It has been confirmed - my parents in Arkansas, on the Mississippi border, have said they are experiencing unseasonally cool temperatures today (Aug 23). Which proves it. The earth has shifted slightly on it's axis, because, my friends - I have unpacked. You may have noticed strange goings-on - the car won't start, all the cupboard doors are open, the grass is suddenly much shorter, the children remember their manners or to eat over their bowl of cereal, your husband remembers more than one thing and can find his own sunglasses because HE PUT THEM IN THE SUNGLASS BOWL. Yes, my friends, times they are a-changin'.
And it's weird how things work out - how the universe looks after you. I cleaned my downstairs and I've just received a message from a very great girlfriend whom I haven't seen in weeks and weeks that she is dropping by on her way to the inlaws. My daughter did observe that I had tidied the downstairs at which point she asked 'Why are you cleaning the house Mommy? Is someone coming over?' to which I replied 'No, I am cleaning the house so we can actually invite people over'. And now we already have our first guest! Timing is everything. I just can't let them into my room - the mountain of clothes on my bed is unbelievable!
Later tater
Sunday, 23 August 2009
Saga of the unpacking
Well, it continues to put it simply. Have you ever intended to do something, at say, 9am, and then gone back to bed for two hours and then realise it's been two hours and think 'Damn! I gotta get up!' so you get up and then you think 'yep, it's time' and you get yourself dressed and ready and then say 'just after I rearrange the furniture down here and hang some pictures and dust (and you HATE dusting) and re-organise the kitchen cabinets'. Well, that's where I am.
Why do we put off the things we don't enjoy just to prolong the agony! And then, when we finally do the thing we hate?? We say something ridiculous like, 'Oh. That didn't take very long' or 'Oh, that wasn't so bad, why did I think it was going to be that bad?'. It's like putting off going to the dentist for a couple of years for fear of what could happen and then he says 'just watch that one in the back, otherwise you're good' and you think 'wow, ok'.
And I know what you're thinking - you're thinking she's sitting here typing when she could just reach down by her feet and grab that makeup bag and unpack it really quickly. Yeah, I could, but then I am sure the universe will cease to exist as I know it. As badly as I WANT an organised tidy little world, I don't want to do much to get it that way. Having said that, when I DO decide to clean something or organise the loft or bathroom or kitchen - LOOK OUT. I become incredibly focused and machine-like. Those are good days.
Later tater.
Why do we put off the things we don't enjoy just to prolong the agony! And then, when we finally do the thing we hate?? We say something ridiculous like, 'Oh. That didn't take very long' or 'Oh, that wasn't so bad, why did I think it was going to be that bad?'. It's like putting off going to the dentist for a couple of years for fear of what could happen and then he says 'just watch that one in the back, otherwise you're good' and you think 'wow, ok'.
And I know what you're thinking - you're thinking she's sitting here typing when she could just reach down by her feet and grab that makeup bag and unpack it really quickly. Yeah, I could, but then I am sure the universe will cease to exist as I know it. As badly as I WANT an organised tidy little world, I don't want to do much to get it that way. Having said that, when I DO decide to clean something or organise the loft or bathroom or kitchen - LOOK OUT. I become incredibly focused and machine-like. Those are good days.
Later tater.
Saturday, 22 August 2009
And that's how you have a party!
Welcome back (that would be addressed to me as I am the only one following this right now).
So, today the weather is beautiful (again). Summer seems to be making a comeback here in the UK. Well, part of it anyway. A perfect day for a one year old indian boy's birthday party. And what, you ask, am I doing at a one year old indian boy's birthday party? Do I randomly select parties to experience different cultures? Am I really that desperate not to unpack my cases?? Yes. But that's not why I found myself at a party for a little boy. I was the children's entertainment. Me just as I am. Children find me very funny and entertaining. Actually, I have started doing parties this summer, focusing mainly on my music (throwing in some silliness, party games and balloon pets for good measure). Songs were in English, just in case you were wondering.
Today was something truly special. This party was GREAT. The food was GREAT. The people were very kind and the children were all beautiful. And there was very little organisation. Folks wandered in, children joined in the singing or didn't. I stopped to eat because all the children had peeled off one by one to eat with their parents. We did a supersonic version of Pass the Parcel and Musical Statues (both were finished in under 10 minutes). Anyone who has ever been to a kid's party knows that just P the P alone can take up to several days depending on number of children and how many have no idea how to pass the parcel along. And then we did a lovely rendition of 'Happy Birthday' to the man of the day who was nearly dropped in the huge cake by his very excited father. Candle burns to the face and a crown of icing would not have made for a great birthday portrait. It was controlled chaos. I was thrilled to be there and experience it.
One man joined me in the kitchen where I ate my plate of vegetarian indian food (dee-licous). He asked me about entertaining, children not men. And then our conversation turned to cultures, where the families were from, etc. He made an interesting observation. He and his wife went to Mexico two years ago, Cancun to be exact. He said it reminded him of how the Brits travel to Spain. Not to experience the culture they are travelling to but only to harness a bit of sunshine and relaxation while pretending they are still in England. I had never thought of it but this is true. Cancun (having never been but know folks who have) is just alot of beachside hotels and shops and resorts catering to American tourism. And now of course European tourism as well because Mexico is high on the list here. Tired of your fish and chips and beer in Spain? Well then, go to Cancun and get your fajitas and hamburgers and American beer in Mexico - and never have to speak a word of spanish in either country! Hooray!
Personally, I WANT to try and make people suffer through my attempts to speak the language. I want to know where the locals eat, where is the quietest beach, the ruins, cathedrals, etc. It's called travel. Otherwise they would call it something different like 'home away from home' or 'be as unadventurous as you like with a tan!'. I don't know. Just my opinion is all. I will say this, however, recently I have come to see the allure of a resort holiday - kid's clubs, drinks and food sorted, a pool, sleep, and no surprises. Always planning your own holiday, accommodating others schedules, trying to fit it all in, it's flaming exhausting! I know, poor me, I travel abroad and get worn out going to lots of sunny places in America, boo-hoo!! But as I may have mentioned, I moved abroad to see places even further afield, not always return to my roots. But hey, they are called roots for a reason and some of us heed the call more often than others. Some are deaf to the call or have in fact transplanted themselves happily and permanently. I haven't done this and don't think I will. I wonder what my daughter will do? If she lives here a few more years she will feel the pull of England. I wonder what her attitude will be like. Hopefully she'll be into the world and want to experience it all for herself.
I had a great time, earned a bit of cash, and now - yes, the time has come. It's time to unpack.
Maybe I can find one more party to crash.
Catch you on the flipside.
So, today the weather is beautiful (again). Summer seems to be making a comeback here in the UK. Well, part of it anyway. A perfect day for a one year old indian boy's birthday party. And what, you ask, am I doing at a one year old indian boy's birthday party? Do I randomly select parties to experience different cultures? Am I really that desperate not to unpack my cases?? Yes. But that's not why I found myself at a party for a little boy. I was the children's entertainment. Me just as I am. Children find me very funny and entertaining. Actually, I have started doing parties this summer, focusing mainly on my music (throwing in some silliness, party games and balloon pets for good measure). Songs were in English, just in case you were wondering.
Today was something truly special. This party was GREAT. The food was GREAT. The people were very kind and the children were all beautiful. And there was very little organisation. Folks wandered in, children joined in the singing or didn't. I stopped to eat because all the children had peeled off one by one to eat with their parents. We did a supersonic version of Pass the Parcel and Musical Statues (both were finished in under 10 minutes). Anyone who has ever been to a kid's party knows that just P the P alone can take up to several days depending on number of children and how many have no idea how to pass the parcel along. And then we did a lovely rendition of 'Happy Birthday' to the man of the day who was nearly dropped in the huge cake by his very excited father. Candle burns to the face and a crown of icing would not have made for a great birthday portrait. It was controlled chaos. I was thrilled to be there and experience it.
One man joined me in the kitchen where I ate my plate of vegetarian indian food (dee-licous). He asked me about entertaining, children not men. And then our conversation turned to cultures, where the families were from, etc. He made an interesting observation. He and his wife went to Mexico two years ago, Cancun to be exact. He said it reminded him of how the Brits travel to Spain. Not to experience the culture they are travelling to but only to harness a bit of sunshine and relaxation while pretending they are still in England. I had never thought of it but this is true. Cancun (having never been but know folks who have) is just alot of beachside hotels and shops and resorts catering to American tourism. And now of course European tourism as well because Mexico is high on the list here. Tired of your fish and chips and beer in Spain? Well then, go to Cancun and get your fajitas and hamburgers and American beer in Mexico - and never have to speak a word of spanish in either country! Hooray!
Personally, I WANT to try and make people suffer through my attempts to speak the language. I want to know where the locals eat, where is the quietest beach, the ruins, cathedrals, etc. It's called travel. Otherwise they would call it something different like 'home away from home' or 'be as unadventurous as you like with a tan!'. I don't know. Just my opinion is all. I will say this, however, recently I have come to see the allure of a resort holiday - kid's clubs, drinks and food sorted, a pool, sleep, and no surprises. Always planning your own holiday, accommodating others schedules, trying to fit it all in, it's flaming exhausting! I know, poor me, I travel abroad and get worn out going to lots of sunny places in America, boo-hoo!! But as I may have mentioned, I moved abroad to see places even further afield, not always return to my roots. But hey, they are called roots for a reason and some of us heed the call more often than others. Some are deaf to the call or have in fact transplanted themselves happily and permanently. I haven't done this and don't think I will. I wonder what my daughter will do? If she lives here a few more years she will feel the pull of England. I wonder what her attitude will be like. Hopefully she'll be into the world and want to experience it all for herself.
I had a great time, earned a bit of cash, and now - yes, the time has come. It's time to unpack.
Maybe I can find one more party to crash.
Catch you on the flipside.
Friday, 21 August 2009
The Art of Unpacking (or not)
Hey! I've got one follower! Ok, so I am the follower, but it's a start. I'm not writing so much for the following but for the needing to sit and do this. A cathartic writing experience. A writing burp. Hear that? Ah, I feel better already.
Today's Pro and Con/Do and Don't List:
Things I Can Do if I Don't Unpack Now:
Today's Pro and Con/Do and Don't List:
Things I Can Do if I Don't Unpack Now:
- Add to my blog
- Shower
- Nibble on sweets brought over from the States.
- Read (just finished Julie/Julia)
- Sleep (one hour nap today)
- Think about stuff (constantly)
- Sit outside and think about stuff and/or read (did that twice)
- Go to the pub in an hour (after #2)
- Complain about how badly I need to pack
- Hold off on laundry (like this is any different to any other day, with or without suitcases)
Things I Can Do IF I Unpack Now:
- Wear something different
- Begin laundry (and we now all know how I feel about THAT)
- Know where all the stuff is (and there is alot of STUFF)
- Skype to our DC friends who wrote their address in a note - which is packed (shoulda stamped it on my forehead)
- Use my favourite deoderant (which is packed)
- Offer my child something else to wear besides the dregs of her dresser drawers.
- Actually do something productive (besides writing on my blog, of course. Oh, and sleeping.)
- Surprise the ever living crap out of my husband. (Now why would I want to do THAT??)
- Walk in my bedroom without tripping over a suitcase (of which there are three).
- Allow my husband to walk through the bedroom without tripping.
I know, I know, decisions decisions. I mean, what to do? If I unpack, well, I'm unpacked. If I don't unpack I could live out of these cases for, hell, months! I packed three weeks worth of stuff! Actually, it was much more than three weeks. I did try and at least touch each article of clothing I brought - I was by far the worst sufferer of overpack-itis. And now I am suffering from i-don't-wanna-unpack-itis. If I unpack, it's over itsn't it? The holiday, over. Done. But I could do with some clean shirts. All my faves are in the case rolled up into tiny cloth sausages. Time to unroll. Yeah, yeah...hey, what's this? A MAGAZINE?? Hmmmm.
I'll let you know how I get on.
Catch you on the flipside.
Getting into the Swing
Ah, the chance to unload. However, I felt much more like unloading yesterday. Jetlag can really take it's toll. Today (thank you Mr. Ambien), I feel more awake and like my old self. My daughter slept through the night (hallelujah!) and thus, so did we.
We've just returned from a wonderful (and very tiring) three week holiday to America. I am a transplant. A turnip for a heart, a donkey's leg for a human's. I am an American in England. So although I never intended for all of my worldly adventures to revolve around the US (and family), they do.
This trip included a family wedding (was actually a GREAT time, my cousin looked AMAZING, and my daughter was a flower girl - what mom could say no? Show her to me if she exists!! She'll only have SONS!), a trip to Florida, a trip to New Orleans (Covington and Slidell to be precise), Jackson, Ms, Gulfport, Ms, Raleigh, NC and NYC and Long Island. Yes, alot to do and alot of people to see. Oh, and a layover at the Nashville airport. Which was a shame cause it shoulda been two days in Nashville considering I lived there for nearly 12 years. I just couldn't fit it all in.
So hence the jet lag. It really does throw you. I mean, I have mommy brain anyway but to put travel tiredness on top of it, it does feel like I had secret brain surgery whilst asleep on the plane. Maybe I did. Probably organised by my husband. Probably didn't get the desired effect. I bitched at him plenty yesterday (whipping post for my home visit being over). I apologise when I know I've been out-of-line (yes this can happen with some frequency which diminishes the sincerity of the apology, I know). I'm much nicer today.
My daughter's great comment of the day (so far, it's only 9:45am): Let me read to you mommy. Ok, me and you went on holiday and Jojo's underpants stayed home.
My husband was reading this book you see. It was called Superships. He says it got very interesting. Written around 1974 about super oil tankers. It wasn't my bag baby. I read from it one night aloud and decided that in order to make it more palatable, it would be nice to swap any mention of 'ship' 'tanker' 'super structure' to 'jojo's underpants'. Allow me to give you a taste:
'When jojo's underpants contain 4 million gallons of crude oil without a leak, the quality of the underpants...' you get the idea.
Well, my 4 year old daughter caught wind of this funny exchange and on the airplane to America decided to enjoy a bit of light reading. She took his book from him and said (and she shouts, it's just what she does) 'I'm going to read Jojo's Underpants'. She opened the book (upside down of course) and shouted 'One day, Jojo's underpants went to the shop. On the underpants train. And then Jojo's underpants...'. Great fun was had at my husband's expense. The uptight Brit behind him didn't quite seem to get it. The best moment was shouting to him on another flight as we all lined up like cattle to disembark 'Mom! Did we put Jojo's Underpants in the bin??' to which I replied, 'No, we packed Jojo's Underpants.
Another lovely shouting moment was leaving the first plane to go to immigration. Many people strung along a long echo-y corridor with lots of glass. I hear 'Mom! I need a POO!'. Then I hear laughter and snickering. 'Did you all get that?' I ask turning to look behind me at which point two people nod in earnest. Four year olds do not have a filter. Anything and everything that enters their minds comes out of their mouths. They pick at themselves quite happily in public. They scream 'NOOOOOO' at you. They ask you if they have the cutest bottom and winky in the public pool changing room. They comment on you at all times - nipples, pubic hair, your fat tummy, nothing is safe from the roving eye of a 4 year old tabloid reporter.
Alas, the sun is shining (it's in the mid-60's and gorgeous, the weather Gods have been smiling on us for weeks - here and during our travels) and our kitchen has nothing in it. The milk and bread a friend left for us upon our return is long gone. I guess it's time to get the the grocery and think about cooking again. We ate out ALOT on our trip. Having said that, we stayed with friends and family several nights, so it could have been alot worse.
Funny thing about returning home and eating your favourite foods - at first you eat them because you can. Oh! That first bite of southern biscuit. That first taste of shrimp po-boy. The fresh fish. The sushi. The mexican. Grits. It's a long list. But something strange happens. You (or at least I) can't seem to stop ordering the stuff you can't get back in England. You begin to dread it, just a little. You order it out of a sense of obligation. I CAN'T get it there so I've GOT to eat it now. My mouth is saying 'three egss over medium with homefries and a biscuit' while my internal diet policwoman/just plain common sense is saying 'fruit salad! fruit salad!!!'. Although I was offered and accepted fruit salad I never actually ORDERED fruit salad. Although I did (in the first few days of our holiday in Florida) eat ALOT OF GORGEOUS TASTING FRUIT. Thank you Grandma!
Let's just go over the list:
Raleigh: Flying Biscuit biscuits (yum), homemade pan fried grouper dredged in cornmeal (thanks Eric!), Crook's Corner shrimp and grits and tomato and watermelon salad (in Chapel Hill, BEST cornbread I have EVER had). We even had free range bbq chicken and rosemary potatoes (the meat issue is another post for another time).
Florida: shrimp, fruit, salad, sushi at Fuju (in Naples, GREAT tiny place, family run), Grandma's pot roast (a miracle considering she has no short term memory, thanks Aunt Sandy for saving the pot roast! I had a tiny taste because when in Rome!!), Yellowtail snapper breaded and sauted in butter, olive oil, white wine & lemon (Chef me, yum!), and Girlscout Thin Mint ice cream. Lots of sandwiches and thinly sliced cheese. I even ate some mesquite roasted turkey (again for another post). Let's not forget the first meal we had in FL - Waffle House!
Louisiana: Po-boys, shrimp from Bears in Slidell. Excellent!! Nothing but loads of shrimp.
Breakfast was at our b&b in Slidell, Woodridge Inn. Lovely place and Debbie - you make the best biscuits I have ever tasted and I am FROM the south and have eaten ALOT of homemade biscuits. Knocked my socks off, they did.
Mississippi: Ok, Pepitos, Negoya (both very good mexican and sushi respectively and right next store to eachother in Madison, Ms), homecooked talapia (thank you Dan!), lots of great sandwhiches, pancakes at my sisters (yummy) and all the crappy snack food you care to eat - Pizzas, Little Debbies, Doritos, Hostess DingDongs, and a real show stopper - Oreo milk shakes (again, thank you Dan!). A final farewell to Jackson was at Cracker Barrell. We then ate in Gulfport fast food (only once) and at a new restaurant called the Half Shell. Excellent Gumbo, Ellie said the shrimp po-boy was better than Bears and the cheese grits were lovely. Everyone oo'd and ah'd.
Nashville: although a brief layover, we ate at Baha Burrito in the airport. Gracias.
New York: The Diner (around the corner from Hotel Gansevoort), veggie burger, very nice. Breakfast the next day too. Ethiopian food (don't know the name of the place but around NYU and very good). City Bakery for a bit of lunch. On Long Island we ate mostly at St. Ignatius retreat center for all wedding meals. Very nice food. Back to the city we had a slice of pizza at 33 & 3 and dinner at Gobo (6th Ave at 8th and Waverly, or Beverly as our indian cab driver called it). This restaurant blew us away - even my husband who likes all kinds of food said it rocked. It is a must for anyone who visits NYC. Forget it's vegan, you won't miss the meat, my husband didn't.
Breakfast was at the Barking Dog. This place rocks. Right next to the Affinia Dumont on East 34th St near Lexington. All of our breakfasts made our jaws drop. Lunch was at Blockhead's Burritos just up from the pizza place. Grande Quesadilla was superb. We brought some back with us on the plane, popped it in the oven and called it dinner on the first night home. 9Quite a list, huh?)
So, I must head to the store and buy some average apples and hugely imported bananas because the shriveled lemon and orange in my fruit bowl are going in the trash. Rice and beans and lentils and well, that's it for a while. Our taste buds need a little rest. As do our waistlines. Well, mine anyway.
Catch ya on the flipside!
We've just returned from a wonderful (and very tiring) three week holiday to America. I am a transplant. A turnip for a heart, a donkey's leg for a human's. I am an American in England. So although I never intended for all of my worldly adventures to revolve around the US (and family), they do.
This trip included a family wedding (was actually a GREAT time, my cousin looked AMAZING, and my daughter was a flower girl - what mom could say no? Show her to me if she exists!! She'll only have SONS!), a trip to Florida, a trip to New Orleans (Covington and Slidell to be precise), Jackson, Ms, Gulfport, Ms, Raleigh, NC and NYC and Long Island. Yes, alot to do and alot of people to see. Oh, and a layover at the Nashville airport. Which was a shame cause it shoulda been two days in Nashville considering I lived there for nearly 12 years. I just couldn't fit it all in.
So hence the jet lag. It really does throw you. I mean, I have mommy brain anyway but to put travel tiredness on top of it, it does feel like I had secret brain surgery whilst asleep on the plane. Maybe I did. Probably organised by my husband. Probably didn't get the desired effect. I bitched at him plenty yesterday (whipping post for my home visit being over). I apologise when I know I've been out-of-line (yes this can happen with some frequency which diminishes the sincerity of the apology, I know). I'm much nicer today.
My daughter's great comment of the day (so far, it's only 9:45am): Let me read to you mommy. Ok, me and you went on holiday and Jojo's underpants stayed home.
My husband was reading this book you see. It was called Superships. He says it got very interesting. Written around 1974 about super oil tankers. It wasn't my bag baby. I read from it one night aloud and decided that in order to make it more palatable, it would be nice to swap any mention of 'ship' 'tanker' 'super structure' to 'jojo's underpants'. Allow me to give you a taste:
'When jojo's underpants contain 4 million gallons of crude oil without a leak, the quality of the underpants...' you get the idea.
Well, my 4 year old daughter caught wind of this funny exchange and on the airplane to America decided to enjoy a bit of light reading. She took his book from him and said (and she shouts, it's just what she does) 'I'm going to read Jojo's Underpants'. She opened the book (upside down of course) and shouted 'One day, Jojo's underpants went to the shop. On the underpants train. And then Jojo's underpants...'. Great fun was had at my husband's expense. The uptight Brit behind him didn't quite seem to get it. The best moment was shouting to him on another flight as we all lined up like cattle to disembark 'Mom! Did we put Jojo's Underpants in the bin??' to which I replied, 'No, we packed Jojo's Underpants.
Another lovely shouting moment was leaving the first plane to go to immigration. Many people strung along a long echo-y corridor with lots of glass. I hear 'Mom! I need a POO!'. Then I hear laughter and snickering. 'Did you all get that?' I ask turning to look behind me at which point two people nod in earnest. Four year olds do not have a filter. Anything and everything that enters their minds comes out of their mouths. They pick at themselves quite happily in public. They scream 'NOOOOOO' at you. They ask you if they have the cutest bottom and winky in the public pool changing room. They comment on you at all times - nipples, pubic hair, your fat tummy, nothing is safe from the roving eye of a 4 year old tabloid reporter.
Alas, the sun is shining (it's in the mid-60's and gorgeous, the weather Gods have been smiling on us for weeks - here and during our travels) and our kitchen has nothing in it. The milk and bread a friend left for us upon our return is long gone. I guess it's time to get the the grocery and think about cooking again. We ate out ALOT on our trip. Having said that, we stayed with friends and family several nights, so it could have been alot worse.
Funny thing about returning home and eating your favourite foods - at first you eat them because you can. Oh! That first bite of southern biscuit. That first taste of shrimp po-boy. The fresh fish. The sushi. The mexican. Grits. It's a long list. But something strange happens. You (or at least I) can't seem to stop ordering the stuff you can't get back in England. You begin to dread it, just a little. You order it out of a sense of obligation. I CAN'T get it there so I've GOT to eat it now. My mouth is saying 'three egss over medium with homefries and a biscuit' while my internal diet policwoman/just plain common sense is saying 'fruit salad! fruit salad!!!'. Although I was offered and accepted fruit salad I never actually ORDERED fruit salad. Although I did (in the first few days of our holiday in Florida) eat ALOT OF GORGEOUS TASTING FRUIT. Thank you Grandma!
Let's just go over the list:
Raleigh: Flying Biscuit biscuits (yum), homemade pan fried grouper dredged in cornmeal (thanks Eric!), Crook's Corner shrimp and grits and tomato and watermelon salad (in Chapel Hill, BEST cornbread I have EVER had). We even had free range bbq chicken and rosemary potatoes (the meat issue is another post for another time).
Florida: shrimp, fruit, salad, sushi at Fuju (in Naples, GREAT tiny place, family run), Grandma's pot roast (a miracle considering she has no short term memory, thanks Aunt Sandy for saving the pot roast! I had a tiny taste because when in Rome!!), Yellowtail snapper breaded and sauted in butter, olive oil, white wine & lemon (Chef me, yum!), and Girlscout Thin Mint ice cream. Lots of sandwiches and thinly sliced cheese. I even ate some mesquite roasted turkey (again for another post). Let's not forget the first meal we had in FL - Waffle House!
Louisiana: Po-boys, shrimp from Bears in Slidell. Excellent!! Nothing but loads of shrimp.
Breakfast was at our b&b in Slidell, Woodridge Inn. Lovely place and Debbie - you make the best biscuits I have ever tasted and I am FROM the south and have eaten ALOT of homemade biscuits. Knocked my socks off, they did.
Mississippi: Ok, Pepitos, Negoya (both very good mexican and sushi respectively and right next store to eachother in Madison, Ms), homecooked talapia (thank you Dan!), lots of great sandwhiches, pancakes at my sisters (yummy) and all the crappy snack food you care to eat - Pizzas, Little Debbies, Doritos, Hostess DingDongs, and a real show stopper - Oreo milk shakes (again, thank you Dan!). A final farewell to Jackson was at Cracker Barrell. We then ate in Gulfport fast food (only once) and at a new restaurant called the Half Shell. Excellent Gumbo, Ellie said the shrimp po-boy was better than Bears and the cheese grits were lovely. Everyone oo'd and ah'd.
Nashville: although a brief layover, we ate at Baha Burrito in the airport. Gracias.
New York: The Diner (around the corner from Hotel Gansevoort), veggie burger, very nice. Breakfast the next day too. Ethiopian food (don't know the name of the place but around NYU and very good). City Bakery for a bit of lunch. On Long Island we ate mostly at St. Ignatius retreat center for all wedding meals. Very nice food. Back to the city we had a slice of pizza at 33 & 3 and dinner at Gobo (6th Ave at 8th and Waverly, or Beverly as our indian cab driver called it). This restaurant blew us away - even my husband who likes all kinds of food said it rocked. It is a must for anyone who visits NYC. Forget it's vegan, you won't miss the meat, my husband didn't.
Breakfast was at the Barking Dog. This place rocks. Right next to the Affinia Dumont on East 34th St near Lexington. All of our breakfasts made our jaws drop. Lunch was at Blockhead's Burritos just up from the pizza place. Grande Quesadilla was superb. We brought some back with us on the plane, popped it in the oven and called it dinner on the first night home. 9Quite a list, huh?)
So, I must head to the store and buy some average apples and hugely imported bananas because the shriveled lemon and orange in my fruit bowl are going in the trash. Rice and beans and lentils and well, that's it for a while. Our taste buds need a little rest. As do our waistlines. Well, mine anyway.
Catch ya on the flipside!
Thursday, 20 August 2009
ok, I'm back.
I can sit for a moment - but only a moment because my 4 year old has learned the art of flattery and bribery (ok, two arts). She is begging me to play on the computer whilst holding my hand (before I started typing), kissing my cheek and talking to me in baby-talk 'puhleeze can I play on the compu-tah?' I can't say no. Well, I could easily say no and often do but at this moment I feel I owe her some yes time. It's good to say yes once in awhile. Not all the time, but some times. All the time can really bite you on the ass.
Welcome to my world, one day at a time...
Welcome. I've decided it's time to get this c-rap out of my head and out there somewhere. Better out than in. Good. That's over. I'll be back.
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