Expat Mum

Scousers and, um Stevenagians

2012-01-28T11:14:00.000-06:00

Is that what people from Stevenage are called? Stevenagians?

So how about some free tickets to see the fab a cappella group Straight No Chaser? I'm giving away pairs of tickets for their concert in Liverpool on Feb 13th, and Stevenage on Feb 17th. Just leave a comment with the venue of your choice and make sure I can contact you somewhow. It's THAT easy.

In the event of there being more comments than tickets, I'll pick random winners, and the GRAND winner gets to meet the group backstage.

Here are the boys singing "I'm Yours/Somewhere Over the Rainbow".

Calling all Scots

2012-01-27T10:18:00.000-06:00

Continuing the fabulous Straight No Chaser ticket give-away, the boys will be playing in Scotland on Feb 11 and 12 - Edinburgh's Queens Hall on the 11th and Dunfries' DG One Leisure Complex on the 12th.

Leave a comment here (plus a way to contact you, and the venue choice) to be in with a chance to win a pair of tickets, and even a meet and greet with the boys backstage.

Here's a look at them singing Ben E. King's "Stand by Me".

PS. Scroll down to previous posts for a chance to win tickets to their concerts in Cardiff, York, Bournemouth and Newcastle/Gateshead.

OK Geordies - It's Your Turn

2012-01-26T01:27:00.000-06:00

And yes, my fave group are coming to my home town, and I have free tickets and a meet & greet to give away. A cappella group Straight No Chaser are playing at the gorgeous Sage on February 8th. I have ten pairs of ticket to hoy aboot plus a Meet & Greet with the lads for a grand winner. Just leave a comment (with contact details if I can't click to them) below and you'll be in the running. And spread the word aboot.

Winners will be announced on Feb 1st.

And for a taster, here they are singing The Lion Sleeps Tonight.

Good luck, one and all.

Bournemouth and York Music Fans - listen up!

2012-01-25T08:52:00.000-06:00

But wait...... I have more Straight No Chaser concert ticket giveaways. They're playing The Pavillion in Bournemouth, on February 6th, and the York Opera House on February 9th.

Just to remind you how great they are, here's a clip of them singing a Lady Gaga mix, which is great fun.

Leave a comment for me/the band, and you're in the running for one of ten pairs of tickets. PLUS the grand winner will also win a meet and greet with the band after the show. (Let me know which venue you're nearest.)

Having been to several of their shows here in Chicago (including one where all the mikes kept going out and they still managed to make it funny), I guarantee people of all ages a really great time.

Good luck!

PS. The random selections will be made by my 8 year old, who takes these things very seriously. He will pull numbers out of a hat, and the correspondingly numbered commenters here, will win.

Winners announced Sunday, Jan 29th. Please leave an e-mail if there is no contact info on your comment.

Cardiff Music Lovers - Concert Ticket Giveaway

2012-01-24T13:23:00.001-06:00

As promised, here's the first of the Straight No Chaser concert ticket giveaways. They're playing St. David's Hall, Cardiff on Sunday, February 5th.

Just to remind you how great they are, here's a clip of them singing Queen's "You're My Best Friend". (One of my fave songs of all time BTW)

Leave a comment for me/the band, and you're in the running for one of ten pairs of tickets. PLUS the grand winner will also win a meet and greet with the band after the show.

Having been to several of their shows here in Chicago (including one where all the mikes kept going out and they still managed to make it funny), I guarantee people of all ages a really great time.

Good luck!

PS. The random selections will be made by my 8 year old, who takes these things very seriously. He will pull numbers out of a hat, and the correspondingly numbered commenters here, will win.

Winners announced Sunday, Jan 29th. Please leave an e-mail if there is no contact info on your comment.

Straight No Chaser - Coming to a Town Near You!

2012-01-23T15:56:00.000-06:00

If you love great singing and are in the mood for a fun night out, watch this space for a competition coming very soon.

In the meantime, check out Straight No Chaser at their web site.

I have been following these guys for a number of years now and can't tell you how great they are. They can all really, really sing and you get everything from Madonna to Motown and madrigals.

And guess what? They're touring the UK in February -

Cardiff - 5th
Bournemouth - 6th
Sage, Gateshead - 8th
York - 9th
Edinburgh - 11th
Dunfries - 12th
Liverpool - 13th
Stevenage - 17th
London - 18th
Fareham - 19th

Here they are singing "Like a Prayer".

American Colleges - Fleecing America

2012-01-21T14:17:00.000-06:00

As many of you know, the Queenager has flown the nest for college. I happen to be researching colleges for another project at the moment, so I'm currently quite well versed in all things college. Well, for a foreigner anyway.

And I'm shocked, quite frankly. For a people that decries too much government interference, Americans seem only too happy to let colleges and universities call the shots.

At almost 19, and despite the fact that she knows she wants to major in Journalism, and has already scored a much-coveted place in the Journalism School, my daughter is still deemed unfit to pick her own classes. As her funding mechanism, we are therefore paying (through the nose, I might add) for courses she's not interested in and will probably never use. They're called pre-requisites and core courses, and most colleges do this. Before the Q can take any Journalism courses, she has to complete her pre-reqs (some of which are relevant to Journalism) and core courses, like math(s) and biology.

OK, I get that many kids don't know what they want to do, and others change their minds before declaring their majors, so they benefit from a variety of classes. But my daughter has effectively declared her major, and even if she changes her mind, she probably won't jump to neuro-surgery or aeronautical engineering. Even if she does, isn't that her/our business? She's 19 for crying out loud. She's old enough to do everything other than drink alcohol (and don't even get me started on that one),- she can be tried as an adult, she has the right to vote, she can die for her country. She just can't choose what to study, even when her parents are paying? Really America?

But I get it. Without those pesky pre-requisites (many of which she has studied at high school, BTDubs), she could probably graduate in three years. Heaven forbid that universities might have to fore-go a year's tuition!

Aah. - It all makes sense now.

Assume the Best - A Philosophy for Bloggers (and Everyone)

2012-01-18T09:11:00.000-06:00

There have been some bloggy discussions in the past few weeks that have made me think. There's one going on here which has some very interesting comments and is well worth a look. Basically, some bloggers are calling for a kinder, gentler Blogosphere, especially between women. It seems we're not always as supportive of each other as we might be. (Sorry, I can't give you any examples as I always seem to miss the big fights.)

So here (ta-daa), 'cause I know you're all waiting with baited breath for wise old EPM to weigh in, (Hey - less of the "old") - are my thoughts on the matter:-

Assume the Best.

Because let's face it, in the absence of a face in front of us, and a voice to listen to, it's very hard to decipher meaning from words on a page. Especially when it's 140 characters or less. (Tweeps, turn around and pay attention.) Even when there's "LOL" in there (which incidentally, means "Laughing out Loud" rather than "Lots of Love"). Even when there's a smiley emoticon or a pair of smacking lips, or "With all due respect..", in there.

Even if we don't respond immediately, many of us assume the worst. Our hackles are up. We go away and steam about it, usually making things far worse than they ever could be. We go to other blogs and talk about it, we post about it without mentioning the offender specifically, we snap back with a comment that on the surface looks terribly polite, but the real meaning is there for all to see.

In short, we assume the worst.

So my suggested mantra is "Assume the Best". In fact I think this is a great approach to life in general.

Here's a few things to try:-

1. Read the phrase/post again and see if you can put a different slant on it. Perhaps this is what the writer meant?

2. Breathe.

3. I'd say "try to put yourself in the writer's shoes" but it's very hard to think like another person, even when you've had similar experiences. We all come to a situation with our own life experiences, so the way one person reacts to something is rarely the same as the next.

4. If you're still steaming, compose a response on paper or in draft. Read it out loud. If it sounds mean, ask yourself if that's how you want to come across.

5. If you're answer is "Yes", take a breath and ask yourself "How do I think people will react? Is this what I want?"

6. If you're really upset about something, that's even more reason to sleep on it, have a cup of tea or otherwise think twice before banging out a response and hitting the send button.

Don't you want everyone to jump to the best conclusions about you instead of the worst?

You Don't Cook? Shame on You.

2012-01-16T08:20:00.000-06:00

Not sure if the interview has aired in the UK, but Madonna's been all over the TV here in the States. (New movie coming out, see.)

The thing that's causing ripples this time is the statement that she has never cooked a full meal on her own. (Bit of a change from the sex scandals she used to incite.) Anyway, the statement seems to have been truncated into "I have never cooked", but if you watch the video, she actually says she's never cooked a full meal on her own. Why is this surprising? She went from a brief stint in college, to dancing in clubs in New York, and had hit the big time while still in her 20's. As a student and then a young working 20-something in London, I don't think I cooked many full meals on my own in that time either. By the time Madonna started a family, she had more money than most third world countries. Why in god's name would she cook if she didn't want to. (I understand that some celebrities "cook", but that's because they want to.)

But talk about a double standard. Remember the time Mick Jagger was asked the same question? No?

Exactly.

Some of the comments at the Daily Mail are mildly ridiculous too. (Ok, Ok, it's DM readers so should I really be surprised?)

"Sad admission, and nothing to be proud of anyway." Not that I'm a great Madge fan these days, but there was neither shame nor pride when she said it. It's just a fact of her life.

"I enjoy nothing more than cooking for my family and if I am away from them, I miss it. Try it sometime Madonna, you do not know what you are missing." I have a feeling that if Madonna felt remotely interested in learning to cook, she would have flung herself into it, mastered every cuisine under the sun and be running a global restaurant chain by now. I think she knows exactly what she's (not) missing.

"Now I understand why she hasn't ever been able to get hold of her husbands. A woman who doesn't know how to cook then doesn't know how to keep her man." Again, I don't think Madge has had any trouble "getting hold" of her husbands somehow. And I guarantee her lack of interest in the kitchen wasn't what ended her marriages.

"Cooking nutritious meals for your children is one of the most loving and important things a mother can do. (*1) It's not surprising that Madonna has never done this for her children. ( *2)She'd rather dictate to them what not to eat instead of taking the time and effort to provide for them herself." (*3)
*1 - "Lovng"? Not if you hate cooking. Then, it becomes pure drudgery, turning mothers into knife wielding harpies.
*2 - So not cooking (as well as probably not doing their laundry, cleaning their toilets or driving them to school) makes her an unloving mother does it? Hmmm.
*3 As parents, particularly of small children, don't we all "dictate" what they eat. I mean, most of them can't even reach the cupboards, let alone plan a menu for their weekly meals.

"Shameful! I would NEVER admit that no matter if I was the Queen of England!!!" 'Cause we all know the Q of E can knock up a mean lamb pasanda from scratch.

"I don't think you can call yourself a mother until you have cooked for your children, I don't care how rich & famous you are." Erm, .. So despite the pregnancy, childbirth, breast or formula feeding, you're not really a mother until they're onto solids and you're making them from scratch?

And here's me thinking we were in 2012!

YOU MUST GO AND READ THIS - #10

2012-01-14T19:50:00.000-06:00

I know I've been a bit lax with the "You Must Go and Read This" award. Partly because there isn't an actual award, and partly because who gives a ------, but when I say "You must go and read this", you really must.

This year's award ('cause it feels like an annual event) goes to my mate Iota. She's writing about PBJ. Huh? Ahh - then you really have to pop over to her blog and see what's going on.

It made me laugh out loud, and made my American husband roll his eyes, - which I think was her intention with Americans.

Tipping - the American Approach

2012-01-11T09:58:00.000-06:00

I was interested to read about an American woman who was literally hounded and harassed on-line for not leaving a tip in an Atlanta, Georgia restaurant. She says she did leave a tip but admits to writing an online review in which she said the food was "tepid". In retaliation, the restaurant manager put a photo of her on Facebook and Twitter, and warned other restaurants owners not to let her into their establishments. Oh, and he said they should all tell her to "Go F**K herself".

And he wonders why he didn't get tipped?

The owner of the restaurant has since apologized and offered free meals etc to make up for things, but it's the comments of the readers that interest me. Although many of them didn't quite go as far as defending the manager, they roundly criticized the habit of not leaving a tip, even when presented with tepid food, as in this case.

I've lived in the States for over 20 years, and no matter how bad a meal or service gets, I have never met an American who is comfortable with leaving no tip at all. The reason usually given is that not only do wait staff earn a ridiculously low hourly rate (and therefore need those tips), but the problem is not always their fault. In my experience however, even when the problem is directly because of poor wait service, a tip of some size will be left. Given that the tipping rate here is not less than 15% and usually closer to 20%, a reduced tip to reflect reduced satisfaction is still better than a slap round the chops with a wet lettuce.

Such is the culture of tipping in this country that you can buy tipping ready-reckoners, the size of credit cards, to help you calculate the required tip. For the more tech-savvy, there are countless tip calculator apps and web sites, such as this one, that not only figure out your tip, but tell you how much each person should pay if you're splitting the bill between a number of people.

It's much harder to come across advice for tipping when the service is bad, and one site even pulled up this comment as proof of my point: "If we eat a meal with absolutely horrible service, believe it or not, we still tip. However, we NEVER go back again and let everyone we know of the bad service. I think that's even worse. If you own a restaurant, you want feedback. If people all of a sudden stop showing up, I think that's much worse than giving a bad tip."

Well yes, bad word of mouth is a killer, but you STILL TIP. Isn't that a tad cowardly? Although given the lead story here, you never know what's going to happen these days if you skip on a tip.

If You Haven't Thrown Your Christmas Cards Out Yet...

2012-01-10T01:15:00.001-06:00

Bear with me while I brag a little. No seriously, look at these:

See what they are? Gift tags made entirely from this year's Christmas cards. (The bottom ones are a black/sparkly theme but the photography is a bit dodgy.)

The top three are simply pieces of card edging cut out and layered on top of each other in a sort of crafty but modern way. Even the basic tag is an old card. Make sure they're white on the back so that people can write greetings on them.

With just one Christmas card you can make a whole set of gift tags around a single colo(u)r theme, like the red and green ones, or the black and gold ones.

So if, for example, you use gold shiny wrapping paper next year, your gifts will look incredibly smart with similar tags.

Yes, they're home made, and recipients will know they're home made. However, to me that says someone took the time to make them for you, and of course, it's all about re-using and re-cycling.

Oh What a Tangled Web.....

2012-01-08T16:20:00.000-06:00

The Little Guy got a Wii game from Santa for Christmas. When he opened it, he realised that

a) it had a Best Buy sticker on it, and
b) Santa (or Best Buy) had left the security case on.

At least I think it's the security case 'cause no one in our family or neighbo(u)rhood can crack it. We've tried brute force, scissors (with just a minor flesh wound), pliers, and a hammer. Actually the hammer was caught mid-air due to the potential to damage the entire contents of the case.

To the Best Buy question, I explained that when Santa gets really busy, companies like Best Buy and Toys R Us make toys to help him. Or was it that Santa makes all the toys around the world and companies like Best Buy and Toys R Us get them from him too?

The security case was not so smooth however.

Me - Oh gosh, I hope I can find the receipt.
LG - You get receipts from Santa?
Me - Oh, was that a gift from Santa? I can't remember who gave what. (Think, think, think.)
LG - Yes. What are we going to do?
Me - Hmmmm. Perhaps we can just go to Best Buy and tell them what's happened.
Man-Child - If you don't have a receipt, won't they think you stole it? (Thank you, Man-Child.)
Me - (Argh...). Surely it would have set the security alarms off though?
All - Hmmmm.

We then came to the conclusion that, hidden in the bar code, there is information as to where the game originates. If it's from Santa they will know it's not stolen.

So:

Having found the receipt, I went back to Best Buy (with LG in tow) and explained our predicament to the nice girl at Customer Service. I was hoping that the mention of Santa would also clue her in to my personal predicament, which it did. She pointed to the receipt and asked "Oh, is this the letter from Santa?"

Hallelujah!

The Wii game was indeed still in its security case so she quickly unlocked it for us and we were on our way.

Unfortunately the console/hand-held thingy we got for the Man-Child to join in wasn't the right one - but they failed to notice that until they had ripped it from its plastic packaging and rendered it un-returnable!
Sigh!

Three Questions - and the answers

2012-01-06T01:59:00.001-06:00

My friend and fellow blogger Meagan Adele Lopez, had recently written a great debut novel,
"Three Questions". Here we are at her book launch in Chicago before Christmas. (Not quite sure why we appear to have a death grip on each other!)

Without giving too much away,- the heroine, Adele, and her soon-to-be boyfriend exchange questions and answers while separated by several continents. At her book launch, Meagan had tiny cards printed out with the questions on them, so I swiped a few for future blogging purposes. Here's one -

Anyway, the Little Guy found them last night and of course, I took notes. He decided we'd both answer a few of the questions, and this is how it went:-

QUESTION - How Would You Describe Your Mom/Mum? (Can I just say - what kind of a feckin' question is this?)

Me - Erm, "well-dressed". (Yes, that would be a huge fat cop-out. So sue me.)
LG - (Describing me, don't forget). "Nice-smelling; very caring". Hmm. so far, so good although he might be getting me mixed up with his teacher. Then a huge, squirmy pause. "Well-dressed".
Me: (In baggy jeans.) "What? I said that about grandma".
LG - "Well, this might sound weird, .... but pretty."
Me: What's wrong with pretty?
LG - It's just weird saying it to your mom.

QUESTION - What is your favo(u)rite sandwich?

Me - "Anything with Branston pickle in it."
LG: Cream cheese and jelly, mom. How do you not know that?
Me - I didn't know we were supposed to be guessing each other's questions.

QUESTION - If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be? (What? Just one thing?)

Me - "I can't possibly answer that". (I think I was supposed to say that I wouldn't change a thing. Oh well.)
LG: Probably when I hit my head last week.
Me - But you're OK now, and it probably wasn't the worst thing in your life was it?
LG: - (Looking daggers at me). Mom, no video games, no DS, no running around. (Nuff said.)

QUESTION - What was your first impression of me? (Not the greatest question between a mother and son, but he picked it out.)

Me - (Not wanting to say that I was so exhausted I didn't really lock the memory away). "Erm, red".
LG: Declined to answer because he said he was too young to remember. Doh!

QUESTION - If you had to get a tattoo, what would it be and why? (LG added a "where" to this question).

Me - I would rather walk on hot coals than get a tattoo. There's no one who could force me. (Folds arms primly.)
LG: It would be a dragon face, on the palm of my hand, so that I could do this (closes and opens hand) so it would look like it was biting.

So there, you go. Pick up or download a copy of Three Questions. Apart from it being a great book, there's hours and hours of family entertainment in every chapter. Or, if you're feeling really brave - ask them of your own loved one!

2012 resolution - Use it or Lose it

2012-01-04T11:33:00.000-06:00

How much stuff do you have lying around the house "just in case"? I admit to being absolutely terrible for hoarding potentially useless stuff that might never see the light of day, my rationale being "Ahhh, but you never know".

Need a pirate costume, disco diva, heavenly angel, hairy biker? No problem. I have so many scraps of material, feathers, glitter, buttons, etc. that I could dress the chorus of a West End play - at a moment's notice. I really need to go through the boxes and at least chuck out some of the duplicates. I should also try to give away some of the beautiful bolts of fabric in there. I used to sew quite a lot, but these days the sewing machine is brought out for halloween costumes and patching the knees of trousers that still fit the 8 year old.

My huge crime however, is not so much the "you never know when it's going to come in useful" stuff, but the stuff that's "too nice to use", and I'm not just talking about my wedding china.

A few years ago I bought a quantity of the most beautiful gift bags at Costco. I still have 80% of them because I keep holding back and making do with another, lesser gift bag. How rude of me! In effect, I'm taking one of the fab bags out, thinking of the gift recipient and deciding that they're not worthy of said gift bag. I resolve to use all the bags up by the end of the year.

Ditto with all the gift creams and smelly stuff I have. How can they be "too nice to use"? There's only one use for them, and if you leave them lying around for too long, they tend to smell a bit "off" or the ingredients separate. They're not even good for re-gifting at that point.

And ditto the various spices and herbs in my pantry. Did you know that most of them have about a six month shelf life? Go on, take out one of those little jars from way in the back and do a blind smell test. If they're really old, you won't be able to smell the difference between the parsley and the paprika. So, not that I'm a fab cook (or even an enthusiastic one) but I'm going to use up the older stuff in every meal until my cache is under control. I have so many spice jars they cascade everywhere if I so much as look at them.

Challenge - take a look around your house and see if you're hoarding stuff. Make me feel better!

Dear Blog readers...

2011-12-30T09:38:00.002-06:00

..have a very Happy New Year.

Dealing with a major medical crisis at the moment so neither the time nor the motivation to blog.

Take care,

EPM

xx

How to Lose Friends on Twitter

2011-12-21T11:29:00.000-06:00

I came relatively late to Twitter; couldn't see the point, just one more "thing" to have to keep up with, etc. etc. I must admit, although I don't go on every day, and don't usually have it up (if you'll pardon the expression) all the time, it is quite amusing, and occasionally there are interesting links to be found. As usual however, I always miss the big Tweet fights, even though I follow some of the people involved.

I relish a good debate, but there's something about "online fights" that really repulses me. We all know that the written word (especially when limited to 140 characters or so) is not a reliable form of communication. It's all too easy to read between lines that aren't there at all, or to attribute meaness/agression etc. when it isn't intended. I have seen a few fighs erupt in a matter of seconds over something that was totally misconstrued. It's very hard to go back once you've added insult to your counter-argument, which is what many people do. Not satisfied with pointing out that the other person didn't read the original tweet correctly, some people feel obliged to add the inveitable hashtag -#imbecile, #moron #learntoread or worse. (And if social media has made bullies out of people, the hashtag has added the passive aggressive element, in my opinion.)

Anyway, this morning I got into my own little Twitter bitch fest. Or rather, I didn't because I immediately unfollowed her, even though she apologised for what she'd said. (Don't worry - there's no way she'd be reading this, so this isn't my personal piece of passive aggression thinly described as a blog post.)

We both have blogs on the same web site, kind of like Brit Mums, but not (before anyone starts trying to guess). I haven't met her and only recently started following her, as we do over there, as a sign of support for each other. She tweeted something about the upcoming payroll tax hikes in the USA, saying that $40 per year increase is a gym membership to some people, that they would have to forego this, and that this would add to obesity levels in the USA. (Not verbatim obviously, I was way over the allowed character numbers there.) Now, it always surprises me that gym memberships are seen as a necessity over here, when those same people eat portions that should last them two days and never walk if they can sit in a car or, in Chicago, get on a bus. So I Tweeted back "Have to get off the bus and walk a few stops" #obesity.

Her reply? And I quote - Apparently you did not get that I was referring to America and not myself. So suck on your insults. #ApparentlyyouareaRepulican

Can you believe that? She half knows me yet chooses to address me like that. She assumes that I can't read a tweet that says "Americans" in the sentence. She assumes that my manners are as base as hers and that I would dare tell an individual to get off the bus and walk, then call her obese in the hashtag. I don't even know what she looks like.

I replied thus - "It was obvious you were speaking of the nation as a whole, as was I. I am not like that. Shall now unfollow." She had the grace (?) to respond with - "Sorry but thought that was directed at me".

Too little too late, mate. Even if you did think it was directed at you, leave the insults until you know for sure, if you must descend to that level at all.

So I have unfollowed her. I always Tweet with the intention of talking to others the way I would if they were standing in front of me. Likewise, if someone were to insult me to my face, I would walk away and keep well away in the future. I don't mix with that type in real life and I make no exceptions on the web.

And d'you know what pee'd me off the most?

She called me a Republican.

#outraged

Geordie Poem - The Translation

2011-12-16T08:48:00.000-06:00

As promised, here's the official translation of the Geordie Epic.

It's me ageeyan hinnies, A bet yiz forgot
It's Buggerallmoney - d'yiz care or wot?
Av had a bad year - yiz wouldn't believe
A just hoowop next year's got nowt worse up its sleeve

Hello Friends, it's me once again; I rather suspect you'd forgotten about me
It's the financially embarrassed one, but you're probably not too concerned about my plight
This past year has been particularly troublesome for me - quite astonishing really
I do hope Fortune smiles on me in 2009 rather than delivering more slings and arrows

Forst there woz wor lass; she chucked iz in June
Am alreet noo, but a woz a bit doon
Iz everyone sez, there's more fish in the sea
But somehoo neebody fancies me

My first trauma was splitting up with my beloved girlfriend in June**
I'm fine and dandy now but I was a sad bunny at the time
As is common knowledge, there will be other suitable partners
But I"m not looking my best at the moment, it would seem

Then, a gorra black eye in a fight
A smacked someone's gob, hell's bells worra sight
A didn't desorve to be hoyed in the cells
Ind me mam fund oot - someone alwiz tells

Then I was unfortunately caught up in a brawl, sustaining injuries to my eye
I must admit to hitting some chappie in the mouth, leaving him with a bit of a bruise
But I insist my behaviour did not warrant a night at her Majesty's Pleasure
Unfortunately, my dear mother found out about the incident; wonder who the little bird could have been

Me mam hoyed iz oot so A kipped at me meeyat's
He was deed good ind helped iz get streeyat
Noo Av gorra flat of me oowan
Am alreet for spon; Av peeyad off me loowan

My mother and I agreed that I should share accommodation with a good friend
He was unfailingly helpful and gave me lots of advice
Now I have my own little pied a terre, and am no longer struggling financially

Having cleared things up with the nice man at the bank

Am chuffed last years' ower A woz gettin a bit sick
it's teken it oot iv iz, even tho' Am thick
Al hev a gud Christmas ind treat mesell well
A suggest yiz al dee the seeyam iz well.

I am thrilled that the year is finally drawing to a close, it was rather a beast
I may not be very bright but I still feel mentally drained
This Christmas is going to be topping and I'll treat myself royally
I suggest all you good people do the same

Mind how yiz gan noo.

Do take care of yourselves.

** At the time, I wrote this as a male, because of the fight scene. These days it's more likely to be the Geordie women getting smashed and causing fights!

End of Year Geordie Poem. An Epic

2011-12-14T09:17:00.000-06:00

I posted this a few years ago in an effort to attempt to teach Potty Mummy how to do the Geordie accent. I actually wrote it back in the 80's while working (or not, obviously) in London. My late friend and fab blogger Lakeland Jo, with whom I worked, kept it for a few decades, (as one does with a work of pure genius) and here it is in the original format.

It's me ageeyan hinnies, A bet yiz forgot
It's Buggerallmoney - d'yiz care or wot?
Av had a bad year - yiz wouldn't believe
A just hoowop next year's got nowt worse up its sleeve

Forst there woz wor lass; she chucked iz in June
Am alreet noo, but a woz a bit doon
Iz everyone sez, there's more fish in the sea
But somehoo neebody fancies me

Then, a gorra black eye in a fight
A smacked someone's gob, hell's bells worra sight
A didn't desorve to be hoyed in the cells
Ind me mam fund oot - someone alwiz tells

Me mam hoyed iz oot so A kipped at me meeyat's
He was deed good ind helped iz get streeyat
Noo Av gorra flat of me oowan
Am alreet for spon; Av peeyad off me loowan

Am chuffed last years' ower A woz gettin a bit sick
it's teken it oot iv iz, even tho' Am thick
Al hev a gud Christmas ind treat mesell well
A suggest yiz al dee the seeyam iz well.

Mind how yiz gan noo.

A translation to come in a few days.

Things That Drive me Freakin' Insane

2011-12-12T08:52:00.000-06:00

I was commenting over at Notes from Lapland, where Heather is reciting some of the things that drive her batty. I suddenly realised that my comment was turning into a list and should probably be a post over here rather than a hijacking of someone else's blog.

So here's my (current) list:

The word "freakin". Americans all over the place use it all the time. To my mind, it sounds far too much like Friggin', which is a word I don't feel is suitable for everyday conversation. (Not that I'm a prude or anything, but well, there's a time and a place). Obviously Americans don't know "friggin", but it doesn't stop me from wincing when I hear "freaking".
Parents (usually designer mothers) who say things like "My kids think broccoli is dessert". Can't remember which one of those mothers (Gwyneth? Gisele?) was quoted thus, only last week, but - give me a freakin' break! No matter how much a human being likes broccoli, it can never be mistaken for apple pie or chocolate pudding. And stop being so freakin' smug Gisele.
Guests who insist on cleaning up in my house. OK, I appreciate the gesture, but when I say "No, really, just leave it", for the fifth time, I really, really mean it. Because I'm not going to leave you in my kitchen am I? I am going to have to join in - and after inviting you over, and preparing a meal for you, I would much rather enjoy your company over a glass of wine, rather than over the kitchen sink.
Family members who tip unfinished meals into the sink - and leave them there. Back story - there is a waste disposal in the sink, so the idea is that you put waste food down there, but it usually has to be rinsed down the hole. By the time I realise that you've just left it in the sink, it's hard and stuck on. Oh, and it sometimes smells, and I sometimes get really annoyed.
Dogs who dig up random bits of my back garden and then get let into the house without having their paws wiped down.

OK, I'm going to stop there before I put myself into a bad mood. 'Tis the season, after all.

I Couldn't Do This All the Time

2011-12-09T09:27:00.000-06:00

As some of you know, I run a charity that helps fund a fabulous school in Ghana, West Africa. We are very small and have two fund-raisers per year. They always occur at the busiest time of the school calendar year just by chance. (OK, I organize them but I"m at the mercy of school and festive calendars.)

In May we have a sponsored walk which is getting bigger and bigger each year. It coincides with the end of the school year (early June) and the world's biggest garage/jumble sale, (week after) which I also co-chair. You'd think I'd learn wouldn't you?

This weekend we have a great fund-raiser for small kids, which involves me stuffing lots of sweeties into lots of goodies bags, bringing logo t-shirts and other stuff to sell, printing off sign-in sheets, and all manner of administration stuff. Very exciting and adrenalin rushing, but also not quite the thing one needs in the run-up to the Christmas break - the same week the Ball & Chain has just announced he will be in London. In London of all places. (If he so much as phones me while he's out wassailing with one of MY friends, I swear the divorce petition will hit him on his way back across the Atlantic.)

Anyway, - to my post title - ('cause I know you've been wondering if there's an end in sight). I can do this rushing-about stuff every now and then. I can do it even betterer when not distracted by a severe lack of Xmas-presents-purchased.

However, I'm not sure I could do it as a full time job, you know, like one of those personal assistants whose lives are constant fire-fighting.

Or maybe it's because I'm just too darn old now?

Those Special People

2011-12-07T17:22:00.000-06:00

Here in the States we've had a ~~belly~~ week full of special people antics. In case I haven't mentioned it before "special" is my family's name for people who are above the law or otherwise not governed by the same rules, regulations and customs as your every day folk.

Specifically, in my neck of the woods, they are the people who park or double park wherever the hell they want, sometimes even blocking intersections and holding up traffic. (I once witnessed a woman who pulled her car over at a very tight intersection, blocking cars in all four directions, and ran out to buy a paper from a kerb side machine. She thought it hilarious that everyone was honking at her.) The same people drive around (usually corners) while holding either a very full cup of coffee, a small dog or a cell phone. See, no one else can manage to drive carefully while thus distracted, but these people are better drivers than us.

Anyway, on Tuesday we had the Twitter arrogance of actor Alec Baldwin as he ranted and raved about a flight attendant who had "reemed him out" (yelled at him) for refusing to stop playing some game on his cell phone. Baldwin's excuse was that the plane was at the gate, ie. going nowhere. Of course it was going nowhere - they can't taxi anywhere until all electronic devices are switched off. You may question this rule, and even believe that such devices don't interfere with anything, but rules are rules and if you don't obey them, you will be escorted off the plane, as Baldwin was. And I'm not the only one who thinks this.

Funniest thing was his Tweeting that a) he bet United Airlines doesn't do that. (I'm here to tell you they do sunshine.) and b) he will never fly American again. I'll bet they're distraught about that Alec.

And today, we have the former Governor of my state, Illinois, sentenced to 14 years in a maximum security federal prison - for corruption. He will join his predecessor, George Ryan, who is still in the slammer on similar charges. Former Governor Blagojovich, (pronounced Blagoyovitch) was arrogant, unrepentant, and outrageous in his baiting of the media. Despite the fact that the FBI had over 500 hours of taped conversations in which Blago tried to "shake down" a local Children's Hospital and sell the Senate seat that Obama was vacating in 2008, he maintained that everything he did was in the interest of me and my fellow Illinois residents. At one point his defence seemed to be that he didn't actually obtain any money, so hey - no harm done! Today he received the longest sentence ever handed down to an Illinois politician. (There have been many sentences, so lots to choose from.)

So to all those "special" people - it looks like you're starting to get on everyone's nerves just a little. Be afraid!

OK - I Did it too! (The 12 Days, that is)

2011-12-02T09:29:00.000-06:00

Harangued on Twitter by Potty Mummy and Hot Cross Mum, I have risen to the challenge and done my own 12 days of Christmas in the style of Hot Cross Mum's.

Since the themes of boys/wee and sicky kids are now taken (see above blogs), my theme is house-owning problems. Disclaimer (should I ever try to sell my house) - this is i~~n part~~ pure fiction and my house would pass any inspection any day of the week.

The 12 Days of Home-owners' Christmas

On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me, a house that’s too big for me. (OK, he didn't actually give me the house; my name is on the mortgage too)

On the 2^nd day of Xmas my true love gave to me, two broken door locks and a house that’s too big for me.

On the 3^rd day of Xmas my true love gave to me three knackered lamps, two broken door locks and a house that's too big for me.

On the 4^th day of Xmas my true love gave to me four calling workmen, three knackered lamps, two broken door locks and a house that's too big for me.

On the 5^th day of Xmas my true love gave to me five drywall dings (Hold that note...) four calling workmen, three knackered lamps, two broken door locks and a house that's too big for me.

On the 6^th day of Xmas my true love gave to me six doors– a-sticking, five drywall dings (Hold that note...) four calling workmen, three knackered lamps, two broken door locks and a house that's too big for me.

On the 7^th day of Xmas my true love gave to me 7 carpets fraying, six doors– a-sticking, five drywall dings (Hold that note...) four calling workmen, three knackered lamps, two broken door locks and a house that's too big for me.

On the 8^th day of Xmas my true love gave to me 8 floors-a-creaking, 7 carpets fraying, six doors– a-sticking, five drywall dings (Hold that note...) four calling workmen, three knackered lamps, two broken door locks and a house that's too big for me.

On the 9^th day of Xmas my true love gave to me 9 ladies cleaning, 8 floors-a-creaking, 7 carpets fraying, six doors– a-sticking, five drywall dings (Hold that note...) four calling workmen, three knackered lamps, two broken door locks and a house that's too big for me.

On the 10^th day my true love gave to me 10 walls –a seeping, 9 ladies cleaning, 8 floors-a-creaking, 7 carpets fraying, six doors– a-sticking, five drywall dings (Hold that note...) four calling workmen, three knackered lamps, two broken door locks and a house that's too big for me.

On the 11^th day of Xmas my true love gave to me 11 Tilers tiling, 10 walls –a seeping, 9 ladies cleaning, 8 floors-a-creaking, 7 carpets fraying, six doors– a-sticking, five drywall dings (Hold that note...) four calling workmen, three knackered lamps, two broken door locks and a house that's too big for me.

On the 12^th day of Xmas my true love gave to me 12 plumbers plumbing, 11 Tilers tiling, 10 walls –a seeping, 9 ladies cleaning, 8 floors-a-creaking, 7 carpets fraying, six doors– a-sticking, five drywall dings (Hold that note...) four calling workmen, three knackered lamps, two broken door locks and a house that's too big for me.

Ta-daaaan. Come on everybody - join in.

The Twelve Days of Parents' Christmas

2011-12-01T09:14:00.000-06:00

It seems I co-inspired a great post over at Hot Cross Mum's blog, which I was going to try to join in on, but it's actually a lot more difficult than it looks.

It was inspired by a conversation we were having on Twitter, along with Potty Mummy, about boys and wee on the bathroom floor. You know, that old chestnut.

If you need a blog post idea, this is great.

Are there any Safe Blogging Topics Left?

2011-11-29T12:36:00.000-06:00

I was going to write a post about how much "work" there is to do around my house. Not work in the sense of laundry, washing up and cleaning, but work in the "we really must fix this" sense. Apart from the fact that, on reflection, that ~~might~~ would have been one helluva boring post, I paused because I suddenly felt it crossed the line into too much information.

Now you know I'm not exactly a bleeding heart on this (or any other) blog; I don't go into how I'm feeling from one day to the next, unless I'm really pissed off about something, and then it's no holds barred. (Is that the correct phrase?) And no, talking about what's broken around the house isn't exactly spilling my guts, but - and here's the big thing - were I to try to sell the house in a few years, all a potential buyer would have to do would be print off the post and present me with a long "to do" list before any dotted lines were signed on.

And then I started thinking about all the other things you could over-share about on a blog. Going on vacation/holiday isn't usually a good topic unless you make it plain that someone will still be at your house accompanied by a large dog and several members of the local militia (armed). Criticizing the kids' school isn't on because I know a few of the teachers read my stuff from time to time, and gossiping about other parents is definitely a non-starter as some of them read this too!

I can't even have a moan about the kids or the Ball & Chain too often because the Queenager (hi there) has taken to reading this all the time. And sharing it with her college friends. Sigh.

All a bit restricting really. Perhaps I'll just start reviewing books.

Links I didn't Click On

2011-11-26T10:13:00.000-06:00

Just thought I'd give you a laugh, or a dare, depending on your take on life. Over the past few days I've seen more than enough Blog or Article titles that I really didn't want to delve into:

What does your husband REALLY think about your wobbly bits? (Daily Mail). In true DM fashion, the title made it look like only the wives were up for scrutiny. In fact, it was men and women commenting on their partners' bods. Still - no thanks.

Moms become Cheerleaders for La Salle High School football team in Michigan. (Huff Post) OK, so recently I wrote that cheerleaders are the devil's spawn, so you can just imagine my views on mothers who take up the pom-poms. But what I really want to know is what the heck is with the high school boys who are OK with their mothers cheering (in cheer-leader outfits BTW) on the sidelines. Just Eeuuww!

I missed our sex life: Ex-husband of World's Fattest Woman says her Weight Gain made her MORE attractive.. (Daily Mail) I'm sorry but it's dangerous enough being as heavy as this women, without some maniac ex telling you that you're more attractive when you're the fattest woman on the planet. Talk about self-centred.

The 8 Germiest Places in the Mall (CNN web site). OK, I did click on this one in case there was anything worth passing along. Let's just say if you're not good with germs, just don't go out!

Marquis of Bath, the 79 year old lusty Loins of Longleat, goes online for his 75th wifelet. (Telegraph)
The photo was enough to put me off clicking on this one.

Meet the World's Oldest Porn Start - (Huffington Post). (Go on you big scaredy cats!)

Joining the Bad Mothers Club

2011-11-21T08:29:00.001-06:00

Well, I've sold my soul to the devil; joined the Bad Mothers Club; become a replica of Sue Ellen Ewing (if you're old enough to remember "Dallas".)

The Little Guy was off school last week with a fairly bad cold. I pride myself not on molly-coddling my children but on keeping them home when they are clearly full of snot and germs. It bugs me when other parents send their offspring into school when they are obviously going to spread the cold far and wide. I understand that people have to go to work, but school is not day care, yada, yada, yada.

LG was off with your common-or-garden cold on Thursday, but it seemed to get worse over the course of the next few days. The Ball & Chain and I had an unusual "posh dinner" on Friday night and left the 16 year old in charge. About 9.30pm, (before the main course had arrived) came the first phone call. "Mom, he's thrown up four times, but he's gone back to bed now and is being a champ." Oh. OK, then. Given that we were less than half a mile away, we decided to stay. Then came the second call about 15 minutes later, reporting another up-chuck episode. OK, napkins folded, good-nights all round.

Poor little mite was not at all well when we got home. And what a mess too!

Saturday was not a good day for him, but yesterday he perked up a lot. "Oh good," I thought, "~~Freedom.~~ He's missed a lot of school and in 3rd grade (Year 4) it starts to make a difference. Besides, I'm running out of crafting projects. (See previous post)".

He coughed a lot last night, but was fast asleep on the two occasions I dragged my carcass in to check on him. (See, I am a good mother, really. A very tired mother at this point also.) This morning he dressed for school and I made his lunch, helped pack his school bag and generally behaved as if everything was normal. Unfortunately I made "We'll see" sort of noises to the Ball & Chain, and could possibly have muttered that if he was deemed unfit for school I would simply go and pick him up. All of a sudden I swear the Little Guy's colouring went from human to half-dead, and he began suggesting that he might not be well enough to go in. What's that saying "Give 'em an inch and they'll take a mile?"

So I bustled him out the door with his dad, saying "Oh I'm sure you'll feel better when you get there."

I hate mothers like me. Who do I think I am, deliberately sending a germ-ridden child to mingle with his peers? But it's Thanksgiving on Thursday; I have people arriving tomorrow; I haven't been across the doors since Friday night; we have no food in the house; I am going insane.

Yer Honour.

When All Else Fails - Get Crafting

2011-11-18T10:40:00.000-06:00

As some of you know, it's Thanksgiving next week in the USA, and Thanksgiving is HUGE. Families come together, tensions run high for weeks beforehand, - all that good stuff. Fortunately because I almost forget it most years, it's not really that huge a deal in our house.

This year the Queenager is coming home from college for four and a half days (yay) and the in-laws are flying in too. We'll have a small family meal compared to most people I know who are catering for double digit crowds. The Ball & Chain is in charge; he's gone into Chef mode, as he does at this time every year. Last weekend was homemade lasagna (including the pasta) and chilli, this weekend I believe he's making cornbread for the stuffing and trying out some pumpkin dessert or other. This is all in preparation for our annual ski trip, during which time he spends almost as much time in the kitchen as he does on the slopes. I used to call it his mid-life crisis, but it'a been going on a bit too long to be a crisis. A syndrome perhaps. Anyway, better than a Porsche or a 30 year old!

And of course we have the requisite cold in the house, meaning that the Little Guy has been off school for a few days. There's only so much reading, watching TV and lounging about one can do - so we took to crafting instead.

And made 7 of these -

Jut in case you can't immediately tell what it is it's a napkin ring in the shape of a turkey. (This is the sanest one of the lot, BTW.) Since then, he has decided which turkey most resembles each family member and stuck little name cards on the tummies. I hope no one is offended because his designation is alarmingly accurate!

Then and Now 1978-2011

2011-11-15T14:45:00.000-06:00

As 2011 comes to a close, (can you tell I'm out of blog material this week?) let me give you more words of e-mail wisdom circulating amongst the old folk. Some of them will bring a smile:

1978: Long hair

2011: Longing for hair

1978: KEG

2011: EKG

1978 : Acid rock

2010: Acid reflux

1978: Seeds and stems

2011: Roughage

1978: Hoping for a BMW

2011: Hoping for a BM

1978: Going to a new, hip joint

2011: Receiving a new hip joint

1978: Rolling Stones

2011: Kidney Stones

1978: Disco

2011: Costco

1978: Parents begging you to get your hair cut

2011: Children begging you to get their heads shaved

1978: Whatever

2011: Depends

A brand new blog

2011-11-14T09:36:00.000-06:00

I won't be doing this every week, but I've launched a new Chicago-centric blog over at Chicago Now (a Tribune company). Very excited as it will give me a chance to ~~rant~~ blog about things here in Chicago without boring the pants off everyone else.

Normal Service Has Resumed

2011-11-10T16:10:00.000-06:00

Sorry - got a little side tracked by a tree, a lot of rain, a crap city sewage system and a basement. That's all I'm saying otherwise I will explode and undo all the calming thoughts I've been practicing over the last few days.

I bet you thought I'd just left those photos up of me in a vain, look-at-me sort of way?

Anyhoo, not much going in here in Chicago except that it's plunged to freezing temps and is SNOWING. Yes, that's right. I'm not ready for it, either emotionally or practically. Half the gloves I thought we had, seem to have mislaid their partners, and the hats that 8 year old wore last year no longer fit. I didn't think heads grew that much. In fact, isn't there a myth that a baby's born with the size head it will have for the rest of its life? No, that can't be right. It must be eyeballs.

And the black ski jacket that I really like and that I've had for well, an embarrassing number of years, has finally given up the ghost. Actually, it's only the zipper that's gone so I could have another one put in, but I was going to use this opportunity to force myself to buy a new one. I have even tried a few on, but the fashion at the moment is for jackets that sit just above the bum - and I'm not having that. Not just because I don't want to inflict that much bum on the viewing public but because you can literally freeze it off in Chicago. I will give myself a few weeks to find a replacement and if I fail, I will take it as a sign from above that I'm meant to stick with the one I have. (Doesn't take much to persuade me out of shopping for clothes does it?)

Oh, and I also have to buy the dog booties. Yes, booties. I'm sure you'll think that's a bit precious but she somehow managed to scrape all the skin off her front paws a few months ago and it's still not heeled well enough to cope with the salt that gets sprinkled everywhere in the winter. Ow - hurts just thinking about it really. We think it's because she races around our basement (which is tiled) and slides everywhere.

Have you ever bought dog booties? I was looking at some the other day in the pet shop and had no clue what her paw size would be, which means I'll have to take her in. Which means that she'll be jumping at all the other dogs and trying to play and I'll end up tense and sweating bullets. I can't wait.

Mothers eh?

2011-11-07T11:39:00.000-06:00

You know how sometimes you see a photo of yourself and you think "Oh, that one's not too bad"? Or is that just me? Am I so lacking in self-esteem that most photos I see of me make me wince?

Anyhoo, I was messing around on my relatively new Mac the other day and came across the I-Photo Booth. It basically uses the camera at the top of the screen to take photos. (You can also do I-movie.) The photos aren't usually that good because you tend to be looking down at the keys instead of at the little red camera light at the top of your screen.....

or the lighting is terrible, (because it's your overhead kitchen light.) This is me sitting on the back kitchen stairs because it was a good light from the back garden, but see, I'm looking down and trying to figure out how to operate the thing while not looking down. Fail.

Eventually I started messing around with the effects and striking a couple of poses. The result was one of those "Oh, that's OK" photos, and a bit of fun. I mean I'm not going to stick it in a frame or anything.

But look, it's fun and arty and stuff, isn't it.

And I did this one - My wannabee Debbie Harry pose.

So I sent them to my mother (for a laff, as you do). Guess what she said?

"It doesn't even look like you."

Oh. Well then

Cheer-Leaders; - The Devil's Spawn

2011-11-05T08:56:00.000-05:00

This week on my other blog, Pond Parleys, we're ~~slagging off~~ talking about that huge American phenomenon, cheerleading. Apparently it's creeping over the Pond in a big way, to Mike's alarm. Pop over and read Mike as his absolute funniest.

Helicopter Parents - Guess Who the Enablers are?

2011-11-03T09:12:00.000-05:00

You've probably heard the term "helicopter parents"by now - parents who literally hover over their children, taking care of their every need, doing their school projects ~~for~~ with them, and intervening whenever there's a problem. There are so many articles about the whole phenomenon (and the backlash) a quick Google on it will fill you in.

College professors in particular, have a lot to say about these parents. Apparently the term was coined by them as they experienced parents becoming far more involved in the application and admissions process than ever before. They (the profs) tell of parents sleeping on the floor outside the dorm room to make sure the student is settling in OK, and phoning up to ask why their child got a B on a paper instead of an A. Heck, out in the corporate world, we're even hearing about parents wanting to attend interviews with their offspring, and intervening when an appraisal wasn't as glowing as they had anticipated.

As the parent of a freshman (first year) who's currently dealing with a minor issue, it's hard not to pick the phone up, shout loudly and "sort it out", or worse, phone the parent of the other student. I will refrain. I think.

However, as someone new to the whole college thing, I cannot believe how much the parents are involved whether they want to be or not. Of course, most of this is because the colleges are always fund-raising, so we get invited to breakfasts, lunches, meetings etc, all in the attempt to get us to write a check/cheque to the scholarship or endowment fund. I know the game.

What I wasn't quite prepared for was the expectation of an on-going role in my adult daughter's college life. After all, it was made perfectly plain at the beginning that although we are financially responsible for her college education, we can't see her grades unless she signs a form allowing it. (I know. Bloody cheek. She signed.) Last week, I received a form in the mail encouraging me to sign up to send her a "care package" during finals week, because students who don't receive a care package might feel bad! There's a whole industry around this, called - wait for it - Gift University! Here's another one with the even more ridiculous name of My Favorite Student! (Since I know you're reading this Q, this isn't to say I won't be sending a package, but it won't be this impersonal rubbish.)

In the past couple of weeks I have received several e-mails about campus activities, then yesterday I received an one informing me of some up-coming careers event, and asking me to forward the e-mail to my student. I clicked on the link, out of interest, and found that I wasn't allowed to see it because I don't have a password. So wait? You are literally sending me an e-mail to forward to my kid, even tho' she has a college e-mail account and you have the address?

Colleges. I'm calling you out. Don't complain about helicopter parents and then turn around and bombard us with news about campus life. You're supposed to be weaning parents and their adult children off each other.

Parenting - American Style

2011-11-01T07:38:00.000-05:00

When the Queenager was about 7, she informed me that I was THE only mother who didn't put a note in her lunch bag. I remember being completely baffled by this. What kind of note could she mean? Something for the teacher, asking her to make sure the Q ate her sandwich as well as the dessert perhaps? Or a note to the Q herself reminding her not to thrown the metal spoon away? Close, but not quite.

Apparently the other mothers were putting little "love notes" in the lunch boxes, boosting their kids self esteem with simple phrases like "Have a GREAT day, sweetie. Mommy loves you", and "See you later lovebug. xxx". How the heck was I to know? I was raised with English "school dinners"; the whole event was more like a prolonged torture session.

And last week I came across the perfect thing for would-be loving parents who just don't have the time for it all.

Lunch Mail. Here look -

So you pop one of these cards into the lunch bag. They're about 1.5 times 1 inch big.

On the back, they look like tiny postcards, so you can write your own personal self-esteem-boosting message.

And then - the front opens out for yet more inspirational verbiage:

("Isn't it great how everyone in the world smiles in the same language").

My neighbour was throwing these out so I grabbed them. The Queenager is going to get one in every package I send to her at college. Whether she wants one or not!

Happy Halloween

2011-10-31T02:27:00.001-05:00

I'm going all out this year to celebrate Halloween. It was my friend Lakeland Jo's favourite "holiday". She loved being in the States around this time because of all the fun and the "stuff" she could take back for her annual party. It's her funeral today too. How very apt.

On Saturday night I went to a fab Halloween party. The hosts' brother was there; he's in a band as well as being a DJ, so he had his karaoke stuff (complete with giant screen) on hand. I had recently come across a fun psychedelic cat suit which looked really 60's or 70's, depending on how you accessorized it. One giant blonde bubble wig later and Voila! Disco diva.

Truth be told, I was wearing so much make-up (compared to what I usually sport) that I looked more like a Drag Queen than a Disco Queen, but hey!

And my lovely little date, the Sith Lord. Lordy but that costume took an age to make. Someone kick me next year when I mention going to look for a halloween pattern. Please!

So Happy Halloween y'all, and to my lovely Jo, - farewell! xx

Getting Crafty - Halloween lanterns

2011-10-29T10:08:00.000-05:00

This idea is totally stolen from the wonderful blog Red Ted Art. I didn't have the time to do the lantern shown in her vlog, so I improvised. If you're at all into crafty things, pop over to her blog. It's fantastic. I may never buy another thing again. Everything home made.

Anyway, here's my version of her Halloween lantern:

So easy. I happened to have these three square, glass candle holders, which I wrapped in tissue paper. (You don't even have to have orange. This is yellow and looks just as good.) The spooky Halloween designs are all over the Internet so I just copied them straight onto the paper with a black marker pen. If you're not as confident with your drawing ability, you could print them off and stick them on.

When Halloween is over, I just rip the paper off and they're back to normal.

Americans - You've Been Warned

2011-10-28T09:11:00.000-05:00

I had a hilarious Facebook conversation the other day with a fellow blogger. She's American but has lived in the UK and has a British boyfriend. Hence, she sometimes pops the odd British phrase into her conversation.

Except this time it was very odd; in fact it was a riot.

Get yerself over to my column at Expat Focus and see what I mean.

Final Blog Post

2011-10-26T19:19:00.000-05:00

I suppose the one thing about knowing you're going to die is being able to plan a few things. My friend Lakeland Jo had obviously done this - she has requested that people attending her funeral wear a little piece of yellow, if they would like to. (That was Jo, never about her - always about how the other person was feeling.)

Another thing she did was instruct her beloved husband in blogging, because here is his penultimate post on Jo's blog.

Even if you didn't know her, please pop over and think about your own friends while you're reading this wonderful post.

RIP my lovely Jo.

Who's That Girl? (a.k.a Madonna)

2011-10-25T20:03:00.000-05:00

So Madonna’s back in the news at the moment because of her new movie W.E. (about Wallis Simpson). She was photographed (left) at very close range the other night at her premiere, by my bloggy buddy Lulu (Family Affairs and Other Matters).

If you’ve followed Madonna at all, you’ll know she reinvents herself from time to time.

We’ve had the young, slutty Madonna with the lace fingerless gloves and bows in her hair;

the channeling-Marilyn Madonna,

and the Geisha Madonna, to name but a few.

Apparently her latest aim is to look like Mae West – in her early 70’s!

I have no idea why, but I really thought Madonna would buck the Hollywood system and age with grace. Or at least with a bit less Botox and filler than she’s currently sporting. OK, so I knew she wasn’t going to go totally European and Brigitte Bardo-esque-

but this? Come on Madge. You can do better.

On Grief and Loss

2011-10-23T10:27:00.001-05:00

Funny thing grief. It never gets easier. You'd think after a few brushes, you'd get used to it. Toughen up somehow. But no.

Having lost my dad at 20 (he was 50), my grandfather 3 weeks later and my grandmother 8 months after that, I like to think of myself as a seasoned griever. All that means is I know that time really does dull the initial blow, but it doesn't avoid the process nor does it lighten that blow. The worst lesson perhaps, is that you can't really help other people who are grieving; you can only hold their hand till their heart mends.

So now I am grieving a truly dear friend, although I can't quite believe she's gone so I'm not sure I'm in the "grief" stage yet. Some know her as blogger Lakeland Jo; she got the bloggy bug after she read a few of my posts and never a finer writer was there. Somehow she made her blog a window to her spirit and her soul in a way that few of us can. And my, what a spirit! As you'll see if you read the above link, she fought to make it to a few landmark dates; that was Jo.

Jo and I first met when I became her boss, way back in 1988. Although she called me the "Ayatollah". we became firm friends, and remained in constant touch after my move to the States in 1990. With her family, (darling husband and light-of-her-life son) she visited me in the States twice, and we vacationed in England together several times too.

I don't know; although she knew her cancer had become incurable, she fought and fought, and it seemed her light would never go out. But it did this morning, and the world is a much dimmer place without her.

Joanne Dyson McGowran

Jo, I can't imagine the future without you but I'm honoured to have had you in my life.

You showed us all how to live, and laugh, and love - every day.

I will truly miss you.

Bloody To do Lists

2011-10-21T19:55:00.000-05:00

I'm copying Michelloui's idea from her blog The American Resident, and writing about my to-do lists. However, as her's is entitled "Hurrah - Another Thing crossed off my To-Do list" and mine has the word "bloody" in it, that's where the similarities end.

I have the Immediate To-Do list, which is made doubly taxing by the absence of the Ball And Chain for most of this week and half the weekend. (Golfing trip - Yes, I'm a saint!)

Pick Little Guy up from after-school activity. (ie. stop blogging and leave immediately. OK - done.)
Find something for dinner, (ie. not left over lasagna again)
Set alarm for Saturday morning to take Little Guy to fencing and try to awaken ~~the Kraken~~ Man-Child for his activity. (The Ball & Chain owes me big time for this.)
Pick little friend up for Saturday morning playdate, after fencing. (ie. do not remember when pulling into the garage.)
Take boys to a movie as promised. Or not, if they decide that they'd rather hang around the house and play shooty games. FIne by me. (3rd child - don't care if everything is a gun to him.)
Make sure that Man-Child makes it to rescheduled voice lesson.
At some point, finish sewing the damn Sith Lord costume. (Unless, of course, I run out of thread. Again. Or shoot myself. COuld go either way here.)
Mail 'care package' to the Queenager at college, (before the chocolate HobNobs and Lion Bars go rancid, or whatever chocolate does when it's old.)

And then there's the Big Picture To Do list which, on the one hand can be easily ignored (ie. no one will starve or otherwise meet their demise) but on the other hand, there's just SO much:

Finish painting downstairs loo. (I just got bored, see.)
Make slipcover for armchair in family room. (That fabric was too expensive to leave in the cupboard).
Buy new rug for family room (holes chewed by dog as a puppy can no longer be disguised). I am SO bad at making a final decision on things like this. What if I find something nicer after I've bought one?
Book flights for Christmas ski trip. That's right, Just make a bloody decision on when to go and when to come back to Chicago. (How difficult can that be fer cryin' out loud?)
Choose paint colo(u)r for new front door. (How many shades of red are there for goodness' sake?)
Find someone to fix oven overhead fan light.
Find someone to fix leaking kitchen sink tap/faucet.
Find someone to plaster hole in ceiling, which Ball & Chain gouged out in search of non-existent leak .
Bring all outdoor potted plants-that-I-want-to-keep indoors before the first frost, which looks to be imminent. (Ah yes, gardeners in temperate climes, most flora doesn't make it through the winter here.)
Lose half my body weight sometime soon. (Oh yeah, that'll happen.)

You'll notice that there's no mention of my writing or charitable fund-raising activities here; they have their very own to-do lists, but it would be too, too depressing to add them to this post. (For all of us.)

Halloween - Why, oh why?

2011-10-18T14:35:00.000-05:00

Will I ever learn? Or is that will I never learn? Any which way, you get the picture. It's Halloween in the States again, (and indeed, everywhere else if I'm not mistaken) which means a flurry of "What shall I be" in the Expat household and one over-worked mother.

It's my fault entirely. I'm a bit of a costume snob and can't abide those cheap, nylon costumes-in-a-bag.
Since the Queenager was a baby, I've hand-made the Halloween costumes. It helps that spookiness doesn't seem to be a required element of Halloween costumes here, so she has been everything from Red Riding Hood, A Medieval Princess, to Marie Antoinette with her head sewn back on, (stitch marks around the neck. Apparently a tad too gruesome for an 8 year old!) Boys are a bit harder as all they want to do is be is a Ninja, Batman or another boring old Superhero. I'm not lowering my sewing machine to attempt that!

Last year we went totally home-made with a cardboard box silver robot called "Recyclobot". We had a dead computer which we picked clean, and the robot had wires and other technical-looking things hanging from every side. The helmet is a plastic plant pot and the silver sleeves were from a previous astronaut costume. My did we get some compliments!! (Note - if you're going to attempt a cardboard box costume for a small child, make sure the bottom of the box doesn't impede leg movement. Poor little sod couldn't even get up one step!!)

This year however, the 8 year old decided he wanted to be some bloke from Star Wars (forgive me but I tend to glaze over when he starts differentiating the cloak-wearers).

"Oh", I said, a little too keenly, "I can make you one", and indeed, I had a pattern from a Man-Child costume (loaned and never recovered) which seemed to satisfy.

And that's when I remembered.

It's neither cheaper nor easier to make your own costumes. The damn thing required almost ten yards of various black fabrics, plus a new needle and a packet of inter-facing. Then, since I don't have a serger, and zig-zagging seemed to make things worse, I'm having to French seam the whole bloody costume as it's fraying so badly. (For anyone who wasn't forced to take Needlework at school, that's sewing each seam, yes, each seam, the wrong way then the right way so that you don't have any ragged, fraying edges.)

And since kids, well mine anyway, grow like weeds, this costume will probably never see the light of day again.

After Halloween I'm thinking of sewing black beads and sequins onto the cloak for any Christmas parties I might be invited to. Could start a whole new trend - Sith Glam!

Is This the End?

2011-10-15T03:52:00.001-05:00

...of the summer I mean? Like the UK (or parts thereof) we've had a bit of a late blast of summer and it's been lovely in Chicago. Many people don't know that Chicago summers can actually be unbearably hot and humid. Temperatures in the high 90's (farenheit) and humidity that's hard to imagine for Brits. In times like that, you don't see many people on the streets as everyone's taking shelter in air-conditioned buildings.

Now, the weather is more autumnal. Bright and sunny, but light jacket or sweater weather. This typically lasts for 2-4 weeks before we're plunged into another season from Hell. For someone who loves to wear jackets, it's annoying that I have such a short jacket season. Once the temps really drop, even moderately padded coats don't cut it and fashion goes flying out the window. We're talking below freezing for at least mid-November till the end of March, and when you add the wind chill factor in it will literally freeze the hairs up your nose. (I know it always sounds wimpy adding the wind chill factor in, but we're right on the shores of Lake Michigan and those winds come whipping down from Canada. Brrrr.)

Look, - even pretty, skinny models and bright colors/colours can't make these coats look half way decent. And, they're actually not that easy to maneuver in. Drop a glove and you almost have to lie down on the floor to retrieve it.

Talking of gloves - none of your elegant, slim leather affairs. Ooh, no. Leather lasts till about early November at a push; then it's more of a chunky look:

Gorgeous aren't they?

All I can say is -- It's a bloody good job I'm not a fashionista.

DIY Haircuts

2011-10-13T07:38:00.000-05:00

Last week promised to be a rather unusual, sedate week for the Expat household. I should have known...

Went to a school meeting on the Wednesday night and left the Ball & Chain in charge. Came back at around 9.15pm to find the Man-Child staring at large chunks of hair on his bathroom floor. Once we had established who it wasn't, (as we all have similar colo(u)red hair) we deduced that it could only have been the Little Guy. At 8, the B&C deems him old enough to shower by himself. Personally, I hover around, changing sheets, tidying bedrooms etc. until he's finished; I mean, there's only so much water in Lake Michigan. The B&C however, comes back downstairs to watch the baseball, leaving Little Guy alone with a pair of craft scissors that the Man-Child had used to cut a tag off his new t-shirt.

Of course only that day I had mentioned, in passing, that the Little Guy needed a haircut....... .

When I asked the B&C if he'd noticed anything at LG's bedtime, he said he hadn't. Not sure why I'm surprised really; I can have six inches lopped off my hair and he doesn't notice. When I saw the state of the LG's hair next morning though, I can only assume that the B&C is going blind.

After I had reminded the LG that he's actually 8 and not 4, I asked him what had possessed him to cut his hair. OK, as someone who regularly chops bits off her own locks, I asked him why he'd cut so much off. He said he only meant to chop one small bit off at the back but then "got carried away". Hmm... and obviously can't tell the difference between the front and back of his own head.

So, off to the hairdresser the following night after school.

Let's just say, there's not much hair left!

Send Me the Money

2011-10-10T15:01:00.000-05:00

You may have heard recently of the $39,000 backpack. Yes, people in the UK - that's over twenty thousand quid for a handbag, courtesy of the Olsen twins who apparently "wanted to do a bag for every occasion". Words fail me on so many levels but I swear, if I see anyone carrying one, I'm going to strangle her with the alligator handles.

Living in the States, where conspicuous consumption is a way of life for many people, I thought I had seen it all. Kim Kardashian recently bought herself a $450,000 white Ferrari 458 as a little wedding present for herself. As if that wasn't showy enough, she added $80,000 worth of upgrades just to really let everyone know how much money her questionable talent brings in. Most Americans don't even make that much money a year.

Look, I know that I'm a little low maintenance. I get my hair cut when I remember (or when my home snips start becoming too obvious), I don't get manicures (although I have presentable nails) and many items in my closet are years if not decades old. I don't resent other people spending money on this type of stuff instead of giving it to my charity to help my kids in Ghana. But when I see people spending ridiculous amounts on labels, the whole purpose of which is basically to advertise how much money they have, it gets me a little upset.

Just in case anyone with more money than conscience is taking time out of their busy spending to read this blog - either send me the money or give it to another worthy cause. You can't take it with you after all!

PS. And NO, I don't buy the feckin' argument that it's putting money back into the economy. It was probably made in a third world country where the wage is less than a dollar a day, and then there's the fact that it's made of alligator...... . It's still gross!

Discussing "bollocks" and other good words

2011-10-09T17:57:00.000-05:00

....over at Pond Parleys of course. You wouldn't find me being so crude on this blog now would you?

Let's Play "Profiler"

2011-10-07T14:16:00.000-05:00

So not content with having my ATM card skimmed during the summer, the Ball & Chain had his Kindle stolen recently. (Not sure where or when). Got up yesterday morning and noticed 18 purchases at 3am (always suspicious) on my Amex card. I bought the Kindle for him so the account was also on my card. I won't go into the sheer tedium of having to close the Kindle account and cancel my Amex card (except to say that Kindle, not Amex, are reimbursing me. Yay Amex) but a profiler would have a blast with the books that were purchased.

No prizes, but let's see who can come up with the most imaginative profile of the Kindle thief:

Fight Club; A Novel.
1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue
Tao of Jeet Kune Do
The Art of Seduction
How to Create the Life you Want
Acid Christ (LSD)
The Unabridged Novels of Sylvia Plath
Survivor: A Novel
The Great Shark Hunt
Grid Detective
The 50th Law
The Essential Underground Handbook
Simple Sabotage Field Manual
Improved Munitions Black Book
The Anarchist Cook Book

If I hadn't been so exhausted dealing with both Amazon and Amex, I probably would have contacted the FBI about the last four. God knows what the thief is planning.

But seriously! Talk about a mixed bag!!! There are undertones of a home-grown terrorist, who's possibly suicidal, but is questioning that, who also really wants a serious relationship.

So, amateur profilers....over to you.

Just Tweet It!

2011-10-05T11:21:00.000-05:00

No, this isn't going to be a navel-gazer, or a post trying to persuade everyone to Tweet. Quite frankly, if you don't have anything to sell, I can see little point.

That was until the other day, when I solved a rather annoying customer service problem by Tweeting. I won't name the company but they'd sent me a defective product. I e-mailed them asking for another or asking what to do. I got a lovely robot e-mail back promising a reply in a few days, but they failed to deliver. Following week I sent another e-mail. Same result. Said company's web site didn't give a phone number. (Isn't that against the law?) Sleuth that I am, I did an Internet search and found the number on a review site. Called them. Of course there wasn't a live person on the other end, but Mrs. Voice-over promised the same kind of speedy customer service if I'd leave my name and phone number. Still nothing.

So I Tweeted my dissatisfaction. Named names I did.

"What does it take to get a reply from Company A?" #crapcustomerservice", I tweeted.

Within minutes someone direct messaged me and asked about the problem. That night they even phoned to tell me how they were solving my problem. Brilliant.

Apparently Tweeting companies into action is becoming very popular. This recent story from Australia is a corker and should be a warning to any company daring to advertise one thing and deliver quite the opposite.

If you are going to resort to Twitter, obviously you first have to have an account. It's really easy to sign up and you don't have to Tweet much if you don't want to. Second - don't just Tweet about the company; do a search to see if the company has a Twitter account and if it does, use the handle (which would be @Xcompany) in your mini-rant. That way it will be flagged up to them almost like a message or an e-mail. Apparently some companies have employees who watch social media feedback all day.

Bear in mind that you are still limited as far as characters you can type, but in my experience, they will then be able to establish the basis of your problem, seek out your original e-mails or (if you're really lucky) give you a call.

Worth a try, and boy do they hate bad word-of-mouth!

Tweets about Moms

2011-10-03T09:57:00.000-05:00

OK, if you're a reader who's only into my Expatty material, do yourself a favo(u)r and keep reading. This is not about my children.
Can't remember what I was searching for on Twitter the other day, but I came across all these Tweets by kids (teens) about their mothers. They are bloody hilarious. My inevitable comments are in italics.

- "like I"d pass up free Chinese; my moms insane". (Bless)

- "my moms advice >>>". (Don't actually know if an east-pointing chevron is good or bad.)

- "why do moms think it's cool to take you to see people you don't remember?" (This one made me laugh out loud, or LOL as they say. I am guilty of doing this every summer with my kids.)

- "I love when my moms in a good mood". (Well we all know, happy mom = happy household. Take note everyone.)

- (Hash-tagging like this often denotes Tweeting around a theme) - #Thingsthatgetmepissed -' my moms constantly calling my name to do something simple, when she coulda did it.' (What? You mean like making your bed, letting the dog out, putting the trash out...I could go on.)

- #Thingsthatgetmepissed - when there's nothing to eat and my mom goes out and don't come back with food. (Coz lord knows, we wouldn't want to eat an apple or a yogurt.)

And my two favourites in reverse order. Drum roll please....

"I stole my moms chocolate. If I don't tweet ever again after tonight, she killed me". (And there's not a jury in the world that'd convict her.)

"This guy said '50 is the new 30'; mom told him '20 is the new 10". (Bam! Sounds like my kinda woman.)

You couldn't make this stuff up!

PS. Kids - a small possessive apostrophe now and then wouldn't kill.

At the Risk of Appearing Lazy....

2011-10-02T14:38:00.000-05:00

We discussed clicky blogs a little while ago so I said I'd give more information when linking to other posts of mine that are up elsewhere.

This one is up at my Pond Parleys blog. It's about words that you've either never really known the meaning of, or thought you did and then found out you were completely wrong.

It's even worse when you're an expat, but it's surprising how much it happens in your own language too!

Have Your Kids Cost You Any Friendships?

2011-09-29T09:04:00.000-05:00

An interesting post over at Single Parent Dad the other day got me thinking. I don't really think my kids, or the kids of others have actually ended a friendship, but there have been a few that have come very close, or at least have tested my loyalty.

- the parent who, on entering my house, loudly instructs her children that I'm now the boss since it's my house. The instruction goes something like - "Children, remember when I explained that not all houses have the same rules as we do and we must respect others? Well, now you have to listen to what Mrs. Expat wants you to do or not do in her house." Loosely translated however, it means - "Kids, I'm going to kick back and have a glass of wine so if you don't play nicely, you'll have Mrs. Expat to deal with." And off she goes, leaving me to make dinner, referee fights and keep her glass full.

- the parent whose child can do no wrong. Fortunately most of my friends are on the same wavelength as me (is. we know our kids aren't angels and can generally resolve things if left to figure it out). However, every so often there' a parent (male or female) who seeks to iron out spats - but funnily enough, usually only when their child feels wronged. Their darling can have spent the whole afternoon screaming, snatching toys and refusing to put things back, but the minute said child suffers any indignity, we have to have a feckin' tribunal, with my child being the defendant (naturally) and a lecture on good behaviour from "well-meaning parent". ("Honey I'm only saying what your mother was probably going to say to you. Isn't that right mom?") One of these days I will have spine enough to say "Yes, but I wouldn't dream of disciplining someone else's child."

- the parent who wants their child in the spotlight. All the time. This one really makes my heart sink. You open the front door and there's little Jonny ready to show you his latest judo moves/drumming ability/mastery of Chinese. You spend the next half hour bearing witness to his brilliance, then intermittently thereafter. It's funny how the parent has usually wandered off into the TV room, leaving you trapped with the genius child.

- the bullied parent. You know -the one who won't stand up to a very small human? The one who allows her child to yell and scream, dictating when it's time to leave, where and what they should eat, and whether or not they can talk to me. I have even had one child put his hand over the mouth of his mother every time she tried to say something. For some reason, this was totally acceptable to her (either that or she was too embarrassed to do anything), but I was so irritated, I had to leave the room. Again, in retrospect, I probably should have said "Sweetie (as you do when your teeth are gritted) Your mother and I are trying to have a conversation.....etc", but truthfully, there is no conversation to be had with parents like this.

Kids eh?

Encoding our Conjugal Rights and Duties

2011-09-27T16:14:00.000-05:00

It was recently decided in a French court, that you can sue your spouse for lack of sex in a marriage. Gulp! In this case, the wife (Yes, I know – didn’t see that one coming did you?) complained of a less-than-stellar sex life over the course of the twenty-one year marriage, and the judge fined her husband thousands of euros. The decision was based on French civil code, which requires a married couple to engage in a “shared communal life”. Not sure how I’d feel about having to legally force my husband to have sex with me, but whatever.

Given the possibility of legions of randy*, rejected spouses jumping on this bandwagon, I think there’s call for an international “Declaration of Conjugal Rights and Duties”, which should become a subsection of the Geneva Convention. I mean, we need to know where we stand on such matters:

“Henceforth, notwithstanding mammoth weight gain, severe flatulence, overly-perverse requests and/or sharp toenails, married couples (and those living as such) shall:

· - Give themselves bodily to their spouse at least twice a week, unless otherwise advised by a qualified physician. (That should keep the healthcare profession buoyant!)

· - Refrain from obtaining false medical opinions to defend a lack of conjugal desire

· - Give reluctant spouses due (ie. 24 hours) notice of the desire to exercise conjugal rights

· - Keep a calendar of such relations if spousal appetites are a bone of contention (excuse the pun)

· - Give noncompliant spouses three month’s notice of intention to take legal action

· - Persons under such notice shall take reasonable steps to demonstrate an intention to remedy the situation, in the form of an action plan complete with weekly goals and to do lists

· - Absence of such demonstrated intention shall be deemed to invite litigation, as shall failure to meet aforementioned goals.

On the other hand, they could just call it a day and get divorced.

*randy – British word meaning “horny”

One Less Child but My Life's Even Busier?

2011-09-25T17:12:00.000-05:00

How'd that happen?

I was obviously delusional when I thought life would be simpler with one less child at home. Meals, for example, would no longer be restricted to her white-meat-only diet. We can have red meat occasionally without me having to cook a piece of salmon for her. The laundry would be vastly reduced, and yes, that's happened.

What I didn't account for was

- the fact that if the Man-Child (almost 16) needs to go anywhere, the Queenager's not around to either drive him there or watch the 8 year old when I drive. That means I have to schlepp the Little Guy everywhere with me, and that's going to make for one very grumpy 8 year old when it's ten below outside.

- if the Man-Child's social life takes off this year, it means I have to go back to babysitters if, by some miracle, I have a social engagement too! Babysitters! After 5 years of not having to think of that, I'm well out of the loop and have no contacts.

- When the Ball & Chain's out of town, life becomes exponentially more complicated. For example, the Man-Child's recent school trip next week involved me attempting to get him to a downtown train station by 7am on a school morning. Not only did this suggest me dragging my sorry self out of bed an hour earlier than I usual, but waking the 8 year old at 6, getting his school stuff together, making his lunch etc. etc. all before 6.30am. Definitely something to avoid and very tempting to just leave him sleeping in bed, but that's illegal so I didn't. Fortunately I put out an SOS to nearby parents and they gave the Man-Child a ride.)

- Oh, and of course there's the compulsory ER/A&E visit, which always occurs when the Ball & Chain is out of town. Sure enough, last Tuesday I got the call from the school nurse saying that the Man-Child had ripped his finger on the school bus safety belt hole (don't ask) and it looked "really bad". Had to take Little Guy out of school half an hour early and schlepp him to the hospital with us. No Queenager around to come and collect him and take him home. Fortunately this time we were only there for two hours. Sigh.

I'm sure it'll all settle down soon....

Internet Stalkers - a.k.a. Iota

2011-09-20T21:52:00.000-05:00

The first time I met an "internet stalker" as the Queenager calls them (bloggy friends to you and me), was several years ago when Brit Girl Sarah visited Chicago with the Hubster. The kids gave me quite a bit of grief for letting them into the house. (Tongue in cheek, you understand.) After all, how many times had I talked to them about strange people on the Internet. You can read about Sarah's visit here.

And then I attended the 2010 and 2011 CyberMummy conferences in London, which I referred to as Writers' Conferences, when grilled by family and friends. You know - those people who don't quite "get" blogging. The same summer of CyberMummy 2010 I also met up with a group of US/UK bloggers including my partner in crime Mike Harling, The American Resident and Smitten by Britain to name but a few. And what do you know, we're all still friends. I saw Micheloui (The American Resident) again this summer and we have since discovered we have Northumbrian connections in common (talk about a small world). Melissa (Smitten) offered to drive the 2 hours it would take to get to Washington DC to take care the Queenager, newly arrived at college and the potential victim of Hurricane Irene. Talk about friends.

And now I have another "stalker" in my house - in the form of Iota, no less. She's here to spend time with her brother C, who lives in Paris. How cosmopolitain are we? He's in Chicago for a conference and she's here to spend time with him and they're staying at my house and we're all having a jolly time. And wouldn't you know, old Charlie and I have a friend in common! ("Typical", as the Ball & Chain always says. "It's such a small island, how can you not all know each other?")

So here's to "virtual, bloggy" friendships. They're real after all!

Rock Mom

2011-09-18T22:03:00.000-05:00

OK, I don't normally show the kids (out of personal fear) but the Man-Child performed in a Clash tribute show this weekend and when i say he stole the show, I'm almost not joking.

Reflections on Child Rearing

2011-09-15T02:35:00.001-05:00

A propos of my question the other day (- Do you Click Away?), I have a guest post up at the Brit Mums blog, which is of course, a tongue in cheek reflection on child-rearing, courtesy of my 18.5 years of experience.

If you're only interested in me for my expat stuff, then I won't be offended if you don't click through, but if you like this blog in general, then go have look at the post here.

Recent Examples of my Razor Sharp Brain

2011-09-13T10:36:00.000-05:00

These 8 year olds try it on don't they? But mine's no match for my sizzling brain, as you'll see:

Me: - Don't walk directly behind me. I can't see you.
8y/o - I thought you had eyes in the back of your head.
Me: - I've got a hat on though haven't I?

8y/o - I think my DS is broken.
Me: - Oh no, we'll have to be quick and send it back.
8y/o - How can we send it back to Santa?
Me - Oh, the elves don't make the really technical gadgets. Santa gets them from the manufacturers just in case they go wrong.

(Phew.)

No flies on me!

So Get Yourself Published Then

2011-09-12T08:43:00.001-05:00

When people learn I've had a book published, they often tell me of the book in their head. Some of those ideas are really good, others - not so marketable.

What has surprised me since getting my book published, is the attitude of some unpublished writers. Not sure if it's just professional jealousy because they're not yet published, sensitivity because they're in the middle of the rejection journey (where everyone has been) or just simply that they think their stuff is better than mine and why should I be the one to get published? And yes, there are a lot of really good writers out there who haven't yet managed to secure a publishing deal, just as there are quite a few published writers that make you wonder how they did it.

And then there's the "I could've done that" category of critics. The ones who tell you about the book in their head, then tell you how lucky you are to have scored a publishing deal. Lucky? It had nothing to do with luck, and everything to do with writing it all down and then working like a maniac to find an agent, who in turn worked hard to get the right publishing contract. Everyone has a book in their head, and some of them could be really, really good - if only they could make it from the head to the keyboard.

Oh, and then there's this type of person - who basically didn't write a book and is now claiming compensation from someone who did. Fortunately the judge threw the case out, not because it has no merit but because the case has timed out under the statute of limitations.

I mean, how lazy can you get?

Or am I just being mean?

Question for my Readers

2011-09-09T11:59:00.000-05:00

Since I write bits and pieces for a number of different web sites, (which I'm not allowed to re-post here) I often briefly introduce them on this blog and then leave the link.

I popped over to a friend's blog the other day and she had done something similar - and I didn't click through. I couldn't be bothered. (I hasten to add, I often click through.)

Then it occurred to me that Expat Mum readers might be doing the same.

So are you? Do you click through to my other pieces when I post a link? Or do you say, "Oh, she's being a lazy blogger today", and move on?

The Culling Fields

2011-09-07T07:41:00.000-05:00

A cousin of mine cooks a different meal for her family every day. That's every single day. Not "no-more-than-once-a-month", but every day. When I voiced my utter disbelief at this, she admitted that it was partly out of boredom but personally, there'd have to be a few toilets left to clean before I resorted to her approach.

Like many women, I have a slew of recipe books and magazines, most of which languish elegantly in my kitchen. A few years ago I threw down the gauntlet and vowed to try a new recipe every week. (Here, if you don't believe me, and no- it didn't last.) From time to time I'm known to cut out or copy a recipe and place it in my personal meals-that-will-never-be-made folder.

At the moment however, I'm in a culling mood. Clothes that beg the question "What were you thinking?" are piling up in the 'goodwill' bag, and neglected toys have all been given a 6 month suspended sentence. The recipe books and mags are the next for inspection and I have resolved that if, in the next month, I haven't forced myself to make at least 5 meals out of "Jamie at Home" and at least another 5 from my Delia and Nigella library, they're all being donated to the school's used-book sale. The books, that is, not the individuals themselves although I'm sure the school would be delighted to meet every one of them.

Join me in the cull - You know you want to!

Empty Nest

2011-09-06T02:31:00.001-05:00

So the Queenager has been at college for just over a week now. Man, it's quiet around here and it still feels all very weird.

Here's a bit of a tear jerker I wrote over at In the Powder Room.

Back to School Confusion

2011-09-04T11:37:00.000-05:00

I know I've been here a long time, but believe me, every day is a learning experience. And the school supply list is no exception.
Pop over to my Pond Parleys blog and read more.....

American patients - Day Two

2011-09-02T15:23:00.000-05:00

Another thing that really, really annoys me about dealing with doctors' offices (on either side of the Pond) is the inability of the admin staff to acknowledge mistakes that they make. Don't they realise that having to fight and argue every time I deal with them will eventually make me find another doctor?

Following on from the post last week, I collected four of five prescriptions this morning. My pharmacist told me that one of the dermatology creams is no longer available from the manufacturer. He had faxed a request to the doctor for an alternate prescription, then followed up with two phone conversations. Nothing. Finally, I called the dermatology office (again) and was told that a) this was the first they'd heard about anything, and b) there was no fax. Even when I told the woman that my pharmacist had actually had real live conversations with someone at her office, she continued to suggest I must be wrong because "this never happens". Even after I told her that the same crap service had happened last week, she persisted with her "this never happens" line of reasoning. Seriously?

Why couldn't she just have said she was sorry for the inconvenience? Instead, I had to really have a go at her and threaten not only to find another doctor, but to make sure her boss knows why. I am penning a letter of complaint as I speak, but the doctor will probably never see it.

The pharmacist eventually got a new prescription, which turned out to be for something that I can buy across the counter, saving me quite a bit of moola.

Why couldn't they have just said that in the first place? Sigh. Waste my time why don't you?

Changing Dynamics in the Expat household

2011-08-30T09:45:00.000-05:00

I was warned that the domestic dynamics would change once the Queenager left for college. Given how well she and the Man-Child get on, I knew he would miss her (even if he does insist on telling us that we'll see her soon). The dog is hanging out in her room whenever she gets the chance (see previous post) and I am actually sleeping a little better now that I can't here her clanging around in her bathroom, which is directly under my bed!

What I completely failed to grasp however, was the need for a babysitter! Oh yes, I feel like I"m going backwards. If you'll recall, the Man-Child is almost 16, and the Little Guy is 8. Despite what the Ball & Chain says, we can't leave him on his own in the house. That means, any time I have to drive the MC anywhere, I have to schlepp the Little Guy along with me too. That should be shed loads of fun when it's below freezing. And when the MC's social life kicks in, (as it should in the next few months) I will either have to stay in or find a babysitter.

Have you any idea how long it's been since I needed a babysitter? A good 5 years, give or take. I have no currency in that world at the moment. I have failed to keep tabs on which high schoolers babysit, how much they charge and who isn't to be trusted with a barge pole.

Something tells me that my social life is about to become even more laughable than it already is.

Danger - American Weather!

2011-08-28T16:35:00.000-05:00

Jumping on the bandwagon here to talk about the weather in the USA. (Read my previous post to see how it has personally affected me.)

We never did make it out to DC to settle the Queenager in. There were howling storms on the Saturday night, and she woke up to find a tree gently leaning against her dorm wall. It could have been a lot worse. Once he established that everything was fine, the Ball & Chain left DC this morning for the long drive back to Chicago. Meanwhile, the Queenager has managed to misplace her key twice already. I told her she should wear it round her neck and she laughed at me.....

Anyway, pop over to my Pond Parleys blog to get my take on the not-so-perfect US weather.

Rolling with the Punches

2011-08-26T15:30:00.001-05:00

I'm not very good at 'rolling with the punches', accepting that which I cannot change etc., and Hurricane bloody Irene is no exception.

It was bad enough having to watch the Ball & Chain drive the Queenager off to college the other day. I didn't know whether I was going to throw up or collapse when the garage door started coming down. Not a good experience and something that you really can't appreciate until one of your chicks finally leaves the nest. (I know chicks don't have nests, but you know what I mean.)

I went up to her bedroom, stood laughing at the fact that it looked like a bomb had hit it, and then suddenly realized I just couldn't be in there. I've done a little tidying up, but it all wells up a bit and I have to leave the room again.

Lisen to me.

As I mentioned a few posts ago, the plan was to fly with the boys to DC on Saturday morning to help her settle in and generally make sure she was OK. That was before Irene came roaring up the east coast, and now I can't go. The Little Guy is bereft, which doesn't help me at all. Its hard to see your kids cry like that. Anyway, they're declaring states of emergency all over the place on the Atlantic coast so even if my plane did take off, I can't in all seriousness, take two kids into that type of danger.

So I'm very sad, and just thanking heaven that her dad is with her because it looks like it might get scary.

C'est la vie, c'est la guerre, as they say.

PS. Think the pup is missing anyone?

American patients - A Day in the Life

2011-08-24T09:44:00.000-05:00

I'm constantly amazed that so many Americans are vehemently opposed to any changes in their healthcare system, when the one in place is often completely rubbish.

I won't even go into the bigger social aspect of about 47 million Americans not even having health insurance. My beef is with the minutiae you have to deal with if you're lucky enough to have coverage and can get to a doctor.

First, you have to make sure that your health insurance actually allows you to see a specific doctor. While Americans aren't required to go to the nearest doctor or hospital, their health policy often has a "network" outside of which you cannot go without having to pay most of the costs yourself. (And let me tell you, those costs are astronomical.) The problem is often that the literature and lists of "in network" physicians, are out of date. Doctors drop health plans all the time, and coverage changes with surprising speed. Best thing to do is check with your insurance company AND call the doctors office to make sure they still take the plan.

If you're on more than one medication, say from two different doctors, there's no one to say "Hey - that combination of drugs is potentially lethal." Walgreens, a large chain in the US, has just started offering this service (as long as you get all your prescriptions filled with them) which will alert them to any potential problems.

Prescription labels often have a refill number on them, allowing you to re-order the medication. However, just because there's a refill order on the label, doesn't mean you can get it. My teens both use skin creams, prescribed by their dermatologist. Before we went to England in the summer they both told me they were out of certain creams, so I phoned my lovely pharmacist, and he duly phoned the dermatologist to authorize the refill. No go. Apparently it was just over a year since my kids had been seen by the doctor, so the receptionist couldn't authorize the refill. I explained that we were about to leave for a month, but she was unimpressed. (Jobs worth anyone?) I gritted my teeth, made the appointment, paid through the nose for a nurse (not even the doctor) to say everything was still the same and we could have the creams.

Last week I needed to fill another cream prescription for the Queenager. The pharmacist duly faxed the request to the dermatologist, and we waited. Two days later (the day before she left for college) still no cream. I called the pharmacist who said they'd faxed and heard nothing. I phoned the dermatology office where I was told flatly, that no fax had been received. "But we have a fax acknowledgment from you". Still flatly denied. Grr, and grr again. (This is where you learn not to argue but to just put the request in again.)

Hopefully we'll get the cream before she leaves.

Do you and your Kids like their Names?

2011-08-22T09:41:00.000-05:00

Do you still like the names you chose for your children? After 18, almost 16 and 8 years, I still do. (I'm not going to reveal them here for fear of whining and complaining from "outed" kids.)

Anyway, since the Man-Child is seriously considering becoming an international rock god, he's already thinking about a stage name. Because he doesn't like his own name. His name was very unusual when he was born in 1995, but a certain sodding television show made it possibly the most popular name on the planet, which makes me want to weep. I have to agree though, it's probably not the most "rock-ish" name you could come up with so if he wants to adopt a more street-cred name, I'll allow it. (Ha!)

He quite fancies Axel, especially as it when coupled with Hargis is makes him sound menacing and Viking-esque. I reminded him that there's been another Axel in the rock world, (Rose, pictured) who's looking a bit sad and lonely now. The irony is that when I was pregnant with him, one of our friends kept insisting that Axel was a great name. I wonder if that friend's psychic.

When I was growing up I detested my name. I was christened Antonia, after a school friend of my mother. Within six weeks however, I was apparently being called Toni, prompting my grandfather to say "I thought they had a little girl" to my gran. I grew up in the North East of England and didn't meet another female Toni till I was 26 and working in London; that's how unusual it was. I dreaded introducing myself as a child because the taunt was always - "Toni?? That's a boy's name." The alternative was to tell them that my real name was Antonia, and risk having my head shoved down the loo for possibly being posh. Ah, memories.

I now think Antonia is a beautiful name, although I quiver when someone uses it for me as I only ever heard it when I was in trouble at school!

Do you know what your children think of their names? Do you even dare ask them?

Packing up

2011-08-20T10:28:00.000-05:00

Yes folks, we're packing up the Queenager for her big move to college next week. (Dabs eyes and stifles a howling great sob.)

The Ball & Chain is insisting on driving her the 800 or so miles, as Americans do. We had a bit of a disagreement over this as I think we could easily have taken her "stuff"on the plane and bought whatever she needed when we got to Washington DC. He insists that all the shops in DC will have run out of everything, and also that she has too much stuff. He clearly hasn't been through her closet recently. She wears the same boots all winter, the same sandals all summer and the same three of four jeans and t-shirts all year round no matter the temp. Obviously he's feeling the manly urge to take a road trip. The Q has other ideas, but since it's her stuff, she's the passenger.

Fortunately both boys have commitments till the Friday of next week so I'm flying there with them. (Tee hee).

It takes me back to when I left Tyneside for Bristol University in another lifetime. Since it's about 300 miles, and they had two younger kids in school, my parents put me on the train and waved me off. (I have to say that didn't bother me at all.) When I got to the other end, I hailed a taxi, the driver said something in his Brizzle accent, and I hadn't a clue what it was. It turned out to be "Are you going to the University my lover?" but at the time I just pretended I'd understood and jumped in. He could have been declaring himself a maniac on the loose for all I knew. Fortunately, once inside, he asked me which Hall (dorm) I was headed for and I understood that bit.

I remember having a lot of stuff to take, - in particular a rather large stereo. (No teeny I-pods and docks in them days,) I travelled with two suitcases of clothes and immediate essentials, and then shipped a humungous trunk by rail, which arrived about 10 days later. It had been my aunt's from when she emigrated to Canada (then came back) and it really was huge. The kind that is now used as a very large coffee table. When the British Rail man came to pick it up, he had to go back for a colleague because it was too heavy for one person. When it arrived at my Hall, I had to bat my eyelids at 4 male students to get it from the mail room to my bedroom. Lord knows what I had in it, but when I finally left uni, it stayed behind. Probably the center of attention in someone's living room now.

Anyway, we have a large pile of stuff on the dining room table and apparently it's going to take no time at all to get her all packed up. I have warned her that I'm not staying up till all hours the night before she leaves, and she says she'll sort her stuff out. Hmmm.

PS. Would-be burglars - the house is alarmed to the teeth, and a neighbo(u)r is staying here while we're gone. Don't even think about it.

The Tooth Fairy's Epic Fail

2011-08-17T08:54:00.000-05:00

Not sure where the Tooth Fairy's head is these days but she's definitely slipping. The Little Guy lost a tooth in England, which I carefully wrapped in tissue to bring back to the States. (Seeing that we were at the end of our trip, the LG opted for payment in dollars rather than pounds or euros. Very smart.)

For two weeks, mother and child keep forgetting to put said tooth under the pillow. Last night, another tooth came out, at which point I blurted out "Good Grief, this is costing me a fortune". This was swiftly followed by about ten minutes of frantic backtracking, explaining that it's costing me money in tissues and note paper because we have to write a note to the TF explaining why we've taken so long to put the first tooth under the pillow, blah dee blah dee blah.

As he's 8 years old, I'm not sure whether he still on board with this Tooth Fairy malarkey, or he's just humouring me. Anyway, we decided to put the two teeth together and write the TF yet another note. (Every time he loses a tooth there seems to be cause for a note. Usually it's a note of apology from the TF who has a memory like a sieve and keeps forgetting to leave the money.)

Note written, we look for the first lost tooth, safely wrapped in tissue. Somewhere in the house. Argh - I changed handbags the other day and put contents such as teeny teeth in a safe place. Somewhere. Couldn't remember where so a note was duly written with blame unequivocally placed at my feet.

At 7am this morning my eyes shot open as I pondered the possibility of that damn Tooth Fairy having forgotten her duties. Raced down to the kitchen and sure enough, no money. I quickly made up for her woeful performance, left double the usual amount of money, and raced back to bed. Phew.

Little Guy was thrilled but very puzzled at the unusually large sum of money (it was only $5 in case you're wondering. He usually gets a dollar per tooth, but this was obviously guilt money.) And then he pointed out more carelessness from that bloody Tooth Fairy woman.

She'd forgotten to take the tooth away! Dear me.

So now we have to write another note asking her if she wants the tooth or not. I'm not quite sure where all this will end!

Dream a Little Dream

2011-08-14T19:24:00.002-05:00

There's a lot going on in my house at the moment (as usual), and it's making for some very weird dreams. I have always been a "dreamer" and can usually remember them the following morning in great, chronological detail. My mother is the same and when we're together we can spend hours relaying the rubbish we dreamt the night before. The Ball & Chain, (who seems never to dream) can't believe how much we can remember, as well as how Alice in Wonderland the dreams are.

At the moment, we have two weeks till the Queenager takes off for college. Argh! Don't remind me. I may have to kidnap her and hide her away till she forgets all about this silly notion of leaving home. She's driving to DC with the Ball & Chain, while her brothers and I are taking the plane a few days later. What? One of them has camp on the Friday and the other has a rock performance. I swear. As a sweetener, we're stopping in Cleveland, Ohio on the way back - to visit the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. I can't wait and I don't care about anyone else!

But back to the dreams. The other night, I dreamt we had already accompanied her to DC and while the men left, I hid myself somewhere, (that detail escapes me) and pitched up at breakfast on her first morning in a huge, fluffy housecoat. She was, needless to say, mortified! I made the mistake of telling her about the dream, and now I think she's worried that I really won't be able to leave her there.

When I was younger, some of my dreams used to come true - especially when I was stressed. I'm just hoping I can resist the temptation to make a complete fool of both me and the Q!

David Bowie - My Hero

2011-08-12T10:35:00.000-05:00

I've just read that if it weren't for David Bowie, the son of the late Marc Bolan would have been in fairly dire straits. When Bolan died in 1977, his finances were in the middle of a rehaul and in trust so Rolan and his mother (not married to Bolan) were unintentionally not provided for. Rolan Bolan has recently revealed that his godfather David Bowie, quietly stepped in and paid for his education and other expenses.

"David’s generosity helped my mother and me to survive. It wasn’t just the financial help, but the time and kindness. He never came to see us in California because he lives in New York and hates to travel. But he kept in regular touch by phone and his first and last words every time were: “Don’t hesitate to tell me if there is anything I can do.”

Swoon.

I've always liked Bowie - not just his music, but the sense of humour that comes through, his intelligence, and his fab sense of style. And now this! I know the money he has spent on Bolan is a drop in the ocean compared to his total wealth, but the fact that he reached out at all, and kept the whole thing quiet is really impresses me.

There's something about conspicuous philanthropy that just makes me squirm. Yes, I know Angelina Jolie does a lot of good work, but do we have to hear about every million that she and Brad donate? Does Oprah have to tell us that her ridiculously lavish school in South Africa cost $40 million.

Here in the States, where taxes fund a lot less "stuff", there's a lot of fund-raising and philanthropy. I live near a free zoo, that is totally funded by private donations. There's a big ball every year to raise money, and a lot of Chicago's big wigs make huge donations - in exchange for having their names writ large on the side of an enclosure. Yes, folks. When you give big bucks over here, everyone gets to hear about it.

As a fund-raiser for a small school in Ghana, don't get me wrong, if you gave me large sums of money I'd willingly have your name tattoo-ed across my forehead or wherever else you demanded, - but the whole "Look how much I gave this year" approach nevertheless strikes me as somewhat tacky.

Most of the big charities here publish a report every year, listing their donors and how much they have donated. They are generally grouped by amount, so that the few who donate a million (and yes, there are people who do) are listed in the top group, then those who gave $100,000 etc, right down to the people who give $500 or less. Even private schools (most of whom are registered charities) do it, so everyone knows how much you gave to your kids' own school. At my kids' school we have whole wings of buildings names after the families who paid for the construction - a permanent reminder of their generosity.

I understand that charities will do whatever it takes (legally) to raise money and I can't really blame them for pandering to the egos of big donors, but when I hear about someone doing good without making a big fuss, - it warms the cockles of my heart.

It's a Small, Small, Social Networky World

2011-08-10T08:54:00.000-05:00

"When I first left England's green and pleasant land, way back in 1990, the only communication I had with my large circle of friends came in envelopes."

Pop over to my latest column for Expat Focus. I'm pondering the differences between the expat world then, and now.

You MUST Go and Read This - #8

2011-08-09T04:16:00.001-05:00

Although this post is about growing up expat, it will speak to everyone and anyone. Written by Expat Apple, who was raised all over the world, then married and raised her own two children around the globe, it is a tribute to family connections and what they mean to her.

If you love good, evocative writing, and enjoy reading about experiences a world apart from your own, then this is the post for you.

Here it is - Melancholy Sundays, by Apple Gidley.

Enjoy.

How STUPID do you think I am?

2011-08-07T10:28:00.000-05:00

I'm sure many of us have received e-mails from various African countries telling us that someone has left us large sums of money, or that someone would like to ship millions out of the country and would we help them? Amazingly some people have been tempted by such offers, ending up handing over bank details so that the monies mentioned could be deposited in their accounts. You can guess that it's usually not a happy ending.

And now it seems the Bank of England is at it. The other day I found an e-mail from someone at the B of E in my junk folder. Despite the fact that I have no money with the Bank of England, (unless some nice person has opened a bank account for me), the e-mail says -

Attn: Beneficiary,

I am Dr Francis Johnson Director Head of International Remittance BANK OF ENGLAND, there is presently a counter claims on your funds by one MRS. CHERIE VANSICKLE, who is presently trying to make us believe that you are dead and even explained that you entered into an agreement with her while in the sick bed, to help you in receiving your approved Scam victim Compensation fund awarded to you by the UNITED-NATION In conjunction with the Prime Minister. So here comes the big question.

Are you dead or still alive? And Did you by any reason signed such agreement in favor of (MRS. CHERIE VANSICKLE). Thereby making her the current beneficiary with her following Bank account details:

ACC NAME: MRS. CHERIE VANSICKLE,

BANK/NAME: GREEATER IOWA CREDIT UNION

BANK ADDRESS: LEDD E, 30TH DES MOINES, IOWA 50317 USA,

ACCOUNT/NUMBER: 000369505.

ROUTING/273972583,

We shall proceed to issue all payments details to the said MRS. CHERIE VANSICKLE, if we do not hear from you within the next five Bank working days from today. All the necessary arrangements regarding your contract payment has been finalized and i was then given the authority to notify you of the latest development. You also have to note that you will pay before this fund will be release into your account and if you are not ready to settle the bill, then you have to quit this transaction in time.

Thanks for your understanding and cooperation.

Regards,

Dr Francis Johnson

Position: Head of International Remittance

Bank of England.

I'm not sure I really understand it, but in answer to "the big question", No, I'M NOT DEAD!!!

Trip to Ghana - The Shops

2011-08-04T16:16:00.000-05:00

I'm still processing the week I spent in Ghana last month. It wasn't the huge culture shock that I expected; or maybe it was and I quickly got used to it. We were staying in a smallish place called Madina which is about 30 miles north of the capital, Accra.

We landed at the airport at about 10pm and the place was teeming with people. Hundreds of faces lines either side of the welcome ropes. Fortunately I was being met by two Ghanaians and a white American who was easy to spot in the crowd! The drive out of Accra was almost uneventful, although I'm very glad that I hadn't rented a car and tried to get myself to my destination! I din't think I saw a single street sign or road sign and would probably have ended up in Burkina Faso!

After about 15 miles the roads seemed to well, disappear. There's a lot of road-building going on and we alternated between relatively smooth tarmac and very uneven red dirt, the likes of which you'd think required a Jeep or a Humvee. Many times I looked at the street we turned into and thought "There's no way this car is able to drive over this." But we did. Very slowly. Thank god my back was better than it had been in June.

Outside of Accra there's very little in the way of street lights, making it quite the adventure for pedestrians. Our hosts basically refused to let us walk anywhere after dark, even though we literally glowed in the moon light!

I suppose the hardest thing to get used to for me was the lack of "proper shops" as I kept saying. It's so hot even in their colder season that you can do everything out doors - like selling stuff. As you'd expect, there were shed-like shops all along the streets, selling food and plastic kitchen doo-dads. I found it slightly astonishing however, to find a large selection of stainless steel ovens (about 30 of them) by the side of the road one day, a variety of American-style fridges, and further along, sofas and chairs. By the side of the road! I would like to know a) how they got there, b) where they go at night, and c) who buys them?

Let's Turn this into a Learning Experience

2011-08-03T09:25:00.000-05:00

Glancing over July's bank statement yesterday, I noticed some huge withdrawals on the same day - in the UK. After I was back in the States. What the?

Yes, folks, it seems my cashpoint/ATM cum Mastercard has been cloned. To be honest, I was initially very confused. I mean, I still have the card in my possession so how could anyone possibly have been withdrawing money on it. I remember the last withdrawal I made in the UK and there was no one around except my children. They came back to the States with me so I know it's not one of them running lose with mommy's card.

My mother rang the local police who are now all over it. They deduced immediately that it had been cloned. Indeed, there was a lapse of a few days between my last withdrawal and the start of the rampage, meaning that someone has made a duplicate. They did a test run with a $50 purchase in Marks and Spencer before making three withdrawals the next day to the tune of $1,000 and another three a couple of days later for the same amounts. Given that I wasn't able to cancel the card till yesterday, Lord knows what else they did.

Fortunately I can prove that I was back on this side of the pond by then so I shouldn't be liable for most of it.

I would normally beat myself up for being careless but in this instance, there was nothing I could do.

In future however, I am advised only to make withdrawals from cash machines that are owned by banks. The ATM/cash point I used isn't owned by any particular bank and according to the police, these are more likely to be fitted out with devices to record all card information, including your password.

So friends, I'm using this annoying experience to put you all o your guard. It can happen to anyone, so take steps to protect yourself.

British Driving Licence Matters

2011-08-01T09:29:00.000-05:00

A few weeks ago I wrote about the nice man at the National car rental desk who told me I should have relinquished my old paper British driving licence (license, if you're in the States) years ago and on no account was I to show it to the police should I be stopped. I must admit it gave me quite a shock and I immediately logged on to the DVLA (Driving and Vehicle Licensing Agency) web site for clarity. Alas, as it pertains to Brits abroad, it wasn't all that clear. I therefore e-mailed the help people and this morning received a reply.

So here, for Brits abroad who may be wondering about their status, and for the few remaining Brits who still have a paper licence, is the low down:

For Brits resident in the UK:

the old pink paper licences are still legal. Having no photo, you are therefore not required to update them every so often.
Your eligibility to drive ends when you are 70, whether you have the paper or plastic type of licence, and you will need to reapply for entitlement. This is usually given for three years.
If you have a plastic licence, you will need to renew it every ten years as the photo will no longer be valid (There is an expiration date on the front of your licence.)
If you move, you need to give your change of address to the DVLA
Although old paper licences are still valid, the DVLA encourages you to update to a plastic one.
In addition, the European Union requires member states to issue driving licences in card format so if you're popping over to the Continent, you should have the plastic type of licence.

For Brits abroad:

If you move to another country, you don't need to inform the DVLA of your change of address.
Although the DVLA web site states that you must be a resident of the UK to apply for a driving licence, it has little information on what happens if you obtained your licence legally and then moved abroad. It doesn't state anywhere that your licence is no longer valid, nor does it require you to relinquish it
Furthermore, the nice DVLA person tells me - "As a visitor you may drive vehicles up to 3.5 tonnes and with up to 8 passenger seats, provided your full USA licence remains valid for up to 12 months from the date of entering the United Kingdom. However, if you were to return to Great Britain as a resident in the future an application can be made to reissue your British licence if it has expired. As there is no exchange agreement between America and Great Britain you are not required to return your driving licence."
So, it appears the car rental guy was wrong. My British licence is fine, although my current US license is actually all I need to drive in the UK for up to 12 months. (Which reminds me, mine expires this September - Sigh..) And I don't need to hand it in to anyone.

Good job I didn't throw it away.

Hope this has helped at least one other person.

Olympic Apathy

2011-07-31T07:04:00.000-05:00

The official countdown to the 2012 Games has begun. Why the apathy in the UK?
Pop over to Pond Parleys for our thoughts.

It never rains but it pours

2011-07-29T11:03:00.000-05:00

I'm trying not to moan, I really am. I mean I've just come back from a month gallavanting about the globe and other people have real problems. I understand that. However, in the 36 hours since I've been back in Chicago -

The back door lock has broken. Given that the dog will only poop out there, and we access the garage through the garden, this was a tad problematic. A locksmith was duly called who announced that since the lock was actually built into the door, we would probably need a new door. Which of course, would have to be ordered. Which, of course, would take some time. I pointed out that we have an identical door upstairs, and asked if he could just use that lock. No ma'am. He couldn't guarantee his work using an old lock. Fortunately the next locksmith didn't have quite the same scruples, so hundreds of dollars later, the back door was back in action.

The roof is leaking. Again. We have a flat roof, and Chicago has had the worst month of rain since records were kept. Not a good combo. A few weeks ago we got 7 inches in 2 hours. Yes, that much rain. Whilst showing the locksmith to the unused-door-with-a-working-lock, I noticed strange bevelling in the drywall nearby, and a slight glistening on the floor. Big problem since we have a roof deck, meaning that some (or all) of the planks would have to come up. The Ball & Chain however, had some tar in the garage (as you do) and got to work with it. It lashed down again last night and it seems that the tar has worked.

The front door bell isn't working. Actually it is working, but it sticks sometimes and the only way we know someone is at the door is if we happen to pass it and see a dark shadow through the side glass. Even when it is working, it doesn't make a noise outside, so people just stand there waiting. I suppose I should really look into getting a new bell, but it's linked to a speaker thing which will inevitably mean added complications and much expenditure.

The detachable shower head in my shower has stopped working. It's one of those with a big rain shower bit and a smaller, alternative shower head, which I prefer. Naturally it's my shower head that's not working. The wasteful larger one is fine, thank you. Unfortunately, the plumber we called can't find a replacement part. In fact he can't even trace the company that made the shower so if I want a smaller, hand held shower head ever again, we will have to install a whole new shower. This is turn, means ripping out all the pipes in the wall on the other side of the bathroom.

Oy, oy, oy. Welcome home.

What's new in the UK?

2011-07-27T02:24:00.000-05:00

Leaving England today (27th) for Chicago. Every year I see different things in the UK. I'm not saying they're necessarily new; I may not have been paying attention. But this year I've noticed -

- Lots of Marmite and Branston pickle products, as mentioned in an earlier post. Heaven.....

- Large and small glasses of wine in restaurants. The small glasses always look ridiculously insufficient but the larger measures just make you look like an alchoholic! Not that it stopped me!

- A continuing probem with chip and pin - less credit cards. I have mentioned this on blogs and comment discussions before and am often told that I'm wrong, but I still have a few problems with my chip and pinless American credit cards. Although more and more stores seem able to cope with them, I still come across the odd place that simply doesn't have a machine that swipes the card. On one occasion I had to flick through the operation manual with the shop ower to work out how to process my card. In the end she called a help desk. Who knew I was a "help desk" case?

- Coffe bars and snack places. Wherever you are in the States, you can find something to eat at any hour of the day or night. Walking around shopping centres and High Streets in the UK, it now appears the same is true on this side of the Pond. In touristy places like London, York, the Lakes etc, there has always been a plethora of tea shops, but now, everywhere you look there's a Starbucks (don't mention the prices!), Pret-a-Manger or a Costa Coffee. Watch out Brits - you'll end up with the same obesity problem!

Anyway folks, I must start throwing things into my suitcase. I somehow now have more stuff than I came over with and had to run out and buy an extra holdall yesterday, so there's a bit of reorganising to do to stay under the weight limit.

Toodle pip!

PS. If anyone can tell me how to stop Blogger underlining random words in red on my posts I'd be very grateful. It's really irritating me!

Just Blame the Americans

2011-07-25T02:34:00.000-05:00

A recent article on the BBC web site has some harsh words to say about certain American phrases that seem to be creeping into British English. In my view, the criticism is directed at the wrong people. American English was developed for use in the USA. Whose fault is it that Brits are adopting bits of it?

Pop over to Pond Parleys and join in this developing debate.

Leaving one's comfort zone

2011-07-20T17:03:00.000-05:00

So, as you'd expect, there were a few things in Ghana that one had to "get used to". It's quite a test of the old mettle (or is that metal?) when faced with some of then. Here's how I did.

- lizards everywhere? Not a problem. They are actually quite sweet and scamper away as soon as they get wind of you. The fact that decades ago, one fell on my face whilst in bed in Greece, (me, not the lizard) doesn't seem to have caused lasting damage.

- the food? Hmmm. Not quite sure how I measure up here. While I ate everything that was given to me, Ghanaians seem to eat a lot of starch. We had toast and egg every day for breakfast, rice and spice for lunch and another kind of rice for dinner. By day four (when I hadn't had a bowel movement), my stomach started playing up at the sight of another rice dish. I even ordered egg and chips one night just to mix it up a little. Ironically, although I'd taken every diarrhea pill known to man, along with re-hydration sachets and an anti-biotic (should it go on for more than three days), I had the exact opposite problem. (But I didn't complain, which I think, is a good sign.)

- toilets? OK, I admit to a little westerner-horror here. Yes, I was able to use flushing toilets wherever I was, which I know is a big deal in a lot of remote African areas, but the fact that your toilet paper has to go in a plastic bag instead of down the loo, and the plastic bag usually contains previously used paper, made me retch more than once. Having said that, it's a lot better than when I first went to Greece in the early 80's and the paper went in a small bin next to the loo. Except that most of the time it ended up all over the floor! Eeuuwww.

- market bartering. Ahhhh - I came into my own on this one. I had bragged to my hosts that I was quite a good barterer, and they gave each other that knowing, "oh, she's in for a surprise" look, but I got every price I wanted. Trick is to state your price then walk away. After all, the next stall was selling exactly the same thing. Lest you think I was gouging the poor traders, I had been advised at one particular market, to start by halving the price, and they would still make a good profit. Most of the time I didn't budge from that price. It helps when a larger group of tourists comes in behind you. The stall holder is so keen to get their business, they just bundle your goods into a bag and take whatever you proffer.

- being scammed. Didn't happen. OK, it almost did but I held my ground and they caved. At our hotel, I was quite often given my restaurant change as a paper IOU. I know. Most of the time no one ever brought it up the following morning, so I had to deduct it from my bill the next night. On my second last day I was informed that I'd only paid for 6 nights (instead of 7), which I knew wasn't true. I'd had to pay cash up front, had counted it out with the check-in guy and had asked for a receipt. Unfortunately, it was very dark in the reception area (one bulb) and very late, so I didn't look at the numbers on the receipt. Turns out check in guy had written down the amount for 6 nights.They smilingly said they wouldn't kick me out and we'd sort it out that night.

Of course, I spent the entire day rehearsing the scene, practising being firm and slightly annoyed, best Maggie Thatcher voice etc. etc. When I walked into reception that night and asked about "the confusion" surrounding my bill, it was suddenly all OK and not a problem. "Oh", I said, a tad deflated. Much as I hate arguments, I was relishing the chance to shame them and expose them, but they obviously didn't want a fuss made. I should bloody well think so.

So I think I fared quite well on the whole although it's exhausting being faced with new and often dismaying things, on a daily basis.

Expat in Ghana

2011-07-18T06:37:00.001-05:00

I'm currently in Ghana, working on a cell phone but pop over to Pond Parleys for a dispatch.

A Life of Crime

2011-07-07T11:30:00.000-05:00

Well, not exactly a life of crime, but I feel as if that's what I've been doing. When we pitched up at Newcastle airport's car rental desk last week, I presented my old, pink, paper UK driving licence to the clerk. (For some reason I assumed rental companies would feel safer with someone who'd passed a British driving test, albeit several decades ago.) The poor guy nearly fell off his chair when he saw it and asked me how long I'd been out of the country.

So I sort of lied and said "About twenty years, off and on". Which is true.

I was then told to send my licence back to the DVLA immediately and under no circumstances to show it if a police officer required prrof of eligibility.

"Oh", I said.

According to Mr. Car Rental, a) I should have a new plastic licence with photo ID, and b) I won't be able to get one because I'm not resident in the UK.

Well then. Who knew.

As soon as I could I went on to the DVLA web site to clear up the matter (and research this blog post). Most of what he said is there in black and white.

- You can't renew a UK driving licence unless you're resident in the UK.
- You can drive for a year on many foreign licences (including a US one).
- The new, plastic licences actually have an expiry date on them (which many Brits apparently didn't know) so even though you can drive till you're 70, you may have to renew your licence several times before that

I asked what happens when you come back to the UK for say, two years. Mr. Car Rental said you can do something which makes your foreign licence more permanent, but I couldn't find anything to that effect on the web site. And since I have the old pink paper kind, which doesn't have an expiry date on it, what's all the fuss about?

I will be calling DVLA for a full explanation as soon as I have a moment, but just a warning to expat Brits out there - your UK licence may be well past its sell-by date.

Paris - with a twist, (of course)

2011-07-04T17:02:00.000-05:00

We spent last Tuesday to Friday in Paris, which was fab. It's about 13 years since I'd been there and I noticed a few changes:-
- a lot more of them speak English. I used to be quite proficient in French, but was getting pretty nervous at the thought of being responded to in French. I can read and speak the language decently even now, but as soon as a French person replies, I just freeze and am unable to understand all but the basics. In the taxi queue outside the Eurostar station, I managed to tell the person in charge that we were five people, with five large pieces of luggage, and would need a "grand taxi". The family was impressed. You could have knocked me down with a feather when we got into the taxi and the driver started cracking jokes in heavily accented English. Similarly, more waiters and shop assistants seemed able to communicate in English this time around. Amazing...

- a lot more of them admit to speaking English. Time was when they'd watch you butcher their language and generally make a complete fool of yourself, before pulling out near-perfect English, just to add to the shame. I did A level French and found that as my French improved, the French people were less tolerant of my grammatical errors. Even the French guys that were clearly trying to get laid would get quite picky about tense usage and subjunctives! This time around, I found myself having half-English, half-French conversations with both parties filling in the gaps, and none of the tensions of old.

My language skills really came into their own at Charles de Galle airport on Friday night however. While having a quick meal, we noticed the military personnel wandering around, having a quiet word with people here and there, all of whom seemed to take umbrage at what they said before removing themselves immediately. Before we knew it, a soldier came up to us and started speaking rather rapidly in French. The Ball & Chain sent him over to me, and the soldier quietly told us that we needed to move to a different part of the airport at once. After assuring myself that he was indeed telling us to get up and leave our unpaid-for meals, I asked him why. With little fuss or drama, he quietly said the word "bomb" (in French) at which I said "Oh - really?" and then, in an attenpt to not panic the kids, turned to the Ball & Chain and said, in my best Peter Sellers accent " He says it's a Burm". (Hey - I lived and worked in London in the 1980's - these things don't scare me.)

Yes, folks, yet again an incident. I can only assume it was an unattended plastic bag since we were allowed to return to the departures lounge almost as soon a we'd reached the holding area.

One of these days I'll have an uneventful journey - and then what will I blog about?

Carnival - Fourth of July Deprivation

2011-06-30T01:48:00.000-05:00

In The Powder Room is running a Fourth of July carnival, which I'm taking part in - with a twist, of course.

Fourth of July Deprivation

The Fourth of JuIy, otherwise known as Independence Day, is HUGE in the USA, and I know I have seriously short-changed my (American) kids on this one. For a start we’re usually not even in the country, and since it’s not a big deal in England unless you move in American expat circles, (which we don’t), it usually goes unnoticed. A really good mother would take stars and stripes napkins and paper plates to England, and mark the occasion with a little American-style BBQ for friends and family, but when packing for three kids and myself, it’s usually not even on my radar till we’re half way across the Atlantic. Besides, no one in the UK gets the day off on the fourth, so there’s not usually a lot of enthusiasm for a mid-week party.

Even if we were in the States, the kids would still probably consider themselves short-changed. We have never lived in the burbs, where neighbors get together for street parades and pot luck BBQ’s, pop down to the community pool and generally fraternize. Lots of people mark the Fourth with a fireworks display in the evening, which this Brit always finds a little strange. I mean, I grew up with Bonfire Night, (November 5th) and since it gets dark around 4pm during British winters, I’m not used to having to keep small children up till after 9pm to see fireworks. By the time I decided they were old enough to stay up without extreme crankiness the following day, my kids were too old to really care about fireworks.

Besides…it doesn’t help that they have a mother who jokes that July 4th is the British Thanksgiving day – the day we got rid of one of the peskier colonies!

Died and Gone to Heaven

2011-06-27T07:35:00.000-05:00

Well, here we are in England. Having told the kids to "go lite" on the shorts when packing, it's blinking boiling in Surrey and they have two pairs of shorts each. Usually, I have access to a washing mahine so the clean clothes situation doesn't bother me, but we're off to Paris tomorrow till the end of the week. Hmmm. Oh well.

Saturday was CyberMummy Day which I'm sure has been covered on quite a few other blogs. I will just summarise be saying it was fab to see my old bloggy friends and great to meet a few new ones.

Today however, on a waltz round the local Sainsbury's, I think I died and went to heaven. (The Ball & Chain thinks I've gone insane though.)

Why?

Here it is:

Non, nom, nom.

The Usual Drama

2011-06-23T11:43:00.000-05:00

So I flew over to London from Chicago on Tuesday night, and - wouldn't you know it - we had some drama. (Come on, when isn't there drama?)

I almost kissed the check-in lady when she revealed that I had been upgraded to business class. My bad back means I can barely sit in a chair for half an hour at the moment without seizing up. Now I could relax the chair back to flat if I wanted to. All was well with the world. The business class ticket also gave me entrance to United Airline's Red Carpet Club so I took myself along to that quiet enclave and got myself a pinot grigio. For my nerves, you understand.

I hadn't even drunk half the glass when the bar staff all came rushing out from behind the bar, shouting that we all had to leave. Immediately I knew what it was, given that the skies had been getting unusually black before their usual time. A bloody tornado! Argh!

Now before you all sit up and worry on my behalf, it was a tornado warning, which means that there's one in the area and it's headed this way but it might not have actually touched down and it may well head off in a different direction. (We tend to get a bit laid back in the mid-west when it comes to tornaodes. One woman on Twitter was wondering whether she should get the kids out of bed and take them to the basement, despite the warnings on TV advising everyone to do just that!) Anyway, given the liability of several thousand people in a glass structure, the airport powers-that-be decided we all had to go to the underground walk-way in our Terminal.

Now, as well as my fear of flying, I can also be a bit claustrophobic when it comes to tunnels. (I promise I have no more quoibles.) This fear was not so ridiculous given the idiots at the bottom of the escalator who weren't moving further into the tunnel. Just as I foresaw muself being crushed to death by hordes of sweaty travellers, the airport workers turned up to keep everyone moving along.

After about an hour of sitting doing nothing (no reception down there), we were allowed back up. This of course, took a lot longer than getting down there but, since no planes were going anywhere fast, people were polite and patient.

It's probably just as well we were underground because most of the planes were battered around and some had been blown about 30 feet from their gate. A friend's sister was actually sitting on a plane during this time and reported the whole event as being quite scary.

I'm happy to report that, contra to my usual luck, our plane was one of the few that actually got out that night.

And here I am.

When Kids Lose Stuff

2011-06-21T12:08:00.000-05:00

I've written a discussion point over at the Brit Mums web site, but thought I's put it here too - to get your opinion about something:

So my 8 year old has lost his DS. He's only had it since Xmas but since we're travelling soon, it is a rather bad time to be losing it. We have traced it back to Saturday, when he went to a party (and dad took him, so it's not my fault.) We have torn the car and the house apart, and although I'm the kind of person who thinks things will eventually turn up, it's not looking too good.
What to do?
I don't want to be the kind of mother whose kids are so terrified that they lie about losing things. On the other hand, I know everyone loses things from time to time, and it's usually not done with any malice. However I also want them to know it's a big deal. Yes, we could probably afford to replace it, but I'm not going to. He needs to know that these type of presents are huge treats and not disposable.
A few years ago we bought the Queenager an I-Phone for Xmas. A huge deal although it didn't cost that much on our plan. On the VERY SAME DAY she lost her I-pad that we were going to give to grandma. Her reaction? It wasn't that bad since she now had an I-Phone. Gah! You can imagine how strongly I impressed on her that it did matter! (That one eventually turned up a whole year later, wedged between box spring and frame of her bed.) She recently forgot to take same phone out of jeans pocket when going to the loo, dropped it into the toilet bowl and is now craning to see texts since the light won't work! (We will probably have to replace that since she's off to college, but for now, she can live with the inconvenience of rubbish texting ability).
Anyway, lest I bore you all to death with tales of my careless kids, I was just wondering what anyone else thought of the right parental response when kids lose things

Going Commando?

2011-06-19T13:30:00.000-05:00

Apologies to everyone I haven't visited. As usual, it's been busy round here and the knackered back hasn't helped AT ALL. I've had a few back injuries in my time; this one caused by a wet toilet seat, no less, and this one which meant wearing strange tape on my back.

Last Monday I did a stupid flat-back bend, (I know, I know), to retrieve something and it went. I knew instantly what I'd done and this time was no better than before, - possibly worse timing as it was the first week off school; trips to educational places had been promised, and that was just to keep my visiting mother entertained! I used an old crutch for the first day as the transfer of weight from one foot to the other was very painful. But there's only so much trauma the right oxter can take, it would appear.

It was all getting better until Thursday when I felt a huge allergy-induced sneeze coming on and tried to stifle it. My allergy sneezes are legendary (apparently I yell "I-ya-hoo") and cause me to bend double, which I dearly wanted to avoid. Unfortunately the buggers are impossible to fight off, so the sneeze happened anyway, only it was more like an internal gunshot which riccocheted down my spine sending me right back to square one.

It couldn't have come at a worse time. I have SO much to do in preparation for Tuesday night's transAtlantic flight, and now I can barely move. I have learned from past dental and gynocological experiences that it takes a large amount of painkiller to medicate me, and nothing we have in the house is working. My doctor probably won't prescribe anything over the phone and even if I could get to his office, I just don't have time. (Various children's appointments between now and Tuesday night have put paid to any flexibility in the schedule.)

As I lamented several months ago, because the Ball & Chain doesn't fly as much as he used to, we are no longer at the top of the food chain when it comes to upgrades and special attention. We have requested an upgrade to get me into business class (using miles), but given the way they pack the flights these days, it's very unlikely to come about. After 8 hours of sitting bolt upright in cattle class, they will have to prise me out of the seat. I have requested a wheelchair or a trolley to get me through Terminal 1, - yes, it's that bad. I don't care who sees me in a wheelchair!

And (if you're wondering about the post's title) I can't even bend down to get my knickers on. Seriously considering going commando for a while and will just hope I don't get hit by a bus!

Flying Home for CyberMummy

2011-06-16T08:54:00.000-05:00

Only a few more sleeps till I get on a plane. Mind you, I've really done my back in at the moment so the "plane" part is not going to be fun.

Anyway, I've been profiled over at the Brit Mums Blog...

Dancing with my Daughter

2011-06-14T08:01:00.000-05:00

So we had the Queenager's graduation ceremony on Saturday. Being the school that it is, the speeches were both funny, irreverent and touching. There were only 82 kids in the graduating class, which is a VERY small number in the States. This meant that every student was called across the stage individually and received their own personal appluase.

In the evening family and graduates had a party on a roof deck at the end of Navy Pier in Chicago. The weather for the three days last week when we needed it to be great, was suitably miserable. The graduation party started out a little wet, but the kids didn't care and were soon out on the terrace dancing to the DJ's picks. As soon as the drizzle stopped, the wimpy parents stepped out to watch the kids. Inevitably, one of us (who shall remain nameless) sidled up to the DJ and asked for "something from the 80's" and before you knew it, the floor was packed with 40-something's doing their thang.

At past parent/child dances, the kids by this time, would have been seen fleeing to the far corners, muttering about embarrassing, unhip parents. This time however, we all ended up in a huge circle with parent and unembarrassed child taking a turn in the middle - together. One dad was so touched he talked about it later with tears in his eyes. Although that could have been the margeritas!

All very cringy in retrospect, but the chance to dance with my Queenager (without being made fun of)- priceless.

Parenting styles

2011-06-09T13:30:00.000-05:00

Micheloui over at The American Resident is pondering various parenting styles. Go on, take a look, it's really interesting.

I started to think about how I parent, and have to admit that I'm not armed with a plan or a style. You just have to make it up as you go along don't you, perhaps peeking into an owner's manual once in a while.

It's especially poignant at the moment as the Queenager has finished school for ever (sob) and is embarking on the next phase of her life. ~~The world's most expensive university~~ College life. Although I worry about her losing door keys, cell phones and other expensive stuff, she's ready to go and definitely looking forward to it. Her school does a great job of developing independent thinkers and learners, and having them make a lot of decisions for themselves. She isn't daunted by the "big wide world" at all.

And perhaps the greatest compliment I (sort of) received last week was a teacher who wrote "Never Change" on the Queenager's final report.

Excuse me while my heart swells!

High School Graduation - the Heartache

2011-06-07T07:57:00.000-05:00

Now you know I'm not a bleeding heart on this blog, but over at Mad Manic mamas I'm having a tearful time - pop over and have a look.

Gearing up for Ghana

2011-06-06T01:24:00.001-05:00

So I may have mentioned that as part of my summer travels this year, I'm spending a week in Ghana with the Queenager. We are finally getting to visit the school we support and we're very excited.

I will also confess to being a smidge apprehensive on account of the mosquitoes. I like to think of myself as hale and hearty, but the truth is that I always get bitten alive by bitey things and quite often, the bites swell into embarrassing lumps that cause alarm to close friends, family and often complete strangers. (One time, in Jamacia, the locals were stopping me in the street to exclaim about the quantity of bites.)

We are taking malaria precautions, and I've visited the travel clinic at Northwestern hospital in Chicago, so it's all good. (Only three more vaccines to go. Yay.) They have a list of creams they recommend, and other bits and bobs to help fight the pesky blood suckers. Apparently you can buy clothing that repels mosquitoes. For some reason, I thought that in this day and age, said clothing might look grunge-ish and hip. But no.

Apparently this is what's recommended for preventing bites to the ankle.

And then there's this charming little number for protecting the face. Doesn't really grab me for some reason.

And I have no idea how or why this is supposed to protect against mosquitoes, unless the idea is they get trapped in the raggy bits.

I think I'll stick with heavy application of creams and sprays.

Social Networking - Pet Peeves

2011-06-03T06:39:00.001-05:00

I'm not the most technical person, but I'm trying. As a writer I'm supposed to be building my "platform" so I have spasmodic outbursts of social network activity, but I know I could be more disciplined. Oh well.

And then there's learning all the etiquette surrounding each "thing". A lot of nice people on Twitter do the Follow Friday thing whereby you give other Twitterers (Tweeters?) a shout out. I get quite a few shout outs and always say a big thank you, but I'm pathetic at actually doing it myself. By the time I've remembered it's Friday, it's half way through the day here (Central Time, USA) and almost bed time, (ie. too late) in the UK, where many of my Twitter friends are. So apologies all round.

One thing I have managed to do though, is amass a list of pet peeves for Social Networking. (Consider it a public service announcement!)

- if you blog with a pseudonym, (as most of us do) and you want me to be your buddy on anything, please tell me who you are. I have several people queued up to be my friend, but I've no idea who they really are. I need clues people!

- don't add me to a Twitter announcement, as if I've made a major contribution to the article or am otherwise being high-lighted, when I'm really not. I get that you want people to go and read your blog, article, etc, but pretending that I am mentioned in it, only annoys me. If I like your stuff, I'll read it anyway; there's no need to fib.

- if you ask me to do something for you (like promote your stuff, link to your piece etc.) I am much more likely to do it if I think you've read my blog/book and aren't just befriending me for the nano-second that you need my time. I wouldn't dream of asking people I barely know to promote my work and it's a little brash when you do it to me. Having said that, if your stuff is good and you come across as a nice person, I'll usually help as much as I can.

- link to me. I have stopped commenting on the few blogs I come across that allow no link back to the person who's taking the time to read the post and make a comment. What's that all about? It's common courtesy.

Have I missed any?

And breathe....

2011-06-01T14:49:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I have to remind myself to breathe, and today was one of those days. It always helps to make a list and get things mentally under control at least. Today's looked like this:

Give Man-Child $15 for baseball coaches' end of year gifts.
Remind him that he has a driving lesson straight after school, then he goes straight to his end of year Sports Banquet
Argh - buy a salad to go with the pizzas at the sports banquet. Will have to meet him at school beforehand
Wrap Little Guy's presents (8 tomorrow)
Buy 20 cupcakes for in-class celebration
Buy 16 goodie bags for Saturday's birthday party
Confirm party start/end time with movie theatre (where party is) and e-mail to parents
Find clean clothes for Little Guy's piano recital this evening
Rush out for plate of cookies for reception after the recital
Remember that Sports Banquet and Piano recital overlap. Plan attendance strategy with Ball & Chain
Take $5 to barber's where Man-Child got mohawk on Sunday and didn't leave tip

There's also a musical theatre performance by the Little Guy on Friday which requires purchasae of black trousers but that will have to wait till tomorrow or possible the day of. I can only do so much.....

Oh and did I mention we have the Queenager's big Senior Prom and high school graduation next week with grandparents flying in and parties all over the place? Best not to think about that just yet!

Jury Duty

2011-05-30T01:15:00.001-05:00

So there I was, called for jury duty. I can't really complain as I'd never been called since I became a citizen in 2002. I was called many times before that but due to "alien" status, never required to serve. It was just that there's a lot going on in my life at the moment, and last week was not the best. Unfortunately there wasn't a box for "really busy", so I turned up.

What a colossal waste of time and money. It's no wonder the state of Illinois is bankrupt.

In this state it's one day/one trial, unlike some states which require you to serve or be on standby for two weeks and other durations.

I followed directions to the far south west side of Chicago - not the most salubrious of areas, but one in which you'd expect to find a massive criminal court. I parked in an equally huge parking lot/car park and followed another woman clutching a jury summons into the official building.

First step, the security line. Let me just say that I will never complain about airports again. We were herded (the guilty and the innocent) into two lines, for males and females. Having a full set of teeth and a covered up cleavage, I stuck out like a sore thumb so thought it wise to bury my jury summons deep in my handbag. You never know what might set these people off.

Then I sat for seven hours in a large jury waiting room. SEVEN hours.

There were probably about three hundred potential jurors in the waiting room. None of us were even called till 12.15, and then they announced a lunch hour at 12.30pm. I didn't leave the room as I'd wisely brought a banana and two tangerines. By about 2.30pm, around a hundred people had been called in small groups and spirited away, I know not where. The rest of us were dismissed and given our pay checks - a whopping $17.

As I said, what a waste of time and money.

We have a new mayor in Chicago who's promising big changes and a reduction in sloppy beaurocracy. I think I might write to him about the absurdity of calling more people than is possible to process in one day. Apart from the waste in the $17 checks we all get, there's the people who print the checks, the people who tell us to line up for them, and the people who hand then out to us. I think a sensible look at processes like this could have us back on budget in no time.