“Hello, I’m very busy and important.” – Love Actually
Happy Monday, my little partridges. We flew from the East Coast back over the Mississippi and landed smack in 15 inches of snow. Christmas is officially upon us (I refuse to accept that trees and decorations have been up since before the long Labor Day weekend, but now they are acceptable) and I won’t get another break until Christmas Eve.
And, darlings, I have things to do!
Small Dog is in the spirit
J. and I spent all of our fun money to go and visit my family over the break, and now it’s time to buckle down and shop for a couple dozen people. Woof. We ate all of our food before we headed out and now I have to start a regimen of snacks, food, and treats to last an entire month. However, being starving newlyweds (yes, I am still using that title) I have an excellent reason to avoid the expense and time of decorating. I have St. Nicholas Day, Elle’s birthday, and Fairy’s birthday, three Christmas parties (so far), rent and utilities due, all within the first 14 days of December.
Back at work, I have masses of laundry to run to cleaners, files to ship out to media and lawyers, and the winter season of car accident reports to prepare for. Football is over, basketball is in full swing. Oh, and about a million people need background checks run on them.
Additionally, we have the added stress of twiddling our thumbs. J. has started submitted applications to grad schools, so now we get to “hurry up and wait” to hear from them. I hate that game.
I’m getting a little ahead of myself, because I’m already plotting my Halloween costume. But as you may recall, I love Halloween! Each year our office dresses up. Witches and ghosts are occasionally seen, but we prefer to get a bit more creative. Sav dressed all in pink and a name tag that read “Floyd.” One of the student officers directs traffic in Mickey Mouse gloves.
And this year I’m going as Joan from Mad Men and it’s probably going to be the easiest costume I’ve ever had (although after that papier mache Anubis head, anything would be a piece of cake). Because that paragon of cuteness, Shabby Apple, has made in their new Yosemite line, the Joanest of all Joan Halloway dresses. However even the desire for a fab Halloween costume wasn’t going to induce me to spend $92 on it! Then, low and behold, Groupon did a deal and I got $100 of in store credit, for a much, much, MUCH lower price. My dress plus shipping was a third of what it would have been otherwise. This number is going to double as all go-to outfit for holiday parties this year.
And finally, I had to find that iconic pen necklace. I scoured Etsy and Ebay and Google, but everything that came up was so ludicrously priced as to laughable. Finally I found a long gold chain ($4) and a small gold pencil on a pendant ring ($6), and put it together myself. Et voila!
Now I’ll just have to get red hair dye. Should be fun! Or I can always chicken out and go as the new receptionist Megan, she of the French extraction and perfect skin.
“Delicious Autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the Earth seeking the successive Autumns.”
– George Elliot
Fall is here!
I love that the skies are perfectly blue and clear for all but the fluffiest of white clouds, but the temperature is noticeably crisp. I adore sweater weather, and I love breaking out the sweaters that have been in hibernation. Looking into the tree tops and off into the mountains, I’m thrilled that I can see just a handful of leaves, just a couple clusters of trees starting to turn that fierce shade of vivid rust that I love. I enjoy waking up to a cool flat (as opposed to August when I wake up and both J. and I have kicked all the sheets off the bed and are still miserable), snuggled down in my pillow with the blankets drawn up to my nose. I love wrapping my mother’s presents of thick Scottish wool scarves around my neck. I love plotting my Halloween costume, debating the wisdom of buying new boots, and planning whose family we will spend various holidays with. I LOVE Fall!
Alternatively…with the advent of bronzing leaves comes that most American of holidays: HallowGivingMas. Picture this: walking through the mall I passed a home decor store. And right at the front of this store was a large Christmas tree, decorated in jack-o’-lantern and turkey ornaments. Major, major fail.
No, American Consumerism, I will not be guilted into extending my holiday shopping season by a single day, much less three months! Instead, I will be looking at changing leaves, celebrating my godfather’s birthday, wearing my university pullovers, and researching soup recipes, thank you very much.
“Fireworks.”
…”Yes,” said Gregor, smiling eagerly. [Everyone] around the table perked up at this. An inherent cultural passion for things that went boom, perhaps.
– Louis McMaster Bujold, A Civil Campagin
Last year J. and I were on our honeymoon and watched fireworks from the top of the Stratosphere hotel, which meant we only saw tiny little puffballs of color blossoming far beneath us. The year before that, I and others in Ireland celebrated by having our vote to go to Kilkenny overturned by our professor who wanted to see Glendelough. And the two years I’ve been in the US previously, I spent the summers in Belgium working at NATO with my father and got to see nary an explosion.
And I love fireworks!
This year most of the surrounding area is doing it’s 4th celebration on the 3rd, and lots of the cities are strapped for cash (hurray, recession) so I probably won’t get to see any this year either. Sigh.
However, ironically enough, J. and I didn’t get to celebrate our anniversary on Thursday (he went to a funeral, and I was dying at work prepping for our university’s own 4th party) and yesterday we went out to eat with his sister and parents. So today we will be celebrating our lack of indpendence together!
“It pays to plan ahead. It wasn’t raining when Noah built the ark.”
– Anon.
An awful thing happens to you post-graduation/marriage/21st birthday: You turn into an adult and you start planning. Which is understandable. It’s likely that your inner circle of friends and family has grown exponentially, you have more varied kinds of relationships (work, fun, etc.) and relationships take effort. Which is a long intro into me saying I’ve started eyeing things for Christmas shopping.
Also! Shabby Apple has given me the best Halloween costume idea ever! Apart from the gorgeous, summery Paris-inspired line that came out recently (which I’m still drooling over), and the Australian inspired swimwear line ( I want this one, but can’t justify because I already bought a swimsuit for this year)…they’ve also come out with a business wear type line. One of which is red, curvy, and the tiniest bit scandalous (here’s another view in black, just so you can see where the idea came to me from).
“‘Tis pleasant purchasing our fellow-creatures; And all are to be sold, if you consider Their passions, and are dext’rous; some by features Are brought up, others by a warlike leader; Some by a place–as tend their years or natures; The most by ready cash–but all have prices, From crowns to kicks, according to their vices.”
– Lord Byron, Don Juan canto V, st. 27
Holidays are fun, regardless of nationality. Take today: Cindo de Mayo. Some people celebrate with chips and salsa, some with a fiesta, some with mariachi bands. And some with bribery.
A certain student is banned from driving on campus. This is due in large part to him accumulating up to four tickets in one day, parking in service/handicapped stalls, trying to fight our student officers, and claiming that he never received information that three people all told him (at the same time, in the same room together). He was informed he had the ability to appeal the ban but would not be able to bring his car onto campus until a final decision had been made. He said he understood and left.
Pictured: the filthy tool of corruption!
Today he came into our office, and asked for Red.
“You know about Cinco de Mayo, right?” he asked. “It’s today. So I brought you this.”
He held out a small packaged piece of tres leches cake with a meaningful expression.
“K, bye” he said quickly and hurried out.
Five minutes later we found his car in a non-student parking lot.
The real mystery here is, if he were trying to circumvent parking rules, why did he draw attention to himself by 1) attempted bribery and, 2) (and this is more perplexing) leaving his emergency lights flashing merrily away for over an hour?
How do you celebrate Cinco de Mayo? Or any holiday for that matter?
This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,—
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.
– Shakespeare
So! Flew in to Heathrow on the morning of Christmas Eve, met at airport by Dad and Snickers, drove home to Suffolk. Day spent hugging, talking, and trying to stay awake. Christmas Eve feast was superb. Went to bed. Woke up Christmas morning (siblings showed infinite patience and let us sleep in longer than I’d ever imagine they’d be able to) and tore into both presents and breakfast. Rest of day spent in rest and relaxation.
The adventures begin on December 26th, also known as Boxing Day. It’s part of the Christmas holiday in England and most people keep holiday hours on it, but this was the day chosen to go to London to show J. the sights. We checked online and it appeared some things would be open, so off we went.
Mum, left in red. Me, middle in red. Gio, right of me in red. Dad, right of Gio in red. Buddy...in black. Snickers, hidden. J., behind camera.
Never trust the internet. The Tower, which really is the historical base of the city (thanks, William the Bastard/Conquerer) was closed. Luckily Westminster Abbey was open. Some of you may recall my raptures at visiting it two years ago? Well, it was nothing compared to this time. I was so obnoxiously happy to be back in England that I had a hyper litany of sheer enthusiasm trilling through my head as I forced myself to walk somberly through its hallowed naves. The Shakespeare alone was particularly thrilling, I may or may not have muttered the St. Crispin’s Day speech as I meandered past Henry V. Anne of Cleves got a nod and a, “Well done. Better off without him. Much,” Congreve got a cheeky grin, Elizabeth I another critical glance over (still not as pretty as she thought she was).
After Westminster we tried for the Tower but that as you know was a fruitless effort. So we traipsed across the city! I didn’t make it over to Kensington where I lived but I did stare longingly at the High Street Kensington and Gloucester Road stops on the Tube for a while. We walked through Trafalgar Square (scene of many a late night revel with Marie, Elizabeth, and AbFab so long ago), made our way to Leicester Square where, completely out of other ideas, we massacred three hours by watching Avatar. An observation: don’t see this movie in 3D from the second row of the theatre. Your inner ear thanks me. After that we saw Stomp and made our way home at a ridiculous hour of the evening.
Sunday we tried to recuperate a bit and celebrated Buddy’s birthday with a quiet family evening at home. The next day we celebrated it by scampering around the misty wet fields with nearly fifty people, shooting each other with paintballs. I had only been paintballing once before and been shot in the mouth, so I didn’t have a high opinion of the activity (this time I was shot at point-blank range while guarding a little girl, but it was during our mad dash for glory in a game of capture the flag and we were welcomed to the splotched sidelines like heroes). The boys loved it.
No, it's not the camera angle, the house really looks like that.
Tuesday we went to Lavenham, which is without question the most charming country village outside of the Lakes District. I’ve written about it before, but allow me to gush a little bit more! It’s just delightful, the crooked Tudor houses always make me grin like an idiot. I rummaged through my favorite antique store (trying on an Edwardian hat, drooling over Victorian jewelry, and rifling through letter boxes and cupboards) and we ate lunch at The Swan.
Wednesday J. and I basely ditched the family and hopped on the train from Cambridge back down to London so he could actually see things. The train was a necessity because, according to the news, a truck of pigs had gotten into a wreck on the M11 and, far from turning the passengers into bacon, a dozen or so had escaped and were wandering across the highway, grazing on things, and generally causing a bad time of it for the drivers who were backed up for hours waiting for the porcine perils to be rounded up.
We hit the Tower and the British Museum. Going through it was like visiting an old friend. J. seemed to especially love the awful imperialism it represented. “I mean, these guys just showed up and said, ‘I like that wall. I think I’ll take it!'” he said going through the Parthenon exhibit. During the evening we walked from Tottenham Court Road to Oxford Circus so I could get in some much needed shopping before we made our way back to Liverpool St. and hopped back on the train to Cambridge. Then, the next day, back to the States.
I’m going to be honest and admit that as we were driving back from J.’s parents house and I was looking across the valley and snow-covered mountains…I burst into homesick tears. When we got home I was absolutely howling with misery (or lack of sleep, one of the two). “I want to live two hours outside of London!” I sobbed, “I want to live where it’s green even in the winter! I hate the desert! I don’t want to go back to work on Monday! I don’t want to live here for two and a half more years while you finish school! I want my dog!”
J. just hugged me and promised to get me back there someday if he could, and he meant it. I calmed down, went to bed, and woke up feeling alright about leaving England behind for a while. In the meantime, I’ll just be here. Missing it.
“So, every once and while I look up and go, ‘Oh, hey! We have a fan in our kitchen,’ because I forget about it and you have these short little arms that can’t reach.”
“Shut up!”
-J. and C.
We spent January 1, 2010 flying in from London at 2am, crashing at my in-laws so we wouldn’t have to drive home at that ungodly hour, sleeping until 10 (jet lag), and lounging around waiting for nieces and nephews…who didn’t show up until ten minutes after we left, reading The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie (which I couldn’t put down, go read it at once!), and crawling pitifully back in bed for a fitful night’s sleep.
It was also our six month anniversary.
Now, J. might have an awful penchant for cracking short jokes, think that me getting furious is about the funniest thing possible, and not do the dishes as often as I would wish, but he also tolerates my stupid TV shows, kisses me at every opportunity, and flat-out orders me to a masseuse when my jet lag weariness won’t abate.
And that, my dears, is a very nice sort of husband to have. I am terribly fond of him!
(Editor’s note: YES! England trip updates are coming, I just keep forgetting to upload the – very sparse – photos we took!)
“How much sleep have you gotten in the last three days?”
“…twelve hours…maybe…”
– Parents and C.
Hello, darlings! J. and I have returned from Merrie Olde Englande but I’m not at all intact! For some reason I didn’t adjust to English time at all this trip, and no amount of Tylenol PM could fix me. And rest certainly wasn’t on the agenda because J. had never been and there is SO MUCH TO SEE/DO. All of which I will faithfully recount, as soon as I have recovered from the exhaustion induced headcold fog I’m currently clawing my way out of. Thank goodness I’ve the weekend to rest before going back to work.
And now, a few observations.
Small Dog, upon arrival.
Item the first. Some women look good when they travel. I am not one of them. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been flying at least a couple times a year for a good portion of my life, how much I hydrate, how many naps I squeeze in, whether or not I put on makeup, how many vitamins I’ve popped, or whether I’m seated next to the banshee child from Hades or a perfectly silent baby, I will inevitably arrive looking haggard. My hair will be in desperate need of a wash, my skin will have turned to an ashen mess, and my eyes will be rimmed in red agony. And also inevitably, on every flight there will be a leggy blonde in skinny jeans that fit her properly, a flowy cardigan, the perfect carry-on bag, at least one unobtrusive and flattering accessory, flawless skin, and perfectly mussed hair that will come out of the jet in the same lovely condition it went into it with. I hate this woman.
Item the second. Terrorists will make an appearance. I’ve had some experience with the fallout of their behavior. A few years ago I was flying out of Brussels back to the States, my family was on their way to the UK and I was back off to university. It was a day after the UK-based terrorist plot to use liquid explosives on airliners had been discovered and dismantled (2006, if you don’t recall in these fast-paced times) and the resulting chaos was ricocheting around airports world-wide.
Goodbye, dear. Be safe and don't talk to extremists. See you at Christmas...maybe.
My parents drove me to the airport, waved a cheerful goodbye, and off they were down to Calais to take the ferry across the Channel to Dover. And there I stood in the Brussels airport staring blankly into the pandemonium. There were security guards everywhere, dogs, and barking airline employees informing me that I would not be permitted a carry-on on my flight so I would either need to repack everything or throw my carry-on and everything in it away. I had turned in my European mobile phone (and so had my parents) so there was no way to keep in contact, and exchanged all my money for US dollars so there was no way to pay for anything unless I wanted to eat the exchange rate fees on my US credit card. And they were on their way to France (without me!). A very nice Middle Eastern family made room for me with their group on the floor where we all repacked, stuffed, sat on suitcases to close them, and repacked again to make sure we were within weight requirements. Going through the security screening took nearly two hours, but it didn’t matter because my flight was delayed for five.
After the foiled terrorist plot this past week, Heathrow had stepped up security but J. and I actually made it through in good time with only a frisking. Unfortunately, after we were frisked and shown into our containment area, we weren’t allowed out again and so I had to forego breakfast.
And item the third. Continental’s new entertainment system?! Amazing! You should fly with them just for the countless movie options!
“You’re making a mess.”
“I’m spreading holiday goodness!”
– J. and C.
Saturday (which was spent almost entirely at Catriona and Bear’s wedding) ended in a mad dash around town to pick up last minute gifts, travel sized shampoo and toothpaste, wrapping paper, and ribbon. Then I threw on a movie and dove into my holiday vortex!
Artistic rendering of our carpet/my face.
Three hours later, a fine coating of glitter had fallen over everything (the wrapping paper was a gorgeous mash of crimson damask pattern and gold glitter swirls…that might not have been as securely fastened to the paper as could be hoped). My face and hair were coated with sparkling cheer which was starting to snow all over the couch and carpet. I tracked it back into the office at some point. Somehow, it managed to get into the tape (as in inexplicably underneath the various layers) which upped the stickiness factor exponentially.
Admittedly I probably didn’t help matters by skipping about the house dusting off my hands over everything trilling, “La la la la la, la la la LA!” However, out of respect to the dignity of J.’s very masculine suitcase, I stuffed all the presents into a plastic bag before packing everything up tightly.
We fly out to London in two days! We’re set to leave the country via Dallas, the logic of which I originally questioned as it tacks on extra hours to an already excruciating flight, but since that huge storm slapped the east coast, I’m not grudging the extra time.
Small Dog Syndrome 