Would you like a complimentary shot?

Two nights ago, Wil and I were out on the town. He found cheap tickets for Billy Elliott (I wish I was a dancer.), and a "Mexican" restaurant around the corner.

Enter man dressed as "Mexican" with Mexican-style blanket, sombrero who seats us.

(this looks promising, albeit weird.)

Enter waitress wearing a yellow shirt with Corona written on it. Repeatedly. Like it was a normal shirt, but with Corona on it over and over again.

(margaritas ordered. queso dip is denied. "yes, we have cheese on these dishes." no. that is not what we are after. at all. unsure now on this place, but margaritas are on the way.)

Enter waitress wearing a yellow shirt with Corona written on it. Repeatedly. Like it was a normal shirt, but with Corona on it over and over again. She asks what we want to drink. I think I'm going crazy. Then I realize it is a different waitress. Just in the same shirt.

(note to self: I don't want to work here. ever. they make you wear these shirts and your boss is wearing a blanket as a poncho.)

Margaritas arrive. Yes. Along with 10 chips, quac, salsa, and sour cream.

(save umbrellas in margaritas because Wiley will love them. they are still in my coat pocket.)

Order Chimichanga and Enchilada.

(can't mess up a chimichanga right? plus, i've never had one, so my expectations will be quite low. actually non-existent. enchilada is a gamble. wil is brave.)

Food arrives.

(mine is good. wil's is so-so. hey, at least we tried. i did like that they used a roast-type of beef for both, very English of them. Read:un-Mexican).

Check arrives.

Waitress #1 says, "Would you like a complimentary shot of tequila?"

(we exchange glances. if you know me, you know i kind-of-sort-of-very-much-so like tequila. and i love free stuff even more. well, sure. thanks!)

Shots arrive.

(we exchange glances again. is this for real? i think, this must be rot-gut. good thing it is only one. we like our hands, salt them, grab our lime, grab our tequila and toast to 4 years of marriage. we are classy like that.)

Ah. Tequila.

(neighboring table turns down free tequila shot. we are puzzled. who does that? should we ask them to take it and then give it to us? joking, joking.)

And on to Billy Elliott. Alcohol units for each: 2 (one margarita and one free tequila shot)

Pseudo Mexican restaurant: You were no La Carretta, Villa Fiesta, Zona Rosa, or that good one I had in Texas, Chuy's. But you did give me a free shot. Maybe to make up for the fact that you knew I was dreaming of the La Carretta patio and margarita pitchers shared with best friends (hubby included).

But. I did see Billy Elliott (amazing). And you can't do that after eating at La Carretta, Villa Fiesta, Zona Rosa, or even Chuy's. So there.

When in Rome...

er, or London. Lock up your "pram" or "buggy" with a lock whilst you go into story time at the local library. Don't have a lock? Don't worry, the library provides them for you.

Pictured here is the Maclaren Volo umbrella stroller, previously known as the lightest and best stroller to lug your 3 1/2 year old around in, on and off buses and the tube, but more recently known as the "I will amputate your child's finger if you don't watch out stroller." After being notified of the recall in the States, and trying to order the parts...I think it is a plastic cover perhaps that goes over the part that does the amputations...to be sent here, I had to call Maclaren UK.

Since they are made here, or at least based here, I figured it would be easy to get the repair part. However, all I got was a speech from an impatient Brit about how the parent or carer should not let children fold up the stroller themselves or stick their digits into folding pieces.

Bottom line, if you are an American, we will send you this part because you obviously are not smart enough to keep wiggling fingers away from hinges and the like. If you are English, however, we will not provide this part because we believe our fellow countrymen to be above the dense Americans who allow fingers to be clipped in strollers. In fact, 7 American children have 1/2 less digit on a hand, compared to the one child in England who has 9.5 fingers.* I'm not sure what this says about us back home.

Moral of the story: I guess I will have the part shipped home, then brought over here, and hopefully I will remember to put it on. (Just keeping it real.) Until then, I will continue to fold the buggy up myself, keeping small digits and my larger digits away from the hinges. I think we should be okay. And I'm pretty sure that the Brits think us to be a bit silly in all of this as I have already read an editorial regarding the recall in a newspaper. Oh, and I will knock on some wood for good effect because I'm worried now I've jinxed my fingers.

*Statistic given by previously mentioned impatient Maclaren representative.

Changing of the Guard

We got touristy yesterday. Yep. I decided that if we were living here, we needed to take advantage of the cultural things he can be learning while not in school (school...that is a different story!). When I say "I," I mean, a sweet friend reminded me that even if Wiley is not in school currently, he will learn a lot just from being in this city. (Thanks, friend.) However, w must exit the flat to learn from the city. So, after confirming that the Changing of the Guard at Buckling-ham Palace is on odd days currently, we wrapped up (It is suddenly cold here) and were headed to the tube station. We arrived a bit early, and we were able to get relatively close. The sweetest Australian couple was standing by us, and they helped move Wiley up to the fence between a Frenchwoman and a German woman. Don't worry, I could see him, and hold onto him. We waited about 45 minutes. It was cold. And kind of boring. Wiley entertained our neighbors. It is funny how the language barrier doesn't apply to 3 year olds. They were laughing and smiling (and saying stuff in German) at him as he made faces. He does this on the tube as well. And the bus. We make friends wherever we go with Wiley. That "don't talk to me-look at me-make faces at me-get near me-sit quietly and stare straight ahead" rule on public transportation does not apply to Wiley-man. That, too, is another story...or a few stories.

Anyway...back to the guards...

Finally, they started marching in. With a band. Who knew?

They lined up in their rows. A few lines had to be straightened out a bit, which surprised me. Wiley (and Dinosaur Dinosaur pictured below) thought it was funny too when the guards had to shuffle backwards to get in line.

There was a bit of shuffling around, checking out the guard house thing they stand in front of, a constant marching of the flags back and forth in front of the Palace, and then the band played some tunes. Our new Aussie friend noted that they were looking at sheet music while playing (they had music stands and everything); you would think they would have memorized the songs since they do it every other day? Maybe they take turns and it is a lot to memorize in addition to trying to be in straight lines (more challenging than one might think, apparently?)

So, we listened and watched. Then we watched the Metropolitan Police on horseback. The Police had already hollered out that there are "thieves operating in the area, and to guard your bags and belongings carefully." This small town girl was quite paranoid! Finally, Wiley had had enough. I don't know if I ever saw the guard in front of the palace actually change. Does he change? Who are the other soldiers lined up in rows? Are they coming in too? I wished I had someone to explain it to me! I think we saw the Grenadier Guard since the plumes were white.

Here is a website where you can read about what we saw!

Bottom line: Wiley likes guards, so he was happy. After standing there for an hour, he was not happy. This is good for little boys or those who like guards. However, I'm not sure I will be returning to see it. It is obviously a neat tradition, but awfully touristy and a bit hard to see or understand the whole picture. Maybe do your research before going? And it starts at 11:30. You should be there by 10:45 if you want to be near the fence to see, I think. And no, we weren't in jail. We were by the fence. And yes, Dinosaur Dinosaur had a grand time, too.

{Sidenote: Before the ceremony started/as we were walking up to the Palace, a taxi pulled in. The people got out and went into the Palace. Now, how you go anywhere is up to you--tube, taxi, bus, plane, train whatever. But if I am getting to go into Buckling-ham Palace, I am coming in a sleek car. Maybe a Rolls Royce. A classic, vintage one. Maybe I'd stoop to a BMW? But certainly, not a taxi (although currently taxis are a luxury for us!). I mean, come on. You are going to Buckling-ham Palace. Arrive in style! }

Spotted

a "star movie" at Portobello Road market trying on a variety of sunglasses.

could he be setting the trend with a red knit hat and pink shades layered on top of green ones?

eating a cupcake near the market.

no. not hummingbird bakery.

it's a knock-off. but don't tell him.

(mom and dad did not want to stand in the long line.)

*confused? "star movie" = movie star, according to wiley.

we called him a movie star in his red hat. he liked that, and continued to say "i'm a star movie" the rest of lunch. then when i jokingly said "oh look, a "star movie." (referring to him) he looked around the restaurant and said "where?"

i don't know what to think when your 3 year old knows to look for "star movies."

hope you are having a wonderful weekend!

Just Dance...or listen!

Buffett Concert...Thanks for the music influence, Dad!

As I take a quick break from a dance party with this really cute 3 year old, I have a question or a thought about the music we listen to these days. {No, this isn’t a diatribe about rap because I can’t lie, I enjoy 50 Cent, Akon, and Usher about as much as the next girl.}

Dancing around to Jimmy Buffett (first “the song about cheeseburgers” and now “the shark song”) with my little man, I thought about when I first began to like Jimmy. It started with my Dad, of course, who I think is a closet Parrott Head. My sister sang Cheeseburger in Paradise at a tropical restaurant/bar in Abaco, Bahamas when she was maybe 6. Yes, 6. She also knocked a parrot to the ground on the same day. Sassy, even at 6. (At least, I think 6…correct me if I’m wrong, mom). So if W is on track at all, he too could be singing Buffett at bars (daytime of course!) in 3 years…and when I’m vacationing in the Bahamas…hah!

Point of this whole post is this: What music did you listen to when you were little (aside from Raffi and Ms. Glazner from Pilgrim Preschool) that maybe you didn’t like (but your parents did) or perhaps you did enjoy it (thank you, Jimmy Buffett)? Have you suddenly realized you have come full circle, listening to the same music your parents like?

I’ll give you a couple examples:

My mom used to listen to Rod Stewart. I was not particularly fond of those tapes as they were back in the day. However, in high school, I went to my first Rod Stewart concert. I still love him even though he is too old to be wearing bright pink spandex tops at concerts.

The Eagles? (Okay, I didn’t have anything against them, but now I appreciate that my dad actually liked good music.)?

John Denver? (Wiley already knows Country Roads) (And here is a story: I once found the lyrics to Country Roads in my Dad’s guitar case. I had not heard the song before. I read the lyrics, saw they were good, and decided my dad had been holding out on us. We were going to be rich and famous because my dad had written this fabulous song. Unfortunately, John Denver beat him to the punch, and my dad was only trying to learn the guitar chords and lyrics to sing. Yes, laugh if you must. This is a vivid memory in my mind.)

Oh, and ANY oldies. I think those are always cool. The Temptations? Aretha? Tina Turner (is she an oldie?)? Yes, please!

Who are your “classics” that were cool when your parents were chasing you around and are still cool today?

[speak up friends! Comments welcome! I think you can even comment without signing up. Ain’t too proud to beg, sweet readers. I promise this is the last music post.]

Dear Country Music,

As I listen to my all time favorite Brad Paisley, I realize suddenly that I am listening to country music! I have returned to it from a stage filled with Jack Johnson/chill/type music (except for the two times I have gone running, and that was filled with Rhianna and other rap stars.) Yes, I have returned. My last encounter with country music was as I was unpacking in my new flat and wanted to cry because I longed for all that country music sings about. I shut you out of my life for a bit, but honey, I have returned. And with an ode, to boot! (I have gotten a lot done on my to-do list, so my reward was to write this ode, as silly as it may be!)

Dear Country Music:

We were both young when I first heard you. I was litty bitty listening to you on the radio buying Alan Jackson’s greatest hits, jamming out and pretending to be way down yonder on the Chattahochee. Dancing to Tim McGraw with best friends, barbecue stains on our [monogrammed] white t-shirts, yeh something like that. Our fun continued, from the classics to the nasal-y Rascal Flatts where we dreamed of fast cars and freedom. Life moved on from sweet home Alabama to North Carolina and then…

My husband said “Let’s move to London. I’ll be the prince and you be the princess…baby just say yes!” I said, “I was born country, there is no way! This is where I want to raise my kid, just like my mom and daddy did.” But alas I’d a had to miss the dance and didn’t want to be standing outside the fire, missing out on a once in a life opportunity. So country radio I did leave.

Unpacking my bags with sirens and car horns blaring, I longed for a small town Saturday night. Some here say I might have my lipstick on a little too bright. And I’ll substantiate the rumor that the English sense of humor is drier than the Texas sand. I missed the friendliest people […] you’ve ever seen. And well it is cold over here, and I swear, I wish they’d turn the heat on. I shut you out country music, and turned to moody John Mayer. And then one day, when the sky is blue, I returned. And I’m going to love you, like nobody loves you. Oh, country music, You know I love my chicken fried, cold beer on a Friday night, a pair of jeans that fit just right, and the [country] radio up. But for now I will learn to love my meat pies, dark, warm lager at noon on a Wednesday, and a pair of Wellies that keep me dry, and my iTunes turned up to my dear friends Tim, Kenny, Brad, Keith, Taylor, Johnny, et al.

xoxo,

wakeforestmama

PS: I can't figure out how to share this song with you but check out Jerry Jeff Walker's London Homesick Blues for a fun, hilarious country song about, you guessed it, London!

....

the most "country" picture of me i could find. also the worst picture of me. but if you made it this far on this post, i guess you can see it!

Happy Halloween!

We hope everyone had a wonderful Halloween last night! We certainly missed trick or treating with friends and family, but London/our little neighborhood put on quite a show! Some houses were decorated to the nines complete with chainsaws and/or Thriller music (Scooby Doo did not care for these houses). We even met a Georgia fan out on the street! I saw the Georgia "G" on their cups, and how could I not say something? Aunt B, you would have been so proud when Scooby told the 2 UGA grads "How bout them dawgs!?" The Georgia Dad was dressed as Elvis, so obviously did an Elvis-voice "How bout them Dawgs."

Scooby Snacks? No, just straight up sugar!

Daddy (Shaggy as Scooby wanted him to be called) and Scooby Doo!

Spotted: Elderly crossing sign.

Because you need to see the close up that includes hunched backs and canes.

CANDY! (+ token apple...someone always has to give out fruit, right?)

I call this "too much sugar gives us crazy eyes!"

Mmmm Sugar! (someone always has to give out plastic tubes filled with sugar...this year there were three!)

I may be a little biased, but I have come to the conclusion that Scooby was probably the cutest kid out there. It was almost like literally carrying around a real puppy with all the "aw, how cute!'s" and "look at Scooby! how sweet!" He was quite the hit! Kudos to the 3 blind mice, peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and milk and cookie costumes I saw out there. Much nicer to look at than the scary masks, vampires, and fake-blood themed costumes! (I was surprised, though, to not find a single High School Musical themed costume or a Hannah Montana.)

Hope you are recovering from your sugar highs today! What were you for Halloween? What was the best costume you saw out there?