop it smells different and sounds different.

Well. As the 15 of you know. I haven't done this yet. So today. I'm going to talk about a place I've been to 3 times now. You got it. McDonald's.


OK. That's fine. Noted. I'm not proud that I've been to McDonald's 3 times since we've moved to our new apartment. But I've needed lunch. And we don't have groceries. And sometimes I only have 3GBP - and in this neighborhood - 3GBP gets you lunch at McDonald's.

We're living in a very "smart" neighborhood. You and I would call it "posh," but apparently, people in the know don't say posh anymore - they say smart. If you say posh - you are labeled as middle class (Oh, the humanity!) or American (I'm sure, a fate worse than death).

Sometimes...smart neighborhoods don't like to have things like Wal-Mart or McDonald's tarting up the place. So these stores - if they can ever get into the neighborhood, sort of have to hide who they are. This McDonald's is in a store front. With a tiny M sign hanging down over the sidewalk. Sort of like the kind of signs they used in the 14th century with a bandaged arm or a boot to show that this place was a barber or a boot maker (I'm not making that up. I read it in a book). Big glass windows. The windows are trimmed in wood, smartly painted black. In side, there are (or is it is) no obvious McDonald's paraphernalia. Because you might be able to see it from the street. I had to look for the menu.

There are water colors (maybe acrylics, I'm not an art expert) of the comely streets in our area hanging on the walls. Someone is always mopping. Usually, it's the manager. And she is wearing a black skirt, hose, black shoes, and a black blouse with tiny white polka dots. No Ms anywhere on her either. The workers behind the counter are dressed in McDonald's uniforms. And there are no kids working. Everyone employed there is an adult through and through. Not even early 20s. Which I think is odd.

The weirdest thing though, and this is for Dad, is the smell. I should say: The lack of smell. You know what I'm talking about. Every McDonald's smells the same. You can even smell it in the parking lot. I think it's the fry grease.

They don't have that here. Walking past the entrance on the sidewalk - you can't smell it. Inside the store (I was going to say restaurant, but that made me uncomfortable) you can't smell it. The food basically tastes the same. I would actually venture to say it tastes better. The buns seem fresh, the lettuce isn't wilting, the chicken nuggets had a weird texture, but I think that might be because they don't use liquid chicken.

So we have a McDonald's that doesn't smell like McDonald's. It doesn't smell like anything. You might even think it smells like mopping - but it doesn't. Do they have really excellent ventilation? Or is something more sinister going on here?

I prefer to think it's something sinister. And that's why I've been 3 times. Because I'm trying to figure it out. Solve the mystery for you. Making sure that everything is safe for your arrival. Because you are coming to see me, right? RIGHT? I'm hungry.

Michelangelo's David McDonald

What's this all about?

Well, as you know, I lived in NYC for about 10 years. And while I was there I never once saw anybody get hit by anything. But since I've been in London, let's see...about 2 months and 1 week, I've seen 2 bike and car collisions. TWO! I think that's kind of a lot. Thankfully, both times no one was seriously injured. Yes. Thank you very much.

Granted, today was a bit more of a bike running into a car.

But.

What's going on? Are Londoners bad drivers? Do they not have the ability to see bikes? Are bikers terrible people? Do they deserve to be hit by cars?

From now on, I will only travel by...

Ooooo...you should fill in the blank!!!

Sitting

You all know I am very good at sitting. We're talking Olympic ability to sit. Much like Michael Phelps has been genetically designed to swim (remember the time filler during Summer Olympic Coverage? Spinning image of Michael detailing why he's such a good swimmer. Long arms, short legs, big feet.), I have been genetically designed to sit. A lot. I'm really good at it.

However. My abilities are failing me. I have found a type of sitting that I am not good at. AND...more disturbingly, that I don't want to do anymore.

It's sitting on the floor.

I hate it.

I think my butt is going to die. Excuse me, bum. I guess what you call it doesn't matter much if it's DEAD!

Good News/Bad News

Yesterday we got the keys to our new apartment! We each got a set of four. Three keys out of the four are skeleton keys...yeah...um...people still make locks like that??? Tony said it best, "I feel like a 17th century grounds keeper." Me too, dear husband, me too.

We spent yesterday afternoon in our new place. Checking everything out, making sure nothing was super broken. We also walked around the neighborhood - walked into a few local stores. I told (just about) everybody I saw that we had just moved in. Because I'm trying to make friends. It got us free lattes at the fancy food store - and maybe a friend.

Getting a new apartment is a great way to push through jet lag. Kind of. I'm still tired. And unfocused. Still sick (boo. I thought that once you got away from all the corn and ragweed you were supposed to feel better). But I'm pretty sure my lunch is going to fix everything: coke and reese's pieces. At 5pm.

Now for the bad news...well, not bad really. Just annoying.

Here's what was supposed to happen:

Return to London on Tuesday, pick up keys.
All our stuff delivered to new apartment on Wednesday.
Start our new life totally happy and unpacked on Thursday.

Here's what's happening:

Returned to London on Tuesday, picked up keys.
Our stuff is not being delivered today because of construction on our street.
...As for Thursday...ummm...

Basically, the moving company says it can't bring us our things until...September 10. Not only because of the construction, but also because they failed to apply for a parking permit. And that takes 2 weeks to get. I'm not quite sure how they would have gotten around this bit if they were going to deliver our stuff today. Since, apparently, they only applied for the permit - yesterday.

I am reminded of a gentle warning from Tansasser about how hard it was for Marmina and Mmarc to get their stuff delivered.

Also of interest, our corporate apartment allotment is up tomorrow morning. Officially. Unofficially they (the job) are going to put us up until something can be worked out. But, we're going to start moving our things up to the new place.

So...we might be living in an empty apartment for a couple of weeks. At least it will give me plenty of time to make sure it's all clean and ready.

Some more good news:

We're very happy with our apartment choice. The neighborhood is great. We timed the walk to the train - 2 min 40 sec. And I think we took the long way. And we're pretty sure our apartment is going to be big enough and comfortable enough. All good news. I can't wait to actually live there.

Still, more good news:

My brother got married. I love him. And his new wife. Makes me so happy.

Women Are Dirty

"Women are dirty" Ricky Gervais as Brent on the office. Circa, whenever that show was on.

One of my, no probably my absolute favorite quote from The Office. The one on the BBC. My favorite quote from the one on NBC is from Michael to Oscar, "Is there something less offensive than Mexican that I should be calling you?" Just because that is so offensive on so many levels. Clever.

Anyway.

Back to women being dirty.

I have decided that London is officially dirtier than NYC. Shock. Gasp. Hand to chest.

I know. You probably don't believe me. But listen. (Or read) (Whatever) I LIVE HERE. And you don't!

I'm not talking about trash on the street or in the Tube stations. That's probably better than NYC. What I am talking about is boogers. Now, this is not the first time I've blogged about boogers. Read this.

Every time I come home from being out in the London air and then blow my nose... It's all gray. Or grey. I'm not sure how the spell it here. Probably grey. From soot. Or something like that. There is dirt in my nose!!! A lot of it. Turning boogers everywhere (or at least in my nose) grey. Just from walking around and breathing.

I do not like this.

Isn't this why Charles Dickens wrote Oliver? And other stuff? So that the air would be cleaner?

Gross, right?

"Boogers are dirty"

Things that I Found Odd Today

So. Today was a "flat" hunting day. I say "flat" because I keep calling them apartments, like any normal person would. And...I like quotes. They instantly provide "humor" and I don't have to actually be funny. Don't you agree? Trust me; you agree.

Anyway.

On my way out of The Tube - riding another giant escalator (they have to dig a gazillion meters (I've switched to metric and I know I've just double parenthesis-ed) to reach bedrock here. Industrious Victorians at it again) I saw an travel ad for Germany. This is what it read. And I quote, not funny, just exact,

"Germany. A great place to visit when you have the time to spare."

Am I the only person who thinks that odd? Like Germany is saying, "Oh, don't bother coming if you only have a few days. We know you're busy. You'll get around to it eventually."

What?

The next thing I found odd was a mistake on my part. I saw this headline:

Tory rebels line up to threaten plans on electoral reform

Keep in mind that I've been running around looking at "flats" all day. What I thought the headline read was this:

Toy rebels line up to threaten plans on electrical reform

I thought, "Wow. English people are really passionate about their toys. I bet they make all kinds of hand crafted, beautiful, classic toys to encourage kids to develop their imaginations. Encourage them to play with something not covered in lead paint or battery dependent personal video game consoles. Good for them!!!"

I took 3 scans through the google news site for me to actually see that this headline had nothing to do with fun. Pretty much, the most un-fun thing possible. Everybody knows that Torries are boring.

So maybe this second this isn't odd really. Whatever. Don't get picky. If you want a blog with proper grammar, and correct word usage. Um...I don't even know what blog to send you to.

Excuse me, to which blog I should send you.

Whatever. I need an apartment. Fast. Or...a "flat." STAT.

Exploring

So, yesterday was the first day that I had actual errands to run. And I also had plans to meet Tony for lunch. I know it doesn't sound like a big deal, but...I have to write about something, right?

First, I went to the bank and got some money. Pounds and Pounds of it. Then, I went to Vodaphone to "top up"( or was it "top off") my temporary cell phone that a super kind friend of a friend lent me. Next, I got on the bus and took it to Liverpool station and then met Tony for lunch at Ping Pong. Dim Sum place. Pretty good. After that I went to Boots, the drug store, and accidentally bought 3 bottles of shampoo - I thought one of them was conditioner. Whatever. It was white and creamy looking, at least it's moisturizing shampoo. And finally, to the grocery for some milk and orange juice. We prefer our orange juice "without juicy bits" thank you very much.

But as I was walking around I was struck by the thought that I have never stood in this place before. Nothing terribly earth shattering, but to be somewhere completely new is kind of rare, really. Even now, when I've been in London for only 2 weeks - there are places that I know how to get to. That I've been to several times. That I know what aisle the soap is in.

I'm enjoying this part.

There's more I want to tell you. But it requires pictures. And for some reason, they don't want to upload right now. I'll see if a certain someone knows any fancy computer tricks. Then maybe I can finish what I started.

STAR STRUCK!

I saw Boy George.

I know...you are so jealous.

I'm still smiling about it.

We're Here!!!

So, we made it!

Here's some proof:

Well, never mind about the proof. I was going to upload some pictures, but it's taking sooooooo long. And I have no patience for that sort of thing.

Instead. I want you to imagine this:

* A picture of St. Paul's Cathedral at night. Slightly blurry and kind of Ghost Buster-y.

* A picture of me. Shiny face and mildly greasy hair. I'm not really greasy, it just looks that way because of the night time picture.

* A picture of me and Tony. It looks like Tony's forehead is never ending. (I guess that happens when you move to London)

* Some pictures of the streets near our apartment. Looks like a movie set

Did you imagine it? Do you almost feel like you're here? In London? Can you hear the bells of St. Paul's?

I can. Because I'm about 4 blocks away.

It's Official

I am freaking out!

We got our Visas today.

The movers are coming tomorrow morning.

I've washed all the curtains.

And the rugs.

There are 5, 827 more things I can think of to do - and I'm not going to get any of them done.

Our flight is scheduled. Fancy Class. This makes me feel a little crazy because it looks like we won't really be sitting next to each other. Also, do I have to look nice to fly in Fancy Class? Can I request that someone hit me over the head right before take off? Unconscious, but not seriously injured, might be the best way to travel. But then I can't enjoy the complementary pillow, blanket, and head bashing. And who knows if we'll ever pay for Fancy Class on our own?

So, this is it. We're really moving. To another country.

Ugh. I hope you're all reading this as fast as I'm thinking it. I want you to get the level of panic - just...right...

So pray for us. Especially on Wednesday. 10:30pm EST. I'll really appreciate it:)

I love you guys. And I'll miss you.

Especially you. You've always been my favorite. Don't tell The Others.

12:47 AM. It's Officially June!

So, it's June 1.

In America, we call it 6/1.

In England, they call it 1/6. (which looks an awful lot like January 6 to me...)

Either way you look at it - it's June. And that means that we are moving. THIS MONTH!!! I can't believe it. Ahhhh!

So, Paul McCartney, and Sting, and Colin Firth, and Emma Thompson, and Richard E. Grant, and Sherlock Holmes, and Harry Potter better get busy. I expect a well planned, well executed WELCOME TO LONDON party!

"Should we have a chocolate fountain or a champagne fountain? What would make Jenny happiest?" - Colin Firth, 1/6/2010

Really?

I've been poking around on the Intertron looking for blogs about living in London. Specifically, Americans living in London. And if I can find one, New Yorkers living in London.

OK.

I love food.

I love eating as much as the next person.

But if when I get to London my blog turns into "This is what I ate today" or "Wow. Pizza in London is really awful/not bad/not as good as the one I had in Italy", shoot me.

Yes, Americans. I am asking you to use your guns. You know WE ALL HAVE THEM!!! Take it out of your purse/diaper bag/wherever you hide your concealed weapon and put me out of my misery.

"I wonder where a girl can find a decent slice? It probably won't be as good as the pizza I had in Italy; I'll just keep drinking. More champagne!" - Queen Elizabeth II, May 18, 2010

The Hobbit or There And Back Again

Well, we've made our decision.

And here it is: we're moving to London.

Wait. Let me say it again. WE'RE MOVING TO LONDON!!!

OK. So honestly, I'm super excited and scared out of my pants. It's been a really long decision process. Tony and I have a hard time deciding what kind of curtains to put up in our living room (2 months of trips to Bed Bath & Beyond), so you can imagine what it took for us to decide that moving across the Atlantic was the thing to do.

After all the praying that we and our parents and friends (thank you!) have done and once the decision was made my mind keeps going back to THE HOBBIT. If you haven't read it - I recommend it. In it, Bilbo Baggins (like all Hobbits) is a comfortable, content, and slightly lazy hobbit. Until one day when Gandalf the Grey shows up - and basically takes Bilbo on AN ADVENTURE. Bilbo wasn't looking for AN ADVENTURE and doesn't even like adventures. But he goes. And an amazing story follows.

I'm feeling like Bilbo. I wasn't exactly looking for AN ADVENTURE. But I feel like one has found me. And although I don't have a powerful wizard as my companion, I do have my husband. My favorite person to adventure with. We've decided to leave our comfortable Hobbit Hole and set out.

I take great comfort in the rest of the title of THE HOBBIT. THERE AND BACK AGAIN. We are definitely heading there, but we will be back again.

Until then, I'll tell you all about the adventures we have in between.

ugh

Are you kidding me???

We STILL don't know.

Apparently, we are going to be getting some new information "early this week". Keep in mind that last week "early this week" was actually Friday. I guess bankers have a hard time distinguishing early from late. Near from far. Right from wrong. Work from porn (good on you, SEC).

Anyway. I'll let you all know once we find out. I'm sitting here wondering what's up too:) I can't wait to find out where we're heading in, oh, you know, 6 weeks.

ugh.

Will We or Won't We?

Oh my goodness...what a question?

So here's a quick run down of my life (the past few years anyway):

2007:

Totally just hanging out in NYC. Living the life, you know. And BAM! Out of nowhere...WE'RE MOVING TO ANN ARBOR for Business School. AHHHHHHH!!!

So Summer 2007 - we're living in Ann Arbor. What? Yeah, I know.

2008:

Livin' it up in Ann Arbor. Making some really AMAZING friends. Knowing that our time here is short and that we'll be moving SOMEWHERE next year.

2009:

Guess we're going back to NYC.

And here we are. Eh. Whatever.

2010:

All HECK breaks loose - craziness at Tony's "place of employment". We might not have a job!!! AHHHHHHH!!! But wait...here come some people who are interested in us...

Ha Ha! One of the offers is in London, isn't that hilarious???

Ummmmmmm...really? OK - so, this might actually happen???

SO that's the brief run down. We're still waiting to decide. One part of me wants to go right now - and the other part of me thinks that part of me is CRAZY!

SO, here's your chance. Tell me what you think we should do.

-Have you ever lived abroad (CARM!)(KARISHMA!)?
-Have you ever picked the crazy path over the comfortable path (Do I know any crazy people)?

I guess I'm looking for insight here - since we can't all meet up at Meghan's or Zingerman's Roadhouse to discuss my situation. Tell me what you think.

UPDATE

So...

Kitty did not get a hair cut. I repeat, DID NOT get a hair cut.

But I did.

Day at the Spa

I know. It's been a MONTH...ummm, sorry?

So the really exciting thing I decided to talk about today is...KITTY! He's spending the day at the pet spa. Hopefully getting a bath, and a haircut, and a "pet-a-cure".

I say "hopefully" because the lady who's going to take care of Hastings today told me that sometimes a cat just can't be groomed. And I have a feeling that Hastings is one of those cats...

We'll see; I let you know!

Well, OF COURSE!

So, the past few weeks I have diligently been going to they gym.

MONDAY: Warrior Flow Yoga
TUESDAY: Pilates
WEDNESDAY: Treadmill (or resting)
THURSDAY: Pilates
FRIDAY: Slow Flow Yoga

Today after Pilates I was going to meet my friend Carrie to watch her baby while she ran into an audition. SO, when I finished class I ran down to my locker to change my clothes and run. On the way downstairs, I thought, "Wouldn't it be funny if I forgot my combination?"

HA HA. Yeah, about that.

I forgot my combination.

I tried it over and over. My lock wouldn't open. The woman next to me tried to do it for me - she couldn't get it open. Everything precious to me was in that locker (not my cat, or husband, or wedding rings, but my COAT and my PHONE - very important things)

This was terrible. My friend was depending on me. If I didn't show up in 15 minutes she was going to have to quit acting and her baby's life would be ruined forEVER...

I ran upstairs and asked if someone would clip the lock for me. Deborah (we became really good friends) reached under the front desk and pulled out the biggest, reddest lock clippers you will ever see. She got the lock off and I got my stuff.

I ran upstairs and out of the gym, called Carrie and told her I was "ON MY WAY!!!" She said, "Sure, don't worry about it."

I got on the train and sat down. Deep breath. And now I was mad because I was going to have to buy a new $8 lock. And we are poor.

I was soooooo mad at the lock because it wouldn't open - I thought I'd try one more time to see if I could get it to work...

I reached into my bag...

And...

Pulled out 2 locks.

I STOLE SOMEONE'S GYM LOCK!!! Oh my goodness! I am a thief. I totally stole someone's lock and used it and then had it destroyed.

Good Side: My lock still works.
Bad Side: Somebody else's doesn't

Is It Wrong?

To want this stuff SO BADLY...

The picture in the catalogue was so cute - cuter than the website. It made me want summer.

RIGHT.THIS.SECOND.

Can You Tell

That this is a portrait of me...Do you see the resemblance? I do. Obviously! My niece, Eve, created this masterpiece. She's just turned 3. And pays very close attention to detail. Some highlights starring Eve and Callie (my super cool 8 year old niece and Eve's big sister):

EVE: Here's you mouth. And here's you neck. And here's you nose. And here's you mo*
*note: "mo" means MOLE. I happen to have a mole on the right side of my nose. Nothing crazy, just, you know, a little mole.
CALLIE: It is really noticeable.
JON (their dad): Meh. What are you gonna do?

Too true, Jon. Too true.

The Art of the Wife

I just read this article in The New York Times. It was an OK article by a woman who is the "bread winner" in her family. She has a fantasy about being the typical 1950s housewife, blah, blah, blah. But the part I liked was the next to last paragraph (penultimate, you might say):

In the end, we all want a wife. But the home has become increasingly invaded by the ethos of work, work, work, with twin sets of external clocks imposed on a household’s natural rhythms. And in the transformation of men and women into domestic co-laborers, the Art of the Wife is fast disappearing.

I liked the phrase, "Art of the Wife". Is "Wife" an art? Do YOU wives consider yourself artists? Do you prefer working out of the home, or staying home and working?

Are there any men reading this? I doubt it, but if you are, what are you looking for in A WIFE? Would you prefer to have someone bringing in another salary, or a salary BIGGER than yours? Or would you like to have someone at home taking care of all that stuff?

Whatever. I have to go iron.

GaGa, Oh, La, La,

Is it weird that I want to buy Lady GaGa's CD? Actually, I'll probably call her GaGa. Lady just seems so formal - and I'm sure we'd be friends if we met. I have all her songs running through my head. Pretty much all the time.

That's probably not weird.

What is weird is that when I'm not thinking, "Roma-ah-ah-ah-ah..." I'm thinking about Dolly Parton. Specifically 9 to 5. I love that song. I love Dolly. I think she's great!

So, I'm going to have a little get together. And GaGa and Dolly will be there. And they'll write songs about how much they like ME. And I'll bake them brownies and then I'll help Dolly with her Imagination Library. Because I think literacy is important too!

"Hey, ya'll. Read a book!"

In Case You Didn't Know

THE HOLIDAYS are over.

So, now what do we do???

If you're me - apparently...you do nothing. Which is nice for a while. But not really. I'm tired of it already.

But I thought this picture was HILARIOUS! I was riding around Mom and Dad's neighborhood when we were home for Christmas and some of their neighbor's blow up decorations (which, in general, I kind of hate) were reflecting my mood.

They just seemed to scream - "I just can't take it anymore! Where is February? What a second - I hate February! Where is JUNE? That's a month that I like - it's not that far away is it??? I mean - six months goes pretty fast, right??? And if you think about it - it's really only five months."

So, I made Mom drive back to her place, get my camera and drive around the neighborhood again so I could take this picture. Tony didn't want to come along. So we took the dogs.

This is Daisy. I love Daisy and someday I am going to steal her and sneak her off to NYC. You can see Dora's ear in the bottom left corner, but she doesn't like to have her picture taken.

I love Dora too - but I don't want to steal her.

And a couple of pictures of Hastings because he reads this blog regularly and I don't want his feelings to be hurt. You know how touchy cats are. I love him the best.
Yes, he's in a crib. At my mom's house. He loved it in there. Someday we'll have a baby and you can have a crib at your own house, Kitty. I promise.

And this picture too. It's old and it's not very good, but it looks like he's smiling. And who doesn't love a Cat Smile?

It will help pass the time until February. JUNE!!! I meant June.

The Thing I Want Now

I have decided that I want brandy snifters.

I've been reading a lot (A LOT) of mystery novels recently. And when the cops come (in England) to question you, you offer them brandy. You also give it to someone when they are cold or in shock. I am both. So I want brandy.

Mostly, I want to hold a great big glass with amber liquid in it. I have no idea what brandy tastes like. If I don't like it - I will make a giant margarita on the rocks with salt. In my new brandy snifter. It will be awesome. I will drink it all and be warm.

And then, I will slowly come out of my shock induced stupor and say something brilliant and the Cheif Inspector will tell me that I helped him solve the mystery and that he loves me and would I please marry him and move into his beautiful estate that has been in his family for 600 years.

And I will say yes.

As long as I can bring my snifters.

But he probably has nicer ones. Because he's rich.

We'll just use his.