Ravenscar

We have done some walking this week. Each time we decide to go down to the beach for a 'fossic' or (we need to find a verb for this) 'a ferkle around in the rock-pools', Bridgjo decides to take us a way he last took when he was about 12. Unfortunately, since then about 10m and several houses have tumbled into the deep. The coastline is changing each time we come, and it was evident from today's yomp down to Ravenscar that Nature is not going to give up quite yet.

We'd hiked all the way to the alum works, fueled by Bothams' best (tea cakes, curd tarts and pasties), then got stuck. Although in the past Bridgjo and I have gamely flung ourselves down the sides of cliffs with a couple of fishermen's rope and a crampon, we have to now be slightly more sensible with a five-year-old, but not too much, in case we deprive her of living life on the edge. Or not.

So we had to climb back up to the golf course (whilst trying to look as if we were not trespassing), and back down the other way. Only about a 2 mile detour. Luckily T is too young to quantify what this means, although I was gagging for a cup of tea by then. Oh God. I can see myself starting to take a thermos with me. It will be plaid rugs next, mark my words. And using phrases like "Mark my words".

When we got to the beach, we decided against looking for fossils (fossicing), as the cliffs were looking precarious. this time, we concentrated on the rock pools, with the crabs, hermit crabs, fish and jelly tot "anenemonenes".

And then we looked up to check the tide, and found ourselves eye-balling a group of seals. This was a big thrill, as they came quite close. Further up the beach there was a pup, who'd been stranded, so the family must have been gathered round waiting for the tide to come in and help it out. It was great to see them, and it rounded off a truly great holiday.

Are you going to Whitby Fair?

Never thought I would ever hear myself say the words "Let's go to Whitby. It'll be warm there". And, indeed, it is. As I overheard someone say "It's so warm Ah could tak' off one of me cardies".

The first morning both T and bridgjo slept in until 10.30, giving me chance to pop into town to shop at Woolies, and have breakfast at Botham's. Woolies is looking sad and bedraggled - lots of Tupperware (TM) and office supplies. I suspect that this year, judging by the armfuls of stuff being marched purposely towards the checkout, that gifts were slightly less traditional ("A stapler? I wrote asking him for a pair of socks! Can he get nothing right?!").

I was woken this morning at two a.m. by a little voice by the side of my head (and in case you don't know, 5-year olds never wake you up with an apologetic cough and a whisper) asking "So, Mummy - whereabouts is Santa right now? And is Doctor Who on tonight?".

And a Merry Christmas to everyone!

Minnesota Ice

Our first experience of black ice today. Except we were coming down an enormous hill at the time, and really had no idea it was quite that bad. Luckily we were sort of able to limp down the road using the gutter and grass verge for grip. Curtailed our day out though – obviously the reason why we were the only ones on the road.

We are due one foot of snow this evening. If I slide down my drive backwards tomorrow morning, I am getting out and we’ll have a snow day. After all, T and I are getting quite good at the learning at home. We are now onto the ‘ch’ sound. “Think of a word beginning with ‘ch’”, “Don’t know”. “How about something you are sitting on?”, I prompted. “Ch….ottom?”.

Reinforcing my idea that T is, in fact, the reincarnation of someone’s Nan, she very seriously piped-up from the back seat this morning “Mummy? You know, when I turned 5, I was happy, but very sad to say good-bye to 4”.

We received a parcel for one of the other neighbours at our address yesterday. I wanted to take it round, but quite frankly I have been put off that sort of neighbourly behaviour since we went next-door and realised they were butchering that morning’s hunt from a tree in their back-garden.

Instead I looked up the name on whitepages.com. Not only did it say “Kurt xxx, Aged 43. Is this correct?”, but also had the name and age of other adults at the same house. Bit intrusive.
Last Thursday was T’s cross-cultural training day. She had great fun talking about how she felt when she left, and how she feels now, and making a book called “T goes around the world”. She took it into school the next day, and it was lovely to see all the little kids gathered round as she “read” it out.

The teacher took us to eat at Chipotle, a fast-food Mexican place. It's pronounced Shee-POHt-lay" and you just know that there is some unfortunate three year-old who is constantly being introduced as a testament to their parents' ability to get on a plane.

Her school play was on Friday. It was about a child who goes to sleep and time-travels through different periods. T’s was the 1970s. It was a great success, marred only by one of the young dinosaurs laying out a pterodactyl. It was fun for me too, as I got to help out with the costumes and scenery.

Too cold to snow, indeed

The phrase "too cold too snow" is obviously rubbish, with several polar-bears begging to differ up there in the North Pole. This morning, it was actually warmer in the fridge than in the kitchen itself. It has already plummeted to zero degrees FAHRENHEIT (I have to shout that bit, rather hysterically), which makes the snow too powdery to make snow-balls (apparently. As if I am that mad to go outside find out. Or rather, as if I have enough winter clothes to go outside to find out).

I had my first experience today of driving on the ice (note to self, do not attempt another U-Turn until April). A bit slippery, and I'm not too keen, but unlike in Switzerland, if I refuse to drive in the snow, we won't eat until, well, April.

On Sunday I managed to pull myself out of bed for the first time for mass at the local Catholic Church. They had a breakfast for the newcomers. I always like to get some font-time in at this time of the year....hedging my ecclisiastical bets, just in case.

Am I the only one though to giggle during the readings and wonder "Did the Corinthians ever write back?".

Gobble! Gobble!

There are two phrases you don't really want to wake up to on the first day of a four-day holiday week-end:
1) "The toilet's blocked again"; and
2) "Mummy, I don't know how it happened, but I seem to have a purple pom-pom stuck up my nose".

The toilet's still blocked, alas, but the pom-pom was removed with the minimal amount of fuss and a pair of tweezers.

We almost managed an invite to a Thanksgiving Feast, but faltered at the last hurdle, as the chap who was inviting us found out that twenty-seven other people were being invited, and didn't fancy making it a round 30. Rotter.

Instead we are going to have that staple of post-Christmas gluttony: turkey curry. C* (bridgjo's company) gave us a voucher for a free turkey, so I went to our local super-market and ordered one, cut into eight pieces, as, quite frankly, I would be hard-pressed to fit a 30lb turkey in my freezer. This means we will have meat throughout those lean, winter months. In true American style, the butcher carried the dismembered carcass to the cash-register for me, and a bag-boy carried it to the car.

I also ordered the wood. A Fireplace Chord, no less, which is nicely stacked at the back of the house. The men who brought it arrived at 6am,having already done one delivery. I offered them a cup of tea, and asked how they wanted it. "Um, how do people have it?", one asked. I did it "servant's tea"-style: strong, milky with sugar. Half-an hour later, there was a timid knock on he door. "Any chance of another cup of that tea?" - more Americans converted to the complex ways of the English.

So what's the weather like there, then?

Blimmin' cold.

Yesterday I went for a bike ride. Normally, you have to swim about 6 lengths before you really warm up and, similarly, cycle about 10 mins. So although I was repeating the rapidly rabid-sounding mantra of "I am getting warmer, I AM getting warmer", I realised I was not, in fact, warming up, and, actually, this was probably because I could no longer sense the upper-epidermis. And I wouldn't have been able to feel the upper-epidermis in any case, as my fingers were numb, and, as far as I was aware had even snapped off in the extreme cold and were rattling around in my so-called thermal gloves. Hah! I say to the Minnesota winter (from my nice warm living-room, in front of the fire).

So, most likely, not that much more excercise for me, unless it involves crisps and old episodes of Casualty.

Apparently last year it went down to -17F. Obviously, this was just one of the locals having a laugh with me, like they do. -17F, indeed.

Today though, we did brave the cold (0F) for a nice walk (although we were the only ones).

Tomorrow I am buying a balaclava. Unfortunately, not the Greek variety.

Huntin', fishin' etc

I have a virus. Well, my lap-top has. It’s very interesting from a nerdy point-of-view, in that it does several things, including starting up Internet Explorer by Itself, and randomly replacing my desk-top icons with others so Excel looks like WinWord, WinWord looks like Minesweeper etc. Unfortunately, when it opens up Internet Explorer it seems to favour Russian Porn web-sites, which wasn’t quite what I had in mind when I decided I wanted to learn a new language.

So yesterday I went off to Bloomington to get the PC checked out at the C* (all names have been changed) office there. I wanted really to check out the coffee facilities, and to also make sure I was put onto a “please allow porn” list, so that I didn’t get instant dismissal next time I logged onto the network.

The coffee was mediocre, incidentally, as the company is in a huge campus of five enormous buildings, interconnected with the ubiquitous sky-ways. Normally I wouldn’t even have needed a coat, but it transpires I had to as every two hours I had to get out and move my car as I didn’t have a parking permit. Parking violations still scare me, so much so I use Cruise Control on 30 MPH streets. It is a fact that the more I keep to the speed-limit, the more other road users are encouraged to drive a little bit more bonkers that if, say, I was doing 8 over.

Not sorted, unfortunately, so I’m going to have to send my hard-drive to Toronto (where the nearest help-desk is). Apparently Minnesota is colder than Toronto. Oh, pur-lease. Stop this jesting right this instant!
The alternative is to go back to Oz and plead my case to getting anew PC, though that might not be exactly viable, with the weather an’ all.

And I have been informed by a reliable source that a cord of wood is “about the height of a moose’s hip, dontcha know?”.

And, yes, the hunting season has started. I passed by Nelson’s our local butcher, with an A-Sign outside saying “Bring your deer here!”. The news last week was helpfully informing us of the latest in rifles, and reminding us to wear bright clothes so our buddies don’t mistake us for two-legged venison. So the chap I passed in the ute this morning with the unshaven face and the bright orange beanie HAD A RIFLE IN HIS BOOT! (trunk).

I’m steadily picking up the lingo, although in Lund’s (the supermarket) this morning , when the cashier asked “What’s this?”, holding up a pepper, I had to reply “D’uh, dunno”, as I couldn’t think of the American. All the way home I was muttering “Egg-plant, zucchini, paprika. Egg-plant, zucchini…”.

And T has officially settled in well. She asked me on the way to school why I don’t have as many friends as her. “Would you like me to tell you how to make friends, Mummy?”, “Of course. Do you just ask them to play with you?”. She sighed, and with a wisdom that belies her years, explained – “When it’s “quiet-time”, you just go and get the same activity to do as the person you want to talk to, and then sit next to them, and you see, you just start chatting”.
It looks as though I may not have successfully cancelled the snow clearing (which may be a Good thing, depending on how much Warren quotes me when he passes by later today – some bloke who does next-door’s drive), as the orange sticks have already been placed along the drive way to tell him just have far he has to dig when it snows.
The 5 foot high poles with reflectors on the top which have started to appear along-side people’s verges are not, as I first thought, thoughtful ways of letting people know where the road-side is in the dark, but to let the snow-plough know where to plough when it is 5 foot high in snow. Super.

Pardon?

How can you read something in English, and still not understand a word? I am about to buy my winter's firewood (after the DJ laughingly stated on the radio she had to use up the whole winter's supply last sunday). I'm thinking of getting it from:

http://firewood.com/index.cfm/pageid/2

But what's a chord?

Oh, and my relocation person tells me that the real reason Amercians do not reply to my "G'day!" in the gym changing room is because it's really, really weird.

Gun-Powder Trees on a Plot

Lots of celebrations at this time of year - obviously to off-set the snow we expect. Maybe 5 months. Maybe 6.

First off was Hallowe'en. T, naturally, dressed as a princess. Here the emphasis is on cuteness and candy, rather than gore and cash. T is the one who complains about walking precisely five minutes after we start. Strangely, that evening, she managed two hours. Luckily, the weather was a balmy top 60s, which meant thermals under the outfits, but not snow-suits, which were required last year.

Some of the houses were excellent, with spooky music and lights outside. The unwritten law (lore, I suppose) is that if the house lights are on, you trick or treat (I think some were hiding out in their cellars). the Lawn Nazi across the road (who goes out twice a day to mow his lawn, and it's not my epithet but from the estate over on the other side) left sweets out in a bowl saying "do not knock, help yourselves". These went in about the first 5 mins. Bridgjo was left at home to man the fortress, decorated with suitably spooky items, culled from Target and the Freecycle web-site - pumpkin lights, a giant cauldron etc. He didn't sit down for around all the time we were out. A few people were sitting around fires in their yards, handing out sweets, and then beer for the grown-ups.

It was a good way of introducing myself to all the neighbours (within a two-hour radius), without appearing too Jehovah-Witness.

On Wednesday, of course, it was Guy Fawkes. I googled "Bonfire Night" and "Guy Fawkes Minnesota" and found a blog dated 2004 of someone talking about this Guy Fawkes party their parents had gone to, and a mention of an article in the Burnsville paper. So I googled the paper, then searched the article, and found it, together with the organizer's name - Paul Ellerby - an ex-Brit who likes celebrating it. The article also mentioned that he was involved in curling. So I then googled the curling club in Burnsville, and his name, and it came up with a page about him, which included his company name. So then I searched on that company AND FINALLY FOUND AN E-MAIL ADDRESS! (Sore trigger finger by this time). Upshot was, I sent him an e-mail and he wrote back saying "of course, coma along: - so we did. He had a biggish piece of land - unfortunately no fireworks, as, although you can buy guns down the road, it is illegal to buy fireworks in Minnesota. But he had lots of people, food, drink, a big fire with seats around and a Guy. And, naturally, Morris Men and singing. It was an excellent evening!

Today was the first time T has woken-up to snow, and she was very excited indeed. She was one of the only ones to turn up to school suitabley attired, menaing taht non of the kids were allowed out all day. It prompted a letter from the head-mistress detailing the clothes the children are expected to have from now on in. ie they are expected to turn up roughly spherical. Bridgjo and I had to drive into St Paul for a Cultural Awareness training course (which was 6 hours of chatting a nice meal out - the trainer told us about Japan where he lived, we talked about Switzerland. I think US may have been mentioned once or twice). We were a bit concerned we couldn't make it back to pick her up at home-time, but luckily they have day-care after-hours there, so I called up the secretary so that she could sort it for us. We managed to get there just in time.

More snow expected this week-end.

CSI: Minnetonka

Met all my neighbo(u)rs this evening at the newly formed Neighborhood Watch group at Nancy's house. They were all very nice, and there were cookies. The police liaison officer was also called Nancy, which made it easy for me. She lived close by the "County Workhouse". Apparently, there is also a borstal nearby, from which a young lad absconded the other day and car-jacked a woman in her drive-way.

There is a number you can call if you go on holiday, and a nice police-man (who is actually a retiree) will come round once a day and check the house. Unfortunately, although one of the Nancies asked, they do not also feed the dog and water the flowers.

Although I had problems in Geneva following conversations in French, I sometimes suffer the same affliction here with American. Nancy-the-Liasiiaiason-Person was talking about the problem of solicitors coming to your door, and what approach you needed. It took me a few minutes to realise that this was not actually lawyers looking for work.

You can call 911 here even if you don't have an emergency, even if you just knock down a deer - "although in that case, it may take as long as 30 minutes for a policeman to swing by".

We have a bit a coyote problem here, and they sometimes get into your garden causing havoc with the aspidistra (again, I was a bit lost, as I thought this woman was talking about the local football team supporters). She was upset to call this in, as a policeman turned up with a rifle from the appropriately named "Dispatch".

Which brings us nicely to the Deer Management Program which exists in Minnetonka. Although Bridgjo had a good attempt the other night when he came across a herd on the local side-street, they do have an official way to, as they call it, "harvest" them. Twice a year they will cull, and give the venison to the local poor. How very Good King Wencelas Last. Although the Johnsons on the corner were a bit miffed, as they are not supposed to do this in residential areas, yet the DMP put out bait in their drive, sat in a car at the end of it, then left a nice pool (presumably without the chalk-outline) where they normally park their car.

I suggested it might be a nice idea if we knew when there was going to be any shooting in the street.

Minnesota Ice

There is a phrase in Minnesota - "Minnesota Nice", which describes people's personality here. However, the weather tends to drop a consonant. We had our first truly cold day today, and received the memorable line from T: "Mummy, what does 'sleet' mean?". I am hoping next week to organize a mums' field-trip to the Bloomington Coat place, for half-price clothing. It's about 60 miles away, and I am not sure I can cope for that distance without giving into temptation and earning myself another speeding ticket.

Tomorrow I am off out to the 'burbs to pick up a free barbecue (I got a crock-pot last week) and cauldron.

This is if we don't get snowed-in.

How times change...

There was a time, round about eleven, I really did not want to go out of the house dressed as the lagging around a hot water tank. However....the chances of snow tomorrow are quite high, and the "lagging" for sale here, is good for minus 40 degrees (isn't that close to absolute zero? Would you really want to snow-board in that weather?).

I get the impression that the fashion here has been design/approved by someone's auntie, as all the t-shirts come down about 6 inches below your belt buckle, presumably to keep your kidneys warm.

The sign next to my gym reads "Do not enter street when snow exceeds 2 meters". Oh aye? And wot sort of fule goes out when the snow is deeper than 2 meters, pray?

Myths and Fallacies

We were talking about the weather at school this morning. I strongly suspect that this is a topic of conversation which is savaged even more so than in England. I twittered that I'd heard that it gets so cold that a cup of thrown hot coffee will turn to ice. "Not at all," said one of the mums - phew! - "It turns to snow". Oh.

Bridgjo has volunteered me to be a member of the PTA - I may get voted in tomorrow night. I am writing my acceptance speech as we speak, as apparently no other bugger fancies doing it. As long as there is coffee involved. The Parent/Teachers meeting tomorrow is from 6pm - 8pm, but includes baby-sitting and pizza for the kids. I may need to smuggle some gin in.

This evening we put up the pumpkin fairy lights outside for T, and started carving her second pumpkin. I am heartily fed-up of pumpkin soup, although I have only made it once so far, from the remnants of the first pumpkin. I roasted it and pureed it with cream and Gruyere. I figure we need the calories for when the cold sets in.

We are taking Hallowe'en very seriously (although unfortunately the first bag of chocolate "treats" has already met an early demise....).

I did an hour's kick-boxing today. I kept trying to do it with my eyes closed (and falling over), so I didn't need to see my reflection stretching back to infinity, as I am completely unco-ordinated, and it kept reminding me of those reasons why I was always picked last for rounders.

T's and my names are down for ice-skating. T had said that she wanted to do it, then changed her mind and said she didn't. Bridgjo wanted to go along with what T said, but I feel she has sometimes far too much choice for a 5 year-old. She will do ice-skating, and love it! The rink is only about 5 mins away, but the next term doesn't start until January. It is in a little precinct next to the police-station. The speed-limit is 10k there, and, do you know, I keep exactly to that speed (now).

The school at the end of the road has two out-door rinks that they flood with water, although Andrea, who I had coffee with yesterday, said it gets a bit tufty with the grass underneath. I noticed flyers in the toilets at the rink for companies who can come round to your house and flood your back-yard with water to make it skateable.

Where are my Knickers (Part 2)

So, Bridgjo forgot to empty his knicker and sock drawer before the hire-furniture removal men took the chest-of-drawers away yesterday.

And whose fault was it?

A sofa of my own

Today, in a finely choreographed display of little men, the following occurred:

1) The collection of the hire furniture;
2) The delivery of the Ikea sofas and side tables ordered yesterday; and
3) The delivery of all the rest of our belongings from Switzerland.

And they all turned up at 8am.

And refused any tea all day. (I'm used to English workmen saying "If you're making one, love...". They even refused a beer. Very odd).

I have unpacked the kitchen but then lost all hope. Bridgjo says we can turn the East Wing, which we don't currently use, into a storage facility for the next 3 years, and not actually unpack at all. However, I am hoping to make the sort of friends I can invite around for a meal, so hope that even that cavernous area is furnished at least with a rug and comfortable chair by the time guests come by. Of course, this would mean another trip to Ikea.

But at least now I have a sofa of my own....

Scrugg....Moge...Flubbel....

We spent the afternoon in Ikea. Towards the end we were not speaking, apart from making up shelving names. This is in spite of having the traditional Ikea row in the car-park before-hand, in order to get it out of the way. In spite of that, we've managed to get about a billion set of curtains (we suffer from a surfeit of open door-ways), a set of shelves, two sofas, a TV, TV-Stand, and, oh look, I've lost interest again.....

Beforehand, we popped next-door to the Mall of America to spoil T before the onslaught of what is Ikea-shopping-Madness by taking her on several rides. We also ate at the Napa Valey resto, which was particularly yummy, and the only place we have ever been to which has a proper children's menu (i.e. real meals, and not mac n cheese, chicken bits etc). We both had steak, eggs and potatoes (rib eye), and T had a three-course meal of celery and carrot, chicken pasta, and real vanilla ice-cream. It came to about $40, so not bad.

We also went to Fort Snelling, where I kept getting alarmed by actors leaping out at me in order to bow. I found myself bobbing towards the end, which never looks good in jeans. Very interesting though and worth the $10 entrance. Unfortunately, I forgot that it is one of the places you can get in for free if you go the local library before-hand.

One of the conversations had here, led me to examine the extremely warm coats options at the Mall. Some excellent ones for minus 20 degrees F for about $179 at Eddie Bauer (http://www.eddiebauer.com/home.jsp). The particularly spunky young officer in question was telling me that it gets so cold here, that you can take a cup of boiling coffee (would Ovaltine work?), throw it up into the air, and it will shatter when it hits the ground. Beats my story about frying eggs on Perth pavements hands-down.

Brrrrr!

It's definately working its way up to winter now. Like a petulant child, the weather has shrugged off any warmth and thrown all the leaves to one side. I will now officially turn on the heating ("What?!! Before the 1st November? Are you mad?!?").

Today the gardening man came round to sum up mowing once a fortnight (though normally it's weekly because of all the reticulation no-one actually needs), clearing up and weeding. From November to March he stops his weeding and turns to clearing snow off drive-ways ("whilst you sleep"). I have a sneaky suspicion bridgjo will want to tackle all of this himself, but I really can't see him sticking at it. He claimed he did the mowing in Geneva - no. I did the mowing. You would turn up at 5pm and say "Let me just do this last bit for you". Creepy though it sounds, I think I rather like the idea of someone doing stuff for me whilst I sleep.

I met my official new best friend testerday. She's an English person who's been forced to come round and meet me via someone else from school ("oh you must meet up for a coffee" - from which I inferred "I have no intention of having a coffee with you, but I have a distant desperate acquaintance who might").

Anyhow, she seems nice....although I think it was a bit of a test as she picked up her crying 2.5 year-old and started to feed him. Ummm. (I've sort of always been of the opinion "if they are old enough to ask.....").

Pride goeth before destruction...

So I was quite chipper getting my Minnesota license - right up to the point I was pulled over for speeding. Yes, I was doing 65. And yes, it was a 50 zone. But, I mean, really. Actually, it was a little bit scarey. Suddenly this Christmas tree came up right behind me about a foot from my back-end. And when I pulled over, and he got out of the car, I could see him in the wing-mirror. I squeaked. I saw him fiddle with his waist-band, and realized Goodness Gracious, he's packin'! So, now, after $148, I am driving very well indeed. Oh - and ways to make yourself look like a complete n*b. He left me saying "Now drive carefully, now y'all" (possibley), and first I put the car in reverse (it is an automatic), and he beeped. And then I drove off with the hand-brake on.

This weekend we went to Linden Hills which gives the impression of being slightly bohemian. First good point is that there is a kids book-shop (Wild Rumpus), which also has animals. In the guid-book I inferred that these were toy ones. Nope, actually you have to move the tabby off the Diana Wynne-Jones, and there is a caged rat under the floor-boards. (And also chinchillas, parakeets, a rather sullen-looking tarantula and some lizards). You mostly can't see the reptiles though, because of aforesaid cats which like to drape themselves over the heat-lamps.

Very handily, just next door, there is Cafe 28. Everything on the menu is under $10 and is the perfect Sunday brekkie/brunch place. Decent coffee too (good yard0stick). I had French toast with caramelized figs and pears, cut slightly with alcohol just to smooth out the sugar (although I was also offered extra maple syrup). Most of it was devoured by a 5 year-old. You can pay for extra sides too, but really it was quite sophisticated and plentiful for the price.

Gimme coffee, or give me death

T has taken up swimming. It's a really nice swim-school (Foss), conveniently in the same shopping mall as TJ Mexx, in a little class of two other boys. She's swimming under water, and flipping on her back pretending to be a star-fish. We're very proud.

I have finally found a decent coffee house - called the Depot (in case you're ever in the neighborhood - oh look, I've just dropped an 'o'). They play Barb (as in Dylan, as he lived just up the road) and do a real genuine bagel. And good coffee! And they also have The Onion every Thursday which I am currently using for research into American mores (plus it is hysterically, snorting-coffee-out-your-nose funny). I think it is also web-enabled.

Fresh Seasons Market just round the corner is an excellent supermarket. Even has Branston Pickle and Lea& Perrins (two storecupboard stand-by I always have, yet for some strange reason, never actually use. I think I find the labels comforting). The manager immediately recognised I was out-of-town and came and introduced himself, then aftrerwards tracked me down in condiments and gave me a bottle of Garlic Marinade as a welcome-to-the neighbourhood (ah, the 'u' is back again) gift.

As an addendum to the McCain poster-thing - I noticed today all the McCain&Palin posters on people's lawns have been replaced with Another Family for McCain (where Another and Family are written really small, so it reads "Family McCain"). As this was done under cover of darkness, does it mean that he is trying to distance himself from the backcombed-one?

Oh McCain....you've done it again...

Everyone is McCain crazy in our street. McCain/Palin signs are on everyone's front lawn (which of course do not have the huge English-style leylandii hedges around them). One person has an Obama sign, but they had hid it behind the aspidistra. At Barns & Noble, for the ultimate in propoganda, you can get children's board story books about each candidate - "My Dad John", and "My Dad Barack", if memory serves. I was a bit spaced-out to be honest, having never been in such a massive book-shop, feeling the need to rock forawards and backwards, sobbing quietly "but I can't find a single book.....".

We are now proud owners of cars. I have, in English terms, a massive 4-wheel drive...although I tend to lose it at the supermarket as it is easily dwarved by all the others. I had problems filling-up the other day as the hose kept clicking off. The man came out and explained slowly that the tank was full. "But it's only $35", I stuttered. Bridgjo has a cheese-coloured mini to offset our carbon-footprint. Buying a car meant that we had to take the driving test (written and practical). The examiner drew pictures and explained very carefully what he would be testing us on, and where we might go wrong. I still failed on one thing though; turning left from an unmarked two-lane road to a marked road. Bridgjo failed on two things (I have it in writing that I am the better man), but regardless, we have both passed. Actual licenses take 4-6 weeks to get dispatched. I still feel as if I am breaking the law turning on a red light. Not yet attempted a left-turn on a red light (from one-way to a one-way), as I think that quite frankly, I am going to one day lose all reason and attempt a straight-on on a red-light too.

On Sunday, we went crazy and took advantage of the opening-hours. Even the library was open.

We also braved the kitchens of Mickey's Diner, which was brilliant and cheap. The hash even had brown bits in. After that we went to the kids museum....an easy way to spend a rainy Sunday.

In the meantime, my one big complaint about the US so far is the dearth of decent toilet paper. One-ply surely means you use four-times as much. I did hear that the chap who played Knight Rider insisted his kids could only use two sheets per visit. The love was shared by his daughter, several frustrated years later, by posting a video of him on YouTube attempting to eat a hamburger drunk. Let that be a lesson.

I just want a plain cup of coffee.....

T adores school, and we had our first parent night last week (and they also provide day-care and pizza for it!), and we think it is a Good thing. She especially adores the English day on Wednesdays, of course, but they will be teaching her to read and write in English (well, American). The lunches here are also a battle, but she accpets that she will starve otherwise (which she frequently does, but I hope that by the time she is 18, she will bend to my will (I wish)). Her timetable is much different - only one playtime for 30 mins just before lunch, and then just lessons. Saying that, I suppose they have "organized play" in the form of PE each afternoon. She comes home knackered.

The teachers are all around the 30 mark, and all very enthusiatic, and, quite frankly, youthful, so very animated, and non-shouty. The teacher is getting her to speak whole sentences when she asks for things, but I saw her skipping in class the other day (her, not the teacher. Not quite that young), which is a good sign, possibley.

JB wants us to be a Host Family for some of the stagiaires. As they are all French, female and 20, I have said "Mmmmm, not sure about that". (unless of course it is someone called Pierre).I have a started a gym. It's close by with a great pool. It will off-set all the junk-food. Alas there is lots. Rubbish coffee too, unfortunately. I will have to get a Nespresso (although you have to get the coffee via mail-order).

I am organizing wood to be delivered, and also someone to clean the drive-way from snow next week. It hasn't started snowing yet, but I reckon it will be soon. The house is toasty though. Apparently, the bloke who does your lawn in the summer, does your drive in the winter.

I have found somewhere which sells Boots face-cream and Birds Custard. In the same aisle (not really).

I will be going to TJMexx next week (TJ, not TK, note) for a winter coat.

I am having very strange experiences here where I speak to a shop assistant, and then realise they didn't understand a single word I have said. It has happened here several times now - YET NEVER OCCURRED IN GENEVA! Damn t' Northern accent. However, it is probably my own fault, as I am linguistically, slowly turning into Mary Poppins, or on a bad day, Dick Van Dyke, using lots of phrases like "Heavens above!", "That coat looks awfully jolly, do you have it in my size?" etc.

Home Sweet Home

We have finally moved into our house (it smells like an old person's home), in Minnetonka.

The weather is brilliant - freezing cold mornings and baking afternoons. I've spent up at Super-Target....all the supermarkets here are great....I feel as if I've come from a third-world country, and just stand in the aisles gawping at the choice.

I tried to ring Australia last night for work, and misdialled as I didn't know the international code AND A REAL WOMAN CAME ON THE PHONE!!!! It was like TV - "hello, this is the operator, which number do you require?".

I did my theory driving test today...a bit of a cheat, as bridgjo did his first (and did all the studying), and, we were told you can only do the test once a day, as they only change the questions each day...so I asked him the Qs and went in the affie - tee hee. Been doing loads of driving since I got here. Think I'll do one of those driving in the snow courses agin. I did one in England, and the bloke kept throwing inflatable sheep at my car so I'd swerve on the oil.

Now got cable (no TeeVo yet), and a phone, and internet. And a funny smell in the basement.

Bridgjo came home at lunch-time and we both ran upstairs and in and out of the house, as we kept hearing this banging sound, seemingly really close. When the cable bloke came in he told us it was the ice-machine on the fridge (never had one before!).

Where are my Knickers?

We arrived at the hotel yesterday, aiming to spend the night there and then move into the house this morning. The cable was booked for 10. Furniture was being delivered between 9 and 11. So we popped round to check it all out. And found it hadn't actually been cleaned. Seemingly ever (they had had a rather furry husky-type beast). Not keen on cleaning out someone else's fridge when only 24 hrs previously I had cleaned out my own thinking "God, if I moved here, I'd think this was pretty disgusting...". JB told me that there weren't gutters at all, "but just a run-off, see"...but it turns out that they are in fact gutters, but have turned into run-offs, see.

So we have holed ourselves up in the hotel until Tuesday now, trying to have everything rescheduled, which isn't easy as the TV needs to be there before the cable man (why wouldn't he have a min TV to test with?), and the furntiure after the cleaner, and the cleaner following the carpet-cleaner.

I'M NOT COMING OUT! And I'll be blowed if I can find out where I've put all my knickers....

Doomsday Approacheth

Whilst the world's eyes rest bewildered on Geneva and potential black-holes, we are more concerned that we have had to eat spaghetti and Dolmio sauce for the second night in a row. Although tonight we did have strawberry tarts too.

B went out for a walk and just felt as if he was in a foreign country...lots of bars, places and streets he doesn't recognise, and even managed to get lost. He also crept into McDo for a clandestine cheeseburger. Humph, Dolmio not good enough for you, huh?

I spent the day avoiding the cleaning, by meeting lots of people for coffee, and wandering about Troinex completely convinced that I will spy my lost wallet out of the corner of my eye (at which point I will smile to myslef and say "Oh, of course, now I remember...").

I have said good-bye to my neighbour and exchanged e-mail addresses. She said I was very nice (a very high Swiss compliment), and could she have my olive tree?

Tomorrow we will be cementing our relationship by cleaning the house together (with some extra help in the afternoon from the Troinex Ladies Cleaning Army).

I wept as I mowed the lawn.

The Last Supper

We are shortly on the move yet again, meaning of course, that not only must we, alas, have to drink all the wine in the cellar, but I am not longer allowed to go shopping for food, as everything we need, according to Mr Kitchen, is available to us either dried (pasta) or frozen (something brown in a box). I suspect that by the time Monday night rolls round, we will be left with spag and Birds Custard.

The weather is dreadful, so we are spending the day arguing about doing the cleaning and packing. We have achieved lots (in the falling out areas), but not much actual physical "aren't our suitcases heavy?"-type areas.

And then I lost my wallet. Which ironically followed the day I lost my car-keys. Meaning I had to swallow my pride and go around exactly the same shops I had done the previously day, asking practically the same question. And what did I have in my wallet? No idea, I'm afraid. Certainly not much money, but probably the kind of cards it is a real pain to replace, for very little worth eg Co-op and Migros cards.