A slice of life in Britain...

These hilarious videos, shown to us by fellow expats, literally keep me from losing my cool so many times. Well, I do lose my cool, but maybe these prevent me from screaming ugly things and throwing objects. Maybe you'll get these, maybe you won't. If you've lived over here, EVER, you will definitely get it. The joke here is: British people (on the most part, 99.9% of them) cannot think outside of the box. There is never a creative solution. They never bend the rules. This leads to frustrating situations that we can usually laugh at about a month later (no sooner). Example: After seeing MouseTrap (SO GOOD, Go see it!), Mary Frances, Wil, and I decide to go to Rules (one of our favorite typically English-food restaurants with loads of history and lots of wild game) for dessert and drinks. When we arrive, they send us to the bar. At the bar, we are told we can order drinks but they can't bring food upstairs. There are 2 groups in the bar. Us and another couple. Okay, fine. Can we sit downstairs at a table then? No, we are fully booked. Really? Because I'm pretty sure you only had like 5 tables filled since it is almost 10 pm. The computer said no. I'm pretty sure even if we started flashing Benjamins (or Queen Elizabeths? Assuming we had any...) they would have still said no. So we took our desire for drinks and desserts to Joel Rubuchon's restaurant and we gave them our business, thank you very much, Rules. And now, without further ado: The Computer Says No, by Little Britain. Enjoy, and welcome to our life. (if you want to watch more, search on youtube for "the computer says no little britain")

Why I'm in love with...

my fruit and veg box.

via Abel and Cole, Little Italian Courgette Cakes

...i never thought i would care about organic, but my insecurities about london/uk products, specifically milk, sent me reaching for organic milk back in october. i figured organic gave me a safety blanket that would be equivalent to the regular milk back home. i realize this is not a valid argument, but now i buy organic and will continue to do so when i go home.

...do you know how quickly you have to use organic fruits and veg? fast. they wilt like it's their job if you don't eat the lettuce asap, and the carrots go soft. why? because they are organic. aka nothing to make them last longer. aka those non-organic greens and carrots that last for a few weeks = kind of nasty when you think about it and what is making them last longer. i think this is a valid argument.

elderflower

...sides for meals are planned for me. i rarely buy veg now with any grocery orders or quick trips. broccoli, which used to be served at least 2x, a week is a rarity. i just cook what we had delivered that week. which leads me to...

...suddenly, i'm peeling broad beans that make you work for it. i'm looking up courgette (zucchini) bread recipes (what am i going to do with all those courgettes?!) not to mention my stash of beetroot. yes, beetroot is apparently in season. what am i going to make with my 2 bunches? beetroot cake and a beetroot salad. maybe even beetroot risotto if i have enough. the cake sounds weird, i know. but intriguing right? i'll let you know how it goes.

handwritten instructions

...i made elderflower cordial. just because i (or we, right, mf?) could. i have way to much and it might have "expired" before i could use 1/8 of it. i signed up for the free elderflower delivery (literally it looks like baby's breath), followed my handwritten, xeroxed instructions that it came with and voila, elderflower cordial. serve with water, or as we did, on ice cream!

...maybe it is because they send you little blurbs about the farmers or fisherman telling you about their farm, or maybe it is because strawberry season is like christmas to them, but knowing where your food comes from (real. live. farmers!) makes me happy in an odd way. it's like i can sort of take pride in what i'm feeding my family. they are excited about their produce, i'm excited about their produce!

yes, so after our yummy comfort foods of mashed potatoes and cabbage compliments of abel and cole, my baby belly is satisfied, and i'm ready for the beetroot challenge!

"Popeye Dip"

Here is a delicious and easy spinach dip that I got from Abel and Cole (who delivers my organic and British-grown fruit and veg). I whipped some up this afternoon in no time at all, which makes me happy since our kitchen is now broom-closet sized and tends to hold in heat. I thought I should share with you.

Enjoy!

1/2 garlic clove, peeled and finely minced

2 handfuls of fresh spinach leaves, washed and stems trimmed, if needed

2 x 100g tubs of Avergavenny goat's cheese (I have no idea who Abergavenny is. I tried to find him. I finally just used some random organic goat's cheese that looked nice.)

1 lemon, zest and juice (I only used the juice as we don't like loads of lemon in our food, and I thought it was plenty)

a little hunk of parmesan, finely grated

freshly ground black pepper

Splash olive oil in a pan, saute the garlic until soft. Add in the spinach and a pinch of salt. Stir till the spinach wilts, then drain off some of the water in a colander. Finely chop the spinach then fold into the goat's cheese. Add lemon juice (and zest), parmesan, pepper, and a "glug" of olive oil. Fold together. "Tuck in"

Will keep in fridge 2-3 days.

Serves 2-4.

By the way, "tuck in" means scoot your chair up to the table, belly up to the bar, what have you and dig in. At least, I think that is what it means. Silly Brits. Oh, and I almost tried to convert 100 grams for you. And then I got tired of it. I already converted 2 recipes this afternoon from British-speak to American. It makes my head hurt. Good luck, and welcome to my life in the kitchen.

Here is the original recipe: Popeye Dip

A funny Saturday

When I woke up at 8:30 this morning and couldn't fall back asleep, I thought, no way this day is going to end well. And it still might not. It's only 3:15.

However, after being lazy for another 30 minutes, the day got off to a rockin' start. My child looked precious watching Richard Scarry on TV (Why does that cat wear lederhosen?). My husband miraculously rose from the bed about 10 minutes after I did. And that never happens. (Although he wouldn't let me make up the bed for another 45 minutes because he still wanted the option to get back in it.) We all sat on the couch and watched Richard Scarry (Why lederhosen? Is he a German cat?). Husband made coffee. A full pot with whatever leftover, scarce Starbucks we had. I made 2 popeyes, one devoured by myself in about 2.1 seconds and another that sat untouched by the 4 year old who was entranced by Richard Scarry (LEDERHOSEN?!). And then my husband voluntarily sat outside with me while we drank our coffee, and we chatted about our friends from college (yes, you), choosing a church, and the fact that the tadpoles were possibly a disgusting bacteria (I poured them out yesterday). I kept thinking, "My time's gotta be running out. He's going to return to bed or tell me to be quiet." But I preemptively made up the bed while he showered, and let's face it, it's not wise to tell your wife to be quiet. He was a sport as the sudden increase in caffeine (I had more coffee this morning than I've had in 3 months) and jitters probably increased my speed of wordage. At this point, it's not even 11 a.m. It's a good day, yall. I have a captive audience, and obviously my child is still watching TV. It is Saturday, after all.

But it gets better.

We saw our sweet neighbor who we hadn't seen since May. We caught up on their trip to California and seeing their son's new school (USC), being back in NY, and how unprepared BP was to fix the leak. I even got to speak to his wonderful wife who is on Long Island for the summer on the telephone. Lovely.

Next up: To the library we go, where Wiley rents the Wizard of Oz, and I buy The Yummy Mummy's Survival Guide: How to put the mmmm back into motherhood for a pound.

And then we went to Panzers. Heaven in London, if you ask me. Betty Crocker, Duncan Hines, Bisquick, Aunt Jemima, Old El Paso, Cheerios, JIF, Skippy, and Grape Jelly all live here. They also make an amazing deli sandwich (with my turkey grilled for precaution) on a baguette that I have recently been craving. After Wil almost attacked the man for pretending to not serve/fix me my sandwich (Wil didn't know he was kidding. It wasn't obvious, and in Wil's defense, it would be just like a Brit to refuse something like that. At lunchtime. Because, heck, he just is tired of spreading mayo and mustard. To heck with making money. I digress.), and now I don't know what happened after.

Right. Yes, Yes I do. Because I almost got us killed during it. So we walk out of Panzers, discussing whether or not to get ground beef (beef mince) at Tesco's when we hear this gem of a conversation at the crosswalk:

American mother: "You can take your money and put it in stocks and bonds and earn interest."

Child: "mumble, mumble."

A.M: "...Interest? Don't you get the concept? Don't you understand?"

At this point, I can hardly restrain myself from laughing because this mother is seriously upset her 6 year old child doesn't understand interest. Heck, I don't even understand interest even though my dad and husband have tried to explain it and stocks/bonds/monopoly money/whatever countless times. Wil and I are exchanging glances that say "WTF?" As we are crossing one side of the street (I'm obnoxiously close at this point), I hear her say "$500" and "Mommy and Daddy do this.." as if she is trying to put it in layman's terms...or child-friendly terms. "Eating vegetables? It's what Mommy and Daddy do to grow big and strong? Don't you understand?"

I'm determined to stay with this family to hear what other gems this crazy lady will bequeath upon a son who probably just wondered how the money magically appeared out of an ATM when she put in a card and punched out a PIN. Unfortunately, she steps out just before a light changes and crosses to the median while Wil pulls me back before I step out in front of the number 82 bus. Judging by the way she crosses the street with 2 children, I'd guess they like to take risks in the stock market.

Wil just thinks I'm nuts for stalking them now, and he wants to tell the kid he should get into private equity or venture capital.

And don't worry, I did catch up. But by then the mom and son were charging down the road and the lag-behind 5 year old daughter kept giving me weird looks and pumping her legs harder to keep up with mommy and get away from the other lady (me) who is laughing and cupping her ears to hear better. Maybe the mom knew I was listening. Maybe she was doing insider trading with a 6 year old. I don't know, but I'm pretty sure that lady was nuts. Or she had just quit her job on Wall Street (for her husband's new job in London, duh) and her children are desperately missing their nanny who only spoke to them in another language and who they could trick into giving them candy. Pure speculation, of course.

Oh, and I'm not done. It's still only 2 p.m. at this point. Caffeine-high still coursing through my veins.

We return home, I start a Rod Stewart special I recorded months ago. Am chastised into a family lunch at the table instead of the sofa. And Rod's face is still frozen with his finger precariously close to his nostril. Odd.

Oh, right, the funny part.

Wil decided he wants to buy Wiley a Roald Dahl Treasury book he saw at our friend's house. To Amazon-land the boys go. To my bed (It's made up still.) I gomwith my Yummy Mummy book. Next thing I know, I'm laughing out loud at this hilarious Brit's sense of humour (the Brits love to add an extra "u" or change the "z" to an "s".) as she tells me (as if I don't know already) that "your tummy will become more wobbly for a while, but this is absolutely curable with enough crunching and squeezing, if wobbly's not your thing." There is more, but I'd hate to scare my younger (a.k.a. my age) audience away from having children. Because someday when I have teenagers, I'd love to go to the Tot Lot with you and your babies. And if you are my mother or mother-in-law or either of their friends reading this or you have kids then you already know about all the fun changes your body takes/makes, and I don't need to tell you about those. Anyway. The book is hilarious.

But not as funny as overhearing my husband (who has already shopping cart-ed the Roald Dahl book) reading a sample page of Uncle Remus.

If you don't know Uncle Remus, then you haven't had the distinct pleasure of growing up in an utterly un-politically correct home in the Deep South. It means if I tell you that you are being like the Tar Baby you won't know what I'm talking about. And the Tar Baby--it's not about the BP oil spill. You've been deprived that's all. Or you are a Yankee, and in that case, Bless your heart.

The book is in a different language. It just is. Now you can buy it (Up North, I'm sure) in a politically correct version that loses all the charm that the original copy gives, and you'll be able to read it without stuttering. However, if you were lucky growing up, you either have a grandparent who can recite those stories to you by heart, or you have a parent who can read Remus. (I realize I'm being totally un-PC. Do forgive me. Lawdy, that sounded British.) Thankfully, I have a father who I'm 99.9% sure can still speak Remus remarkably well as I clearly remember him reading my Nana's copy of it to me at her house when I was little. He also tended to make "Tar Baby" references when we wouldn't answer his questions. So into the shopping cart went Uncle Remus with the postscript of "Big Dean will read this to you, Wiley." Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on which side of the Mason-Dixon you fall on) we can't do Remus without sounding ridiculous or stuttering. Ah, good ole Brer Fox and Brer Rabbit.

See, what a good day!

And now my hubby is off buying his favorite whiskey or scotch (I don't know which or what the difference is) at a store where they seduce you into buying likely overpriced, but they make it sound oh so wonderful and smooth, spirits. Literally these men who drank too much at Oxford (that's what they told me themselves) speak poetry about whiskey all day and offer samples. They speak of woody and fruity flavors, and I wonder how it is they get paid to do this all day. Berry Brothers and Rudd if you are wondering. It's a London institution, and Wil's favorite luxury. St. James Park. Near Buckingham Palace. Go there. You will be woo-ed.

Anyway, hubs is buying whiskey. Child is taking a rest. Mom is about to un-pause Rod Stewart so he doesn't pick his nose. It's still a good day and now it's 4:05.

And if you made it this far you should probably fix yourself a drink, or drink a drink for me. You can raise your glass to my increasingly large belly and say "bless that unborn child whose mother writes unbearably long blogs, and may I never visit Wakeforestmama again!"

Cheers!

Uh-mer-i-cuh

Let's do a quick re-cap of our "holiday" back in the States. In no particular order and only because this is just about all of the pictures I took for an entire almost 4 weeks, may I present "Uh-mer-i-cuh 2k10"

While celebrating Sam and Amanda's wedding in Virginia, we had a tour of the Slemp's dairy farm. Below you will find a group (herd?) of preggo cows. I think some of us can relate to how they feel.

We went to the zoo with Helen. When a Larakeet landed on Wiley's hat and he flipped out, it might have been the funniest thing I've seen in awhile, but also possibly traumatic to Wiley. Oops, there goes "mother of the year" award. It sort of attached itself to his hat while Wiley tried to beat at it, screaming "Get it off. Get it off!" Meanwhile, the zookeeper frantically saved the bird from 4 year old fists. I wished I could have pulled my camera out faster.

We lounged by the pool before Wil had to return to London. So wonderful.

We went to the lake with "just grownups" and the dogs (not ours). Don't you pose your (friends') dogs in chairs when you go to the lake by yourselves (read: without kids)? Digger and Harvey looked regal, of course.

We watched Sam and Amanda (And Tommy and Chelsea) get married (not together). We also witnessed the world's largest bonfire that is not in Texas (A&M?).

Wiley took a picture of us feasting at Zoes. Heavenly.

We watched Aunt B learn to drive stick shift on the snazzy MGB.

Wiley rode his new-to-him bicycle with training wheels including his name on the back on an Alabama license plate in the CBS parking lot...only a few yards from where I learned to ride a bike without training wheels and nearly ran straight into a soccer goal (the metal part). Thanks Baba and Big Dean (for the bike; oh and I suppose not letting me bust into the metal pole?)

Mmm...watermelon at the lake. This boy could eat an entire one if we let him. Oh, wait, we did. And he is so possessive of his watermelon that when I tried to do a cool science experiment called "does the watermelon float or sink?" he flipped out, and my mom deemed it less scientific and more traumatic.

And on another un-related note, and only because I don't think this can be a post in itself, or maybe it can? We have a paddling pool in our back "garden." Yesterday, Wiley discovered it is full of tadpoles. I'm pretty sure they are tadpoles. So when we have a pool full of frogs, you know where you can come get a pet. I'm slightly grossed out but have decided for the sake of science and because I have a boy who likes gross things, we will keep the tadpoles for a bit and see what happens. The boy also found a snail, loved watching him crawl slowly, fed him a leaf, marveled at him, named him "Georgia Bulldawg," noted the slime left behind, and then stepped on him while watering a plant. RIP Georgia Bulldawg.

the Tower of London

While Mary Frances was here we ventured out to the Tower of London. Wil and I loved it when we visited London for interviews, but we had not taken Wiley there yet. I knew he would love it with the "beefeaters" and castle/knight stuff, not to mention the guards. It was perfect that Wiley and MF could see it for the first time together!

Watching the guard, who looked so young! He barely smiled when Wiley waved goodbye. Wiley could watch guards all.day.long.

{Hate history? Skip this paragraph! And if I got it wrong, I'm going from memory and remember, I'm not English.} Our lovely, totally refreshingly, un-P.C. Yeoman Warder (a.k.a. Beefeater) tour guide who periodically would casually mention how they would throw unwanted children at intruders or how he didn't like children, and Wiley immediately was paying attention to what children's involvement was at the Tower. You kind of think he is kidding, but in the end, it might have been the truth. He also threw in a few jokes (or insults) about the Scottish and of course the French. If you visit the Tower of London, do wait around for a Beefeater tour! These men (aside from being great military people; it is quite an honor to be a Yeoman Warder) are hilarious and all have a passion for English history that is quite contagious. This man in particular harbored a great hatred for Anne Boleyn that I haven't heard before in this country. Most dismiss it as "oh, yeah, Anne Boleyn" as you question them about what you learned from Philippa Gregory...they just don't seem to care either way. This guy though totally believed she had it coming and deserved what she got as he reminded us of the 7 affairs she had. He also felt strongly about the modern art that is a bit of a tribute to those beheaded in the Tower (including Anne and Kathryn Howard, I believe, who he felt sorry for as she was 19 and Henry was 49). "We should not have a tribute to those convicted of treason, they should be forgotten." Again, he certainly didn't hide his feelings. He did add too how after Henry split from Rome that More said it was too much power for one man to be head of the Church and King (More was executed as well). After I believe Kathryn's death, Henry had her remains destroyed (sorry, is that too graphic?) so that she would be unable to stand to be judged and thus enter heaven. It is at that point, our beefeater pointed out, that King Henry VIII became tyrannical. He had crossed the line. Hearing such bits of history from a true Englishman with such a passion for his country and its history that even the Scots, Welsh, and apparently those from Cornwall, don't quite measure up (all in jest...I think?) all while in one of the most historic places in the country, and perhaps world is really quite amazing! Again, if in London, put the Tower at the top of your list!

Whew, he didn't throw Wiley out!

Just having some fun with a crossbow!

Happy 4th of July!

I looked a bit online for quotes about our country. They were all great, but not quite right. On this 4th of July more than any other, I am so thankful for our country and those who have fought and continue to fight for our freedom. The things and liberties we take for granted would be cherished in any other country, yet I think our generation has lost sight of the importance of the principles for which our founding fathers fought. And as for a quote, I don't think it can be said any better than...

God Bless America!

Wimbledon

On Monday morning, Mary Frances and I decided to queue at Wimbledon for tickets...queue meaning "line up." Queuing in this country is a serious thing, and some say a sport. If it is a sport then the queue at Wimbledon is the Olympics. We arrived around 10 a.m. and received queue cards numbered 8,657 and 8,658. Meaning there were 8,656 people in front of us! Look below for a view of this colossal queue. After speaking to the Honorary Stewards (who were so nice...absolutely the best "customer service" I've ever had in this country!) as well as my sweet husband, we decided to leave and come back the next day.

When we came back on Tuesday, we woke up at 5:15, left the house by 6, and were at Wimbledon at 7 a.m. There was hardly any queue and within 15 minutes were were snaking our way towards Wimbledon (a mile and a half away). Our queue card numbers were 897 and 896...much better prospects. When it started raining, we were surprised but the fact that we could see the front of the queue and were dreaming of centre court kept us happy. A Metro paper was an umbrella for me and MF's fedora hat kept her dry...sorta.

We persevered through the rain and around 9:30/10 we got our wristbands for our court, went through security, picked up our tickets, and were in to the legendary All England Lawn and Tennis Club.

Oh, and we got Centre Court tickets. 3 rows back. For the women's quarterfinals.

In front of our court, enjoying Dutchees (like a hot dog) and one of us enjoying a Pimm's.

Kim Clijsters playing Vera Zvonareva. Vera upset Kim and is now in the finals!

And then we saw Serena Williams play Na Li. Serena was much more emotional than any of the other players we saw that day. I also think her dress should be a bit longer. Girl can hit that ball though. I always assumed that men hit the ball really hard, duh, but never really thought that the girls hit it that hard. Well they do.

Bye Serena!

After Serena, the Bryan brothers from the States came on and beat their opponent. Doubles was so much fun to watch especially since the points went so much faster! Towards the end of that match, Wiley and Wil came in! They didn't have any line (it was around 6) and paid a lot less. I gave Wil my ticket, and took Wiley around to the side courts where juniors were playing. We returned to Centre Court, hoping to convince the guards to let us in without tickets and with one underage for the show courts. Luckily, it was a lot quieter, and he let us in!

The next match was a women's invitational doubles match with Martina Navratilova, Jana Novotna, Conchita Martinez, and Nathalie Tauziat! It was so much more relaxed and Martina was really pretty funny.

Mary Frances and Wiley during the changeover of the doubles match!

Wiley did fantastic in Centre Court! He was quiet during play, and he only yelled "Go Martina!" once...unfortunately it was slightly delayed and a bit after everyone else did it! A ground crew worker even gave Wiley one of the balls from the match !

Wimbledon was absolutely amazing. To see such legendary players play at such a legendary place was a huge treat. We were surprised at how much smaller it is in person, too. On TV Centre Court looks huge, but in real life, it isn't as big as you think it is. Wimbledon was such a well run event that is truly open to anyone willing to stand in line and pay as little as 17 GBP to simply be on the grounds. If ever in London in late June, Wimbledon is a must. Just be prepared to queue! However, the strawberries and cream...not so much. Unless you like your strawberries swimming (and getting mushy) in thick milk. Pimm's on the other hand...that is a whole 'nother story!