My story to tell.

I have been questioning a lot lately, more than normal, even for me. What is it that makes us see life the way we do? So many things happen to shape an individual view, one that becomes all your own, that you think is totally normal (and it likely isn't) or one that you think is unique (and it is really all too common).

I sway on a pendulum with certainty between feeling as though I have not experience enough, need to get out and do more, that my life has been simple and sheltered to feeling the depth of all I have experienced, seeing each bit as something that I can own.

While watching a movie recently (The Beginners... I would recommend it for sure, a bit quirky but really good!) I cried, no shocker, these days I dry at the drop of a hat with media programming, though these weren't any tears. I realised that they were not only the predictable tears of sadness, but they were of anger as well. There were notes in the story that struck me where I didn't realise I was vulnerable. There are things I have witnessed, but a part of, support during, that I did not realise had the lasting effect on me that they did. Though I never felt able to talk about it much, they weren't my stories to tell, they were not my grievances or my deaths to mourn, I was the friend, the support. It is only now that I realise what it has done to me, how it has shaped my view of the world, and due to a few friends feel that they are actually my stories to tell as well. My experiences and mine alone are to tell, I cannot account for what it is like to be the young child of a dying parent, that wasn't me. I was the friend, who was there, once through it all and once as we or I didn't see it as a big deal, until it was, and until it was too late. There were a few others, mom's best friend, a personal friend, uncle, grandparent's.

I have made another revelation in it all, through another death that is quite liberating, and I am glad to have discovered. I had not realised but my experiences had shaped that it was normal, if not somewhat expected to lose a parent early in life, not always in school, but twenties, thirties, etc... I see that point of view now as a defence mechanism, I saw it happen around me, so it was likely to happen to me as well, something I would have to deal with soon, though I am learning to realise that this is not the norm in the society we live in. My mother in law lost her mother this year, she is in her early 60's, and her mother lived a long wonderful life and passed away at 97 (to Alex's memory). What a freeing thing to realise, I know that I must face these trouble someday, but I can let go of expecting to deal with the pains so soon. I know it can, happen, anything can, but it isn't healthy for me to worry that it is.

Though in these cases I am not a main character, but a supporting role, I too have a view point, and vantage point, I have a story to tell, and one that I now realise is mine to share.

When my world stopped turning...

All news reports have been 9/11 focused the last week, I have to be honest and say that it in conjunction with working from home (has it's pros and con's) has not helped my emotional levels and anxiety issues. We have watched documentaries and been bombarded with news reports of the possibility of yet another attack. I didn't personally know anyone that died that day, but i knew the fear that many felt, the confusion and the disillusion of what the World was becoming.

It happened my senior year of high school... year 12... or the last year of high school/ college for all of my non-American friends. I was in computer class, doing my work without a clue of what was happening in the outside world. We were all scheduled to attend an assembly in the gymnasium in honor of one of our teachers... Mr. Collins, he was being honored as teacher of the year for the state I believe, or something similar. As we made our way to the doors, a few friends ran up informing me that the world was ending, the world as we knew it, they told of the crashes and the terror and the fear... though I am not sure it had fully sunk in. We went through the assembly, obviously a bit different as the teachers had a responsibility of dealing with hundreds of kids and our questions, concerns and issues. I then headed to college English with Mrs. Davila, we sat on our desks that were tables and stared in unison at the television as long as was possible, the same scenes over and over, the planes flying into the buildings... the terror on the faces of those fleeing the building, the security that was going into effect around the rest of the country. Tara, my best friend growing up, we realized was wearing a shirt that day, it read New York on it and had the skyline in the background, the twin towers standing tall and proud.

I left school that day to meet up with a friend, Gay Bates, to go to dinner and shopping. We kept with our plans, not really knowing what else to do. But when we got to the shops, half of them had closed down, the restaurant  we ate at had the news blasting on every television. I stopped on the way home behind the lines of people to get gas, as the nation was unsure of what would become of our fuel supply, of everything. And I got news that my dad's work was under careful surveillance, the nuclear power plant was enforcing a no fly zone over their premises and they were under ultra high security.

That is all I really remember about it, I think I mentally removed myself from the rest of it, wouldn't let it really sink in or really deal with the fear it caused me to have.

For a final project in that college English course we did a copulation of our own writings, there were several titles we were given to walk us through our lives. We had the leisure to change them if we felt like they didn't relate to us. I don't remember what the topic had been, but I remember making it into "where was I when my world stopped turning" It had stories of friends parent's passing away, a friend of mine dying, Princess Diana dying, 9/11, and Columbine. Since then, there have been many other stories that could be added to this chapter, all playing a huge part of my life, and the more I come to understand myself, the more I realize that I have not dealt with so many of them to the extent they deserved, or that my heart has needed.  

I hope that as tomorrow comes and goes, the world stays calm, remembers and takes time to realize how blessed we all are, how much we take for grated and to stop and truly enjoy life and what we have!

A child in a grown up world

It amazes me how I have a "real" job, pay rent and live this grown up life of bills and responsibilities... and yet.... I feel like an absolute child so much of the time. These bumps (the doctor says it's an allergic reaction, of course it is, my stupid over sensitive skin), I have been given some prescription cream, but it isn't helping now and all I want to do is itch it, Alex the parent in the situation gets onto me and forces me to stop. And shocker, I don't want to! I want to scratch and itch until I can't possibly do it any longer, if it were up to me, the irresponsible child in the situation I would probably go until my skin gave way and I began to bleed.
I don't like it and it's not fair, but then... life is not fair I guess. In my full adult rational I have deducted shopping would help! Ah, if only! I have made my basket, and filled it up on the Internet... the items will sell, and go home to someone else's address, be wonderful surprises in their boxes and adorn their bodies on wonderful fun adventures.

I feel my natural coping mechanisms kicking in... mine, it is reversion! I want to cuddle up in a blanket, with a big bowl of ice cream and watch shows and movies from years ago, springing to mind are boy meets world and home improvement.

The difference in my mind is that as a child it is all harmless, it would be some silly little thing, I would be able to curl up and watch all the silly little shows I wanted to, my mom would bring me the bowls of ice cream and dad would make the best cinnamon toast the world has ever known. I would lay on the floor on a make shift pallet of the downstairs den and be pampered to my hearts desire. The reality of now, Alex also does not feel well, he has more of a cold which thank God I have not caught yet, the two together would be even more miserable. So, I still help cook, and clean, and take care of Baxter, the household responsibilities are still there and we don't have any ice cream... or enough blankets to make a pallet.

I hope that some day I am able to spoil my children the way I remember it, so the horrible times of coughs, itches, aches and all the pains that are unavoidable during a lifetime so the time passes by and what is left are the good memories of it.

Waiting for Summer...

As the weekend marks the beginning of September, official back to school-football season- and all the wonderful autumn bits in my mind I realize that something significant is missing... I am still waiting for summer to start. I am quite confused of what happened in the natural order of seasons. We went from a cold December, they say the coldest in years, though I fully believe I only feel that way because at the time we were living in a drafty flat with no wonderful bathtub and I walked much more than I normally have to outside during these times, to and from the tube. A few small dashings of snow fell this year and the city came to a bit of a grinding halt, public transport slowed if not stopping all together and people caused a fuss. We got past the winter though and came into Spring. There were some "unseasonably" warm days I was told. They were lovely spring days... and I too found myself giving into the wimpyness of the Londoners with their ultra sensitive climate noticing bodies. Complaining at the heat of the 20 degree temperature range.... 30... getting above thirty! That was unheard of, unacceptable, just far too hot... I mean that is the kind of weather we had in Marrakech! We then came into summer, or so this is what the dates told me, though I continued to wait on the "summer" weather. I heard consistent reports from the states of the 100 plus fahrenheit  weather they had day after day. I did wear shorts some, but was always sure to have a cardigan or sweater along.

London doesn't have the true four seasons, I am a bit disappointed to say. I haven't found myself urning to wear my jeans, blazers, sweaters and coats... though instead I have been wearing them throughout the entire year. It does help with shopping a bit, as you wear everything, all year round. Though it takes away from so much of the fun of having different groups of clothes.

So, as I realize to me, summer really wasn't ever here... I never wore a swimsuit in London, only on our holidays (Italy, Sweden, and Morocco were the only destinations warm enough to grant such a luxury.) I never wore many of my tank tops without a cardigan near by. The air conditioner was never turned on, no fan was needed, we did open the windows some, though not necessarily to help cool down, but just to let a bit of the fresh outside in.

The cult of vanity

We go through life thinking we know ourselves oh so well, we know what we like and don't and what is important to us. I wouldn't be so daring to make the over confidant statement that I don't care about looks... I do, I love fashion, the art, the feel, the experience and just the all encompassing... well everything of fashion. I like to be somewhat fit and not look like a total slob, but I see all of these more as just being myself. I don't wear much make up, I wear comfortable clothes often (OK... all the time), and heals are usually put on at the last moment, I don't go to tanning beds or have fake nails, breasts, nose or anything fake for that matter. 

Though there have been a few times in life when I get knocked back and realize that I myself too am part of this vain club. Once, was the first year of high school, I was at a football game and decided I needed gum, purchased a blow pop and bit down a bit too hard and popped off a false covering which had been placed years earlier over a chipped tooth, a mishap from my younger years. I had a full on freak out, and demanded my mother aid me in getting a dentist to do an emergency call over the weekend. With my talking and thinking we actually decided to wait for 1st thing Monday morning... I remember her asking me to really think about how horrible I was being, how difficult I really thought I had it. I thought about it and gave in, realizing how easy I really did have it and how much more difficult others really did have it. She took me to an area called galloway village, we popped in and out of little shops, I resisted talking to people on the chance they might notice the small bit missing from my tooth. This area, galloway, later became my secret, or not so secret refuge. It has a trail that runs through the village and the park called sequiota, and many, many days I managed self provided therapy via my runs there. 

Now some 9 years later, I find myself again struggling with an issue, being vain and wanting to remain covered, trying to remember how much more difficult so many others have it. I don't really know what is wrong with me, there are just small bumps on my legs, they itch and some now appear on my arms, and stomach. I go to the doctor tomorrow and am in serious prayer that they will be able to help straight away. Most people don't notice it.. OK no one does unless they see me itching it. I notice it, I think it is shouting out at the world. When Alex and I first met he loved my legs, and still does... thus I became emotional and freak out that he can't possibly love my legs anymore. He assures me that this is not the case, that he doesn't notice them unless I itch them and draw it to his attention with my complaining. 

I know I need to step back and realize the fortune that I have, as well as I am sure so many other people do.  I am grateful for all that I have been blessed with and the wonderful health I have been given! 

Man's best friend

I snuggle, hug and kiss Baxter daily, tell him how much I love him and goof around with him day in and day out. I have realized how much he has brought to our lives before, how much we laugh at him and how he has caused us to have thoughts on what it will be like when we have children, though the children you cannot toss a bone to and lock them in the flat for a few hours. The children will also be able to go on holiday with us and be welcomed at most restraints and shops where Mr. Baxter... is not. There are huge differences, I don't want anyone with a child to think I am saying they are the same... it is just a good.. test run if you will to ease us into the concept of having something that is fully dependent upon us, on our schedule, on us for everything to survive.

It wasn't until today when I saw a preview for a show they will be airing on Animal Planet that it hit me, how much Baxter really has saved me. The shows concept is on victims of 9/11 ten years later, it shows two families and how them having a dog has made such a difference. One is a mother who lost both of her firefighter sons, whom has adopted one of theirs Dalmatians. The other is a little girl whom at the age of 2 (i think) fled from the building with her nanny. She was suffering obviously from PTSD and her mother had the idea to get her a little Yorkie. They talked about how she began to become her old self. She now 10 years later speaks about how the dog truly saved her and brought her to who she is.

Moving here was difficult, it still is tough being here at times. My friends are thousands of miles away. I have made acquaintances here, but no one (other than Alex) who knows what I am thinking without me saying anything, or who understands me through mumbles, knows which places I would and wouldn't go for lunch or understands strange bits about me, these kinds of relationships are hard to find and once found, they don't happen overnight. I was lonely, really lonely and cried and struggled a lot. Alex did and continues to do all he can but there is just a limit to how much one person can do for you. In February we found the new member of our family that we had been looking for, and he will never know the impact he has had on our lives.

He gives me something to take care of and loves you when you;re in a good mood or bad. He has a funny way of knowing when I am upset or crying and manages to calm his usually crazy self down. He picks up on the weird games I make up and Alex reminds me how weird I am... Baxter plays right along. And against one of my biggest fears, he snuggles with me all the time and gives me lots of licks. I have never seen or heard of a dog being so snugly ever. He is the best puppy spooner!

I thank Alex for making the trip to Wales and buying me the most perfect for us dog ever all the time. I don't want to think of how my emotions might have struggled with out him, as they still have some pretty rough days. He gives a lick, and you know not only do I have my partner in life on my side and there to help, but also a furry fella that helped my sanity beyond measure.

They say dog is man's best friend, and I believe it now more than ever, they are life changing and make an incredible difference!

Cutting the meat

I have issues with some foods, this is not new news to most who know me well, one of the foods, that I tend to have the biggest issue with is... MEAT! I can't deal with it in a lot of states, it isn't the tenderness in my heart for animals (except when it comes to rabbit and duck, these... that is added in and I just can't deal, it is like a dog to me, the thought is unimaginable, though that is not all true, I have tried them... Alex has prepared them and I have tried.) It is something about the bones, the tendons, the bits... ugh. Alex has gotten to the point to understand that he is the one in charge of dealing with it. He takes care of the de-boning and the picking up after the meat products. which I am thankful for!

I have dabbled with the idea of becoming vegitaian before, though never followed through. We think about it at times, but it would be difficult with out Alex buying into the idea so... he has bought into the idea of cutting down on it.

Many people don't think at all about what is put in their bodies, that makes everything easier... but it is like sticking your head in a hole... how is it any different than not voting and complaining for the entire term about who was elected... or never studying and being upset of your grade.... never going for a walk/run/exercise and wondering why you are out of breath when you do have to walk... there is simply no excuse.

I myself am not without guilt, I do still drink Diet coke... though I am proud to say I am down to one a day at the most... and will continue to drop. But it is about the consciousness. Do you realize what is goign into your body, what those ingredients are, what you are ingesting an what it does to both your mind, and waist line. We all often forget of the impact that our ingestion has on our mental health.

getting you back to you

The first weekend in August we went to Belgium to celebrate our anniversary and hang out with some friends, it was truly a great time. We took the Eurostar so there was no pain and stress from the airport and air travel, which was a welcomed change after our slew of flights. We got home not all too late as we had been getting home from holiday at one or two am.... so our 9 pm return was wonderful. We had decided to have a box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese left by my mom when she had come to visit. As I made it Alex made the comment of how it must bring me a bit of comfort to make something so familiar to me, a food which should be accredited for the main source of my nutrition growing up (sadly enough).

When he said that something in me clicked, ya, it is comforting, it is familiar. The up and coming Twinings adverts have the theme of getting you back to you... when Alex said to me what a comfort making the meal must feel like it clicked, it in a way... got me back to me... I then began to think of those other small things that are just me. When they happen, we I do them, whatever the case may be, I just feel at absolute ease, comfort, familiarity. Some, I can do anywhere, others, are specific to location, then some, sadly, will probably never happen.

Running to the left from the sequoita park, parking lot, the route to the school and back, four miles in total, ear phones in and the promise of a wonderful sonic vanilla diet Dr.. pepper awaiting me for reward... maybe a McAlisters chocolate chip cookie if I am feeling extra generous. Then there is the sushi take away ritual, this is the one I am quite sure is  not replaceable. Part of what made it so wonderful that it was just me, going home, to my apartment, all alone, spreading out my feast on the coffee table (now gone as well) and watching some favorite programing. It could be Nakatos or Ocean Zen, but to do the job at it's best, it would of course be Nakatos. I am ok that this can never happen again, It is sad to me but I will get on. Other such things are going to the Plaza for a day of shopping in Kansas City. Again, for the greatest effect it would be me by myself, alone, on a days get away. There are several others, going for a walk in the park with Carrie, or Ashley (or at the Y), eating banana surprise while sitting on my couch and relaxing which I haven't had here in London as they don't have mini chocolate chips. Having the chocolate chip cookie dough concoction made in the microwave with ice cream and berries... this is best enjoyed with Molly... then there is often ache and complaints of our overfull overly indulged stomach.

In London I haven't found as many of these special rituals, I do feel at absolute ease when visiting whole foods in South Kinsington, I feel a special ease roaming the high street of Hampstead or Crouch end. Snuggling with Baxter, that is pure wonderfulness.

These are the wonderful things in life that go un-noticed, the things that you don't think about, you just do, they bring you comfort and peace on ordinary days and in times of distress and life's trials and tribulations.

I encourage everyone to look into the things that get them back to themselves, relish those moments, and realize the great value they really have.

Unknown fear

What is it about Americans that leaves people thinking so many American's are out of touch with the rest of the world? This was one of the many topics discussed on my recent trip to Belgium. As I explained away possible reasons I found myself sharing the explanation I realized was my excuse as to why I feel so out of touch, why I did, and why I still do. Traveling more and more definitely helps, but there is still a distance that I have from the realities of the real World. I have no idea what it is like to live the type of life that so many others do. I need for nothing, I want for a lot, but not really all that much, and all of it is merely wanting. I don't know what it is like to go to bed hungry (short of the occasional fast required for blood work). I don't know what it is like to go to bed or wake up scared, not on a usual basis at least, most of what I fear is truly my imagination. I have healthcare, be in private or public dependent upon my country of residence.

This gap has become more aware to me as I experience bits and pieces of the way that the other world lives day in and day out. Still, my experiences are on very low levels, but none the less, it makes me aware of my utter ignorance and lack of true understanding to what their lives must be like.

For Alex's birthday we went to Morocco. I was excited, for all but the flight, and we did have a great time, looking back. We got there and I was excited and in awe because of the differentness we were surrounded by, I still remember the wonderful sweet man that drove us to and from our raid, most of the people we truly encountered were wonderful. Though it was there people we didn't interact with that caused me stress, a lot of stress. I felt like they saw me as an enemy, like they must hate me, I couldn't see a lot of their faces due to traditional coverings and I didn't know what hate for me they were hiding under there. I know that this is not true, but to me, the fear was real. It only became all the more real when standing right next to the hotel/ cafe that a bomb had been set off a month before, our wonderful lonely planet guide book had even instructed us to go there for a drink. Then there was the call to prayer, I was fine with this throughout the day, they did it several times the call came from the minaret and cycled around for around 10 minutes. I had apparently been so exhausted the first night that I remained unaware of the 4 am calling. On our second night or morning should I say, I heard it loud and clear, 4 AM! Being sunday morning I heard it and assumed that they were calling to wake everyone up for church, once looking at the clock and seeing the time, I went into full on panic mode. Bless Alex and his unending patience with me, at all times of the day or night. I was for sure it was my time, they were coming to get all the infidels, and I was one of them. After much reassurance and much calming I did manage to make it back to sleep, but I feel confidant saying that I did not truly relax the entire trip (my illness at the end did not help but who knows how it played into or was affected by my stress and fear). My fear was not full justified, to me it was, in my wonderful overactive imagination it was, but compared to most, it couldn't have been much different than a normal day in London.

Las week the fear of London was heightened as well. The riots brought a sense of unrest across the entire city, shops closing down early, people fearing if their borough would be the next to get hit. We joked around a lot of the absurdity of our area being one. A friend even made a statement as to what would they benefit from looting crouch end... artisan pastries and yummy mummy buggies. Ha, right. Though on Tuesday as I rode the bus home I saw more and more shops with their windows boarded up, the only part of this familiar to me was as though they were boarding up for a hurricane, but they weren't it was for angry, crazy people. I decided I needed to stop at a local place right away for dinner essentials instead of heading home then back out again. I got off, picked up my bits and bops and headed to check out. As I was searching for Duvel (a Belgium beer, for Alex) a couple near by was joking about how everyone was stocking up on the essentials incase they were unable to leave their flat for weeks, I gave a chuckle and thought nothing of it. After I checked out, I waled outside to be greeted by 8-12 youth, males, hoodies on, pulled up, ready to attack. I could not believe what I was seeing and fear ran through me, I quickly turned the corner to make my walk home when another boy was straight in-front of me. The couple whom had made the joke was also walking in-front of me, I speed up a bit and asked if I could walk close to them to look like we were all together, hoping this would help scare off anyone thinking I was traveling alone. They offered to give me a ride home as their car was there and I gladly accepted. Upon returning home (Alex wasn't expected for another 30-45 minutes). After much terror and freaking out, getting aid from friends on skype and facebook, (thanks Paul, Hilary, and Molly!). Alex made it home, but he was a bit late as he had stopped at a shop too, thinking I would be too flustered to remember to stop. Things were fine, we were not bothered, and from what we have heard and seen nothing around us was disturbed either, but I can not imagine living with that fear or any fear even close regularly.

The fears are gone for now, I can get up and pick up a snack, it all makes me realize how out of touch myself and so many others are with the fears and issues that so many of the world experience on a daily basis. Why I don't understand it because it is so difficult to believe that  it could be some ones existence to hold such fear and hardships. What we see on television seems like another world, a movie or game, but it is life and it is very real. I am beyond grateful for my blessing of safety and nourishment, but I need to remember it daily and never take it for granted, because I can't say when riots will break out, or any other unforeseen change may come along.

honest memories....

I often find my self 'Talking' to my mamaw. She passed away a few years ago, my mind cannot remember the date, as it cannot remember her birthday, I think I mourn the loss enough without remembering specific days to make it all the worse, so for this I am very glad. I remember losing other people, I remember their specific days, but I can't with you, it becomes a blur. I miss calling you and catching up, I miss laughing at my dad and you laughing at me, and telling me about things from when I was little. Or about my dad when he was my age, the fights he and Aunt Carolyn used to have (I think you said he broker her arm once or something) But now I can't remember the details, not without you hear. I remember each and every thing about your apartment, and I remember your old apartment and how wonderful I thought it was. You lived in the city, and I thought it was so wonderful and exotic.
I wish I could send you post cards now, and I will I could tell you all about what is happening, get your opinion and tell you my stresses. You were some how this wonderful source of secret holding, a bit of an independent party offering sound advice, a listening ear, and consistent loving. I remember at your funeral, Kelly (our family friend and pastor) asked for memories about you, I couldn't talk, I didn't say anything. There were so many wonderful fun memories spinning around in my head, but I couldn't share them. I think they ended up deciding to ask my cousins, the ones whom had always lived closer to you, they would surely have more memories. But when he shared them with the congregation he didn't mention you letting me actually take an egg and break it on the side walk because we concluded together that it was surely hot enough to fry an egg (it did nothing, just kind of sat there, and we laughed). He didn't talk about you scrubbing my hair so hard with your long nails as you washed it, or over watering my mom's benjamina ficus plant while we were away on holiday. He didn't mention your stories of Moody's goose or poking my stomach to find "empty" spots when I said I was full and simply could not eat anymore, you would find a spot. He didn't mention your consistent mix up of Jamie and I's names and how you used to sing Chantilly lace and the song with the moon hitting the sky and the big pizza pie. He didn't because I couldn't open my mouth. I remember them all daily though. I remember calling you at the end, and you being tired on the phone, I told you that you would get better again, that you would be fine... and I remember you telling me that you didn't think you would that time. It broke my heart, more than you would ever know. I wanted nothing more than to drive down and just hold you, I wanted to sit there with you and hang out, I wanted so bad for everything to go back to how it was, talking about dresses and silly stories and good food. Dad said I couldn't that I shouldn't, that he didn't want me to see you at that state, but I don't know that I will ever forgive myself for listening to him (probably the only time I will say that in my life).
You always took care of me, even when you were sick, I still remember feeling so horribly sick on my last visit with you. You laid me down and put a cool wash cloth on my head. You with your bald head and your long moo moo dress on. I listen to "At Last" by Etta James, and the tears fall. It is a bit of the emotional cutter in me, I know I will cry, not even cry but sob, but I still do it anyway, it is like a force that I cannot stop, it just helps me to feel a bit closer to you.
I wish you could have met Alex, you would love him, absolutely adore him. I can hear you now going on and on about him. I try to explain you to him, to share with him the love and passion  you had, but I can't just do you justice. In a way, I feel like he doesn't know all of me, or can't, not without knowing you. I wish you could hold my children, and give them your wonderful hugs and kisses, tease them and tell them the embarrassing stories from when I was little.
I know there is nothing I can do to bring you back, but I will continue to remember you every day, I will still cry at the thoughts of you. I will try not to because I am sure it isn't what you would want, but I am not strong enough not to.

Umbrella people

I would like to think few things annoy me, though, I would also like to be an honest person and am not sure this is so true. I think a lot of things probably annoy me, actually I know they do. The one that got me again today, is the umbrella people. That is my name for them at least, now, I am not against umbrellas at all, they come in very hand, especially in a city where rain (light, misty, somewhat also annoying rain) is a common happening. Though I am still a much bigger fan of the rain jacket and shoes. I personally think I have the best rain gear... the only thing missing is a trench coat, though I am in no rush to get this. I have the two most wonderful coats, one a black arc'teryx (if this means nothing to you... you need to know it, and check out more outdoor gear). The other is a wonderful Barbour (if this means nothing to you... traditional British brand that you really should be aware of!) It is a dark forrest green with the most wonderful pink rose liberty material. Then there is the oh so wonderful black hunter boots (with neoprene lining, for added warmth and comfort). I mean, really.... what else do you need. Ok, I do have an umbrella, though when I am carrying it, I refuse to be an... "umbrella" person.
You are probably asking yourself what exactly what an "Umbrella person" well, let me tell you. An Umbrella person is one of those annoying people whom seem to have no concept of how much room their umbrella takes up. These are the people whom run into you, or collide with others carrying umbrellas, or possibly worst, catch you in between them and another umbrella person. Ugh! If it is barely sprinkling, are you really so precious that you must have an umbrella? Are you made of sugar and oh so sweet where you just might melt? Ya, for some reason, I just don't think so... so put your umbrella away!
Anyway, there is my rant, I recommend everyone just get better rain gear so you don't have to carry around a big awkward tent around with you! :)

Rat Dog

As we have moved, we now move a little over a mile from the tube station, it is a nice, walk, no real harm. Though I have had a go at an ignorant man cycling behind me whom found the need to inform me that he liked the way my body moved or some bit of disgusting information, which I told him just that.... I believe my wording was something like, "You know what... you're sick." to which he replied something (no clue really what this was) and I asked politely, yet very firmly for him to please not speak to me. Though Alex still often walks down with Baxter to meet me, especially if it is night, or I will take a bus. After a colleague being mugged recently (not in this area, but still) and our bike being stolen (the old mountain bike... locked up outside, the cut the thick wire) I am more than happy to take his company. We have recently run out of the small bags that are attached to Bax's lead to pick up the poos he decides to deposit along walks. As he walked me home the other day he told me about his journey down to meet me, since he had forgotten to grab another bag, he decided to use a nearby leaf to cover it. After leaving the freshly laid poo... sealed off by leave he continued to walk only to encounter a group of kids, whom when they passed claimed that Baxter looked like a rat! ah, a rat! Are you kidding me... 1. he looks nothing like a rat, 2. daily we are stopped by people saying how cute he is and wanting to pet him 3. he makes everyone smile (other than this dumb girl apparently). He watched which way they walked, and had a slight laugh since it was in the direction of the poo bomb waiting to be detonated. He hoped karma would have the upper hand and give this snarky little girl a taste of Baxter's revenge. After him telling me this, I was annoyed, but there wasn't much to do about it. Baxter is for all intensive purposes... our child for the moment! He is our little pride and joy, the one we cuddle up with and snuggle for hours on end, he brings us laughter, joy, fear and the rest of the great spectrum of emotions that can be bestowed upon by such a small furry creature.  As we made our way home there was a group of kids leaning against a car, one doing something at a house. Again, with passing them the snarky girl boldly stepped up and claimed... "That dog looks like a rat!" Alex, the smart man he is, simply told them to get a life... me... the not so smart one at times, stepped up and asked them to repeat themselves stating.... excuse me multiple times. After Alex nugged me to continue on and be mature about the situation I couldn't help myself but to inform them that I didn't have time for uneducated people. 

My blood was boiling, I was like a child, asking for a fight or something, this group of "kids" could have taken both Alex and I on, and embarrassing to admit, but won.  Of course, nothing happened, we walked off, I was annoyed, irritated, and ready to yell at the little twerps the remainder of our journey home, coming up with come backs, many of which, as Alex pointed out would have taken far to long to say, though I still found them brilliant. Alex, was as always trying to tell me to calm down and forget about it. People still continue to stop us and oh and awe on how cute our little Bax man is... so, apparently the little hooligans were on their own with their mean thoughts! 

The power of Education...

Something that so many of us take for granted but is quite possibly one of the most valuable things in life, I am feeling a bit romantic at the moment, so I will dare to say only behind Love, passion, and a few of those other "fluffy" motivational type things. I am forever grateful for the education I have been provided with, not only University and post-graduate, though I am more thankful for these by many measures of the imagination. I enjoyed my early years of development at school, though like all kids, I had my rough times of teasing and wondering what spot I would be picked for the recess kick-ball game. As I was sitting on the train tonight on my way home, I began to realize in ways how my education has saved my life, and other ways that it really doesn't seem to make a difference. The main ways that these two come into play are flying and eating. This might not make sense to many, like I am sure a lot of my thoughts. Though... in this little head of mine it does. You see, I am not sure where, or when it happened for sure, some time around the middle school years, but something clicked and I went from the child who was not afraid to fly and had done it time after time to being so anti-flight that I missed a family vacation to Niagara Falls (I opted to stay in Oklahoma with family for some crazy reason) as well as force my mother into taking an amtrak train from Missouri to New York City, a journey that took the better part of several days. It was a fun trip, don't get me wrong, there was a lot of bonding, a large bag filled only with coloring books, dolls, games, etc... Regardless of the amount of education I have, the studies and evidence all point to the extreme safety of plane travel, I know that I am so much more likely to become injured or worse in my every day life, on the tube, walking down the street, so on and so on, but there is just some missing link where I cannot allow the greater knowledge I have received via so many mediums to penetrate into my thick scull and my nervous beating heart, and my anxious body when it comes time to close that cabin door and prepare for lift off. I currently have to holidays booked which involve air travel and a minimum of three more in the near booking future (ease of travel is one of the major perks to living in London). And at times the mere thought of walking down the gang way makes my body tingle in flight or fight mode (I usually tend to go with flight, and am ready to take off running... not flying!)

Though the opposite is said to be true of my education in another way, in a way, that I know has made my life much better, happier, stronger and quite possibly saved it. That is when it comes to eating. I like many girls, have struggled with the difficulties of a number of issues with food. Though I don't know the true route of these I do have estaminets and probably route causes, but that is not what I am writing about now. It is not something I think that I am fully over, and may possibly never been free of (though I am not sure how many women or people for that matter are in some way or another). I want to write about how the education of the extreme harm not giving my body proteins and nutrients would do to me, and my quality of life over the years. A lot of health problems come with being too thin, just as they do with being obese. Obviously if I were to have to choose, I would go with the thinner, but luckily I get to choose healthy, fit, and active. If it hadn't clicked and I wasn't able to put forth the education that I had received in this situation I would probably be in a far worse position, but that is not the case. I know the harmful effects, and am able to look to the future and know what I really want in life... and sleeping my life away while my body deteriorates is not one of them. I am beyond grateful for nutrition classes and the shock value of what things become when they go too far. Similar to drugs, I am grateful to know the full effects before I am so overly addicted, in over my head that I lose control of my life to forces other than myself. I don't know why my education allows itself to click in one area, but not the other, but I won't question it either, simply hope and pray that the wonders of physics clicks a bit more and soon to help my life out a little. 

Entitlement

Ah, Entitlement... what a loaded word. Though that is the only thing that springs to mind when time after time I see people receiving things, great things, good things... not really earned or deserved and not being grateful. I am so over it, I am sure (Actually... no, I know for certain) that I have had this attitude before and honestly, it disgusts me. I am not saying you need to be overly, obnoxiously grateful for each and everything, but realize how great it is that you have it, and gracefully accept gifts from people. I find myself being so grateful for everything these days! I do not think I have ever been so glad to receive the smallest thing in my life, I am sure  a lot of it is to do with the position I am now in, in life. We are fine, we are not suffering or starving, but it is so wonderful to receive someones generosity. For my birthday one of my dearest friends from home made such a difference in my day, my week, and close to my year (she sure helped my 27th year get started much, much better. Upon moving in to my new flat, before I got the key actually, I found a small parcel waiting for me. It contained, a cookbook of cupcakes (one of our favorite things to make together, some English pounds to go buy myself a few cupcakes (which I have yet to do, though I have the money set aside for just that!) along with a specific cupcake vendor that she has heard good things about, and a wonderfully sweet card. I am certain that she has no idea what a difference that made to me, but it did. To be so separated from family and friends and to feel that warmth of someone thinking and caring for me made such a huge difference. I am so tired of providing incentives and gifts at work (not only my current work but others in the past) and people simply not being grateful, people being apathetic or complaining about their receipt. I just want to shout at them sometimes, that they are receiving it... for doing their JOB! It is really nothing more than what they should be doing anyway, but they are receiving incentive. I think it is a lot to do with age, perceptive and standing. And I am sure, very much to do with how you were raised, I know I still find myself trying to learn when someone owes me something and when they do not. My parents, the wonderful parents they are spoiled me and wanted so much for everything to be wonderful and perfect in my world. To this point, when something would go wrong, someone my have hurt me or done me wrong or things just hadn't worked out... I was compensated, be that via a new toy, a treat, clothing... etc. I find myself now, when getting screwed over by say... a letting agent (Which I feel has happened semi- a lot lately, I feel as though they owe me something. Where in the real world, the sad truth is that they don't. There is no judge or governing body that is going to make someone whom I deem incompetent of doing their job purchase a cupcake for me or what have you, that is just not the real world. And as I do prefer my little dream world, where I am the center for it, that simply just isn't life, and it really isn't that much fun in the grand scheme of things.
So, now I am growing up, and the odd desire to need to have a budget, and to need to be concerned with money, and save and plan and organize, has come to fruition. We are grateful for things, I hope everything. I know much more appreciative of the chocolates and cookery we have received in the past few days from a family member visiting from Australia. I have become  more organized, more diligent, more concerned with getting the most out of everything, and having that everything be something organic, recycle-able, and good for both myself and my world!  I value random bits that people give me be it a soda, or a  bottle of dishwashing soap (though I guess I have not outgrown my picky nature that I am the most grateful if it is my selected kind... organic but not overpriced! :) ) I hope I continue to realize my fortune and everyone realizes how blessed they are and what a gift we each have in real life.

Traditions

I often wonder a lot about cultures, being that London is by far the most diverse city I have ever and will ever live. There is someone from every possible make up that you pass daily, if not work with. I wonder why people come here, what keeps them here, what their lives are like in their home countries. Is this life harder or easier for them? What about their living conditions are they as nice as they were accustomed to at home, worse, or on par? I have never realized how different growing up in the different cultures are, and never felt as though my up bringing, my overall pretty normal, average American years were so vastly different that so many others. There are simple things, every day things, that I took as the norm. and they weren't so for many many people. Not always in a sense of being fortunate or spoiled (which I know I was as well) but in the general aspect of culture. Things like holiday traditions, rite-of-passages, and thought processes are so specific to my culture, my nation and my experience. It is often that people seem to gasp at things I take to be normal. This might sound weird, as it seems odd to me sitting here typing it out... but things like Dying Easter eggs, Easter baskets, Trick-or-treating, carving pumpkins, Friday night football games, Cheerleading, prom... and the list goes on and on. Admit it (American people) ever once, did you think it was something special, something out of the ordinary to do any of those things? To partake in these were not any odd occurrence, they were everyday occurrences. Some of the concepts seem so odd to so many people, including my husband. And sadly he has been at the brunt of trying to figure them out with streams of tears coming through my eyes uttering bits of random holiday traditions that I have realized do not exist outside of the bubble of the USA. There was the great shedding of tears before we had left Missouri upon the great fear of not being able to locate a pumpkin patch in London... like the ever so wonderful husband he is, Alex comforted me and rushed to the computer to show multiple places that we would be able to buy a pumpkin. Then there is the more recent frustration with not being able to find my traditional Easter accompaniments. After breaking through the mumbles and the tears with this one, he finally got to the brunt of it and was baffled to what it was that was causing these tears, then we had to go over what I was actually mumbling on about... and I quote, "What exactly is an Easter Basket?" It has since been explained, he has been shown examples, but it still baffles me a bit that these are not things every kid grew up with. Here is wishing everyone a happy holiday season, regardless of your traditions, what you think of as normal and what you are celebrating. I hope you have all your desires and expectations met.

Thinking

I think a lot these days I realize, not that I always haven't.... but I find myself thinking about my thinking more. I Think of it in terms of writing, in terms of analyzing, in terms of sharing it. I have been told before that I think about things that others don't, I don't know if this is necessarily true, though I know for certain not all people think in the same patters and capacities. Lately one thing I find myself thinking on close to a daily basis, I want to find a way to study the statistics between the people whom continue to walk (or the left siders) against those whom stand on the right side. You see... I think there could be some severe differences between these two groups. My estimate is that there are several direct correlations between income levels and education levels possibly even happiness in life and stress as well as I am sure many others that I do not recall at the moment. Though I am sure the largest correlations would have something to do with if they were at work that day or not, if they were on holiday or living there. But, just say you separated those people into smaller groups, so everyone working was together and then you compared the people going to and from work whom were walking with those standing, as well as those whom were off with one another... then, that is where you might really make some ground. Like I said, who knows why I think these things, especially being that I am no longer directly in the fields of psychology or sociology but I do still find them quite interesting obviously.

moving and growing up

We have officially moved house, I will leave here in a few minutes to return to the old flat to pick up the last few remainders. We are in love with the new flat, let alone the area, quite possibly, the best place in London (at least in my semi-biased opinion). We now live in an area called Crouch end... it is all things lovely, small boutiques, quaint shops, antiques, modern, great locally owned everything. It is all together void of most chains baring of course, Starbucks, and Costa, the major banks, and the grocery line up of Tesco, Budgens, and our beloved Waitrose. To be fair we did base much of our moving location choice to proximity with waitrose. Being that I am unable to afford to and don't live close enough to purchase all my grocery needs from Fortnum and Mason (Though I would probably be striking from the at the moment anyway, at least until they decide to join their competitors and stop selling fois gras... If you don't know what it is... check out this link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Foie_gras_controversy. Wow, I was so discussed when I found out about this!) Anyway... the area here is absolutely lovely, there is a trail that begins moments from our doorstep that leads around the entire city, it is called the capital ring and is just that, I don't know how far it is all around, though I do know that not far from where I join it, to Richmond (a very nice borough south of the river) is 26.2 miles! We have taken the path to high gate, another area, and Baxter and I ventured a while on it again today. He is making improvements on his walking, but still is unsure how to meet other dogs. He kind of stands there, then begins to jump up on them. Once they sniff his bum to realize he is not a girl... ready to meet a boy, they move on and he seems devastated that they don't want to be his friend. You see... Baxter believes that everyone wants to be his friend! And why shouldn't they, he has licks to go around to the world! My little boy is also going through the puppy teething process, it is the most bizarre thing, the old ones are falling out (I stepped on one today) and new ones, sharper in my opinion if that is possible, are growing in. He has been a bit more snugly, docile and not having as much of an appetite, but the Vet warned it would come. We have now settled down into the new flat for the most part, a bit of paperwork tabs to pick up on but we are at home here, both in and out of the flat in this area. We finally feel settled... this is our London!

Missouri kind of rain

London gets a lot of rain, this is not new news to anyone, but it still leaves me reaching and longing for that amazing, strong kind of Missouri rain. It might sounds crazy, that is if you haven't experienced it, or shall I say if you have experienced it but not the lack there of. I never thought I would miss it when I was there. It is madness to drive in, a pain to even go to the shop in, let alone trying to walk somewhere. It is simply defined, the clouds parting and allowing buckets of water be dumped upon the Earth's citizens. I am sure that Missouri is not the only place to experience such a wonderful blessing of massive out pours of rain at once, though it is the place that is in my memory and in my heart. I can see the puddles of water collecting around the sides of the road off Republic Road, the intersection at National seeping into the driving lanes. The sound of each drop pinging onto your roof, watching the huge droplets collect and join in unity to increase their strength as they roll down your windows.
One of my favorite memories is from shortly after Alex's arrival to Missouri. We had been laying out at the pool and could see that the dark sky was heading our way. Decided to literally pack in the towel and head in, we hurried up to the apartment grabbed some money and began on our way to the grocery store. We had barely gotten into the car when the drops came, and they were huge. First it was just a few, but after less than a minute they were beating down in numbers to great to count. We made our way to the desired store gathered our raincoat and umbrella lacking selves (though I am quite confidant neither would have been of help) and ran into the store. A puddle along the way captured my sandal leaving me to struggle to regain my stride. Once in the store, we could not do much more than laugh at our state, we looked like drowned rats. Alex just looked at me and asked if his recent experience was normal. I couldn't help but smile and let him know, it was. It's not everyday that we had this out pour of water, but it was not the first time by any stretch of the imagination. We made our way through the isles of the store, only to take our chances again with a dart out to the car once more. Made our way home, past the flooding intersection of National and Republic Road and made it home to change and wring out our clothing.
In London, it rains a lot, but it is like a wimpy rain. A lot of people compare it to Seattle. Both have bits of rain often, some say daily but it isn't "Rain" proper "Rain." And sometimes, you just need that.
When I was much younger I remember a married friend of mine, a mentor if you will,  telling me that she thought if her husband ever died she could see herself moving to Seattle, there she said the sky would cry every day for her so she wouldn't have to. Not only do I not see this woman being the Seattle type at all, but I am here to say, it simply wouldn't do. It would not give the relief needed. That kind of rain is passionless rain, it is lacking a kick an umph, something that can't be described but only felt deep in your soul. It would not cry for you, and could not, because it would not do you or your loved ones justice. It doesn't even give my heart justice for pains much less than that felt.
With this said, I miss passionate, driven, determined rain that evokes the absolute need to put on sweats, curl up in a blanket, light some candles and throw on your favorite movie. Where there is no point or hope to doing much outside (for at least an hour or two) and you realize you are fully at the will of the great mother nature.

what's stopping you?

What gives you drive? What makes you do something or stop from doing it? I was recently reading an article in this month’s British Vogue discussing this. Was it our fear of failure that stopped us from trying, or possibly our fear of success? What a novel and very true idea this was. What happens to us when we succeed? What do we do then? Will others be happy for us, or envious of our success? Will they support us on our way? As I read this and began to think of instances in life when I have had something I wanted to do, what was it that encouraged me to do it or held me back from going forward. Things sounds like such a good idea until it comes time to put the pedal to the metal and make it happen. The first instance that pops to my mind of this is well, so much of what is going on in my life. I am not sure where the switch happened or what the trigger was (though I have a good feeling it is the much thanks due to the man sitting across from me as I type this, my wonderful husband, Alex). He encourages me to do anything and everything I show the slightest interest in, sometimes (because I am weird) he almost encourages me too much. I know this sounds odd to many, but I for some reason like to do a lot of things on my own terms. I enjoy running, but I don’t want someone else telling me when to go running. Same goes for painting, I guess in some weird instance when someone else tells me to do it, it is almost reminiscent of having homework or something. You enjoy doing something until it is that you have to do it, the fun is gone.  But why not encourage someone to go for everything, why not try for everything. If you are interested in it… give it a shot! I self reflect and wonder why I don’t do this more than I do. What is it that is stopping me, fear in which essence? Fear of failing or of succeeding. Why do I like to do things such as running on my own terms and in such secrecy? I think that if someone knows where I am, and what I am doing and I fail, miss my mark, then I have let down no one other than myself. At the same time, if I beat it and outdo my initial desires, I don’t want to feel ashamed for doing well, I don’t want to cause jealousy, tension, suspicion as to why I am doing what I am, and whom it might really be for. I have felt this before when running, either someone not believing in me as an individual and that I could never reach the goals I have set out for, or the opposite, some form of odd jealously that I have, and they have not. It truly is those closest to us that have the ability to hurt us the most. They are the one’s who have the access to our inner most layers and thus, the most vulnerable us. Where did we stop being happy for one another and proud of each other and begin to turn every aspect of life into a competition?  (I prefer the first…. As long as it is genuine!) Today, I was encouraged to make a chair from wood, crochet a blanket, complete a series of paintings, and give up dairy (excluding yogurt) for lent, all thanks to one person. What a positive influence, and how easy would it be for it to go in the other direction if he didn’t have the attitude he does. I could easily find myself down on life and not feel capable of following my dreams. It is a bit like a child who’s parent’s are always encouraging them that they can conquer the world if that is their desire, reach for the stars! Those are the types of people I prefer to surround myself with, not the “Debbie downers” who fail to see potential in an individual. I think, if they are genuinely happy for you, it is not a negative feeling you get from succeeding at your dreams which is when you loose your fear of actually succeeding and your fear of failing, because you know that, failure or success is not what it is solely about but so much more, and you have people there to support and encourage you in that. 

So much out there!

I remember as a child sitting in class, it wasn’t as bad when I was younger, but only grew worse and worse, as I grew older. Teachers, I beg of you, for the students in your classes like me… take down your maps.  It took all of my concentration to focus on whatever the current subject matter was that they were trying to teach was, my mind was ready to escape into the world’s on the map. What lay out there that I had not discovered? What wonderful adventures, cultural rituals and beautiful places were waiting for me? I was fortunate as a child to travel around much of the US with my parent’s, it wasn’t until I was older that I realized what a blessing this was. In high school I came to London for the first time and fell in love with the enchantment that it offered. During college I ventured around Mexico a bit along with a host of various European countries and cities seeing the sites, exploring the back roads and little did I know at the time, meeting Alex during one of those adventures. Then again during college I came back to France, Italy and Monaco to continue in explorations. I continued to travel around the US but had an itch to see more, go more and do more. Now, now we live here. We live in London where we can go to so many places in such a short time, they are such a short distance and in most cases not too expensive to get to. I realized I am blessed to have gone where I have and done what I have, and I may sounds a bit like a brat saying it, but for me, it is simply not enough. I know that there is still a huge world out there waiting for me. I have had some opportunities to go to other places, but they were just never the right time or the right opportunity. My father begs me not to go to some locations until after he is no longer on this earth as he doesn’t think he will be able to handle the stress of having me there, in what he see’s as “dangerous locations” I have humored him to this point, but I am quite selfish, and I want my father to be here, and I want to explore the vast unknown (to me). I remember in college my friend Alise and I signed up for a class together, “History of modern Africa.” Yes, that was the title, I know it does not make heaps of sense, but when you took the course it began to unfold, the history of how and why Africa is where it is now, the bits leading up the current. I remember sitting in class and learning about the cultures, the rituals the beautiful landscape and then the war, the civil unrest and the pandemics that run ramped. I still remember leaving class one day, getting in my car and driving home and simply weeping, weeping uncontrollable tears at what I felt was the great unfairness of the beauty that was there, one thing in particular was Victoria falls, and the fear that I (selfishly) would possibly never be able to see it due to the unrest. What an unjust world that was in my mind. What an unfair horrible injustice.

While in Amsterdam our hotel had quotes all over the walls in the hallways to the rooms, the favorite one I saw in passing was by St. Augustine, “The World is a book, and those who do not travel only read one page.” What a true thought, how many people are missing out on the world, on the adventure that we are blessed with in our planet. I am still amazed when I meet someone whom has never flown at my age, or been out of his or her state, or even country for that matter. The percentage of people who are valid passports is shockingly low! Maybe to them, the national geographic weekly special feature is enough, or, hopefully not… but maybe they don’t think or care about the world outside their national borders. That my friends is the highest form of ignorance I believe to exist! 

traffic...

I write to you from aboard our train to the coast, headed to meet a ferry then on across the North Sea to the Netherlands, once again onto a train and into Amsterdam. The world of travel amazes me frequently. As we were on the way marching like fire ants through the tunnels of the London underground I began to analyze this situation we were in. Arms bogged down with suitcases, arm-to-arm, body-to-body against the masses. We made our way, onto the appropriate underground train and stood packed next to our fellow patrons. This is where my thinking started to kick in. I felt like, we were stuck in traffic, the jam packed, cannot go anywhere, no side roads to take kind of traffic, left without an alternative.  Up to this point I had loved the underground travel to and from work, it allowed me the leisure of reading more books than I think I have read in my life, at least in a shorter time frame, I could thoughtlessly sit there and wait for my stop, I feel similar to a child on the school bus, waiting my turn to get out, being served by some master driver guiding us on our way. But then, as we are here, in this mass of “people traffic” I wonder, would I prefer to be in the comfort of my own car, have my own climate control, the ability to roll down my window and or sun roof to enjoy the wonders of fresh air, something you do not get in the underground. My own music, the ability to speak on my mobile phone, which did I really prefer more? To be honest, I don’t know, I loved my car- Emma, as many of you know, but the amazing luxury of being able to escape to a world of, well, whatever you like while making your journey home, to work, shopping whatever it might be at the time. Though the wonderful privacy of having our own little box, your own little space that is not your home, but often an extension of it, holding, in my case, yoga mats, tennis shoes, I pod, magazines, books, water bottles, bits of clothing, while in high school I began to always make sure I had a swimming suit in my car. Living by the lake and having friends with pools you never knew when you would need it. After moving a mere hour away for college, the habit slowly escaped me, it wasn’t really one I wanted to let go of though, it was a wonderful thought, you never know when it might just be the perfect time for a swim. My freshman year in college I purchased 7 new swimsuits, I loved them, they were a “good deal” (always open to a subjective opinion. My newfound friends at college found that to be the most absurd thing ever, 7! To me, perfect sense. I was always in the water at some point in a day in the summers… was this not normal? Apparently not! No need to worry, since they I have purchased…well, not seven in a year, but they are something that I love. Anyway, from that tangent, I do not know which form of travel I prefer, and it mostly depends on what my location is, in Springfield as well as many other regions of the US it is highly impractical to attempt to depend solely on public transportation unless you are ready to add taxi’s to the mix which drastically increases your spending, and the same goes for London, though the opposite. It is much more fiscally possible to solely depend on public transport. What with is host of transport options, underground, over ground, national rail, DLR and the mass of busses.

independent adventures...

This week I have had off, most of my days off now are alone, since Alex works Monday through Friday and I work sporadic shifts, our days off our unfortunately not often together. So, we have each been forced to do  a bit of exploring solo. We have been visiting slews of new boroughs to find the perfect location. In this exploration there have been wonderful new discoveries and great disappointments. We have unearthed hidden gems that I feel so many Londoners turn their noses up at because they aren't the most known, or maybe at one time had a bad reputation, or "gasp" are south of the river! oh, the horror! Well, we are saying heck with them! We see great potential! Together we explored Muswell hill (north of the river, just up the road from where we live now). It was wonderful, had a small village feel, it isn't on the underground lines, thus making it a bit less traveled through and at a lower price point. We explored this area to quite an extent and fell in love with the rolling hills reminiscent of those in San Francisco. Though after prodding farther we discovered other hidden treasures with plenty to offer, and more space for our money. The next areas of consideration were explored on a day off together, they included Honor Oak Park, Forrest hill, East Dulwich and Dulwich. These areas had pros and con's as well. Honor Oak and Forrest hill simply weren't for us, East Dulwich is lovely as well, definitely one to keep in the running. Dulwich it's self, is a bit out of our price range, though it made me feel like we were back in the States with detached homes, cars in driveways and immaculate gardens. Yesterday I explored the likes of Woolrich Royal Arsenal and Greenwich with a bit of Canary wharf  mixed in. Woolrich, the most amazing development, made me feel the closest to the apartment buildings and complexes I was used to. They are old, heritage listed buildings from the old military grounds re-furbished and made into extraordinary properties. The shops around are in no doubt lacking. I guess I should jump back and explain a bit of what I look for when we are considering area's to live. Proximity to small quaint shops for me to pop in and out of on days off. Area's to wonder about and roam aimlessly while feeling safe, and last but far from least, satisfactory grocers. This can be, waitrose, whole foods, or choice other organic food markets. Though, this is me being a bit picky. Waitrose does deliver, which may become our usual if we move, but one area we simply refuse to compromise on is our food. With that said, Woolrich was lacking in all of the above, other than a wonderful development, which includes gym membership! After becoming annoyed and deciding to head home at treat myself to Indian on the way, I spoke to Alex, we talked about how close Greenwich was... so I reluctantly decided to pass up a wonderful helping of Madras chicken and rice to explore yet another area, one that I most certainty could not live in at the moment, but could explore and pop over to in a moment's notice if we decide to live in Woolrich. I am happy with my decision. As I traveled on the DLR (Docklands light rail) it, is wonderful. For starters, it is new, and it travels over the river, where you can see it. Ah, the water, there is simply something about it. As I got of at Greenwich I struggled to find my way to the all so famous Greenwich village at first, and with out a doubt became distracted at a book shop having a sell out sale (I am proud to say, I withstood any purchases!) I ventured farther, stumbled into the market, in and out of wonderful shops, just the kind I like. Passing by bakeries, op shops and hair dressers. It was a lovely little area. I then stumbled upon a large open courtyard space which drew my interest as it said university, I thought I might pick up yet another university tee-shirt for Alex and see what was around. The book store of University of Greenwich was, well, nothing short of disappointing. Though I then saw a sign for restroom and being that London has so few public toilets I should take advantage of an offer. As I made my way I was greeted by an array of historical memorabilia from the ancient past. Stumbling through it all I happened into a guide shop, picked up a free news paper and read the caption with a photo at the bottom, that was all of the paper I ever did read. It said, after next month 10 (pounds, I cannot figure out where the key is on my computer) to stand on the Meridian line. Me, in my blond ignorance had not registered that I was in Greenwich, like the Greenwich, Greenwich mean time. I walked up to the counter, and asked, how do I get here. The lady just kind of looked at me, pulled out a map, and told me it was where the one was! This became my new mission, why not right. I mean, usually I would have thought, Alex and I should come back and go together, but yesterday was the 22nd! That means it is almost next month! That means it will soon be 10! So, why not make it alone. As I head in what I believe to be the correct direction I stop and ask a guard for direction. Our conversation was a bit odd, I think it went something like this:
Me: Hi, can you tell me what street this is?
Guard: x street, whatever it was, maybe park? Anyway... Where are you trying to go?

Guard: you want to go there?
Me: Ya, sure, why not, right?
Guard: Slight chuckle at my naiveteness OK... look out there, see that red ball...

Here there is a bit of a struggle as the ball is far off and it was quite overcast, I sort of lied and said I saw the ball after some squirming around and him continuing to point in the exact same spot. He told me, this is were I needed to be, at this red ball. So, I head off in the direction, as I walked I half wondered if there really was a red ball or if he was just making me feel like a fool and and full well known that I had lied to him. But then, in the distance on the top of a hill, I spotted the infamous red ball! I made my way to the planetarium with hoards of other people marching to see the spot where time begins. And I stood there, I stood with one foot at East longitude and one in West. This was Greenwich mean time, this was point 0. Wow, what a discovery! A part of me felt as proud of myself for stumbling up on the discovery as thought I were actually the one to discover it. I was so excited, such a fun thing, something I didn't set out to do, blindly didn't think of being there, and naively didn't connect 2+2. Being that I was alone, I had someone take a photo for me. I then continued to explore the museum hosting old clocks and much on Maritime time keeping and location determining. I then bobbed my way through the planetarium and learned about stars, touched a piece of meteorite  that claims to be 4.5 billion years old and saw the wonders of our universe on film. All in all, I feel as though the day was quite the success. We still continue to search through undiscovered (to us) parts of London and accidentally stumble upon treasures that remind me that I live in this wonderful city with so much, literally at your doorstep to reach out and explore.

Baxter...

I have had this week off, and I realized just how long it has been since i have posted. As I had said earlier... we got a dog. This is him
Baxter is his name, and he is... a handful! We
call him the gremlin because he makes some of the oddest noises. He sleeps in a close to coma like state then with the flip of a switch he becomes some hyperactive add psychotic mongrel. He is our favorite when snuggling with us, which he is quite the little lover... and least favorite when he decides to investigate things with his teeth. He does the most adorable little march or like running in place, you can tell that he is so proud of whatever accomplishment it might be. Often times fetching a toy and brining it back to us. We have also realized we speak to him, much the way we would a child. Telling him why something might not be acceptable or to get a toy not to try to rip our sock off our tender feet. He is none the less an adventure and life changing experience.
He makes us laugh to the point of hysteria daily. For example, he was snuggling sleeping next to me the other day, sound asleep, had been for nearly an hour. Alex, at the other end of the couch sneezed, Baxter jumped to all fours and let out a little triple bark/howl! He was on alert, something odd was going on, and he would be there to protect! We of course, had no option but to burst out in laughter. On another occasion we accidently dropped the remote, his legs swept out from under him and the startle on his face was as though a gun shot went off, again hysteria soon followed and our laughter could not be subsided. These are few of the many times he brings great laughter and joy, what a blessing a little furry gremlin is!
Though I have always known Alex would be a great father, I see it all the more in the way he deals with our simple little puppy. He thinks of things that don't even cross my mind. Makes me leave the room when I am taking off nail polish. He will hardly allow me to sit on the couch while eating chocolate in fear that I might drop a bit, knowing me I would. And when my absent mindedness put the empty container of honey into a box that was waiting to be thrown out for trash he had me throw out the whole box and realize that of course the bit of honey left in the container would dribble out, and probably seep through the box, onto the floor... where our precious little monster found it. Oops!
What a wonderful adventure we have set ourselves upon, so many headaches and fits of laughter are sure to follow in the years ahead.

exploration

The past few days have been, a whirlwind of what-if's and what-if-not's... I feel like I have been torn between knowing what I want, what I think I've wanted before, or not want. Just to name a few of these things in limbo: flat in UK, house/flat in the US (Chicago probably), getting a dog, babies, work and the list goes on and on... A few of the decisions have been made, so before anyone freaks out, let me tell you what those things have been so far... 1. No, we are not pregnant, we thought I might be, but two tests have confirmed we are not. 2. totally not related to that answer, we are getting a puppy, tomorrow, Saturday! A boston terrier, and could not be more excited, we haven't decided on a name yet for sure, but will hopefully narrow it down this evening. We're looking at properties both here and Chicago, though at the time we are thinking Chicago might be easier to get on the property ladder, (we would be renting it out for a few years at least, then might more there, but for the time, we are sticking here). 


Don't fear parent's... we do want children, and if it was now, we would be alright with it, but we want to wait a bit longer, do a bit more traveling and build ourselves up a bit more so we can give them the lives you gave us. So for now... you will have to settle for a puppy grandchild. Though, this has been quite an eye opening experience for me, while I feel that I have been one of those people that as a little girl simply could not wait to be a mother, have someone to take care of, look after, etc... I have always loved Children's toys, clothes, books, everything. I am sure part's of it i.e.: the toys and books may be a bit of regression coping mechanism. Though, once I was faced with the fact that this was really happening, when we hadn't planned on it, I knew I would be fine regardless of the answer, but I began to have a great fear. I had a fear of two things, 1. I have come to realize that one of my absolute biggest fears is losing a child, something going wrong during the pregnancy! As I have said before Alex and I are quite organic and very big on natural/slow/fair trade foods these days, but at the very thought of this life change I felt myself drawing into an overboard in this area, probably to the point of driving Alex insane (If I am not already there! :) )  2. My body being taken over, no longer mine. Such a weird thought, and feeling, that I know someday I will have to come to grips with, and will need some advice from those of you whom have gone before me in this adventure! 


Anyway, I will try to keep everyone up to date on property searching and all of the above, and stay posted for photos of the puppy! :) 

What makes you come alive?

This year has been a bit, well, all over the place. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be where I am now! Things are absolutely wonderful, for the most part. Things like not having my group of friends right down the street or my favorite store just a drive away does stink a bit but overall, we're doing well here. Someone was recently speaking about life, and the different sectors, and how they considered that things were going well if 2 out of the 3 were a success for them at the moment. These categories were 1. friends and family 2. Career 3. personal or romantic. I have to say, I have got one for sure... number 3 is going well, I feel like the other two are a bit half way, so... I guess I am doing alright, since the two that are half combine to make a whole. With friends, there isn't a lot more that I can do with my relationships with friends in the states. I would like to actually make some friends here, but that is something that takes time, something that will come naturally. And work, I like most of the people I see on a daily basis, and things are good for the most part, I know I am capable of so much more. There is just something not clicking, part of it is I am sure the wonderful schedule demands in the world of retail, being married and newly married, I simply want to be at home with my husband when he is here, and now that Alex is working too it has only seemed to exaggerate this feeling.
With both how things seem to be going in my mind and in the world with riots and government's being overthrown, and all the chaos that is happening around it is so hard to focus on such minimal "importances" that I feel are almost created to bring some form of validation to peoples lives .  I was speaking to someone recently, trying to give them advice on work, on life, etc... and shared with them one of my favorite quotes. It is from author John Eldredge, "Don't ask yourself what the world needs, ask yourself what makes you come alive. Because what the world needs is people whom have come alive!" (this may not be 100% verbatim.) But I mean, how true! So many people these days are just being, just doing. They aren't passionate about what they are doing, and are most likely unhappy with life if you really get to the root of it. I hate that thought, I refuse to not be alive in my life, in each and every sector of that! I am not sure yet what that looks like specifically. I am blessed and cursed in the regards that there are so many things that excite me, that I am passionate about and that make me feel alive. I just need to actually focus on them and make one or a few of them come to fruition. I hope that everyone reading this is truly alive in their life, and if not, are brave enough to do whatever it takes to make yourself come alive, because that is what the world needs!

long time... no see

A lot has happened since I have posted my last blog, at the same time, not much at all. I began several, never finished or got to the point of posting any, obviously. I have come to one conclusion... I am just going to write, write for myself, and myself alone. I say this because so many thoughts ran through my head, they ran the gambit of positive, negative, crazy, spastic, and everywhere in between. I often find myself afraid to write about something in fear of worrying people if it is that I am sad, upset or annoyed. Or not being able to change my mind when I say one thing then see the positive in another choice... so this shall be my forum to share thoughts, please don't freak out if I am crying one day, ecstatic the next (Just because I am happy here, or buying a flat, doesn't mean I don't miss everyone at home!)

With this said.. I had a wonderful week off last week, I went into Hampstead several days and explored around my neighborhood a bit more. On another day I went to Notting Hill and walked from there to Chelsea with a friend whom has recently re-located to London! It was wonderful! So nice to not only see a familiar face (that happens now at Waitrose, an expectable side effect from going to the same grocery store everyday, often times twice a day). There is one wonderful familiar face at waitrose, it is a nice blond checkout girl! I think she just kind of laughs at our frequentness there, though we exchange our well wishes for the day to follow and bid fair-well. I am sure she doesn't know how much her being a familiar means to me. As this was one of my things, I was so afraid to leave my cocoon of familiarness. It doesn't matter much to me that I am probably just another one of their customers, that they don't notice me. But I have a whole array of familiar shop workers from Springfield.. there was the semi-long haired man at Barns and Noble, the jolly man at Brown Derby, the vitamin girls at Mama Jeans, workers at Dynamic earth and many, many more. Not to mention familiar faces I was greeted with at my favorite shopping destinations! :) Anyway, away from that tangent... So, Simone, whom I first met at Abercrombie, then she came to join me at Victoria's Secret, and now... she has moved across the pond to London! It was so wonderful to be able to hang out with, go for a walk with some on who actually knows me. I never quite realized what a valuable thing that was. We saw beautiful neighborhoods, wonderful shops, delicious cupcakes and everything between. I also ventured down to St. Johns Wood to wait for a package, there I explored a little market (it was once featured in an episode of Nigella Lawson) here I found several American "treats" to name a few were.... Fruit by the foot, Nestle chocolate chips, Macaroni and Cheese and many more. I am actually quite proud to say that I did not buy any of these! I found a hot water bottle that I liked the look of at a pharmacy and have been fully converted to the world of hot water bottles! I will promote them to everyone! I absolutely LOVE it!!! It gets really warm, all you do is fill it with hot water, right out of the tap (you don't even have to boil it!) and whala! And, you save heaps of energy so you're helping everyone out, you're not putting electric devices straight up against your body, and no worries of it burning yourself in the night (a consistent fear of my mother).

And then, came the weekend, Alex and I boarded a train and headed out to Whitstable. I am sure you have never heard of it, I hadn't until Alex suggested I look into it. It is the quaintest, cutest little sea side village. We stayed at a wonderful bed and breakfast that was so relaxing and perfect! And... it had a bath! One of the most wonderful things in the world to me these days, being that we don't have one! We strolled through the main street, in and out of individual boutiques and ate meals consisting of mostly fish. We didn't buy too much, a few books from a re-sale shop, a hand knitted bird toy (I know, I am truly a child!) and ate fresh Oysters, pulled out of the English Channel right in front of us and cracked open right before we tipped them back! This was my first time to try them... not quite my cup of tea, but not too bad. Upon returning back home, we watched yet another movie of the break, 127 Hours... great, great, great! Though he does a lot of reflecting during his time stuck, he records video messages to his loved ones and realizes how important people are in his live. For some reason, for the first time since we have been gone. My emotions really came to a tipping point and I missed Springfield! I missed the streets, I missed all those familiar faces, I missed the feeling of knowing.... knowing everything, what was going on around me, how things worked there, all of it. I don't know why it came to a point on that night, but my body was no longer able to hold in the emotion. I don't know if I had secretly hoped that if I didn't acknowledge it, simply pushing it aside, if I wouldn't feel it anymore. I would find something wonderful here to distract me. But, it needed to be dealt with just like other things, it was a mourning of sorts. Morning the loss of my old stopping ground. It is a good feeling to work though it, and I am not a foolish enough person to claim that, that will be the end of it. I am sure that at some point, for some reason those feelings are sure to rear their head back into my mind, and I have become ok with that. Ok with the fact that I can let myself be upset, but I need to realize that when it all comes down to it... it's up to me. So, I will remember just how amazingly wonderful things actually are!

A consciousness of reality...

I was reminded of one of life's greatest lessons out of the blue while at work, by a Missourian none the less! "Life's not having what you want, it's wanting what you've got," by the wonderful Cheryl Crow. Along the same lines in the book I just finished a similar story was shared about a little squirrel whom would sit and beg at a posh restaurant  in a wonderful area where he would sit and beg for things like lobster and other wonderful delicacies unknown to most squirrels. The writer wondered if the squirrel ever thought of how difficult his life was, going and begging for food every day, if he wondered how amazing the climate he lived in was, how amazing the food he was willingly given daily by restaurant patrons. He most likely thinks his life is normal, that that is all there is, or that he is even a beggar and other squirrels have it better. Sometimes we fall so unaware of just how good things are al around us that we forget of how good we have it, how much pain and hardship is out in the world. If you are like me, you do think of it sometimes, and realize how absolutely fortunate you are, how wonderful your life is and just how extremely blessed you are. It is so difficult to think of the people out there in the cold, without shelter, nothing warm to eat, or even forget the warm, nothing at all. It is difficult to think about, and I do admit, that I consciously try not to think of the difficulties some face on a moment to moment basis. I am happy to report that though this has been a difficult season in my life, a lot of adjustments socially and a lot of tightness and creativity financially but I feel that I truly am for once, fully happy with, "wanting what I've got." And I hope everyone reading this is too!

The power of a tune...

Isn't it funny how music triggers something in us, how it makes you come alive and feel nostalgic of times in the past at the same time. I have been off today, and quite enjoyed myself. It is the first day that I have had off without Alex hanging out with me that I can say I actually have enjoyed myself! I am sure there are several factors that have helped in this, speaking to my mother on skype, sending multiple facebook messages back and forth to one of my best friends and a lot of very good food, and drinks, all accompanied by music. Either the sound track that runs in my head, what might be happening to play on the television or on the ipod that was randomly providing the playlist for the bank's common area. Now I have transitioned to the wonders of youtube and the instant music and video it provides. There are songs that remind me of the warmth of summer (Kings of Leon), songs that make me think of my dad, or cleaning the house during college (Rod Stewart), and songs that remind me of Carrie and Alex both (Amos Lee) Carrie because she was such an amazing friend and dealt with me while I kept it on a consistent repeat for months, inclusive of a drive to Kansas City and back. Alex, because when we were merely friends I told him of Amos as being one of my favorite artist's and that he should check him out. Then there are the "artists" (I put this in quotes because I know Alex and probably many other people would debate with me on their real talent) like Jesse McCartney and T-pain, Justin Timberlake and Timbaland or Young money, Mace, And the list goes on of one hit wonders/ random rap artist's that make me think of multiple memories of laughing at the ridiculousness of the lyrics with Miss Molly.
They say smell is the most nostalgic sense, which I agree it is a strong one, but I am not so sure hearing is far behind. I remember the songs I listened to through slews of emotions throughout life. There was Meatloaf and something about glass house (may be the name of the album) and dancing with my father on the top of our old coffee table in the den of the old lake house. Then there was some random indian pipe and drum combination and Little Texas singing "God bless Texas" with Tara and I's gymnastic presentations for my parent's in the living room. There was the regular jock jams mix played while watching athletic warm ups and the songs that made up high school like Blue, Bye, bye, bye... the hits by Nelly, Avril, P.O.D, and so, so many others. I am sure my close group of friends through the high school years, remember Sammie and I like the way you look at me, and it's inability to leave our heads. There was Brandon's (B.) amazing ability to dance to Brittany Spears, Ah, those were some interesting times. There area the all incompassing songs that can't help but make me smile, Train: Meet Virginia and Drops of Jupiter, our senior class group plus many others, arm's linked around one another singing our hearts out. There's Green Day's Time of your life that consistently reminded me to live each day, each moment to it's fullest, to take it all in and full embrace everything that really was happening around me, everything I was, and am. There is Patty Loveless (sad but true) How Can I Help You to Say Goodbye, that I played on repeat, close to the hour long drive back to Springfield when the Bates' family made their move to Las Vegas. Through college there were nearly too many to remember, either that, or I don't even know a large amount of the artist by name, it was just mix tape by Brandon (C.) 1 or 52, or somewhere in the middle. There was  Something Corporate, too many to name, but Konstantine and  Punk Rock Princess, Good Charlotte, and the odd combination of John Mayer and Nelly singing a remix of Ride With Me that were on my daily play list through Europe. On the same trip, after waiting over a week to call home, once reaching them, my parent's had made their own wonderful rendition of Reba McEntire's He gets that from me, inserting personal traits to sing over the phone lines to me. They also sang Sugarland's Baby Girl to me many times, and at no time have the lyrics been more true than the present.  Then there was All American Rejects, Dirty Little Secret's that takes me to a memorable road trip to southern California and Las Vegas. Snow Patrols' Chasing Cars and Coldplay's the Scientist in grad school. I hear a song and if it is on my running mix I automatically know the sequence it should fall within and have that urge to get my body moving, the motivation it provides for me for some reason or another to continue to put one foot in front of the other, to complete the pre-determined distance and prove something to myself, and myself alone.
There are songs that bring you back to a feeling by the first few cords, you hear them, and bam, you're right back in 2003, walking downtown with friends, or crying in your room alone. Music has some all knowing power that can break through stereo types, through barriers, through good moods and bad. Songs have the power to bring you (well, at least me) to tears in an instant given my barriers are broken down. It is such a magical power that the lyric's hold within themselves, they help me feel connected to friends now removed from me by thousands and thousands of miles, they help me smile and remember that if I am still aware of these songs, of these memories then they must be too. As writing this so many more pop to mind, too many to right, so many good memories, some pissed off memories, some so funny I began to cry from laughing, and some that brought true tears of sorrow to my eyes. Let me know what songs you think of when you think of that have the ability to bring out true emotion in you, and which one's are absolutely ridiculous but you just can't help but laugh and think of a fun memory linked with it!