Living in Minnesota...

Eau, deer

2012-02-04T15:04:00.000-08:00

The winter has seemed to have passed us by this year. Apart from one or two minus 20C days, it has been quite acceptable. Last year we had snow till way passed April. This year I may even be able to succumb to my faux middle-class roots and go and plant tomatoes (which generally seems to be just a posh way of feeding the local deer population).

I was not impressed by the local animal husbandry. The neighbour came home just before Christmas at about 1am and found a pile of four deer at the bottom of the road. When he called the police to complain, he was told it was actually the police who'd done it, and it was part of the culling program. As we only have 5 deer (well, one, obvs) which wander about, rather than a swathe of rampaging wildebeest across the savannah, I thought that this was a bit odd, until I saw the price of venison in the supermarket.

I was there in the local Wholefoods last week. Wholefoods is a bit like M&S....overpriced organic produce selling to gullible mums, who otherwise just frisby Vitamin C in the form of jaffa cakes to their kids. At the check-out, I'd unloaded my basket onto the conveyor-belt behind this well-turned out lady in front of me (ie she had a nice perm, and you couldn't see her gun), and put down The Barrier of Death.

I suddenly realised that I needed to pop back to the veg department and grab some frisee (or something else I would probably not recognise by sight). When I came back, she was just paying up....and I saw she'd actually helped herself to the two bottles of Pelligrino and some parmesan from my section. She looked at me. I looked at her. We did the unspoken "I know you know I know etc", and she looked so horrified I just could not bring myself to say anything.

Serves me right when tap-water and cheddar would do just as well, but I just knew she would carry that guilt with her all day.

Friend or Foe?

2011-07-03T16:32:00.000-07:00

Right - let me make this quite clear. I am all for any country keeping out nasty foreigners with questionable hygiene who refuse both to integrate and to work. However, when it comes to ME, I tend to reach for the deodorant and get rather righteous and irritable.

Yes - it was time for us to renew our visas.

The whole procedure is a process of documentary obstacles, with only the most tenacious applicants being awarded the Big Prize ("Yes, another 2 years of 6 foot snow can be yours for the low, low price of your sanity!").

The first step is to apply using the visa application system on-line. Except it was written and completed by a really distracted 15 year-old who was taking his GSCE in Computing Science a year early, and forgot about the testing module. The initial screen informs you (rather optimistically) that the process may take 25 minutes to complete. It took me fours hours. For each application. A little like an original BBC text-based adventure game ("Hit troll", "What troll?" etc), it would either intermittently throw you out of the system as you had not touched the key-board for 3 seconds (this was timed, by me, sobbing very very quietly, so that the pixies couldn't hear), or, on using the drop-down list-boxes, would redirect you out to a completely random screen on the Homeland Security web-site. "Oh , yes," said one of the Brits, "It's been like that for about 12 months. When it happened to us we told our company they would have to do it for us". Unfortunately, I did not have that sort of privilege, so had to plough on. Finally, I was in the position to scan in the photos and print out all the forms we needed.

Then came the Book Your Interview challenge.

The interview could be done within the USA (but only 10% of visa renewals are awarded this way), or go out of the country (but not Mexico, as that can take upto (or at least) a month).

However, this is further limited to the fact that an interview could only be booked through the internet, and only within the next 6 weeks. At eleven o'clock at night.

Eventually, we got an interview in Halifax (the "I Love Halifax" blog will be written when I've stopped the valium).

Off we went, in our posh togs, just in case.

As it was being renovated, we had to sit on the floor in the corridor outside of the consulate. Now and then a disembodied voice would direct us to move along the line, go to the back, come to the front, present a form, wait at the coffee shop downstairs. On entering, we were then told that the hand-bag had to be taken to another building two blocks away and checked into a hotel locker; that the bottle of water had to be left at the desk (in spite of us having to wait for 3 hours); and that "Your daughter cannot bring her MP3 player in.You may not believe this - but once we had someone in and it took down all the computers and printers".

No, actually, I don't believe it - because that was the plot of a FILM!!!

And all the time, you have to be hyper-aware of your facial expression as each sneer and upwards glance will be punished by being thoroughly pushed to the back of the queue again.

We presented the papers - our forms, passports and the company 3inch petition, and were then told that the print-outs I had done at home were not a high-enough quality for the machine to read in the bar-code (even though I have seen the girl on the till actually type in the number BY HAND for the milk I buy each week - so if our local Target can do it....).

But, no - we had to go back to the hotel, and hope that its antiquated broad-band connection (powered by weevils) would be fast enough for us to log on to the website (after firstly trying to remember the URL, and then the password (mother's grand-mother's maiden name, apparently. It didn't help that I, of course, had to make one up, and couldn't remember if it was Phyllis or Kevin). So, clutching the reprinted forms, we then ran back to the Consulate - just before the security guard locked up and took in the flag). Yes, everything's now OK, but, um, we can't possibly say when the visas will be printed. Because they are printed from Washington, you see. And we have no control over it. Come back tomorrow. And no, you can't have the phone number, you must just come round.

So we did. Twice, by which time it was Saturday, and we had to wait until the following Monday - 24 hours before we were due to fly out.

With much trepidation, we again approached the Consulate door, and whispered the magic words in tremulous voices. The door opened a crack, and the passports were slid out. L. Frank Baum obviously based his famous story on something very similar.

It's the pits.

2011-06-14T18:06:00.000-07:00

They have started building next-door. It was a lovely copse of silver-birch, but now looks like a battered corpse (ooh, did you see what I did there?). It took one man a day-and-a-half to cut down all the trees and turn them into wood-chip. The heavy plant moved in the next day and has started digging out the basement. I am a little concerned as it looks ENORMOUS. I am going to guess it is 6-bedrooms, based on my extensive architectural knowledge (ie several episodes of Grand Designs. I will take to standing next to the plot and sighing into the middle-distance "I can't help thinking that..."). Almost had a falling out with the owner who decided to check up on progress by popping round at six o'clock on Saturday morning, standing on what will ultimately be our shared drive and telling his wife authoritatively (loudly) "And that is where the toilet will be". Naturally, I didn't say anything, being both English and in Minnesota, so just tutted and closed the window IN A FORCEFUL MANNER. That'll show 'im.

We have had to cave in to social mores and purchase our first net-curtains. It will give us something to twitch.

Interestingly they were not allowed to start earlier, as there is a city rule that heavy plant must be kept off the roads for a certain time after the last snows melt. Damn' - said the S word, and I'd promised myself I wouldn't.

I don't normally watch Reality TV, as it is a bit of a Voyeuristic Indulgence - particularly the program the other day about hoarders. Ten minutes into it, I decided to do out the garage, and then moved onto the guest-room. I even dropped the nine garbage bags, two chairs and a blanket off at the thrift store, it moved me so much.

Bean has made her first kill. We're very proud, but it's the person in charge of kitty litter (ie me) who has to dispose of the mangled remains.

We went to play crazy golf last weekend. It is an amazing place. The guy makes random pieces of sculpture and each year seems to add another hole (he is up to 13). It's wonderfully eccentric.

Just. Too. Hot.

2011-06-06T18:52:00.000-07:00

Forty degrees today. I know. I'm never satisfied. T's ice-skating started up again this evening, and most of the town had turned up to watch, it seemed, sitting on the frigid bleachers in shorts and vests. Her classroom was so warm at school, that they had to have lessons in the cafeteria. Alas, like in Australian schools, there seems to be very little air-conditioning for what, when it's not minus forty, is plus.

I overheard this at the ice-rink: Child reading Malory Towers: "Mommy, what's a 'blazer'?". Mommy: "It's a kinda snow-mobile, honey".

I've been doing more running. One of my favourite tracks is to run along the railway-line, which is a common evening walk for a lot of people around here (the rails have a utility vehicle track along side, so are quite wide). The consensus is that it is 'most likely illegal', but the drivers wave to you, and the police just drive on by. For a state which seems to have quite a loose definition of 'gun-control', they probably think "Well, if you're daft enough to be walking along a track when a 120-carriage freight train is rolling-along, is there really anything we can do or say to help you?". And, yes, they are really 120 carriages long - this means (quick mental calculation) with each one 20m long, it can sometimes straddle several railway crossings at once; effectively cutting one side of the town from the other. I tried to run along side of one the other day as it was waiting for its green-light, but gave up and ate chocolate instead.

I have a problem, otherwise, on where to run. Memorial Day was last week (white heels - hurrah!), which means that everyone (else) has opened up their cabins, and cracked open the Glad-Wrap on their boats. As the roads here can be quite narrow, the boat-trailers quite wide and the road-kill plentiful, it means there's sometimes very little space for me (pavements are non-existent....everywhere requires a car, and today I treated myself both to the drive-through chemists, and the drive-through post-box).

And I'm not able to run cross-country at the moment because of the ticks. The ones you can see are OK...it's the ones the size of poppy-seeds which are the ones to scream hysterically at.

I took an executive decision last week (i..e spent a Lancashire man's money without asking him first), and bought some furniture for the 3-season porch. In the last house we were always being nibbled at by the voracious mosquitoes, but here, luckily, there is a balcony enclosed with screens - pretty handy on a swamp. It also has a ceiling fan and speakers for piped music, if only we could be bothered with trying to figure out how it works. Once or twice we have found ourselves sitted in there, Conversing.

Bridgjo had a good day's kayaking on the river, which is very high, due, of course, to the snow. He took T out on the lake, but she sat in the back, with her friend in front, and let her do all the work. Chip off the old block.

This is why I hate computers....

2011-05-26T10:38:00.000-07:00

Intermittently I earn my keep by ploughing through all the piles of paper on my desk: pay the lawn chap, sort out turning on the reticulation, downloading claim forms for medical bills, organizing T's hectic social life and changing my address on my UK Bank account.

This last one is held at a Well Known British Banking Institution, and necessitates you typing into the phone key-pad card numbers, date of birth, security codes, best-friend's dog's icense number before you can even speak to an operator - who then REALLY grills you. Now my English bank account is there purely as Running Away Money (or, Dash Cash), which, admittedly isn't going to get me very far at the moment as it only contains $2.52. But it's there should my US cards ever get zapped, or I need an extra couple of bob to tide me over to the next Rapture. So I find it a bit annoying when I have to try and remember the exact last time I bought something ("Umm, Jackie magazine in 1986?"), or the number of direct debits, passwords for on-line banking which I never use, etc.

So, this was going to be an easy one.

I wanted to change my address.

So I call the UK, get through all of the above dialog and the lady says to me, "Ah, I see you do not have the necessary security layer set up," (there's more?), "So I will need to send you a form. To your new address. Could you spell it out for me please?".

And this is why I hate computers.

Drive-Thru Life

2011-05-20T15:58:00.000-07:00

We went to Colorado last month for a weekend. I was extremely impressed by the drive-through cigarette shop, although the drive-through post-boxes here take some beating. Bridgjo found an original share certificate for the Isabella Gold-Mine, which was accepted as The Official Souvenir (in Disney, it was a plastic snow-globe of the Little Mermaid, so I am happy that T's tastes are improving). It was bitterly cold, and I was a bit grumpy that I had forgotten to bring my ski-jacket. On the Sunday I went out wearing every single item of clothing in my possession, including several pairs of knickers, one of which doubled-up as ear-warmers.

We'll be staying for another two years, it seems, so maybe I'll be unpacking some of those boxes soon. Unfortunately, not until we manage to ascend the K12 of paper-work which is Renewing Your Visa. It starts by forcing you to take at least 4 hours per application on-line (the system crashes more often than...than...ANYTHING! (apologies, but after that evening I found it quite difficult finding humour in anything for a quite a while), then making sure all the documentation has been completed correctly by the company (which still managed to spell bridgjo's name 3 different ways, and put on our Australian address where we haven't lived for the past 5 years). Then it's the gentle teasing and joshing that is Organising Your Interview. Yes you can go to Montreal...oops, no you can't...how about Quebec?...no, too late, you hovered too long over the mouse...Halifax then?

So Halifax it is...known for its slogan "Halifax...It's a Blast!" (no, not really), and for being next to the Estate Agents in Baxtergate.

T has just completed a week of exams. These are for the French Government - the American's are next year. She had four days of 4 French tests, and 4 maths. I'm not quite sure she completely Got It, but I'm certainly interested in how she is progressing. So the next blog will either be very braggy, or very fibby. ("So,yes, we are thinking she should be doing the Chinese immersion this summer....").

The picture shown at the top was done courtesy of Wordle - an extremely addictive application.

Flu in thru the window

2011-03-09T08:15:00.000-08:00

I tried out the raw food restaurant a couple of weeks ago. It was interesting in the way that it is astounding that there are so many ways to present salad. I had a, well, salad on a sesame seed biscuit (of the sort found next to the Tunnocks tea-cakes at Hanley market). It was all very tasty, but, like Chinese food, not the sort of thing I want to rush home and try. It may be healthy, but there's far too much chopping and preparation involved to offer it to the family and for them to look down and say "Oh. Salad".

Rather handily, the restaurant also does colonic irrigations (presumably in a room away from the kitchen). Surprisingly, I found the next day that this is completely unnecessary.

Bean fell in the bath again. She gave out an enormous howl of indignation (we'd left it running, and she got rather over-excited at seeing the bubbles). She then immediately sought solace in the kitty litter. Bearing in mind it is design to be super-absorbent, she came out looking as if she had been bread-crumbed.

She was spayed yesterday. She gave me a FURIOUS look when I left her. She is now wearing The Cone of Shame and pinging off the furniture. We are supposed to leave it on for 2 weeks, and I also have to give her a syringe full of medicine twice a day. What japes!

I never pass up an opportunity to make an American to feel slightly inferior, especially T's English teacher whose note home last week had to be sent back corrected. So I was trying to teach T the phrase "Dulce et decorum est pro patria amori". Unfortunately, she's convinced it's "dolce di latte for Patrick Moore"...so she's not quite ready for the Oxford entrance exams just yet.

She may also not be ready for The Art Academy. I thought it might be nice, instead of sport-y activities, to go to the local art centre and draw, paint, and basically make the sort of mess the mother of a single child can't be doing with in her own home. Except, it's rather more serious than that. Firstly, you have to commit (ie pay) to a year. And then have an interview. And THEN present your portfolio. Yes, even if you are seven. What? Really? Does the portfolio have to have a zip? Does she need to talk about light, perspective and the importance of putting the lids back on the paints afterwards? Or am I being paranoid and it just requires an ability not to poke yourself in the eye with a pencil?

We've also been tackling plurals. In Spanish, for instance, they use the word "Hobby", as in the English, but very sensibly just bung an "s" on the end. Like everything, the rules take some explanation, but I threw in the word "ox" as I was feeling particularly waggish. She looked at me very seriously and said "Mummy, when am I ever go to come across more than one ox?".

We've all had flu. It was nice and mild, but made us feel very tired indeed. As T said "I'm feeling so much better that I think I'll break the speed limit on the road to recovery".

Please send food parcels

2011-02-02T15:04:00.000-08:00

We were talking adjectives and adjectival nouns in Spanish on Tuesday. The teacher was having to explain what "pedantic" meant, and seeing my face (confused rabbit in a Large Hadron Collider expression) said that it wasn't a word that Americans seemed to use as he was always having to explain it, although Europeans seemed to have no problems. "Ah," I said, "Maybe they are just more pedantic in England than they are in America, so we need a word for it". "And are there more pedantics do you think in England?" he asked. "No," I said from the lofty heights of my B grade at o-level, "Just pedants". Gosh, how we laughed!

I missed out on a Brit get-together on Monday, because of the snow that now seems to causing havoc elsewhere. Note that I have used the word Brit. I have only ever heard it used between ex-pats, usually in a mocking way comparing our ability to spell with the rest of the world and the fact that "flavorful" is probably not actually a word. Without exception, if you were to ask any one of them, they would admit to being born in England, and never from Britain. I'm certain it is only (English) politicians which use the expression...you can be pretty sure that the Welsh, Scots and Irish always describe themselves as such.

Last night, I made lavender biscuits on the assumption that if they didn't work out, I could always use them to lace my knicker-drawer.

Brrrr!

2011-01-21T11:35:00.000-08:00

Right, UK. Listen up there at the back, and try and man up a bit will you?:

Minus 33 degrees C last night - it was the talk of the school coffee morning. There was some confusion about whether we were discussing the temperature in Celsius or Fahrenheit - I had to explain that, being English, minus temperatures are always discussed in Centigrade, and hot weather in Fahrenheit.

When we woke up there was ice on the inside of the windows, and a thick crust of frost around the edges of the front-door.

Not having TV (we're soooo hippy-dippy), we're never too sure of the weather, and went out last weekend to go tubing at Elm Creek. It was excellent fun, although bitterly cold. Sensible Minnesotan mothers had tucked their kids in front of improving Mandarin Chinese DVDs; we decided to fling ourselves down icy mountains in rubber dinghies. It was excellent fun though - more so as no-one else was there.

The cat fell in the bath last night. She had a bit of a swim about and didn't seem at all put out. She also likes sitting in the sink playing with the drips, so she's trying very hard to be the Turkish Van I wanted, but couldn't afford (although a quarter of the size). She seemed slightly bothered that we laughed at her so long about it, however.

New Year Cheer

2011-01-05T10:54:00.000-08:00

Minus 16 degrees fahrenheit wind chill. Yep, we're back in Minnesota. Or still in Stoke, not quite sure yet.

We managed to return to the US without mishap. Quite boring. T wasn't even sick, and all flights were on-time and the luggage was awaiting us patiently on the carousel. Weird.

The only thing that jarred, which surely shows my age, was getting to Schipol airport, trying to get something to eat and finding that out of the 300 tables they have in the food-court, 10 were populated, and the rest were covered in food, beer, pots, pans, plates, etc. I set to work with my Wet Ones and got quite irate. Obviously, I had to send a strongly worded e-mail to Schipol Group, who just snorted and murmured to themselves, "Well, you should have seen it two weeks ago".

We had a great break in Stoke and Whitby. I have got used to the manic in-yer-face rabid friendliness of the Minnesotans, and found, in comparison, the Yorkshire people to be quite dour (this quite definately excludes close friends and relatives of course). We went to play dominoes one night, which involves changing tables each game. The first time I changed I said Hi to the oldish lady sitting here and said "I'm Rachel". To which she replied (not looking up from her spinners), "'Appen". And one evening we went to a pub in which there were 3 people, and the bar-maid served us WITHOUT ASKING US OUR FAMILY HISTORY!!!

But at least we were offered a lift by someone (unfortunately 2 foot from the house) when the weather changed suddenly to a snow-storm and we had to abandon the car at The Stiddy (pub, naturally) and walk two hours back to Sleights. Luckily we were in our Minnesotan clothes ("T! Just put two pairs of snow-pants on will you?") and we managed just fine.

We were very put out that we couldn't get a kipper breakfast at Botham's - each time we went, the last pair had just been sold, and even on the day we ordered in advance, they couldn't get the van through. A sad day, indeed.

We picked Bean up the day after we came back. I was hoping that two weeks at the Cat Nap Inn would act as a finishing school for her, as up until then she had been quite vicious. And, yes, it seems to have worked. Nancy told her she was a delight and that she had fallen in love with the resident cat, Ziggy, so much that they spent the entire 2 weeks together fighting and sleeping together.

Nancy has fallen in love with Bean so much, in fact, that she had a going-away Catnip Party for her. When we arrived, all the other cats were lying around, wearily raising their heads, as if still completely stoned. Since she's been back, she hasn't leapt, biting, at my face once (progress) and seems much better behaved. She needed a massive Main Coon to sit on her head a couple of times and give her what-for. One down-side was that she suddenly decided she didn't want the 38 tins of kitten food we had supplied, and instead quite happily hoe'd into everybody else's Tuna and Shrimp (with Gravy). So today I had to go back and exchange it all. Fussy little madam.

Escape from USA; starring Bridgjo

2010-12-21T09:17:00.000-08:00

So it was bridgjo's turn to get across to Blighty at the week-end. It was fortunate, in a way, that we are almost royal in the way we'd decided to travel separately, as it made his journey less difficult than it may well have been.

He arrived at the airport on Friday and was told that his flight was cancelled as snow-bound Amsterdam was closed, but, no worries, he could travel the next day via Atlanta/Schipol/Teesside.

So the next day, he optimistically set off, and had got as far as Atlanta when he was told that Schipol was closed (as they were refusing passengers other than those who were not going on a connecting flight (ie Dutch people only, presumably)), but he could get to Teesside (possibley) on the 23rd.

He'd naturally checked all his bags through and was stuck in an airport which was rapidly becoming a little bit truculent.

He tried (with alternating success) to persuade them that he was quite happy just to go to Amsterdam, thinking maybe he could get a ferry across, or, maybe, by this time, fashion a small dirigible out of discarded drinks bottles. But although one desk said yes, another said no, and yet another said "Have you tried this airport cheese?", he had no luck.

Luckily, due to his Northern grace and charm, he managed to get on a stand-by flight to Manchester.

All around him though, people were in tears, starting to lose their tempers (and in one case, losing their passport).

He then had to rugby-tackle a few old people out of the way when the stand-by list was opened, and finally managed to get himself a seat.

By the time he got to Manchester, he phoned me up at my parents in Stoke and insisted, quite manfully, we met him there. I felt quite giddy.

It was a surprisingly rubbish trip up by train. Although we had first class tickets (this was so I'd be surrounded by a better class of people when I travelled up by myself with T), it was basically second class with a the 2 crossed out in biro and a 1 written in. I am never too impressed when I have to clean the toilets myself before use. Furthermore (FURTHERMORE!) there is only one first class lounge at Manchester Piccadilly...and it belongs to Virgin which refused us "cheap-seat Trans-Penine losers" entrance. Luckily, I had yummy-mummy-made Christmas cake and water which I had knicked from the lounge in Stoke, so the journey just flew by.

By the time bridgjo got to his home, and he was seated, washed, fed and clothed in his dad's pants, he gave a audible sigh of relief.

No sign of his suitcase, though it might even make it before we leave. In case you ever need to know, it is actually quite possible to go on holiday with the clothes you stand up in (as long as those clothes include two pairs of knickers). Even Whitby sells socks.

Hats off to Delta for getting us all here though, and struggling to get our bags to us. They deserve a mince-pie.

It is the coldest I have ever experienced in Whitby without there being an enormous Easterly gale of the variety which causes locals to mutter "Yes, it's 32 degrees centigrade, but it's minus 6 wind-chill". It's been minus 11, which caused my chilblains, which haven't been around since I was a student and going to night-clubs in high-heels, to wake-up and say "Ey-up".

The next-door neighbour came round quite early on asking for hot water to unfreeze the out-door toilet as he has a burst pipe, and needs to find out where it is (suspecting it's somewhere under the concrete floor there). So he's had to turn his water off.

Hilariously, the gas men came round to the street outside to check on a gas-leak, didn't tell anybody, and turned it off and on. Unfortunately, Marnie's boiler is teenager-like and has buggered off to its room to sulk...so we have no heating as it refuses to come out and turn on.

No mince-pie then for British Gas.

Where's the Christmas Pot Noodle?

2010-12-14T13:50:00.000-08:00

The traditional day-out on my arrival in Stoke is to go to the local Tesco's and to stand around like a refugee in front of the twenty-seven varieties of crisps.

The journey here was not quite so enjoyable. We had an extraordinarily rabid snow-storm on the Saturday. When English people say "And it was 2 feet deep, and minus 30 degrees", they tend to be exaggerating. This was actually IT. In spite of this, the snow-ploughs still managed to come out about three times even in our 2 house cul-de-sac. So off we trotted to the airport, having checked the Internet just before leaving. I breathed a sigh of relief when we arrived, as it seemed truly hazardous and I didn't fancy the trip back (I helped by pressing the brake-pedal from my side of the car all the way).

It took us however, an hour, rather than 10 minutes, and five minutes after the bags were checked in, the airport was closed. This is very unusual indeed, and means that the snow we were experiencing was a tad more than they get at Manchester. This meant of course, that we had to drive all the way back home.....where we discovered the heating had broken down.

We went to bed early and talked about the necessity of eating each other the next morning if one of us made it.

Delta was lovely and booked us on the same flight the following day and promised our bags would be waiting for us (hah!).

T and I were flying by ourselves, and were very happy indeed to discover we were going to get 4 seats in a row. It's the small things, as shortly afterwards T decided to mark each passing 20 mins for 7 hours by throwing up. At least I didn't have to apologise to anyone about leaky sick-bags and misfires.

And, no, the bags weren't there, but this had the advantage that I didn't have to cart anything about. Unfortunately, T's penicillin was in there, and, of course, all the knickers. So, on the way home we had to nip to the doctor's for a prescription (which they actually did without seeing her!), and then off to Tesco's for an Emergency Knicker Run. Delta, who are, quite frankly, ace, have said they'll reimburse us.

Today we went to Gladstone Pottery just so that I could show T where I used to spend Saturday mornings when I was 10. I think she thinks I helped out the sagger-maker's bottom-knocker (that happened much later on....), but still had great fun making a china rose, throwing a bowl and painting a hedge-hog. Reckoned I should show her her heritage before the last of the factories closed (unless they have done already).

Tomorrow we shall see monkeys.

'Tis the season to pack emergency chocolate

2010-12-09T16:45:00.000-08:00

The long-term weather forecast is always a little bit hit-and-miss here. Last week it was to be sunny on Saturday, then windy, then over-cast, and by yesterday an unseasonable flurry of wildebeest falling over the NW Metropolitan area was expected. Now they are saying 100% snowy precipitation just roundabout the time we're planning to take off. As Amsterdam and Manchester are in much of the same boat (although without the wildebeest), I personally forecast an eventful journey full of Bach's Flower Remedy, Christmas cake and Whale music piped through MP3 players. My hand-luggage will contain an abundance of food, a blanket and spare thermals.

This last week has been hectic with last-minute preparations, particularly as we'll be meeting bridgjo later on in the holiday up in Whitby. This means I actually have to be On the Ball (and not running off to hide in the airport coffee shop).

I've been also trying sort out speech therapy for T. She was a paper waiting to be written, when she never babbled as a bairn, and then only started talking when she was about two-and-a-half. Now, naturally, there are a few sounds she has difficulty with, namely "s" and "th". We have to make appointments for a Speech Therapist for her now, as leaving it too late would result in her having to make the phone-call herself, and then irony would ensue. She also has developed just the one sound which is obviously American - '-ar'. As she normally talks with an English accent, it's then rather alarming to be faced with a seven year-old yelling "Come on! Get into the car!"; she sounds like a rather irate, small pirate.

Alas sorting out the threrapy is tricky due to complex insurance issues. I have given up, and will try again once I have located the bottle-opener.

Dashing through the snow

2010-10-16T19:51:00.000-07:00

The weather has been most unseasonable. Since the beginning of October it has not been at all unusual for the temperature to reach 65 Fahrenheit (which is about ten past six in new money). Yesterday I had a run dressed only in a t-shirt and shorts (although I came back pretty quickly, admittedly). Today, however, the cloud has gathered, people are talking about winterizing their gardens, and I have been forced by Minnesotan mores to pop out and invest in spruce tops. Yes, tomorrow it will snow. This means several things:

1) Everyone has to relearn how to drive.

2) I have to find where my jump-leads are, as my current way of starting the car is a little like making a phone-call on a Miss Marple episode: switch to on, press right pedal, release, press brake, start engine. (Hello? Hello, operator? ARE YOU THERE???).

3) There will be a segment on the local news whereby they will send the newest memeber of the team out on location, getting him to throw a cup of hot coffee in the air in order to make slush-puppy, and forcing him to do an entire presentation whilst talking through the scarf his mum knitted him.

4) People start putting up their external Christmas decorations as nobody likes to be up a ladder with tinsel in minus 20.

It is apprently against local laws to feed deer in your garden. No-one has mentioned it to them, so they have started to nibble around the bark of the only tree I have (currently adorned in (chewed) solar powered fairy lights).

We went to Redwing on Sunday. It was a little like Stillwater, but the drive there was much easier as very few people seem to go. They are famous for their pottery and, um.

A lot of antique shops too. I feel it is my duty to force T to go around shops for hours in which she has absolutely no interest in. There has been very little in the was of professional research into this topic, but it has to be good for her to at least utter the words "I'm boooorrree-EEEDDDDDDDDDDDD" at least once a week.

Season of Mist

2010-09-27T18:47:00.000-07:00

I went for a long run at the weekend. This wasn't entirely intentional as I got slightly lost, but it was, indeed, a poetical morning. The mist hung low over the lakes like Athenian smog hugging the Parthenon. I came across some wild turkeys; it being close to Thanksgiving an'all, they are starting to fill out. They are remarkably docile and I very nearly tripped over one, startling it into giving an indignant "Plok" before it scuttled off. It is no coincidence then that the local aboriginal word for "to hunt turkeys" was, apart from a slight vowel shift, very similar to "to pick daisies".

I have been checking out the local area, trying to find out where the amenities are. We have a plethora of clothes boutiques - testament to all the ladies who lunch, a decent coffee book-shop, and a restaurant which must have the sloooooweeeesssst service EVER. The Post Office is tiny. It would have been closed long ago if it was in the UK. I enjoyed, in a very staring ex-pat sort of way, the policeman coming in and greeting the locals by name. I wanted to introduce myself, but feel that etiquette dictates one should always be introduced by another gentleman to one that is armed.

Happy Birthday....eventually....

2010-09-22T10:50:00.000-07:00

We had T's birthday on Saturday. Bravely, we decided to have it At Home, without any clowns nor ponies "which you can dress up". Bridgjo came up trumps by having a treasure hunt which involved me throwing gold coins from the balcony to the garden below. Each kid had to find five coins which could then be exchanged for one go on the Slide of Terror (a slide made of corrugated cardboard down into the swamp). This was incredibly popular.

It was nice to see the kids sharing the coins with each other, as I had half expected them to be rugby-tackling each other to the ground.

I'm not too sure how long we can cobble these parties together, but one of the guests was 9 and was throwing herself into it.

T's birthday cake was an array of highly decorated and differently flavoured cup-cakes. She was most disgusted to learn that this was the compromise as not many kids like fruit cake with brandy. She'll be getting her birthday cake as requested tomorrow. It would have been today. We made a complete fuss of her, helped her open her presents and phoned the grandparents.....who told us her birthday is actually tomorrow - which shows you just how rubbish parents can be. At least I remembered to be present the day she was born.

Why-oh-Why Wayzata?

2010-09-02T08:32:00.000-07:00

It was a fair bit alarming to be told 3 months ago that we had to move out. As the credit crunch had hit people quite severely, it meant that people were selling low (in the case of the house in Minnetonka) and renting high (ie everything else). It seemed pretty unlikely we were going to find anything like that which we had at the time. I saw 15 places in one week - overpriced, not nice neighbourhood, odd layouts or, surprisingly, filthy.

Luckily bridgjo came through and we were able to score a jolly nice place outside of Wayzata. The only down-side is that it is pretty close to the rail-way line which isn't too noisy (they move all the freight at night, as the length of the trains (up to 90 wagons) can block off all the crossings in the area for about a mile), but the bed actually does hop slightly around the room. As it is also built next to a swamp I can only guess that the foundations must be pretty rock-solid.

We had an army of little men over three days who packed, moved and unpacked. I like this as otherwise I know that any unpacked boxes would remain just that for the next 12 months.

It's smaller on the ground-floor than our place in Minnetonka, lacking the huge back-room which we never used. But it does have a fully converted basement ("Play-room!), completed with two sets of hooks in the ceiling to hang off swings (as it's too cold for small possums to play outside in the winter, of course). The kitchen is great with two ovens, dish-washer and wine-fridge, although the fridge itself and freezer are a little bit English in size.

The biggest down-size to everything is that because the ceilings are so high (we'll have to get somebody in to change bulbs), and the counter tops in the kitchen and bathrooms non-standard (about 10cm higher than usual), I feel about 8. I have to use a stool to cook, and do my prep on the table.

T loves the jacuzzi, although we haven't tried the steam shower yet. The jacuzzi even has a setting to keep the water warm. She's not so keen on the fact that in trying to find our bed-room during the night she keeps ending up in the linen-press.

I am very definitely going to get a sewing machine and run up the curtains, They need to be about 8 feet long, and am not sure Ikea does cheap voile ready-mades in that size.

So we have space if you fancy a visit.

And your little dog too

2010-06-26T06:29:00.000-07:00

So when it went completely black outside yesterday afternoon at about 4.30pm, we just looked at each other knowingly like all good English people and murmured "Nights are drawing in, then". But nooooo, nights do not normally draw in quite so completely 4 days after the summer solstice.

The tornado warning went off. The stagiaire had been telling me how much she wanted to see a tornado before she goes back next week. In retrospect I think she also meant to add "from a distance", as, when we all piled down to the cellar, I was holding a blanket, an emergency radio and a small child, she'd run off for her passport. Bridgjo remained on the sofa, too tired after his business trip to move. I checked him for stripey socks before I left him to his fate, just in case I needed to insist.

I cranked up the radio and listened to some very crackly Lord Haw-Haw well-enunciated Emergency Tornado Propaganda on the emergency band ("Into the cellars, we're all going to ...."), for about 2 minutes, then we all looked at each other and thought it would be more fun to watch it instead.

My friend had explained to me how to recognise the siren ("The fire-engines go 'woooo-Oooo-oooo-OOOO', up and down, whereas the siren goes "WooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO'"). She unfortunately neglected to tell me what the all-clear sounded like, and as my experience of the Second World War is based entirely around a bloke called Foyle, who has usually sorted everything out by then in any case, it looked as if we were going to be there for the night.

So we came up again. An anti-climax for us, but one of those wonderful holiday memories for the stagiaire...

I am naturally, friends with the Weather channel here, who informed me via Twitter that there was 4 feet (not inches apparently, though it had to have been a typo. Surely you can only get that much water if someone is standing over your head with buckets of the stuff) at Medicine Lake, and that we experienced a total of 6 tornadoes throughout the state yesterday. A usual alert reads like this:

"Large Hail. GR2 Analyst shows some 2-4" diameter (golf ball to baseball size) moving through the metro area, biggest hail appears to be tracking from Plymouth to S. Minneapolis to St. Paul. Flash Flood warning in effect through early tonight for some 3-5"+ amounts. Stay alert and be ready to head to the basement if threatening weather arrives. If you live in the Mankato area you should be in the basement, under the stairs, under a table or work bench." The journalists here are well-meaning, if slightly hysterical in their copy.

T thought it was hilarious as she had immediately made a den in her card-board box castle. She fancied spending the night there with her torch and wants to play again.

According to the news, possibly even tonight.

The Valleyfair Scare

2010-05-30T08:40:00.000-07:00

Off to Valleyfair yesterday, the Minnesotan answer to Alton Towers - the major difference being it is not found at the end of a country road, slap-bang in the middle of a tranquil, country village. Lots of similarities; The Corkscrew, Nemesis and rubbish food (although Staffordshire has probably never seen giant turkey legs and Dill-Pickle-On-A-Stick). There's also a very tiny water-park, with a few slides and a jump around in the waves pool. T was extremely disappointed that she was an inch too short for a lot of the rides. Me, I'm concerned that next year I will be dragged around on them.

All the creatures have successfully come out of hibernation and are now creating havoc in the garden. The raccoons like to sit in the tomato plants, for instance, as testamented by their little muddy footprints around the edges. One raccoon, who seems quite young and little compared to some which come around, eats his cheese and Branston like a six year-old. He held up the sandwich (he was there in broad daylight), opened it carefully, putting the top piece on the floor. He then commenced licking the pickle off, then gently peeled off the cheese and nibbled that, followed by the two pieces of bread. His nose goes up and down as he eats, making his whiskers tremble like a particularly agitated RAF Flight Sergeant.

The temperature, thanks to El Nino, zipped up to a toasty 34 degrees yesterday. Today it's a bit colder, but hopefully all the rain will be tonight and we will have a clear day for boating on the lake tomorrow.

School holidays start in 2 weeks' time. This year we will be playing tennis, doing outside swimming lessons, making forts, jam-tarts and a bit of a mess, then making up and a spot of TV. That's the first day sorted, then.

Miami mia

2010-05-16T16:56:00.000-07:00

We did that thing the other day which teachers hate, and took T out of school for a week to take advantage of cheap(ish) flights to Florida. For the first time, we went to Miami. It was super - and it amazes me how each state can be; in effect, a different country. Everyone spoke Spanish (including me, I was very proud! Yes - I ordered a coffee), and it just didn't seem like the US at all. Miami South Beach was amazing- all the art deco houses were super-looking.

Our hotel, The Viceroy, had a 100 m pool. I started swimming and thought blimey, it's a bit far. The end dropped away onto a vista of the harbour, and each morning at 7 I had the whole thing to myself.

We were able to go fosicking and found clam fossils on the foreshore of the hotel which itself was very grand. Each time I used the toilet I felt a need to fold the end of the toilet paper into a point. It has apartments as well as hotel rooms, although not that many of the apartments have been let. The food was great there, although the service was a tad Mediterranean. Most restaurants we went to made an effort to get T served first, which is always appreciated (via tips).

It never felt dangerous there and in fact the ambiance wherever we went felt great. We stayed in Miami for 3 nights, taking in the Everglades. Even though we saw lots of alligators on the air-boat tour we did (like on the James Bond movie), we even saw them when we stopped the car at the side of the rod....one came up begging like a duck in Sands End.

We then had another three days down in Key West ("Drive 157 miles and arrive at destination"). The drive down is quite long on single carriage-way roads, so we had a few stops to feed the tarpons (enormous greedy fish) at Robbie's Pier, and a couple of gardens.

Key West wasn't at all what I expected. It was streets of touristy two-level stores, lots of partying, but a nice atmosphere. The snorkeling was great. We took a small tour boat out (just us and three crew) to a reef about 7 n miles away (about an hour's trip). Luckily the sea was completely calm. T adored the snorkeling and was out for about an hour, spotting turtles and lobster plus loads of fish. She pootled off back the boat and sat on the dive ledge, feet dangling over the side, whilst I swam around the reef and saw (and this gets closer and bigger in the re-telling) two reef sharks swim passed. As I have no real idea about fish I thought "Cool!" and then saw T's feet flapping in the water. How exactly does one sacrifice oneself? Pretty amazing though.

Came back to cold weather when people complained there was a chance of snow, yet today it is a muggy 90. I have planted marigolds and remain optimistic that deer are allergic to them as it makes them sneeze.

No tengo dinero

2010-04-30T09:43:00.000-07:00

The stagiaire got a bit sick the other night. It was two hours after I made mussels for the first time, but she, very "perfect house-guest"-y said it was a migraine. I had taken her to our book-club, and I think it was a little over-whelming, ie the way they all speak at once very, very LOUDLY and sometimes even use rude words. She said it was like Sex in The City without the shoes.

I've had a look at a couple of houses, but so far have been disappointed either by size or location. I'm not keen on the sitting-room in the basement idea, nor about having two bedrooms right next to the kitchen. I saw one today which was on the 11th tee of the golf-course. It was close enough to be a sort of two-stroke hazard, and only lacked one of those windmills going round over the entrance to the garage doors.

My Spanish is still enjoyable (in that I still go and don't yet make excuses for coffee instead). The other lady on the course said she likes it as it makes her live very much in the present, which is a good feeling, except at some stage I suppose we will also have to study the future, subjunctive and the past-imperfect.

Dunkirk spirit

2010-04-19T12:58:00.000-07:00

Last Thursday the headmistress got a rather panicky call from a headmaster in Paris saying that they had a group of 43 school-children stuck in Minneapolis on their way back to Paris from Chicago, and could something be done? Luckily, Minnesotans are pretty decent (especially if there is any free publicity), and the Hyatt were able to offer them rooms and meals, and even the zoo coming up trumps with some free tickets. The local district is providing lunches for them (even picnics for when they go out). These kids are only about 10 years old, and were meant to be away for a week - how must their parents be feeling?

The local news came round today (for which I did not prepare, so was not able to be yummy, more slummy, when I went in to help in the canteen, so had to hide behind the tinned peaches), and CNN may pop round tomorrow. I may have my hair done.

In sickness and...

2010-04-14T10:34:00.000-07:00

Yes, thanks the Medical Establishment - T's been sick since she had her last (yippee) MMR vaccine last week. A measle-type rash all over her, headache, stiff neck. Hmm, perhaps the nay-sayers have a point after all? So, with varying amounts of grace, on both sides, we have made towns out of card-board, then cities, then, hell, why not an entire world? Painted nails, made a fairy garden, repotted all my planted herbs (we've been given notice to move house by the land-lord and I'll be buggered if he gets to keep my parsley) and watch, yes, an awful lot of TV. Cheetos have been high on the menu, and strangely not too much broccoli, but it seems she is pulling through.

Suddenly everywhere is beginning to get really green. When we did an Ester-Egg hunt last week in the garden, we managed to get several plastic eggs full of very cheap candy (which, and I just don't know how seemed to disappear each time T averted her gaze) along with a tic each. Luckily they are the large ones (and hence not Lyme's disease-y) but it is still a surprise when you flick one off your scalp. Lots of mosquitoes around too - the price you pay for an early spring. At least I've managed to get daffodils this year (is it churlish to also dig those up?).

Under the counter

2010-03-25T10:26:00.000-07:00

I think the butcher fancies me. Every now and then he slips me the not-so-nice looking steaks or tail-end of the salmon in with my order, saying they don't look good enough to sell. Obviously this will put me in good stead should the Second World War break out again.

T, after spening the last 18 months tip-toeing across the ice, has passed her first grade ice-skating. She is the same level as I am, and is everso strict when it comes to her giving me a leson each time we go out. By forcing her to enjoy sport (sometimes physically, sometimes through crisps) I am hoping she will never have to experience the full unmitigated horror of being chosen last for the netball team.

The ice-skating has now finished for the summer, and I have replaced it by attending a personal trainer at the gym, courtesy of one of bridgjo's friends who can no longer use the lessons he paid for. The Swiss friend and I have started running around the lake again. The weather is beautiful and sparkley....though now and then a Minnesotan will sigh and murmur "It's not over yet, y'know".

A bloke said "Howdy!" to me today. I giggled.

Retail Therapy, A Case For

2010-03-13T16:51:00.000-08:00

I have a bit of a problem at the moment, well, since I got here, in that I cannot use my American Visa card to purchase items on the Internet.

Each time I go to a web-site and have entered all the selections I want - colour, size, mailing address, billing address, card number, expiry date, those three little numbers on the back, orientation, religious preference - I sometimes get a box saying “This site is verified by Visa”, which then presents me with another set of boxes whereby I have to enter all sorts of extra data, as a further layer of security, which includes my Social Security Number.

Unfortunately, this means that the security is now so high that even I, as a lazy ex-pat spouse who does not have a SSN, cannot use my credit card over the Internet.

This screen has both the Wells Fargo (my bank) and the Visa symbols on there, indicating that it is with some sort of mutual agreement with those two institutions.

However, I have now spent:

1) 1 hr on the phone to Wells Fargo, who eventually said they couldn’t help me as I could neither recite the last 397 transactions verbatim, nor did I know my maternal great-grand-father’s favourite pig’s name.

2) 1 hr in Wells Fargo (with extra ID) who said “It’s to do with the people who are selling you stuff on the Internet, nothing to do with us”.

3) 30 mins talking to a nice lady called Eileen in the hamper shop in the UK, that she’d never heard that before love, and what time is it there, then?

4) 10 mins talking to Wells Fargo, who put me through to their Visa department….

5) Who put me back through to Wells Fargo….

6) Who put me through to Rita, the cleaning-lady, I think…

7) Who put me back to someone else at Wells Fargo who said “Really, I don’t know what you’re talking about, it’s definitely nothing to do with Wells Fargo, but I’ll put you through to the Visa department”;

8) 1 hr talking to the Visa department who got a bit huffy “You keep interrupting me Madam”, when I tried to explain to them that the credit card was not fit for purpose. She said that there was nothing I could do about it and her solution was that I could always phone up the company I was ordering from, but obviously not after 1pm if it’s in the UK due to the time difference, and I’m not sure whether I could actually be that bothered doing stuff over the phone when there are, allegedly, easier ways of purchasing an item.

Even if she made a note, she said, nobody would get back to me (because by this time she hated me).

She then put me through to Visa, who, after a rather jaunty Irish jig, cut me off.

9) I then sent a snippy e-mail to Visa, whose contact details (rather understandably) are extremely difficult to find on their web-site, who responded thus:

“When activating VbV or using a password to shop online, the cardholder is always interacting directly with his issuer, not Visa.

As many Visa card issuers have a Verified by Visa area on their website, you may wish to search for it. If you are not able to locate a Verified by Visa area on the website, please contact a Supervisor or Manager at the Verified by Visa Customer Service (a.k.a. EBusiness) Area at your Visa card issuer to request alternative options to the Social Security Number requirement. Your Visa card issuer contact information can be found on the back of your Visa card, on your Visa card statement or via their website. The local branch office will not be able to assist with this.”

Meaning that Wells Fargo, if they could just bring that careering carriage under control for just one instant, might be able to say “Hey, we are an international company. Any chance of an NI number instead?”

At which point I’d probably think “Bugger”.

I never met Hercules while he was shovelling out those stables, but know that I would have been hanging over the fence with a cup of tea saying “Oooh, I know, but listen to what happened to me….”.

And talking about visas, I didn't have to go to Canada after all to get T's visa transferred from her old passport to her new one. I just had to go to the Illegal Import of Vegetation and Small Mammals section at Humphrey terminal and a nice chap did it for me.

Vote for me!

2010-03-04T19:59:00.000-08:00

I went to the MIA this evening, at the behest of the headmistress of T's school. The MIA is the Minnesota Institute of Art noticeable in that it is a bugger of a drive. Tonight they were giving a course on how to present Art (with an A) to people of the short and easily bored persuasion, ie 6 year-olds. One docent (a sort of short-haired miniature tiger. Or maybe someone in a tweed skirt called Barb. One of them) took 12 of us round and showed us eight varying art-works,and presented them, spoke about them and encouraged us to ask questions like small children (but without using the word "poo"). It was actually very interesting indeed (go on, ask me about Greek water jars then), and I quite fancy going to this museum at the weekend and having a proper look.

As Bridgjo has been away this week, gallivanting around a chocolate factory and having Really Too Much Fun, the stagiaire had to baby-sit. At 7.30 T called me up on the mobile and asked me when I was coming home, and that I obviously didn't understand that I was the WORST MUMMY IN THE WORLD, and how could I possibly go out without taking a story book with me to read to her over the phone as she lay in bed. She started to get a bit worked up, so I came home just before the end of the tour. When I got there, the stagiaire said "You know she was perfectly OK once she got off the phone?", and when I went upstairs to say goodnight, T sat up and said "Oh Mummy, I've had the BEST time!".

Why not tootle along to the Bloggers Choice Awards and up my popularity?

Fame at last

2010-03-03T20:24:00.000-08:00

At last I get the fame I deserve....hmmmm, quite. Nevertheless, I scrape a mention here:

http://www.working-mum.co.uk/2010/03/mummy-bloggers-carnival/

I currently have a cold and am incapable of writing the HTML necessary to provide a direct link after the hot toddy (which naturally include rather more whiskey than honey, belying my Irish roots). Which reminds me, T needs to get a new green T-shirt in time for St Patrick's Day. French School. In the US. Yep, we celebrate Irish-ness here more than they actually do in Ireland...

Quite a reasonable rate

2010-02-28T19:52:00.000-08:00

We went to a birthday party today. I'm not completely sure, but I think it's quite an ex-pat thing to stay at the children's party and hang-out with other parents, surreptitiously swigging gin whilst their kids quietly throw up over the cat. In Perth, however, I heard of a friend throwing a party for their seven year-old where the parents not only dropped-off their invited child, but also additional siblings (leaving her to run down the street after the retreating 4WD with a child under each arm).

I was asked to do the face-painting. One child, possessed by an old lady, as 6-year olds generally are, observed very seriously "Goodness, you can paint birds *and* draw butterflies on faces. Gosh". Luckily, they are still only 6 or 7, so even when I painted a butterfly wing which actually resembled more of a small dog poo, but in pink, it was quite all right as long as I put glitter on afterwards. Small girls can be very forgiving in their criticism as long as there are sparkles involved.

We saw a small patch of grass today for the first time in five months. The Minnesotan equivalent of hearing the first cuckoo.

And I have just put a chicken carcass out on the garden, and already a grey fox has come down and helped me out with my recycling.

Wheeeeeee!

2010-02-27T17:01:00.000-08:00

I went ski skating today. Like skating, but with skis and more down-hills. Bridgjo said I didn't look too fliddy, meaning, I assume, that my bum wasn't sticking out too much. At this stage in my life it's with relief I can get off a horse/take off my skates/return the hired skis/get up in the morning and think "Phew! Still alive, then...".

One of the girls from book-club was giving a group of us a lesson, and it was really nice to be out on the track in the blazing sun (ONE DEGREE CENTIGRADE!!!). I think I'll have another go next week, whilst the tracks are still open, but might try the cross-country instead.

T did the cross-country, with her skis firmly wedged between the ski-width tracks which are cut into the path for this specific purpose, and I did skate-skiing (or ski-skating, I've forgotten). This involved attempting to skate in, well, skis on a quite frozen polished surface this late in the season, with no edges. Slightly less graceful than "Dancing on Ice".

T wants to "louper l'ecole" next week and go again, though at the rate the snow is melting, we'll have to see, although I am always up for a bit of constructive skiving.

Ah yes - "home schooling" - how to have fun yet still satisfy the school inspectors....

I went to the doc's last week as I thought I had a fungus under my nail. He said it was actually psoriasis, and looked very smug when I said said that I had had psoriasis (thanks Spell Checker) before. Obviously a bit of a House moment for him.

While I was in the waiting room, there was an elderly lady who'd been dropped off by presumably her daughter, who then dropped a pen on the floor. "Oh crap" she said, in the loudest voice. She wasn't even wearing purple.

Where have all the flowers gone?

2010-02-13T13:56:00.000-08:00

I was talking to an Australian friend the other day and she was moaning about the relentless heat they were experiencing back in Perth. She also commented, genuinely perplexed, on the fact that we didn't usually go to the beach in the evening any more. "At least the snow will be gone soon, hey?" she asked. Umm, no actually. Although we probably only get three good snow-falls or so, it all just hangs around in the sub-zero temperatures and melts in one big cascade at the end of April. Whilst everyone in the UK is smugly busy writing poetry about yellow flowers, we are struggling to remember where we last put the lawn.

T jumped into a snow-drift in the front garden on Monday, and I temporarily lost her.

We did a bit of a mini tour around Downtown and St Paul today, for the stagiaire, taking in Punch Pizza and the Truffle shop (the latter owned by a man from Leicester. We also popped into the State Capitol buildings. There was, surprisingly, no security, so we ambled around at our own pace. I was especially impressed as much with the Senate's titles, as I was with the decor. I imagine the Sergeant-at-Arms at one point actually did have a gun (or probably, even still does), but I could only assume that the Engrossing Secretary maybe was furnished with a plentiful supply of lipstick and the odd flirtatious remark.

Pay attention at the back

2010-02-05T19:14:00.000-08:00

As if I didn't learn my lesson (hah!) last week, I was called out of retirement on Tuesday for another bout of Helping Out ie "We need a temp but can't be bothered with spending money". This time I was to lead the class (although there is a perfectly capable assistant teacher in operation who could have taken over), and to also take them in English and maths ("because Mlle X isn't very 'mathy'"....whatdya mean the assistant isn't very 'mathy'....she's a teacher. How tricky is first grade math(s)?).

Unfortunately, in the English part the original teacher was working on "rhyming with 'AN'". Yep, quite easy until you ask an American child "Spell 'fan'". "What?". "Fan". "Uh?". "Fan". "Nope, still don't get it...". " Fen?". "Oh...F-A-N?". So yep - had to put on an extremely unconvincing American accent for 3 days.

I was struck by the huge difference between their abilities - a couple could read 'daughter', 'caught' and 'draught', others struggled on 'Please put the pecan in the pan'. But more I was struck by the difference in behaviour. Some kids would just sit there and do the work and ask for more (how can I not have favourites?), whereas others, in an obvious parody of their principle caregivers, would throw their arms in the air and yell "Why the hell should I want to do that?". Hmmmm - not quite what I remember from Miss Keyes' class in Infant 1 (but then again I remember that it also involved a jam spoon).

I realised towards the end the one big lesson of being in front of 6 year-olds.

Don't show fear.

A bit under the weather

2010-01-27T12:36:00.000-08:00

We've had a sudden warm snap. Suddenly it reached the heady heights of 28 degrees at the weekend (F). In Minnesota this generally means getting the t-shirts and shorts out of storage. It caused some of the native wild-life to come to at least for the one day and check out the cafeteria situation on the back patio.

The little possum who seems to live under the wooden slats came out looking most bewildered, and in need of a shampoo, and hoe'd into the cat-food. It missed quite a bit though being completely blind and normally nocturnal.

Since then the weather has plummeted again to something bone-jarring, resulting in the wearing of blankets in the car on the way to school and extra hot water bottles.

I've been back to the dentist's to have another crown fitted and two more fillings. I've always a been a little freaked at the dentist's ever since I was forced to have fillings without anaesthetic as a child (being held down screaming by a nurse is no fun). Dental visits nowadays are much more ideal, involving, as they do, bounteous amounts of lovely drugs as they drill merrily away. However, I do feel one should never really be in a position to smell one's own teeth.

I went to see (hear) Debussy's La Mer last night. I'm such a philistine - IMHO I thought it was a bit too Disney-esque, and didn't really think it was that much cop. However, a couple of thousand Minnesotans unable to find anything else to do on a cold Thursday evening would probably beg to differ. I went with the new stagiaire and One of The Mums. They both thought the music was OK, marred only slightly by the two people on OTM's side who were on a blind date ("Hello, I'm Jude", "Ooooh, I'm Cathy"); I wanted to keep leaning over and tapping him on the shoulder and asking how he was getting on. Then there was the two people in front of us who were making out (at a classical concert), and the bloke behind us who started snoring everso slightly off-beat. In spite of the music, I think I'll go again....

2010-01-21T16:27:00.000-08:00

The teaching assignment has finally come to an end. I decided that I really needed to take early retirement. It was good fun, although I deeply admire their teacher. We got some good results though, and it was really quite interesting just how well they each did once they were talked through certain bits.

The two wonderful "my child is a genius" examples are, naturally by my own "I-cannot-believe-she's-only-6,-it's-about-time-she-took-Chinese" daughter.

When is it considered the correct time for them to earn their keep?

Unfortunately they are not to keep, as the school will be selling them for fund-raising. One parent has already told me that they will be "putting in a maximum bid of $2,000" for the class portfolio. Not all the parents there are charity cases (like us), you understand.

Twitter

2010-01-12T11:40:00.000-08:00

Today was the first day of teaching. Now this is an anathema to me. If there had been an exam to be a mum, I'd have scraped a C (in old money - otherwise possibly an A*). An example - I had always prided myself on telling the truth to my daughter....right upto the time a few weeks ago she fell and split her scalp open, and had to have staples. I explained the process to her, and what would happen, and that yes it would hurt, but only a little bit then it would stop hurting. Afterwards,on the way home, a small voice came from the back-seat "Mummy,you know how you always tell the truth? Well, do you mind if sometimes you could just fib?".

So, yep, me and kids (especially other people's); it's *really* hard work. I felt very much like Joyce Grenfell but less pearls. I was teaching the class how to draw birds, so first off was "what's the difference between a bird and an animal?". They got the hang of that, but it's so hard to keep on track when a voice says "but Miss, your sheep looks like a hamster". The next stage was teaching them the different shapes of beaks and claws, eg certain birds have beaks because they eat certain foods. "Diego, what sort of food does a chicken eat? No, not alligators. Anyone else?".

And that was the hour. Tomorrow is getting them all to draw a duck out of two circles and a rectangle, and then to talk about how to use a pencil, and then how to use water-colours. At some stage we shall actually do the drawings themselves.

I had a mouse man in yesterday to sort out the vermin. Apparently, they like to get in at ground-level (in our case the basement), and it's actually a bad idea to put bait in the kitchen as although this will kill one mouse in unspeakable ways, it in the mean-time lays a trail of pheromones encouraging all the other neighbourhood mice back in. He showed me all the mouse tracks in the snow at the front of the house. Lovely.

And what will poor robin....?

2010-01-07T12:05:00.000-08:00

Christmas was great, but made far too short by the travelling involved.

With an award-winning naivety we both said, on the way, isn't security easy now, the papers have been saying they're going to ease up on the checks etc.

We landed in a snow-storm in Manchester on the way there, circling for two hours as it had shut. The pilot mumbled something about going to Liverpool instead, but unbeknownst to us by this time we'd run out of fuel (as we were later told by a relative who works there at Manchester). I expect that this is the equivalent in aviation terms of "Well, the fuel light's come on, but I reckon we can do about another ten miles".

We landed OK, being first in the stack, but the Airbus which came after us skidded on landing, so they reclosed the airport. The AA flight after ours ended up being redirected to Dublin. We then had to spend a further 45 minutes on the run-way waiting for the path and bridge to be de-iced.

The return trip back was made exponentially worse by potentially explosive underwear, of course. Everyone (travellers, staff, small animals in travel cages) was practicing deep-breathing techniques, and smiling through gritted teeth, but it wasn't really as bad as I thought it could be. We got there 3.5 hours before take-off. And so did everyone else. There were two extra security checks, one before check-in and one at the gate. The former one involved all those rubbish questions which obviously Don't Work, eg "Did you pack this bag?", "Are you carrying anything for anyone else?", "Is there anything in your suit-case which may be mistaken for a bomb?". Now, call me Little Miss Old-Fashioned, but surely even the most basic of terrorist training might prepare people to say "Um, no".

It was the pat-downs at the gate. By this time I had been queuing for about 4 hours (bridgjo entertaining T by looking at the sealed perfume and the inflatable cushions). I was told I had to wait, as out of the 5 security guards, only one was a woman. "But, really, I don't mind being patted down by a bloke," I started to wheedle, hoping to brighten my day somewhat. "No," said the woman on the desk, "it has to be a woman". "And what if she a lesbian?", I asked (somewhat hopefully, by this time).

And then when she did frisk me "around there", in a completely asexual sort of way, she asked "And do you have anything soft in your pockets?". To which I replied, "No, that's my stomach".

Coming home to minus 23c and two foot of snow was quite a welcome relief.

Eeek!

2009-12-13T13:06:00.000-08:00

Poor T. She does get an awful lot of unjustified flack, just because she is the shortest person in the house. Yesterday evening, I went into the drawer (you know, the one which contains crap, just above the drawer which holds all the plastic bags), and found that every single one of the Oxo stock cubes had been opened - even the ones in the tin (which had also been prised open). Naturally, the only person to blame in the house was the small one....and after getting rather a bit too cross, I had a closer look.....and the drawer was, indeed, full of crap. From a mouse's bottom.

So I had to empty all the drawers, and the cup-boards (emptying the rubbish drawer directly into the bin. Yes, even the elastic bands and the partly used party candles), spraying everything and everywhere with bleach, immersing in scalding water, then sticking it all in the dish-washer.

There are gaps in the cup-boards where they have got in, leading to the back of the dish-washer and then outside.

So off went bridgjo to the hardware store at about 8pm (which we can do here, because we're in the US, and the shops don't shut at 5, like they seemed to do in Switzerland), and got "humane" mouse-traps.

We had had them on our list in any case, as, although the squirrels had been sorted out by the trappers quite well, there was still a lot of night-time activity above T's bed, which they said was mice (as they kept nipping in the squirrel traps, eating the peanut butter, and scurrying out without setting them off).

So we placed them strategically about the kitchen last night and managed to bag one this morning.

So, animal-loving fools that we are, we bundled into the car in minus 10 centigrade, so we could release it back into the wild (obviously several blocks from where we live). We gave it some cheese and let it out, so at least it was still alive at that point.

Today, in-between mouse-detail, we went off to the Ridgedale shopping centre to exchange my new espresso machine for the second time. On Thursday it was the plastic casing which was broken, and yesterday it was the carafe. This time I decided on a de-Longhi, instead of the much cheaper Krups. It's made a really quite decent cup of coffee too, though it did seem a bit of a faff the first time (fill with water, warm the machine, warm cups and place on heating plate, fill with coffee and tamper down (but not too much, yes, that's about right), make coffee, froth milk, ladle and decorate accordingly, leave to cool and repeat for a second cup. Don't understand why tea has never really caught on here.

I was telling my friend about going to Ridgedale on Thursday, and got as far as "and the funniest thing....", and she interrupted me "You mean the 'Mall Walkers?'".

Yes, they even have a phrase for them. These are the people (generally of a certain age, but I also saw young mums with prams), who go to the mall an hour before the shops open, just to walk around to get their exercise, as it is too jolly cold to do it anywhere else (I kept seeing these old biddies speed-walking passed me in sneakers and sweat-pants, with nicely-set hair).

Friday was T's school play. The theme this year was a King and Queen who were turned to ice, and needed to be cheered up in order to be thawed out. The French joke section was a bit hard-going (Who is the president of vegetable? Mr S'haricot-zy), but the singing and dancing was great. As usual the plus petite section (who are about 3) stole the show with their interpretation of 60's dancing.

After this, I nipped across town (tentatively, as there was still ice about) to go to an Ugly Christmas Sweater party. It was a hoot. It is quite amazing what people can actually purchase/receive for Christmas.

We then exchanged "rubbish presents" (each had to have a story, and had to have been received as a gift). I think the best one was from a guy called Steve Smith, who regifted a present given to him by his father-in-law. It was a wallet with a gold "B" on it.

I have had another winter advisory message on my phone - everyone stay inside from 9pm tonight till tomorrow morning.

Time to Rug Up

2009-12-08T15:14:00.000-08:00

First real snow driving of the season. Naturally, everyone else drives as if they have never seen snow before, and I was glad coming home from T's eye practice that we came the back-roads way (25 m/hr with no-one else about, and I could take the corners like a steam-roller). Already the free-way was crawling along.

We are going to have a good old snow-storm ("andja only get one like this one a decade," they said on the radio) which will last about 24 hours. We should be getting about 8". In '91 they got 29" in three days. There were food shortages at the supermarkets.....but only of the junk-food variety. Less of the "pop out for a bottle of milk," and more "For God's sake, don't forget the pepperoni!".

T was given some tiny Puppies in My Pocket (the sort of size toy manufacturer's currently delight in, which are just perfect for getting sucked up the hoover), which you put into iced water so that their nappies change colour and you can tell if they are girls or boys. T said that today when the kids were flung into the play-ground, she was standing there...."and they all went blue".

Madame yesterday met me at the class-room door and said "Good, I've caught you. Now, I need 20 cat masks for Friday. I've bought the foam", and presented me with sheets of craft material and elastic. I felt a little like Rumpelstiltskin. So I did that; tie-dying last week; and today helping at lunch and then laminating all the letters of the alphabet. T is going to be an Alpha-bete (a hilarious French pun); the letter J, I believe. I would so like a laminating machine. Not sure what I'd laminate, but it's great fun. Recipes, articles, socks...

Next week, I'm dinner-ladying again, and helping out in one of the class-rooms. A bit of a hoo-hah a couple of weeks ago when one of the teachers went a bit bonkers and had to be escorted off the premises, so they are short on anyone to help-out, but long on gossip if you do want to actually do your bit.

I got my battery sorted. He comes around, drops me a car off, takes mine away, and, this time, met me at school and we swapped over again.

And the tree was in the back of bridgjo's wardrobe. So, how did it get there then?

Art Attack

2009-12-04T16:55:00.000-08:00

I went into T's class last week, with the purpose of asking her teacher whether it would be a nice idea for the class to do a series of Birds of Minnesota pictures for the class-room. The idea was that I could find all the local birds in Latin and French, get the children to draw them, and we would label them aka the Voyages of the Beagle Botanical sketches.

Today - I had to give a presentation (with print-outs!). And I am proud to say that my feasibility study has been accepted by the Gala committee, and not only will each child produce their own volucrine masterpiece as a limited print for the grannies to swoon over, but we will present the originals in a leather portfolio for one of the auction items at the end-of-year auction. And then, we will be rolling out coasters and place-mats (really).

A sign went up in the school corridor this afternoon: Remember, that unless then temperature falls below 0 degrees Fahrenheit, the children will be going outside to play and will require their snow-suits, mittens and hats.

They make them tough around here.

And I cannot find my Christmas tree. It was suggested that maybe the stagiaire took it with her when she left on her road-trip, but even I had a job imagining just how she would sneak it out. But, quite amazingly, I have all the boxes of decorations AND the empty tree box, but no tree or lights.

I had to sort out two grown-up things today - getting the local lad to dig our drive of snow (I know he was a lad, because when I asked for a written quote he said "Yeah, OK, I'll just ask my M...Secretary to get one out to you"). The second one was that my car battery has suddenly started coughing on me each time I try and turn on the ignition. The chap asked me when I called up, if I had checked the contacts. He had to ask me twice as the first time I must have phased out and thought "Oh, bridgjo can answer this one", even though I was the one actually on the phone.

The temperature has plummeted, and the poor little critters in the back garden are getting fluffier. We have grey foxes (the only ones which can climb trees), a family of raccoons (which can also climb trees and attempt to swing off the bird-table), two opossum (which are completely blind it seems, and are also the only marsupial outside of Australia. I have not seen pockets) and a myriad of local birds, including the blue jays, cardinals and, possibly, turkeys.

I buy the cheapest dried cat-food on special and put some outside each evening. Not in a bowl though, as the only time I did that the raccoons ran off with it and hid it somewhere.

We're not in Kansas anymore

2009-12-03T09:49:00.000-08:00

We had a great time a couple of weeks ago when we went to the local school play (Hopkins High School). It was the Wizard of Oz, so I thought T would like it, as she knows the story and wouldn't be stage-whispering all the way through "But what's happening NOOOOOOWWW?". We were prepared for a "Aww, sweet" sort of play, but blimey it was professional (although in the first few minutes I did think to myself, "Gosh, she does an awfully good American accent").

For a start it was in the school's very own theatre (even with balconies, and box seats). There were pyrotechnics for the appearance of the Wizard, disappearance of the witch, and the moment when she attempts to touch Dorothy's shoes, and then there was the flight crew, which managed to get Miss Whateverhernameis all the way across the top of the stage on her bicycle. It was all rather brilliant, and made my paltry school nativity plays seem a bit half-baked.

Last weekend we went to Duluth (Mark Twain (allegedly) said that the coldest winter he ever experienced was summer in Duluth). Very weird sleeping and hearing the waves lap when you're not by the sea. Lake Superior (clue's in the question) is really rather big...next time I think we'll go further north and maybe stay a bit longer. Bridgjo wants to walk out onto the lake and look into the lake caves around there, which you can't normally get to.

On Sunday we managed to gird our loins and go into town (possibly the first time this year). We went late evening, so managed to go to Macy's display (disappointingly it was the same as last year), see the Big Guy himself, and then go outside to see the Holidazzle parade (a bit like Blackpool Illuminations, but without the rock). I had actually got tickets to see the parade from a heated tent, but it was insufferably hot inside, so instead we took our courtesy hot chocolates out onto the pavement to see the lit floats going past.

It was really a warm night (ie T had one of her coats unbuttoned). The weather's been quite clement, and only this morning did we have a delicate icing of snow. It was 18 degrees Fahrenheit. No idea what that is in shillings, but jolly nippy. I am now so Minnesotan - I have a hat and gloves in my car especially for when I go and fill up with petrol.

Still say petrol though.

She reads wuffly....

2009-11-09T16:16:00.000-08:00

T had a great time this Saturday. She partook in the "Paws to Read" program which allows the kids to have a reading lesson (at the local library) whilst cuddling upto an extremely patient and literate mutt. T's was called Murph, and he even glanced at the pictures when she held the book upto/on his nose.

And, yes please, she would like to do it each week, if that's OK.

Gunpowder Trees on a Plot II

2009-11-06T10:54:00.000-08:00

Our second Bonfire Night in Minnesota. It takes place on what seems like farm-land - we only ever go in the middle of the night, so it could just as well be in the middle of a housing estate. It has a long drive decorated with candles all along. It reminds me of when I was little and muddy bonfire nights at a farm we used to go to.

We were stopped on the corner of the driveway going in to the house where it is held by a Police Car after a burglar. He told us to all stay indoors and lock everything. This made the revellers laugh when we relayed it.

The tandoori chicken I made was devoured with alacrity, although I overheard quite a lot of discussion re. the parkin. Some distrust (it is rather sturdy, and shouldn't actually be eaten for another 2 weeks, and even then possibly only used in interior decorating as a type of rustic door-stop); but a mostly positive, albeit muffled, response. Everyone takes loads of food - with each new arrival, there's a new course. T discovered treacle toffee for the first time, and was quiet for at least ten minutes.

T adored the whole thing - this after all is all she knows of Guy Fawkes, having never experienced it in the UK. She is talking about the whole thing in class today. We stayed for two sets of the Morris Men, and the burning of the Guy. We had one of the stagiaires with us, who cheerfully joined in as required.

I got chatting with one of the Morris Men - he wears three bells, is one of the Marches Morris Men ( they wear black,as opposed to the Cotswold, white-wearing, handkerchief-flipping bunch of miscreants - I detected some professional jealousy/dislike here), and aspires to be a "Molly" (which seems to involved wearing a frock, unsurprisingly).

We are beginning to recognize people...and we only have one more left.

Halloween...

2009-11-02T11:39:00.000-08:00

You would have thought it was Christmas Day on Saturday. A palpable excitement when a six year-old realizes that before the night is through she will be neck-deep in sweets.

We went around the shops in Wayzata, trick or treating first. I explained to people she was dressed as a Minnesotan, as we were actually saving the skeleton outfit for the evening, and it was really rather nippy. It was a great way of going into all the shops there without feeling you had to make a purchase.

Her friend came around at six in the evening so they could go out together. Last year the clocks must have gone back before Halloween, as I remember it being much darker. It was quite light still, and really too warm for a ski-jacket. In the picture, both of them have about 4 layers of clothes underneath, T's outfit was really for a 10 year-old, and she's looking distinctly porky.

They soon got into the swing of things, ringing the bells, bellowing trick or treat and diving into the proferred bowls of sweets.

I remember feeling very cool at 14 - however, walking behind two 14/15 year-olds on the way around, it was quite funny to hear one confide in the other "I'm goin' to eat all my candy as soon as I get in". Still little kids....

She ended up with more sweets than we started off with. Bridgjo didn't managed to see more than two minutes of his film at any one time with the number of kids which came round. Sadly, all the decorations, webs and lights have had to come down.....but only a few weeks till the next lot go up.

T's Hallowe'en haiku:

Hallowe'en
A time for getting scared
and sweets.
Thank you.

Sleepless in Minnetonka

2009-10-26T18:12:00.000-07:00

Not a good night, last night. The resident wild-life decided to have a Possum Party up in the attic. This seemed to involve strapping woks to their feet and doing the can-can along the entire length of the house. It's quite bizarre as the whole area is insulated with papier-mache, so we're not quite sure what surface they are cavorting against. The agency handling all this sort of thing is a bit hopeless - they seem to take several months and numerous phone-calls to sort out anything. However, they are coming on Wednesday to look around the roof-line and bung up any holes. The handy-man called me today and said could I phone him to make sure that the squirrel was out before they got started. I suggested that maybe a trap would be a more sensible solution, in lieu of any wild-life actually having access to Outlook.

10 kids were away from school today in the class below T's,and 6 away in her class. It was very quiet at picking up time. At the first sign of a sore throat and oinking she is staying at home.

We had a nice time at the weekend though. They always have the organized Hallowe'en events the week-end before the 31st. We missed out last year, but this year went to Hyland park, where they had a lovely lit path-way through the wooded paths, with little games on the sides, and puppet "trees" where the kids could knock on doors and, say, a turkey would pop out and give them a treat. T gave her skeleton outfit a whirl, and she was actually a little too hot. There was also a few mad scientists doing magic tricks and science experiments, a few brains to hold, pickled lizards to look at, and s'mores to make and eat.

Mellow fruitfulness

2009-10-22T15:21:00.001-07:00

So I harvested my potatoes. I got 5. I was a bit peeved whilst washing them that I lost two down the sink. The tomatoes got a final sprint on, but ended up suffering after the snow of last week, so had to be disposed of behind the shed. I think next year I will concentrate on pumpkins. No-one really likes to eat them, but they look good on your "stoop" this time of the year....T has already forced me to buy the Hallowe'en costume and to put out the decorations. This year, I am getting a remote control (or timer - depends which fits in the outdoor socket) so I don't have to nip out to turn the lights on/off. The decorations people put out for Christmas and Hallowe'en are quite amazing...there are even companies which will store and put up your house decorations each year.

This year she has decided to be a skeleton. It was either that or a zombie. The era of princesses has sadly passed. I am quite happy though - it just needs to be of a design and size big enough to go over her snow-suit for the Trick or Treatin'.

She squished her finger last night. Somehow, and we don't quite know the details, but "this coffee table suddenly fell" on her hand. I took her down to Urgent Care this morning and she was seen and X-rayed within 45 mins. Hurrah for the US!...and it's not broken, just bruised.

A distinct nip in the air

2009-10-11T16:31:00.000-07:00

Great. The first snow the night before last. The last time this happened so early, the natives got snowed in for three days later on in the season. Thus forewarned, we joined the rest of the state in REI (the outdoor clothing company) to replenish the thermal wardrobe.

T asked last night if it would snow again. I said no, and she replied that yes, it was definitely going to snow. "No, really, it's not. Why do you think it is?" I asked. "Well, you're basing it on the weather forecast. I'm basing it on experience".

The raccoon is starting to look fluffier. We want to get a heated birdbath. Apparently it is urban myth that birds' wings freeze, and/or that if they land on a metal railing, and then fly off.....well, you probably get the picture. I asked at the bird sanctuary last week. I think I inadvertently provided the joke for the Christmas Speech this year.

Gopher this, gopher that

2009-10-06T12:23:00.000-07:00

Yesterday,feeling a little bit like Noah, I found myself oiling the garden furniture (and the patio, and me) obviously in preparation for the monumental rain we've been experiencing since approximately 10 minutes after I finished. 48 hours of rain. Just enough to bring England to a halt, and its government to its knees.

Today is one of the busy days, just the sort where you really don't want to drive on the motorways in the rain. To school, back again to ice-skating. Back to school to pick up T, then to Wayzata for her Vision Therapy. Back to school. Home. 30 mins to make tea, then back to school again. Home, eat tea, off to ice-skating for T (unless she (oh please do!) throws a wobbly and refuses to go). Normally the free-way traffic will slow down by a good 10 miles an hour (a law, dontcha know). I did try to avoid it today, but no matter how hard I tried to fool the GPS, she was adamant I had to go the fast way.

At ice-skating I learnt that Laura last week broke her ankle in two places, and was just having the operation to put pins in. The coach said "I hope it hasn't put her off". The rest of us skated very tentatively indeed.

The Weather

2009-10-01T11:52:00.001-07:00

P.S. Just so you know, tonight is a "Waxing Gibbous Moon".

Winter is icumen in

2009-10-01T11:19:00.000-07:00

The bugs have stopped their incessant night-time chatter, indicating the start of our second sub-zero winter. A sort of joke, but I am already wearing two thermals vests and my ski-jacket. Inside the house. Like all good English people we refuse to put the central heating on just yet, although we did give it a blast last night, to accompany the first fire of the season. We're not quite an environmentalist's dream.

T is getting busy at school. Homework started this week. It is really being more of a chore for most of the mums, trying to persuade their kids to sit down and do it.The teacher has said that if they are not finished within 30 mins, to leave it. My approach is that this is far too long, and eats into valuable colouring-in time at home. I give her 10 minutes. So far it has involved reading lists and attempting to write five words without copying from the original.

She is also attending Vision Therapy as she is having difficulty focusing. I'm quite optimistic as there appears to have been an improvement already. Some of the things she has to do seem quite tricky for a 6-year old. eg Jessica sits opposite to her and says "Which is your right-hand, which is your left?", and then asks "Which is my left-hand and my right?", which involves a fair deal more spatial awareness than her mother is capable of (ask bridgjo - there was a very good reason we invested in a GPS). The exercise she likes best involves her lying on the floor on her tummy, and me touching an arm, leg, head, and her raising it. Then we go up to 4....it's a bit like the Simon electronic game with "Lady-Bird"-clad appendages rather than flashing-lights. This is all to do with "body awareness" as it is tricky at this age to just say "Well, move your right eye in a bit". There are lots of tracking exercises ("Follow my finger....") and focusing games to do too. What with the homework, this, plus she needs to keep up with her English reading, we're going to have to start getting up earlier.

But not this morning - a tumultuous thunderstorm at 6.30am, and the darkest morning yet, encouraged us to have an extra hour in bed with a story.

I took my skates in to be sharpened today. This is in spite of the other woman in my class coming a cropper the other day, and either wrenching or breaking her ankle (a piercing scream and and yell if "It's grating", is not something you really want to hear. Or, indeed, experience).

At the shop I came across the snort-worthy Warrior Nutt Hutt. This sturdy piece of equipment came in one of those inpenetrable plastic jobbies (of the type, paradoxically, scissors are normally sold in), with the award-winning design being a photo of a broken peanut casing with two tatty looking peanuts inside.

Happy Birthday!

2009-09-20T13:08:00.001-07:00

Yesterday was T's 6th Birthday Party. It was a super time, aided particularly by the weather, meaning most of it could be spent outside.

I had originally said only 10 girls could come, then it turned out that there was only 12 girls in the class, so I caved. Then realised that some of these had siblings. In the end we managed to distribute about 14 party buckets, although it seemed much more.

We started at 2pm, and the mums (unusually for this part of America, at least), dutifully dropped the kids in our care, then went and hid in the family-room with several bottles of wine. It was nice that I actually managed to persuade almost all of the parents to stay as usually there is the tendency for them to disappear (after jettisoning most of their off-spring). Bridgjo managed to rustle up an excellent obstacle course, with a packing-case tunnel, several bridges (one of which was over a paddling-pool full of piranha (or rubber ducks)), cones, jumps etc. At the end was some serious balloon-popping, which went down very well.

After that I took them inside for the first Pass-The-Parcel. I slung the parcel in the middle of this circle of girls half-expecting them to react like English kids (ie manic ripping of wrapping, over within about 15 seconds). Noooo, first of all, it had to be explained, that they can only unwrap one-layer when the music stops ("but what's a layer?"), with there a prize in the middle ("but who gets it?"). Luckily, I had factored in two of these, as it was the first time any of them had played it. By the time the second one came round at the end of the day, they were practically English). We then went outside and had some good-old Brownie-style running around games, like What Time is it, Mr Wolf? (Quelle heure est-il, M. le Loup, for the French girls), Mother, May I? (which they were all rubbish at), and The Captain is Coming!

Getting slightly hoarse by then, we entered the bear-pit which was the Party Room. I had managed (at quite short notice) to get two tables and 12 chairs from the local party shop. We ate that perennial birthday favourite (in my house) - mice sitting on a field of green jelly, pizza dough snakes, fruit salad (which some of them regarded with distrust), and a rather brilliant birthday cake from Lunds and Byerleys, figuring out that by the time I had bought all the cake tins I needed, I may as well buy the thing.

After that (this was all carefully orchestrated, you understand), we had Pin the Tail on The Dragon (which involved some serious cheating), a reprise of the Pass-The-Parcel, and (at the prompting of one of the guests - which was lucky as we'd forgotten), the Pinata. The Pinata was a girl version, where you didn't have to hit it madly with a large baseball bat, but each pulled a pink string instead. Didn't stop them belting each other in the queue for it, mind.

All that remained after this was the dispersal of the party buckets, indicating that I wanted everyone to go home. Actually I have no idea if all the parents turned up and took home the correct kids, but I assume so.

Only the French people remained, as it turned out to be such a nice afternoon. They went off and did some shopping, and we had a rather good impromptu barbecue going on until quite late.

And T's favourite part? Making a fort out of card-board boxes late in the evening.

All worth-while then.

Juut a bit off the Top

2009-09-14T22:35:00.000-07:00

Two months have passed since my last trip to the salon (Juut). My time here is measured in hair-cuts - and time is especially whooshy at the moment. Summer went by (oh look, there it goes), without a By-Your-Leave it seemed. One minute I'm considering Mandarin Chinese as a perfectly acceptable summer past-time, and the next I'm off looking for suitable blue shorts. (As a By The Way, I am currently In Dispute with Target which appears to refuse to stock blue stockings for 6 year-olds, yet has padded bras for 7 year-olds).

So they (at Juut) were particularly enthusiastic when I rocked up last week, the hostess even bending at the waist to place her hands between her knees, looking at me with a fixed smile on her face and gushing "Oh, we are sooooo happy to have you with us again". As I am English, my response is generally "Umm...". This manic enthusiasm stems from their policy of attempting To Make Your Day, and each employee there is given the title of "Day-Maker". I think this means that they each have to compliment you on at least one thing. Seeing their collective stunned mullet faces last time I was there, I felt I was providing them with a challenge.

I had a facial this time - I am sooooo over exfoliation. Hurrah for long trousers and knitted bathing-costumes! I love facials as they always make me feel slightly stoned in a nice, legal sort of way. This one howerver seemed to involve her tapping a small gong every ten minutes (to make sure I was paying attention?), at which I began to snigger slightly more pig-like each time. By the time she starting massaging my nose, I almost felt that I should call someone up and explain why I was laughing so hard.

Next time I am thinking of going red. I am giving this some serious thought as I love the colour, but there is the risk that on a Thin Day I could look like a Swan Vesta, and on a Fat Day, a Cherry Bakewell.

At the weeke-end I went to a book-club girl's baby-shower. She is expecting twin boys, and one of her favourite gifts (not from me - I bought 100 nappies; "about 3 days' worth") was a packet of "Pee-pee Tee-Pees" - a small absorbent, towelling wigwam, to be draped over that part which shocks new mothers of baby boys at 3am in the morning.

Long Live the King!

2009-09-05T15:26:00.000-07:00

It's Labor day weekend (must remember to put those white heels away), and the weather is an excellent 83 degrees. We went to one of our favourite parks, Richardson Nature Center, which we last saw sometime pre-April for the ice-carving when it was the coldest we ever experienced and bridgjo ran back to the car holding T, yelling "We have to go back to Whitby to warm up!" (though I might have imagined the last bit).

Today was the tagging of the Monarch butterfly. This involves hordes of pre-schoolers running around the prairie (no little house to be seen) with enormous nets terrifying the wild-life. The idea being that we caught one and took it back to be tagged. This seemed to involve sticking a post-it on its wings ("which in no way would effect its ability to fly"). They had obviously got wind of this, as there was not a single butterfly to be seen, regal or common.

Their flight-path takes them down to the hills of Mexico, where local street urchins are urged to seek them out, getting paid $5 for each butterfly recovered.

We went to Yum! on the way home. Excellent tuna-burger, but a rather shabby espresso - I think they used old coffee-grounds, but didn't have it in me to complain.

T goes to school on Tuesday. It was Open Day on Friday. It's the same teacher, and the same class-room, but this year (for First Grade) the story mat has been removed and the group tables have been replaced with desks in rows. She now has a pencil-case (I am still a kid - frisson of excitement went through me when I saw all the kit) and a HOMEWORK DIARY! This scares me obviously more than it does T. That she (1) has homework and (2) needs a diary to remind her.

It's quite big, isn't it?

2009-09-02T07:36:00.000-07:00

[This is the last post regarding our hols - again there are more pics on FB]

After spending a night in Las Vegas, we hired a car and drove to the Ranch for the Cowboy part of our stay at Ranch 10 the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. This area has a couple of advantages over the South, namely that it is far less touristy, and also about ten degrees cooler.

We drove through three states - Nevada, Utah and Arizona to get to our destination.

It was quite a trip - as suggested by the GPS when it said "Continue for 119 miles to your destination". First we stopped off in St George, which had the benefit of an extremely good cup-cake shop, and the local paper which exhorted us to go to the local body-shop which offered "a free gun with every paint job!!!". From then on it was dirt-track all the way - 70 miles of dust and pot-holes (which eventually gave us two flat tyres).

The Ranch was great. We slept in Cowboy Wagons (the sleeping arrangements were youth-hostelly - so there were dorms, wagons, or sleeping under the stars). For the most part it caters for the white-water-rafting tourists - helicoptering them out of the canyon and up there to have their first shower of the week. We just hung out, with ATV tours, walks, twice-a-day horse-back riding and even a helicopter ride down to the bottom of the Canyon itself.

There was loads of wild-life, as you would expect in a place so remote form anywhere; road-runners (meep-meep), a snake under the wagon, a scorpion in the pitch black of night in the toilets. One evening I went for a run and I think it was the first time I have ever experienced complete silence - no cars, planes. No background noise of what we have become accustomed to of every day activity. I was bombarded by bats though. JB on the other-hand swears he almost stepped on two rattle-snakes, hearing a couple of portentous rattling sounds as he jogged (and then, supposedly, ran) along.

We lay on the deck looking at the Milky-Way, drinking beers (smuggled in, it was a bit "dry") and watching the shooting-stars. Each night the generator went off at 10pm - which was great in that the other guests weren't encouraged to stay up late and chat. T had no trouble in staying awake until that time, even though we were getting up at about 6am.

It was all rather idyllic, and I recommend it to all my readers.

Food for Thought

2009-08-31T19:53:00.000-07:00

JB has just berated me for buying the latest cereal for our daughter. Read what it exhorts along the product's name.

Because parents really need that extra bit of help in introducing cavities in their kids' mouths.

Or is the tide just turning against healthy food?

T has just recently had her first visit from the Tooth Fairy (Peggy), and her mate (Peg-Leg the Pirate). We eventually pulled the rogue teeth out (I did one, and she did the other once she realised gifts were involved). The adult teeth are now moving pleasingly into place.

What happens in Vegas...

2009-08-28T18:04:00.001-07:00

[There are more pics on Facebook, and even a couple of vids. Just search on my hotmail address, and "be my friend"]

When I turned 40 (no, really, you wouldn’t have guessed, etc) , two things occurred; firstly, a preponderance of grey pubic hair, and secondly the overwhelming urge to make sandwiches each time a long car journey is mentioned. And they have to be whole-meal with ham and cheese on, with some crisps and possibly a boiled egg.

Thus furnished, off we went on our hols to Vegas (one drops the Las). Luckily, this genetic mutation had also forced me into the local Barnes and Noble beforehand to get a quantity of mags, dot-to-dot and pens for T and bridgjo, in case of boredom. Quite fortuitous, as the big-seller at the airport that week was the pop-out (hmm) Barack Obama stand-up doll (in traditional vest and knickers); “Dress the President in an exciting array of pinstripe and tweed!”.

We stayed in the Desert Rose at the South End of the strip, just behind Hooters (find your own link). It was jolly cheap $80 for the first night, for a two-bedroomed suite with equipped kitchen, then the last two nights of the trip we down-graded to one-bedroom for $50. (The resort doesn’t quite look like the picture, BTW, but the swimming-pool was great, and the breakfast OK if you got up early enough and grabbed enough to make sandwiches for later (somebody stop me)).

But blimey, it was hot. Obviously this has an impact on hotel prices, but I’ve actually lived in a desert before, dontcha know. But this was something else. Really, which idiot thought of building there? (Duck! Oh, sorry, Bugsy, I didn’t see you standing there). All that water! All that electricity! A few years ago, they tried to market it to families, but it failed….a lack of transport infrastructure and a variety of proof of Nevada’s rather lax prostitute laws probably had an impact on that Business Model.

In Singapore, you don’t need to go outside, just walk from one end of the block to another through each of the department stores. In Vegas you have to scoot along the walkways through the casinos (and although children are allowed in, you can’t even stop to tie your shoe-lace. Even if the slot machine does have unicorns on), come outside, and get into the next one and so on down the street. And it is massive. On the map you think “Hmm, let’s nip to the Bellagio to see the fountains”, and on the map it’s only one block away. But each block is about 1 mile long. It was built with no underpasses (there’s a 10 lane highway which forms the strip, with infrequent crossings), and a mono-rail which only seems to have about 4 stops. Wynne , where we had a brilliant buffet one night (ideally seated between the sea-food, and the chocolate-mousse-on-a-meringue-base stands), had had a shuttle between the monorail and the hotel, but had discontinued it shortly before we went. Didn’t stop us though.

But you know, in spite of the grumbles, it is quite amazing. I kept finding a slightly daffy look on my face, gawping at Luxor, MGM and the Venetian, and thinking “Wow!”.

Yes, I gambled. One whole dollar at Caesar’s Palace. I won 20 cents.

And the food was really reasonable too. I went there expecting London prices (no wonder Americans moaning (quietly to themselves until they get back) when they go to the UK), but we had an enormous steak dinner (there’s posh) for around $100. And when I say enormous; I usually buy a 6oz fillet steak and split it between JB and I on a Monday. There we each indulged in 22oz monsters. I now eschew, rather than chew meat. I think it cured me.

It has an overwhelming party atmosphere (judging by the people walking down the strip holding two foot high cocktails), and at night it really is just like the pictures. Sort of Disney, but everso slightly adult. I’d have loved to have seen a show – I think Penn & Teller would have been good. I’ll save it until a certain person is a bit older.

There’s lots of building going on at the moment, which makes the Strip even more difficult to traverse. After all, what Las Vegas needs is more hotels. Really not much of an economic slump in evidence there.

But it really, truly is as exciting, loud, lively, bright, sparkly and as trippy as anything you could expect (although if you go with a 5-year-old expect several conversations along the theme of “But why do the naughty ladies catch cold when they dress like that?”).

We're not in Kansas anymore....

2009-08-08T19:02:00.000-07:00

So after a good ten minutes of "What IS that sound, it sounds like a siren", I finally got onto the internet and found it was, indeed, a siren as a tornado has just this second hit Plymouth (the town next to us). We unfortunately cannot relocate into the cellar, as that is awash with the inch of rain we had last night (it seems so much more....).

Tooth is Stranger than Friction

2009-08-03T12:03:00.000-07:00

Still having problems with my crown. Getting distinctly tarnished now, in a figurative sense. I am admittedly a complete wuss when it comes to pain (hence a five-minute labour, and even then we ended up taking the emergency exit), so when someone asks me "Well, how much does it hurt?", it's tricky. What's my frame of reference? Not child-birth, obviously. So, the "residual" pain of the root canal, does not hurt as much as a migraine, nor yet the agonizing tearing amputation-level burn of a portuguese-man-o'-war (something I always try and mention at least once during a dinner-party; "...and you know, wee really doesn't work...."), but, yes, a little bit more than a stubbed toe, or that moment you realise you have left a teensy bit of foil on a piece of Kit-Kat (the dentist's eyes were starting to glaze at this point). So he's suggested, once he retested with a bit of carbon-paper for the bite (well, they have had to find a use for it somewhere nowadays) that I go and see a root-canal specialist (how do people choose these jobs at school? I was told to become a child-nurse, and that "there is no money in art". Sage advice). This, alas, will probably wait until September, when we roll into the next year of the Tooth Insurance.

At least, it will definately wait until after our hols - in a couple of weeks' time, we're off to Las Vegas, and a Cowboy Adventure near to the Grand Canyon. We can ride ponies and sleep in wagons. I think there are also bean-feasts and compulsory fire-side singing.

The school holidays have gone whoosh (makes sudden hand-flapping movement). Already T has reached the French Cuisine week at school. Poor little thing - on the way, she asked how long it was going to be for, and I said 5 days. "But....but...I don't have any toys with me". She thought I was going to just drop her off for a week.

Memphis Belle

2009-07-18T19:17:00.000-07:00

We went to the Air Show at St Cloud today. Amazingly there was a Flying Fortress (B-17) which you could fly in. We settled for a walk-through - T was rather disappointed on that compromise, but we were amazed. Still quite thrilling though. They make a lot more fuss of war Veterans here; a bunch of real life heroes were there to chat about their past.

Surprisingly, there was also a Luftwaffe vet, and, what I suspect, though this would have to be proved, a contingent of the local Neo-Nazis (quite big in Minneapolis).

You can see the pix on my facebook page.

Tea and Hamburgers

2009-07-11T15:21:00.000-07:00

The local corner-shop has obviously missed a gap in the market. They have completely sold out of PG-Tips. Did they not realise that everyone has their parents over from the UK at this time?? Alas, we will have to move to Yorkshire Tea instead (the cheap one).

Harry's project for the week is doing the lilac hedge. It's about 15 foot long, but, with the surprising heat during the day, may prove to be similar task-wise as the painting of the Forth Bridge.

We went to see Treasure Island today at the local AmDram. It's not bad there as their productions are only about an hour, with no interval. T thought it was great, and no-one fell asleep. Afterwards, we tempted their palates with the best Minnetonka can offer - Snuffy’s. Hamburgers and malted shakes all round!

Hotmail Woes

2009-07-09T14:39:00.000-07:00

I have still not managed to recover my hotmail account. I am a bit peeved, as, 15 years after first creating it, the nearest I can get now is an email address prefixed with hurra04, which at least makes me feel cheerfull each time I log on.

The hotmail team ignored me for the first week, and are now sending me e-mails asking me if I have done things I mentioned I had done in my original e-mail.

So for now, I am lounging in the arms of Mozilla and GMail, so yah-boo-sucks!

I had my hair done again - it's getting shorter each time - and also got waxed, as it should be summer for at least another 6 weeks. I was intrigued - the "Epi-Lady" had the hairiest arms I've ever seen.

I also had a pedi. Speaking to my mate Andrea, we weren't sure if a pedicure is actually quite classy, or everso slightly common. While I make up my mind, my toe-nails are a dark purple, which, obviously looks as if I have either dropped a plank across all ten-toes, or spent the afternoon sellotaping raisins to them.

We have 10 tomatoes on our 8 tomato plants. We shall be holding the christening next week.

Internet Shenanigans

2009-07-03T09:10:00.001-07:00

I am currently suffering from a bout of Internet shenanigans, which unfortunately are not within my control. It seems that someone has managed to hack into my Hotmail account and changed the password. This means, obviously, I cannot answer any emails. It also means that should you receive an email from me with a subject header "Open this, this is ammayzink" (sic), with an attachment, it probably won't be a recipe for delicious chocolate ginger slump cake, but more likely to be a virus (of the non-piggy variety).

I would go in and change the password, if only the facility for doing this on Hotmail wasn't currently being displayed in Chinese...It currently looks as though my "secret question" is "Tender fragrant grass, how hard-hearted people can trample them?".

The parents-in-law's trip, so far, is going swimmingly. Although she hasn't said anything, I think Marney is quietly impressed that you can buy instant porridge containing sweets, and that my washing-up liquid has a built in air-freshener.

A-tishoo!

2009-06-30T08:21:00.000-07:00

Last week was the start of the school holidays. By 10am that Monday I had received four phone-calls all prefaced with "I'm ON THE PHONE! Oh, hello, would T like a play-date?".

We've been doing lots of house-calls then, visiting the zoo, going to the pictures. Instead of Mandarin Chinese, we're actually making lots of forts in the garden, and revisiting Enid Blyton and her numerous insufferable brats.

As T's toe was still in the painful stage, we borrowed someone's push-chair to go around MOA (the Mall of America, dontcha know). For the first time I was actually able to do some shopping there as there was no-one whingeing (as T in the pushie, and bridgjo was at work). Except I had forgotten just how awkward push-chairs can be - especially there as the lift at the car-park does not actually arrive at the same level as the sky-way - you have to take a flight of stairs down.

The zoo was incredibly hot. Again she was in the push-chair (I began to get paranoid, convinced that people were judging my parenting-skills letting her slob in there. Each day's trip was making me put a larger and larger bandage on her toe), so negligible complaining. Sometimes that is good. There they have strategically placed showers on the walkways so that you can stand under and get a light misting. Very pleasant on the super hot days they seem to have here (NO! I am NOT complaining!).

Yesterday we went to the art shop to get crafting supplies for when the grand-parents visit (today). T managed to drop a block of wood, corner down, on the exact same toe, just where the nail had come off.

Do you ever receive a "sign"? Not the heavens opening, streaming light sort of sign, but more practical? Sort of one day, you hear a word for the first time, and learn its meaning, and the next day it's used 3 times on the news.

The previous week I was driving home and saw a woman pull-over on the motor-way with a flat-tyre (tire for my American readers, I'm so thoughtful). I thought "Ho-hum, what a pain to have a flat on the motor-way, (free-way. Oh never mind, this is too hard). So when I later drove to school, I walked around the car, kicking the tyres, and lo! The back one was all squishy (never a good sign). So off I trundled to the near-by garage, and the chap very kindly sorted it out there-and-then for me for $12.50. Extremely handy service indeed (though I am never sure if you are expected to tip that sort of thing?) - so at least my fortuitous sign meant I didn't have to suffer a buckled wheel-trim and the possible ignominy of having to flag someone down cause my phone's dead.

So the stagiaire's now been kicked-out to make room for our next visitors - bridgjo's mum and dad. She said as she left "That room's quite big really when it's tidy, isn't it?". Indeed.

Oh, and as I left the play-date yesterday, my friend said, "Oh, I didn't tell you - the other week we went to a party, and such-and-such called up the next day saying 'Are you all OK? Only Sebastian's just been diagnosed with Swine Flu'". (And in case you're interested, everyone is fine, and it was just like normal flu for the people who got it).

Ow!

2009-06-22T12:08:00.000-07:00

Poor T. The first day of the holidays, and she drops a large piece of plastic piping on her foot, and spectacularly explodes her big toe. It's the kind of injury which makes me want to hop and yelp "fnkf...knkf....fnkf..." each time I glance at it.

I went to the Chemists to get some Dettol this morning for a nice foot-bath and the assistant laughed "you know, you're the second person to come in today and ask for it.I shall have to google it". They do not have it here. When she asked what it was for (antiseptic; the smell; the fact that Mother used it), she said "That's exactly what the last person said too". It must be an English thing, like Branston. Though admittedly slightly less messy when applied to feet.

Bridgjo bought our first barbie this weekend. Technically, it is the second, as the first one was off FreeCycle, and is just large enough for one small chop.

I went and bought a couple of steaks today. The T-Bones were "just over a 1lb". Isn't that about the definition of a roast??

T's holiday is up for the following activities: ice-skating, Bollywood dancing, piano, tennis. We decided against the Mandarin Chinese course, as we thought it might be Too Much.

The au-pair was telling us about being at a night-club the other night with one of the other teachers. As they were dancing, a girl stood on L's foot,and made her cry out with pain. Except that in French, they don't say "Ow", they say "Eye!" (approximately). They thought she was being friendly, shouted "Hi!" back, and whipped her off for a dance. C had to rescue her after the second dance.

Pee Ess

2009-06-18T18:05:00.000-07:00

The Contact Lenses arrived! This thrills me with the sort of excitement that you can only get from opening a box worth $500. Obviously a slight anti-climax. If only bridgjo would let me spend the same amount with equal gay abandon on, say, Jimmy Choos ("but you don't understand - I need them to seeeeee!").

Sailing off into the Sun-set

2009-06-18T15:30:00.000-07:00

A very nice week-end last week-end.

First-off was our first barbie of the season at Isabelle's. John, with all his natural charm as befits a Yorkshireman, informs me my French is still painful - but at least I managed to make it through the entire evening with only one enormous wine-induced mistake (when I describe Tizzy's hair decoration as a magic wand (baguette) as opposed to a hair-slide (barrette), although by that time I suspect even the Swiss themselves also thought I was quite fluent).

Isabelle has a very nice house out in Plymouth - with three ovens, a wine cooler and a dish-washer (see, showing my age. I should have pointed out the pool first). She says it's a bit small for them, but only by American standards, ie they can't cycle around their West Wing like what we can.

On Sunday we were invited out on The Boat. This is a big thing for us, as we hadn't been out on the lake before. these friends have their own company, where, I understand they produce brochures of boats. This means they (or rather the Company) has a rather spiffy "pontoon" ie a wide, three-hulled boat, which, get this, actually has legs which come down independently when you want to stop, and stabilize it completed flat so you don't get buffeted. I'd thought we'd only be out for an hour, but we were out for 4 (more wine), and I even risked a dip (pretty nippy). We went to Big Island out on Lake Minnetonka. I have been told "no definite article, as that marks you out as a Hawaiian or a foreigner". That's the place where all the kids in Daddys' boats go to hang out at the weekend, moore the boats close together so they can run from one to another and, quite frankly, drink themselves silly. Sigh - if only I had been 19 there instead of in Karlsruhe. I think there used to be an amusement park there, but now only enormous $$$ houses.

This week is T's French week at school (ummm, aren't they all?), but it basically implies a week of playing about, as each afternoon is dedicated to a different activity eg Kermesse (sort of school fete/sports day), soccer, fashion show. It's actually her last day tomorrow. Hasn't the year flown by, etc.

'Roid Rage

2009-06-11T16:32:00.000-07:00

Having a bit of gyp with my spangly new crown, so toddled off to the dentist's yesterday to get it seen too. After 4 weeks I can still expect to "feel some discomfort", so he's prescribed me steroids. So for precisely 5 days I will be big and muscly, develop a penchant for spontaneously tearing phone directories in half and will insist on being called "Dave".

T went today, as, naturally, last thing last night she pointed out, after I told her about going to the dentists, that she herself had a tooth coming through. Behind her baby teeth at the front. At an angle. So off we went again (she was thrilled - an afternoon off school). He had a good look and said that we're to keep an eye on it, and if the bottom one doesn't come out in 10 days time, to go back and he'll do something to her tooth which I haven't yet discussed in detail with T just yet.

T doesn't mind - she thinks I'll be feeding her toffee to encourage it to come out so that the Tooth Mouse will visit.

He also said her top baby teeth are quite close together so might need "visit an orthodontist when the adult teeth move in" (American speak for "let's blow the inheritance on braces").

I've also had to order some new contact lenses. I have, theoretically if they actually arrive, got a good deal on them. Unusually none of the shops were interested in giving me any discount on a year's supply of lenses, but I immediately got a quote $180 cheaper on the inter-web. Technology is only great if it doesn't turn out to be a scam, of course.

I also spoke to the optician about having The Operation, ie Lasik. He is a practitioner himself (which makes him sound faintly pagan), but basically recommended that I didn't as I would exchange one pair of glasses for another, as it seems to encourage the early onset of "forgetting-where-I-put-my-sodding-reading-glasses-again" syndrome.

Grand Old Day

2009-06-07T15:09:00.000-07:00

It was the Grand Old Day out in St Paul (no 's') today, the capital (-tol) of Minnesota, should you have a wish to know.

With immaculate timing they had closed the main thorough-fare into the city for bridge maintenance (taking it all rather more seriously now). We found it using Brownian Motion as the GPS kept trying to send us round in circles and refused to co-operate. She seldom listens.

It was an incredibley long walk along the street of music, stalls and food - 30 blocks it says on the web-site, which I'm thinking is about 60 Olympic-sized swimming pools, or several thousand double-decker buses in length.

There was lots of music, which we could hear, but not see, due to the presence of a small person who due to her inferior age and purchasing power was not allowed within sniffing distance of anywhere serving alchohol.

Loads of food to eat. I admit I was tempted by the battered and deep-fried cheese-curds, but only momentarily once bridgjo had slapped me around the face a couple of times. In return, I almost persuaded him to ask the friendly boys on the Lavender (with a capital/tol 'L') stand for a rather pretty bag of lavender they were handing out....I stopped him before he got too close, and made some really nice mates.

Interesting street though - lovely old (huge) houses interspersed with houses converted to shops. We'd go there more often if only St Paul wasn't such a hike. Lots of Nepalese restos there too - so maybe we can share the driving and go in one evening.

It costs a lot of money to look this good....

2009-05-28T16:31:00.000-07:00

Yes, today was the big day. Summer has arrived in Minnesota, no more so than in the House of Bridge, where it transpires this means "several hours at the salon". Bits were exfoliated and expilated as have never seen the light of day before. I may go crazy and buy a bikini (although when I showed bridgjo the one I liked the other week, he nodded sagely and said "Yes, you have to have a good figure to show that one off". He likes to help).

I also had my hair done by a very nice chap called Craig. I always like a man who calls me "dear" and cuts each hair individually. This time my hair was cut exactly how I wanted my hair to be cut last time. Result. I went to a shop afterwards and a lady said "Can I help you, Miss?". Money well spent.

I was very happy to run for 40 mins non-stop yesterday. This is quite an achievement for someone for whom the phrase "Half-Marathon" was an alternative name for "Fun-Sized Snickers".

Isabelle, my Swiss friend, is now my running buddy. She learnt English in Norwich and has quite a strong French accent, except now and again, in broad Norwichian she'll say something like "'Ang on, I just need a pee".

The meal the other night was a great success. I always gauge it by how much was left at the end (just enough for Mr Manners). The kids behaved too - at one point all eight were sitting on the one two-seater settee watching The Mummy.

Chops Away!

2009-05-22T17:23:00.000-07:00

We're having people round tomorrow. this is a first for us in a long time, as, because of the rate we move, socialising generally necessitates the purchasing of spare plates and several pieces of furniture.

I am doing an Indian Feast. Slightly scuppered by the fact that I can't find any lamb ("Well, I give give you these two chops") for a lamb spinach dish, and also that there seems to be very few Indian shops where I get get the pudding from (Gulab Jamun). I've had to use beef instead - which doesn't have quite the same texture, and I'll also do chicken biryani, tandoori (without the lurid food colouring), tomato prawn-y thingy, and something with a rather sad aubergine I discovered in the salad drawer.

I've also got a few bottles of wine (2 expensive ones, then the rest tapering off as the evening wears on), and Indian beer.

Slightly concerned that there will also be about 8 children, who will have to sit in the West Wing on the floor with pizza.

I may send bridgjo off to Ikea first thing....

Comedy - Minnesota style

2009-05-15T09:14:00.000-07:00

Last night we went to see a comedy show at the Dudley Riggs Comedy theatre. Called "How Minnesotans make love" - it was very funny indeed; a hoot, if you will. They covered all aspects of lurve, apart from fore-play, which apparently in Minnesota means "taking off your parka".

And somebody told me a good definition of the weather here today : there are two seasons in Minnesota - Winter and August.

Pancake Mixes - What is the Point?

2009-05-13T08:26:00.000-07:00

The standard recipe for pancakes is flour, eggs, milk.

A couple of weeks ago I bought a pack of Lunds and Byerlys Pancake mix. I couldn't help it, it was on offer. Quite frankly, if they offered me a lemon-iced squid with arugula tabbouleh, I would probably be tempted. (n.b arugula apparently is a type of lettuce, not a contemporary of Julius Caesar. Or possibly, it's the brother of Chipotle).

And to this one has to add: 1 egg, milk, butter.

And then it tasted like crap. Sorry, but it did. It was truly nasty. 0g Trans Fat though, as if that makes a difference ("trans fat" is very almost an anagram of "naff taste").

Next Monday they will be doing an aerial bombardment of the local Gypsy Moth population. Although not dangerous to humans, they have said we need to stay indoors with the windows shut, then to wash down the outside area afterwards. Now, bit of a contentious issue this, but I'm not sure that our host country has had that much success historically with aerial chemicals. I've asked bridgjo if we can be away that week-end....

Two ducks have moved in. In spite of there being a pond across the road, they like nothing better than to steal the squirrels' sweet-corn, and to squabble over the tiny bird-bath. It's quite amusing to see them both perched in there at the same time, quacking contentedly like an old married couple sitting in their car at Morcambe and watching the sea.

Nuts to Money!

2009-05-11T08:07:00.000-07:00

This is a shameless attempt to win a Kindle from Pertuity , so here goes:

My idea if I was given $25,000 dollars would be to set up a web-site to provide and handle a Cashless Scheme for Minnesota. Based on the idea of the informal baby-sitting circles, people would be able to barter and trade tokens (sometimes called nuts) for Talents. Eg 1 hr of baby-sitting = 1 car-wash.

In effect, it would be setting up a digital bank, allowing people to use artificial currency to provide and pay for services.

This anonymous money can be seen as a tax-free way of exchanging currency, whilst benefiting and supporting the local community.

Services would have to be vetted, and would not be allowed to be advertised anoymously so as to preserve what is the naïve base of the entire system.

People would be able to earn "money" doing what they do best, whilst knowing they were helping out others.

A sort of financial Nirvana, without the heavy rock music.

The Right to Bare Arms

2009-05-01T12:26:00.000-07:00

The more I think about it, the more I reckon the Second Amendment was in actual fact tentatively suggested by a dyslexic Minnesotan in the mistaken belief it may have guaranteed him a couple of warm days each year. Whatever, the day hit a heady 48 degrees, so I was out there in a t-shirt.

Last night I was awoken by gun-fire. Thought maybe it was fire-works, but nooooooo. I wouldn't have thought there would be that much huntin' around here. In fact, I overheard some sound advice in Famous Dave's the other night "...so I never hunt anything that can hunt me back.....".

Reassuringly though, the Connecticut Senate on Thursday approved a measure that would ban children under 16 years old from handling or shooting machine guns. Super.

I have had my permanent crown put in. He showed it me beforehand and it looked unnervingly (root-canal joke) like a real tooth, and put me in mind of where they used to get the teeth from for false sets during the 1800s. And it feels exactly like the old tooth - all the imperfections and everything - almost as if he'd whipped the old one out and just gave it a polish and popped it right back in again. I'd have the other one I need doing too - but unfortunately my insurance won't pay for it. Ya' in America now, Buddy!

Worry, worry, worry....

2009-04-30T08:44:00.001-07:00

Will I catch swine flu?
Do I have any money at all to spend on make-up?
Is it considered ill-mannered to approach someone and ask "So why did you refuse to be my friend on Facebook, then?".

It is raining here, and I am over-run with hostas. They are beginning to move triffid-like closer and closer to the house. One tulip is about to bloom. I shall have to run out with a camera when it does, as it is the only one of fifty. The daffodil of two weeks ago was obviously too terrified to do anything else apart from sprout 2 Cm, then shrivel. The daffodil show is on this week-end - so I will drag the family off to join the purple-hair-rinsed populace, so we can benefit from a little floral colour.

There's been a falling out between myself and the raccoon. He gave me a very reproachful look last night, as he tossed the asparagus stalks about - he plainly missed his cat-food. I think he has forgotten he is a scavenger (although they sometimes also have rabies). In French they are called raton laveur - Wash-Rat - as they like to clean their food before eating it. Obviously a very picky sort of scavenger, then.

The radio here is excellent - loads of choice. In Switzerland I just listened to World Radio Switzerland, both because I'm very lazy and can't be doing listening to high-speed radio-French (second only to high-speed cartoon French and Molière in my list of "French I could do without"), and also so I could listen to my mate Rachel and get advice on child-rearing without admitting I need it. Oh and also to listen to "Pete on the Beat" (apparently, though this might be a fib) his real name is Warren. But I expect a show called "Warren in his Sporran" wouldn't quite conjure up the right image for radio).

Here I listen to either The Current, which plays a very pleasing mix of music a hip parent can listen with their kids without seeming too sad, and KFAI (KFAI Fresh Air Radio - Radio without boundaries), which plays music from Louisiana, the 50s, anything scratchy and a bit of ukulele. KFAI is run by volunteers and I suspect you can just turn up with your own record collection (Bucks Fizz, anyone?) and the right attitood, and you're on.

And my next favourite thing about Minnesota - old men at the supermarket employed to pack and carry your bags to the car, who then say "It's raining, you get in and I'll load the trunk for you".

Better than Tesco's.

Teenagers!

2009-04-26T07:13:00.001-07:00

Bridgjo has decided to get into practice for when T is a teenager. So far, with regard to our stagiaire, he has said:

Have you seen the state of her bedroom?!?
All she does is eat, then go upstairs. We never see her!
Do you know she came in at 10 past 3 last night?
If she leaves that door unlocked again, I'm taking her keys off her.

It all seems rather familiar......

Coals to Newcastle

2009-04-24T16:23:00.000-07:00

Great weather the last couple of days - it's super to feel the breeze on bits not normally out and about.

On my run this evening I noticed this big red truck outside a neighbour's house. It was there to drop off a snow machine.

And I have finally got my replacement product from Lush. I'd bought some shower gel about 6 weeks ago now, which turned to be pure water when I got home and opened it. I complained to the US, but they "didn't get my e-mail" (I've never trusted computers), so I sent an e to the UK branch, who then got the US to call me, who then sent me a parcel full of goodies. Except it didn't arrive and someone else, it turned out, signed for it. So they sent another parcel. Ditto.

Somewhere I have a neighbour who is perfectly rotten but who smells really rather nice. Anyway, I am English, and Do Not Give Up (unless I am playing cricket), so called them again this morning. This time she drove around, and voila, a nice replacement (bigger) bottle and a little gift-wrapped present of promised goodies.

Tonight we bathe, whether we need it or not.

Today was T's parent-teacher meeting. Very pleased, as I was rather concerned her refusal to speak French would mean her having to redo Kindy, but she is going up to 1st Grade (even though, obviously, she is still an ickle baby to me). The teacher said her maths was great, as she can do subtraction up to 10 in her head (ummm, yes....), and that her cursive-writing (yes, really) was already as good as the first-graders.

They are not reading yet in her class - the French way is to start with syllables. What they emphasise more at this point is their ability to communicate (so, for instance, they take photos of the child and put them in a little wallet, and get the child to describe each photo, writing it down for them and putting it in the same sleeve. Makes for better reading than Twilight), and developing their verbal skills. So you want your child to read at five, or hold a coherent conversation? - our decision is made.

PS I am trying to promote my blog (see one of the sites here: Blog search directory). I have been a bit dubious of web-sites since I joined Facebook and saw "Rachel-E. Hurley has no friends"), so we'll see.

Book critic

2009-04-23T15:18:00.000-07:00

So the stagiaire's arrived. She's very sweet, and tends to spend all her time in her room, scurrying mouse-like each time she hears a loud noise (ie frequently). Bridgjo managed to winkle her out of her room last night, and they spent a mutually enjoyable evening (apparently) improving each other's second language.

I went off to Town (someone else drove) to go to the Book club for the first time. I think I upset one or two, as they are all a bit younger than me, and very into Twilight, one of their previous books (yes, it's one of those book-clubs, although the wine seemed to be rationed, and there was no male strip-tease. Damn'). They asked me what I thought, so I said it was poorly written, atrocious grammar, obviously it had never been copy-read, and as tedious as taking tea in an old people's home, without the benefit of the distraction of a ticking clock. One of the girls piped up nervously "Well....you're entitled to your opinion".

T has parent-teacher conferences at school this week, so we have Thursday and Friday off. You would think that it could have dove-tailed nicely into a long Easter week-end instead. But, then, the weather is in the high 70s at least for today and tomorrow (and probably snow next week). We planted pansies...I feel so grown-up.

Full Cavity Search

2009-04-17T15:24:00.000-07:00

Alas, my age is now truly showing. And I am now the nervous possessor of my first crown. T was a little more optimistic than I about this news, not surprisingly for someone who wants to be a princess when she grows up.

It didn't hurt in the least, but I do not recommend the laughing gas. I would be dreadful in any night-club nowadays, as it took the dentist about 3 seconds to talk me into this (albeit, legal) drug. For anyone who's not tried it before, don't. It makes you feel tipsy, and not at all giggly. There was a time (about 19) when if you'd told me I could be flat on my back, drunk, in room full of strangers, and no-one would have tutted at me, I'd have looked from left to right, and leant forwards. Not nowadays.

I didn't like the way my mouth was propped open for 3.5 hours (except for 20 mins, when he said "We'll just give your mouth a rest now for a while", and they obviously all buggered off to lunch). I had video glasses (very Logan's Run, but without the need to top myself), so watched Shallow Hal, all the way through for the first time. I also wasn't too keen on hearing one of the nurses whisper to another "Well, she is English....".

Tomorrow we take possession of our stagiaire - the French girl who will be staying with us for the next 10 weeks. Worryingly, looking at her CV, I see she actually has more in common with bridgjo than I do (saxophone, tennis etc). Well, it'll improve his French.

Building Bridges

2009-04-15T16:12:00.000-07:00

I finally gave up today trying to find a parking space close to the door of the gym, and instead decided to go for a bike ride.

There are two reasons I have never faded away whilst on a manic fitness regime:

I get hungry afterwards, and although I will cheerfully nod a brief hello to the fruit-bowl, that's only because it's on the way to the crisps. The training mantra for the Olympic Team, alas, has never been "Train hard! Eat lard!"; and
I get knackered afterwards, so instead of expending every-day chore energy in addition to the exercise, I normally nip upstairs for a Nanna-Nap instead.

Powered up by a bacon-buttie, I went off on the bike trail down to the Midtown Corridor.

Minnesota has a bit of history when it comes to bridges and their rebuilding. There's very little about this particular set on the internet, and bridgjo got very James-James on me because of its proximity to Town. It was "beautified" recently in response to the fact that it was a disused train-track bordered by disused oil refineries and mills, which encouraged broken windows, gun-crime and general naughtiness.

There's a pretty good chance I won't go there again, and instead turn right to Lake Minnetonka instead, which after all has a cafe.

However, it's quite intriguing. In the early 1900s they decided there were far too many rail-road-crossing-related deaths (too many hyphens?), so they put up 37 bridges, each about 200 yrds apart, one for each tiny street which crosses it. With amazing foresight they removed the track whilst building work was in progress, and, for wont of supporting HTML to say otherwise, it seems they then failed to put it back. Problem solved.

All the bridges were poured in place, and there was a bit of a problem with quick-sand. And unfortunately that seems to be all there is to know.....one of those things you should see when you're here, a bit like the lawn-mower museum in the UK.

In spite of the two bike pants, and the Gel-tech seat, I am suffering from Biker's Bum though tonight, alas.

I have spoken to the Lawn Nazi across the way (OK - Jerry) (oh, just realized). I asked his advice about lawn-upkeep - he seems very nice, and does not seem too upset that the council did actually dig up his lawn last week (I hid).

And Brian came round to sort out the garden for summer - I now have about 50 bin-bags to dispose of. Luckily for $70 a year, Randy's will come and pick them up for me.

Go back to Canada!

2009-04-14T12:26:00.000-07:00

I have been reviewing swimming in the lakes here, as I noticed in Switzerland there were lots of rats around (well, I guess "lots" as I actually saw two), and am a bit wary of disease. Plus the lakes here do seem to be full of boats during the summer, i.e. lots of oil and sewerage.

But, it seems that Minnesota takes this as least as seriously as I do, with slightly less righteous anger against vermin. Their aims are to:

Fence swimming beaches to exclude geese
Relocate adults and young out of state during the molting season
Prohibit feeding of geese on swimming beaches
Herding geese off of beaches with trained border collies
Pick goose dropping off of beaches daily

Geese - slightly more endearing than rats, plus the added entertainment value of border collies.

I was speaking to a chap in the hot-tub today (very "Housewives") who told me that the best place for out-door swimming can be found in the lakes on the border with Canada. Obviously the geese must be trying to keep away from there...

Happy Easter!

2009-04-11T15:54:00.000-07:00

It has been a beautiful weekend. About 52 degrees; a temperature at which you feel compelled to cast off the down, and maybe even don a light sweater.

Yesterday we went to the Lowry Center and had great fun in the feeble sun-shine doing a treasure hunt. There was a short course in the woods, which T hared around, searching for hidden bags filled with pebbles - once she had collected eight, she could trade them for a bag of cereal or an orange (very health conscious). They were extremely tricky to find, hidden as they were in tree trunks and under leaves. They also had a small petting-zoo (with some fat rabbits, extremely stunned chickens).

Today's event was at Linden Hills, where there was a snack for the kids, with a puppet show, followed by an Ester Egg Hunt. This was slightly more traditional in that there were (it seemed) hundreds of plastic eggs hidden around the play-ground by the Community Centre, which were filled with small sweets.

I have rarely seen T run quite so fast, and she used her elbows admirably. We are very proud.

She wanted to take the bunnies home.

Linden Hills is a great area; I'd be quite happy to live there. Nice vibe to it, and loads of restaurants. We ate at a French restaurant today, and I appreciated the real tuna steak in my Salade Niçoise (yesterday, when I had it too, it was still in a cylindrical shape, perched on top of a pile of wilted greens). Purple potatoes too.

And another thing

2009-04-09T18:36:00.000-07:00

Whilst I was in T's class today, I had to take umbrage (silently; I am, after all, English) at her English teacher. To explain, she's quite lucky in that Wednesday is not a holiday, like most other French and Swiss schools, but is actually taught in English. I always make sure, pushy-mummy that I am, I glance at the walls to check the words they are working on this week. The list today, was "Words rhyming with 'all'":

All
Fall
Ball
Hall
Gall (running out of the alphabet at this point)
Stall
Doll

I shall have to have (well-enunciated) words...

Hair today...

2009-04-09T18:07:00.000-07:00

Yes, it is indeed the time of year a young man's fancy turns to spring, and a girl's more prosaically to "Well, what can I spend his money on now?"

In my case I have decided yet again to go short (hair, obviously). It is all a contrived plot on my part to get fit. I've got the clothes (too much spent in REI), the hair style - now I just need to fan the hidden flame of the desire for aching bones so I can actually be bothered to use that membership at the health club. I cannot find it in myself to criticise Americans, but you know, it really bugs me when all the parking spaces have been taken up closest to the entrance at the gym....

A little bit wary when I got at the hair-dressers, where I was greeted with "Have you come to have your hair cut? We are sooooo excited!". I am assuming here that this mad person actually worked there. At least, she brought me a cup of coffee when I said "Er. Yes. Tea?"

I had my teeth checked on Tuesday. As bridgjo mentioned, it's a bit like waterboarding (which I am reliably informed is something harsher than water-skiing), as they no longer use the "public spittoon" but insert a vast array of hard-ware into your mouth for hosing out, and sucking up. Quite unpleasant. I now have sparkly teeth - although she told me I drank too much tea (as if).

I went to T's school today to sit in with the class. One of the songs they sung was Savez-vous plantez les choux?) (do you know how to plant cabbages - quite a serious French subject, and not to be mocked). As you can see from the link, the idea is that the children learn parts of the body, by tapping fingers, knees, elbows, feet etc on the ground as they pretend to plant the cabbages. Great hilarity (bearing in mind they are 5) ensued when the prof asked "What shall we plant with?", and they all suggested "Ventre! Fesses!". Not really one for the video library.

PS I am having geek-type fun with the labels on my posts - they are used to identify the adverts placed at the side. I am starting to enter words just to see what comes up. See it as evidence of my puckish sense of IT humour.

Minnesota Weather, Part 365

2009-04-05T08:07:00.000-07:00

Well, this is the view this morning from our back-room. Yesterday spring, and a "quite warm for the time of year, fancy a cup of tea?" sort of day, and suddenly (can you use "suddenly" when it's happened twice in one week?) another 4" snow. I checked on my one solitary daffodil yesterday, and it was looking decidedly peaky.

I don't hold out for much in the way of success this year with my tomatoes etc. I have the front-room set up like a drugs farm (but no need for extractor fans) with little seedlings sitting over heat vents, and a paddling pool full of potted plants (incidentally, we don't use that wing of the house much). However, the other night I was working away in my study, when there was a huge commotion outside. Two raccoons sitting next to the French windows having a row (or something). What with them, and the day-shift of rabbits and squirrels, there is the possibility that it will not thrive.

T thinks that if we set up an actual cafe on the decking for them, they may be distracted enough. Except that the raccoons (or rats) have already started nibbling through that too.

This last picture was taken a few weeks ago when the lakes were still frozen. The ice has all melted now (well, at least yesterday it was). I am beginning to cultivate friendships with people who have boats, although I was told it gets completely rammed at the weekend on Lake Minnetonka.

Syrup from Sap

2009-03-30T10:47:00.000-07:00

We decided in the end to go to the Arboretum yesterday. As it was the pancake breakfast, it meant we did not have to pay the entrance fee. We should really become Friends, we go there that often....but then again we can get free passes from the library.

The breakfast was very popular - as many as you could eat (about 3 as it turns out, as they were the thick, fluffy variety), chickens sausages and lashings of syrup. I was mentioning to a friend of mine (American) last week that it was a bit odd for us to see people pouring maple syrup over their bacon. "Urgh!" she agreed, "That's disgusting! It's not bad on sausages though....".

It was a nice bright, tingly sort of day, so it was actually getting quite warm by the time we decided to see the maple tapping. It's very intriguing - they put metal taps into the maples (about an inch in), and then link them all to one enormous central hose which then leads to the syrup house. So overhead, in this wood are all these reticulation hoses. Prime syrup-gathering times are when it's below freezing at night, and above during the day (so most of the year, then). This means the sap actually freezes in the pipes, as it is about 97% water, 3% sugar. It's then boiled down; 40 gallons (I think) gives about 1 gallon (or cup, I can't remember - I was getting a bit high on the fumes by this point) of syrup. Apparently up in Alaska (and, obviously, the Ukraine), they make syrup out of birch.

After that we had a nice amble about the grounds, and then went to the potato exhibition at the children's centre there. T potted the smallest potato I have ever see (pea-sized), made potato-print pictures, coloured in a potato, and made some potato snacks. There was a bit of a theme.

We have just been experiencing the famous "Minnesotan fake spring" as tomorrow it is forecast 6 inches of snow. My poor little daffodils are only just nervously peeking their little heads out, and now they'll get frost-bitten. I saw on the local Daffodil Club web-site that they are actually considered a summer flower here.

Water, water...

2009-03-28T07:01:00.000-07:00

There's an awful lot of water about at the moment - but luckily for us we are quite high up, and far enough away to be able to breathe a sigh of relief. Not a nice time of year to be flooded out though - day-time temperatures are still below freezing. The snow melted very efficiently within a couple of days, without the customary (for us Brits) slush and fog. Rather it just melted into water (obviously) and then ran off. Unfortunately for the Red River area, they are cursed with a north flowing river which took this run-off and attempted to move it northwards - the way of which, of course, is blocked by yet more ice and snow, it being within coyote-tossing distance of the North Pole an' all.

T and bridgjo will today be going to see some maple-tapping at the Arboretum. Whilst I, naturally, will be recovering from yet another virus. This one had me in Urgent Care once more, where it was suggested with my next visit I could qualify for a set of crystal glasses. I experienced 2 litres of saline and an unexpected spasmed vein (not recommended). I am quite cheerful again, so don't send flowers just yet. Bridgjo is convinced that I actually can contract diseases orally. No, not by snogging, but rather by talking about it. I have only to hear that someone got up that day feeling slightly squiffy, and, lo, within the hour I am running a temperature and asking to whom I should leave the spoons.

T's French is coming on in leaps and bounds. She told me today "I did some bon travail today, Mummy". She does extra French twice a week before school, and loves to take things in to show her teacher. Picture the look on a French woman's face when I told her this week that T had brought in her pet asticot to show her.

We'd gone for a bike ride last week and found these intriguing seed-pods. When we got them home, and opened them, we found that were actually home to a sort of larvae. T naturally wanted to keep one as a pet. It lasted about an hour before it very obviously died (by turning a rather disturbing darker shade) - I wanted to replace it with a piece of basmati, but realised that T might rumble me. Anyhow - it was this she took in to show her teacher this week.

She had a pyjama (pajama?) day on Friday - the last day of school for a week. More of a pyjama and thermals day actually, but the kids think it's hilarious.

She has also completed a little pottery course at school. It's a little different from the one I did at Gladstone pottery when I was about 10. There, as it took place n one of the five Towns, one of the main lessons emphasised the importance of "How to look under the saucer to see where it was made". They have brought in a local teacher from the Art Centre, who's actually from Senegal so speaks French, and by all accounts it's everyone's favourite lesson. Here's the article I wrote for the weekly news-letter:

Hands up all those parents who have ever said "That's lovely darling. What is it?" Yes, you. You at the back - I can see you! You see, what we, as Parents, have all been missing all this time is any artistic ability whatsoever.
Luckily, that ability can be found in Adama, who has managed to nurture and drag the tiny amount of natural talent any of our kids have and has turned it into an amazingly accomplished show.
Yes! There's a crocodile. Yes! Yes! And a bird!
I wasn't the only one exclaiming; everyone one I walked passed in the gallery was amazed at the flair and, quite frankly, genius that the children are showing here. These are pieces we are all going to treasure for many years to come. And our children themselves will treasure the memories that these weeks have given them.
They have set-up a gallery for them in one of the class-rooms. In a moment of dreadful puns, a troubling side-effect of my illness, I suggested they call it the Pompidou-dou Centre (dou-dou means cuddly toy in baby French). How we laughed.

Can I smell gas, or is it me?

2009-03-19T15:22:00.000-07:00

I never thought I would ever murmur "Mmm, five degree centigrade. Nice", but the snow is melting in an efficient non-foggy/slushy sort of way, and the brown grass is peeking through. Unfortunately this is uncovering my guilty little secret of approximately 27 bags of leaves I neglected to rake-up pre-snow-fall. They have now degraded to create one enormous matted carpet, which makes me swear under my breath to Do Better next time. Or just to swear.

On the other hand, it meant that whilst I was out I smelt a gas-leak. When I mentioned it to John, he nodded wisely and said "Yes, a passer-by said the same thing the other night". Anyway - I called the gas people up, and they sent someone round within ten minutes. His "nose" couldn't detect anything, but his actual nose could, so he called out the emergency team. I had great confidence in all this activity right up to the moment one of these "Best of the Best" stubbed out his ciggie in the middle of the road.

None of them accepted the offer of a cup of tea. Odd.

They were there all day today, and although I was concerned they were going to dig up Jerry's pristine bowling lawn opposite, they dug a hole between me and my neighbour's, and carefully re-raked all the leaves back over the in-fill.

And this morning we saw a deer at the bottom of our road.

Truly spring is here (until the next snow-fall).

Spring is here (possibley)

2009-03-16T16:01:00.000-07:00

Last week was below zero F, and today was 62. T was amazed "and I went outside today to play, and I didn't wear a coat, gloves, scarf, hat OR snow-pants!!!!!". Straight after school we went to the park to play - a first for this year. We might well get more snow, but today at least I dreamt of outdoor cafes and even managed to shift three bags of leaves (deeply regretting allowing the snow to cover my laziness in November).

This weekend was the chocolate festival - which, as my Swiss friend here says "Isn't quite Swiss chocolate, hein?", but there was lots of selection, and stuff to try - lovely chilli and dark chocolate, and a rather perplexing mango and white chocolate. The people who go every year had it sussed, and took their own Tupperware containers for the samples.

Blessed as I am with a child who can do without chocolate, there was extra for us, and there is still quite a lot left in the fridge (I'll make it clear, in case you think the sugar rush went to my head, and I was kicking people out of the way, it's actually a bit pricey to get in, and the ticket is clipped each time you get a sample, so that you can't lift loads and then decide to sell the proceeds on eBay afterwards).

Tomorrow T has to wear green. Of course she does...Slainte!

Holy Relics

2009-03-13T12:51:00.000-07:00

It can be so easy to offend. Unlike Back Home, here people are genuinely religious and fervently patriotic. Both quite admirable traits. Although I cannot quite get my head around a chocolate crucifix for Easter. The company who makes it are called "Abdullah".

Nevertheless, I was slightly wrong-footed when, at T's "How to be a Princess" Tea-Party ("Come and learn good manners, and wear a pretty dress!") at the local Community Centre, the lady leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially to the girls "You know, we are ALL princesses in God's eyes". Which may be perfectly true, of course, but sort of unexpected, and a little bit creepy in a "don't forget your balloon and Gideon's on the way out" sort-of way.

She got to wear her favourite frock and be with her current best mate though, and was hoping it was going to be a weekly course.

All the fun of the fair

2009-03-05T10:32:00.000-08:00

So I managed to survive 6 days at Disney.

Bit of a hiccup on the way when we missed our connection (I was told off by bridgjo for recreating a scene out of that RyanAir reality TV program....but I felt compelled to as the plane was still at the Gate). No matter, on the way back we managed to get an earlier direct-flight, which just goes to show something.

It meant we got in a little later than we expected, so couldn’t go and see the fireworks that evening. Instead, we had an early tea (I asked for “mange-tout” and the chef said “Oh, you speak French”), and were in bed by 8. Up bright and early to get to the Magic Kingdom at 8am. Beforehand, bridgjo called reception at 6a.m. for some question, and, as a good-bye, an extremely tired/disinterested voice yawned “And you have a magical day now…”.

We were at the All-Stars Music. Pretty basic, but there were two pools, and the food was OK-ish. A mad scramble each morning for breakfast, and a limited choice for tea, but there you go. I was very English and made sandwiches each day for lunch.

T’s face was a picture when she saw Cinderella’s Castle for the first time. I really think it was, indeed, all quite magical for her. Yes, Disney is over-priced (though not much evidence of economic crises there), yes, it is tacky…..but I’m beginning to understand that that is precisely the idea.

Naturally, the first task was to send the fastest person in the group (bridgjo) to get the FastPasses we needed, and for T to go and wake-up Tinkerbell. She took it very seriously, shaking a little bell and saying “Tinkerbell, come out! Where are you?” (and lo, there she appeared at the back of the shop – quite clever, really.

We didn’t buy into getting everyone’s autographs, as the queues were way to big – instead I stumbled on another wheeze. Almost every Cast Member had a roll of stickers, so T spent quite a happy time collecting as many different ones as possible.

T was up for all the scary rides and adored The Haunted House as much as the Adventures of Pooh. Pirate is still a favourite, and Lilo and Stich seems to have been recycled from another film (I think maybe Gremlins?). There were some ingenious “interactive” shows with Monsters Inc and the Turtle out of Nemo. Really quite clever.

We did a park on each day, with Epcot second on the list. I love its naivety, and, bridgjo tells me with Internet authority, it was Walt’s favourite park. It probably has changed very little since the 1950s, apart from the technology of the rides, and quality of the food.

I like Hollywood Studios (MGM). I think the back-lots are great, and the Muppet show is still going strong. We all went on the Tower of Terror, and T’s post-card home rea “I went on the Tower of Terror. I held Mummy’s and Daddy’s hands so tightly I left nail-marks”. Yet she was giggling when she came off, and immediately wanted to go on again. It seemed to be much longer and scary than we remember, but it is good.

The Animal Kingdom was lovely, as it reminded me at least of South Perth Zoo (but more screaming). The Dinosaur ride must be one of the best ghost-type trains there. T loved it of course, with all these dinosaurs leaping out at you. The children behind us, however, were hysterical. A bit mean, I thought, especially when their mother smiled wryly at us and said “They were like this last time too”. There was a nice pseudo-safari ride there (T thought the hippos were hilarious), though the water ride was too short. Here we got a good bit of customer service when T lost this tiny light-up Tinkerbell clip (actually free with a drink at one of the restaurants). When I asked at Customer Services, not only did they commiserate with her, but told her to go to the shop and pick out a Tinkerbell toy. How sweet is that?

The weather was great. Actually, it had no choice. I was determined to feel air on my arms, and actually ended up getting a very slight tan (already fading, alas). I do find the number of people a trifle overwhelming. It was packed every day, and you really needed to book a restaurant for lunch and dinner if you wanted to get in anywhere.

Moveable Feasts

2009-02-16T07:22:00.001-08:00

It is a strange fact that as T's school is French that they do not celebrate Christmas or Easter. However, Valentine's day is a different kettle of poissons entirely.

We were given lists of all the names of the children in her class, and strict instructions that we had to make and sign 24 cards, and also decorate a box accordingly. Then I had to remember that it was a uniform-free day, with the emphasis on pink.

On Friday, the whole school turned up, many of whom had taken the instructions a little too literally and had decorated large packing cartons (a tiny bit hopeful there).

I think it took most of the afternoon for each child in her class to hand out their cards, but it was lots of fun for them. And although they won't be celebrating Easter, at least they get to celebrate this one American Feast.

Going by how the shops are decorated, I am assuming that the next one will be St. Patrick's Day. Now, where did I put that leprechaun?

The taste of honey (-ique)

2009-02-12T12:51:00.000-08:00

There is a mysterious 6th taste-bud called umami, apparently - something bitter, somewhat sweet. However, I think there is another one. Let's call it "Nigel". It's the taste-bud that can identify flavourings eg banana, cherry - even though they taste NOTHING like the originals. Banana sherbet dib-dabs and cherry yoghurt's I find are the main culprits. Although I point the trembling finger of shame of the travesty known as The Grapple. Here we go, I thought, "an apple with the exciting hint of grape" - bit like a medlar fruit, or a custard apple perhaps. Something different. So I got it home, took it out of the (ubiquitous) plastic packaging, and got out the knife to give to T (what me? Eat fruit??). But I sniffed it first. Suspiciously looked at the packaging...."Apple, sprayed with grape flavouring".

Why would anyone do this?

Not only that, looking at the bag of food that I have bought for wild squirrels, it contains "hulled sunflower, peanuts, safflower, raisins, hulled pumpkin seed, pistachios, Artificial Cherry Flavor".

There is a bill-board on the side of the road to T's school "Grapes - the original grape-flavored snack". Indeed.

Lungs fit to burst

2009-01-31T12:42:00.000-08:00

We never got sick in Australia, apart from one spectacular bout of gastro, (referred to as the Mount Etna Week-end) and stuffy noses each time the natives came out (trees, not people. The ones which smelt of baked potatoes. I'm still talking about the trees here).

Since Christmas I have had a cold, cystitis, a cold, gastroenteritis, a cold, bronchitis. Obviously, I wasn't getting much fun out of -itis, so have moved onto the letter "P": Pleurisy and Pneumonia.

I thought it would be the alarming mosquito which would do for me (after all, it is the state bird), but no, it'd be the weather. And, as it foolishly wasn't in the get-out clause of our pre-Minnesotan agreement, I will be forced to wear my snood and two downy jackets for the next three years.

On Thursday, I got sloppy and didn't have the requisite 2 foot of down between the car, and the school - that's what must have finished me off.

By the time I got home I had the shivers, which, quite frankly, unless you have been truly sick before just seems like a mild inconvenience.

Gamely, I talked bridgjo into making a fish-pie (which in the end remained uneaten), whilst I slumped across the kitchen table, then trembled off upstairs to bed wearing all my clothes, duvets and a dressing-gown. I can't remember, but probably in that order. An hour later I was still shivering so asked bridgjo to get the doctor out. Which they don't do here. 12 inch pizzas, yes. 6 foot handsome doctors, alas, no. Instead I got Mary Poppins on the phone who insisted I came into the Urgent care, as "a cough and shivers to me can quickly turn into pneumonia". I was still in denial, but by this time, I really fancied some lovely drugs (so much so I didn't even put in my contact lenses and do my hair).

Urgent care is a great idea - a walk-in centre where they see you immediately, with no truck about waiting times if you are feeling particularly ill, just whisked away in a wheel-chair.

I was momentarily thrown when the receptionist asked "Is this your first time at a Park Nicollette?", almost as if I had arrived at a Harvester. I wanted to ask for the vegetarian option, but even then I realised the only person to get that would be the little man who lives inside my head.

I was bustled into a little room, where over the next few hours I was x-rayed, blood-sampled, EKG'd (or possibly ECG'd - like T I sometimes get my curly cers and kicking kers mixed-up), an antibiotic drip with saline (strangely it was the saline which seemed to perk me up no end), a handful of drugs and several prescriptions.

I had one Benny Hill moment, when the nurse struggled with the right words, refused to say "You're going to feel a bit of a prick", because obviously that would be rude, but instead said "I'm going to poke you firmly now".

With the saline drip, the doctor came in and said "Do you want to go potty?". I considered it for the moment, and said "You know, I don't think I have the energy, but thanks any way....Oh, you mean the toilet?".

I was slightly worried when the doctor said "You have pneumonia, and we are sending you home", convinced that this was exactly what they did with old people.

So feeling relatively better, we went home via that very American Institution, the drive-thru Pharmacy.

Had a reasonably comfortable night, apart from throwing up the pain-killers (the little blighters refused to stay down), and creaking each time I breathed...but realised at about 2 am that they hadn't actually sent me home to die.

Since then,we have had two follow-up calls (what service!). Dr Johnson of the evening shift had said that pneumonia is actually pretty difficult to diagnose from x-rays, as it can be about two days behind the picture taken. The day shift, however, must have had the etch-a-sketch version of the pictures, gave them a good shake, and rang to confirm the diagnosis.

See, I told you we didn't need television.

Moving House...

2009-01-28T11:43:00.000-08:00

No, not us - but here's a link which is distinctly Minnesotan:

http://www.startribune.com/local/38530692.html

We are expecting some snow tonight, so won't be going skating after school with T. Instead, I will be battening down the hatches, and baking (siege mentality starts to set in once in a while, when I see the weather forecast.

Although born with gingerish hair, T sometimes says things which perfectly demonstrate her genes (ie she is just like her dad).

She was watching me put on some face-cream this morning and in a very serious 'I am going to impart great wisdom here' look on her face said "Why do you bother buying that stuff, Mummy? It doesn't work, you know".

Do they talk together about me? Does he prime her in advance?

Admittedly, face-creams are my one big down-fall. Yes! I DO want 400x lashes! YES! I WANT to apply blue whale sperm and look 40 years younger! (now that just sounds weird) . YES, YES!! Please let me purchase a nail varnish that not only does not chip (GUARANTEED!!!!), but also can be used to highlight brows, and whisk away unwanted bikini-line.

No more. New Year's Resolution #536 (in progress) - I am going to use up ALL of the face-creams currently secreted away in various parts of the bathroom (expense looks less like that - this is very much a sly woman's trick). Although I won't be using the ones which give me spots, although I may persuade bridgjo to use them by suggestively leaving them in the vicinity of his toothbrush. Except maybe the foundation, as it is a bugger to get off the pillow-cases.

Not only will this save money, but also free-up about two drawers. No idea what I will keep there, mind. I'm running out of space in the kitchen, so maybe items not used that often like the cheese-grater, turkey baster and the collection of doilies. As the bathroom is the en-suite, this might be one thing to explain to the cleaner, should we ever get one.

Make your own entertainment

2009-01-27T10:59:00.000-08:00

There is a saying here in Minnesota. Possibly. That if it is cold enough to hammer in a nail with a banana you left in the garage all night, then it is quite likely that it is too cold to go outside. Didn't stop us hardy Brits though - right upto the moment we piled into a ski-shop to buy more clothes (T was happy - boots to press all the buttons of a 5 year old. Purple. With fur).

It was another weekend of demented racing around, determined to make the most of the sun-shine, whilst, at the same time, hoping to find the time to squeeze in yet another cup of tea somewhere warm.

The top photo is off the sledding club's day-out. We're not members, but felt the need to gate-crash. Even a locked gate at the golf-club didn't keep us out, so we yomped over the back-way. Once there, though, people were very nice, and T got to sit on a horse, although we didn't get a chance to go on a sled. They took it rather seriously from their bear-skin coats, down to their cat-skin boots.

First time I've looked at a fur coat, and not a single studenty thought entered my head except, 'Mmmmm, toasty'.

Here we went to the Centennial lakes for a skate. I used a sledge to lean on, so I didn't make too much of an idiot of myself, plus it was handy when T's feet started to get cold (after about 5 mins). Still pretty impressive skating on actual water though.

We also tried to go to the ice-harvesting - where they show hardy souls how the ice was cut out from he lakes for the ice-houses, and for moving around the state. It was a bit too pricey, so instead we played in an igloo on one of the smaller lakes nearby.

Finally we went to see some of the winter festival in St Paul - the ice-carving (below) and the snow-sculpturing. It was excellent - even a treasure hunt in the snow for the littlies (though I was tussling with some seven-year-olds).

I have stunned the other mothers at T's school by professing that we are getting rid of our cable this week. "But....what will you do?". It's a boring fact that with the cost, and the fact that we only watch Top Gear, Gordon Ramsey and the Back Yardigans, there's no point, really....however, we have already received a call from Comcast letting us know we can have the Cable and Internet package for $10 a month less than what we are paying for Internet access now.

Let's play hardball!

Nowhere to run

2009-01-18T17:33:00.000-08:00

We had a great Minnesota day today, out in the cold, with the most brilliant sun-shine. At first, I refused to go out with T as I thought it was too cold. Bridgjo got grumpy and said "You know, it is above 20 degrees now, you know", which, of course, changes things.

I would like to fool you all that this is a photo of our back-yard, but, luckily, it was taken at the zoo. All the wolves are moth-eaten and quite moody. The pecking-order obviously gets to them, when there is nowhere to run.

T has the day off tomorrow for Martin Luther King Day. For the rest of Minnesota, this was last week, but the French school quite handily makes it a long week-end.

Parky

2009-01-15T11:38:00.000-08:00

This morning, just north of here,it was minus 60 degrees fahrenheit (with wind chill). This means, it was approximately ONE HUNDRED degrees warmer in my fridge. I phoned Australia on Monday, but got no response. I called again on Tuesday - "Oh yeah, we didn't come in. It was a recovery day as it's been so hot".

Ah the similarities between Perth and MN. Once has snake-bite, and the other frost-bite. One has tanned, buffed surfer dudes (apparently), and the other, well you have no idea until you get 'em home and unwrap 'em.

In fact, here the weather has to be a measured minus 50 degrees before the authorities close the schools. So kids can be waiting at bus-stops in weather which would make a polar bear wince and say "a bit parky for me, I'm afraid".

Both T and I have had our first ice-skating lessons. T says she's OK for lessons now,as she can skate. This is almost true as she is going forwards, bending over, and turning. Conversely, I can waddle like a duck, knees bent, bum out. I am a diva. T wants to be able to do tricks. I will settle for knowing how to stop.

Tonight's tea is terriyaki pork. We are giving turkey a rest for a few days.

Fancy a spin on the lake?

2009-01-11T16:18:00.000-08:00

Two birthday parties this week-end. Not meaning to be churlish about my child's popularity, but I am a teensy-weensy bit "over" parties now. Some of the mums, indeed, were chundering about how everyone's seems to have to be invited, and how the kids just get spaced out by the presents (although Frederique has the right idea - after Theo's party she let him open just one present each day....but only if he had been good. I wondered why he came up to T. a few days afterwards and enthused over her pressie....he could actually remember it).

One party was a mad free for-all at one of the kids play-centres. The other was a bit more sedate at the Children's museum, for just 10 children, and the chance to make an ocean in a test-tube and slime.

Yesterday was a sparkly Christmas card sort of day, so we went to check out the skating at Centennial lakes. Strangely, you have to go underneath this shopping centre, but, at the other side is this small river network, which, obviously, is now iced-over. In the evenings, they turn on the flood-lights and the classical music is cranked up. Skates are available to hire (plus zimmer-frames for those of us a bit more doddery on our ice-bound pins, and sledges for the kids). The warming house (a necessity) is a huge Victorian looking barn, with three fires (although only one was burning), and snacks....we think we'll go next week once T. and I have had our lessons.

Afterwards, we went to Minnetonka and DROVE ON THE ICE. Bear in mind that the ice here is actually extremely deep indeed (no chance of this before January, although there's always one). People drive out, set up their fishing huts and sit out there for hours. Completely bonkers. It's great.

Here's a pic from another web-site of Lake Minnetonka: (http://www.toprankblog.com/)

Note that these fishing huts have satellite TV.

And another of the cars, just as proof (the more eagle-eyed of you will see that these are from Russia - I didn't have my camera with me....) -

It's weird driving along with the GPS on, looking either side of the road and seeing the cars parked on these vast expanses of white, with the sheds out, and looking at the screen and seeing the familiar blue of lakes either side.

How to tell when you love a child....

2009-01-07T10:52:00.000-08:00

....when you change their pukey bedding 5 times in one night, whilst feeling distinctly queasy yourself.

Not that I actually own 5 changes of bedding. It was achieved by variously sluicing down the toilet, washing on hot, and using each of the guest bedrooms. They never tell you that on the NHS adverts for norovirus.

I succumbed yesterday, so spent the day in bed reading (I should do it more often. Plus there is the upside in that it is the only guaranteed diet). Three things I dislike about the publishing world:

Books written in the present tense. This makes my ears itch. Can't be doing with it. Has anyone ever written a book entirely in the future tense? (Books in French do not count, as they are linguistically bonkers).
Books with wonderful reviews on the back cover. Just not for that book.
Books republished with a different title.

I went to the coffee shop with one of my Official New Best Friends today. She told me they got the Sheriff out as they thought they had a rabid raccoon in the back garden. Not for long...

New Year's Resolution #1: Always have mint tea out. It is far more "classy" than a latte and a third of the price.

Not Homeward Bound

2009-01-04T10:15:00.000-08:00

A small, insey-winsey bit of a problem-ette on our departure date. A misplaced consonant caused a slight mix-up betwixt an a.m. and a p.m. with us thinking we were leaving Teeside at 5 pm, then leaving Amsterdam at 10.30 pm. Unfortunately.....we were leaving Amsterdam the next morning instead. Luckily we were able to get a reasonably priced hotel-room at the Sheraton in the airport, which worked out well, as we checked our luggage all the way through, so just meant we could roll off one plane in the evening, onto another the next day. Bridgjo's company also allows us an upgrade, meaning we could use the lounge (and food) they have there (plus there is always the frisson of excitement that only single-use shoe-shine kits and complimentary shower-caps can give).

The flight then between Amsterdam and Minneapolis-St Paul was not as tiring as other times. We were the last ones on the plane, and so scored ourselves a row of four seats at the front. This meant the leg-room and semi-comfort of Business, although without the service (although the stewardess came pretty pronto when I said T was about to barf). The films were pretty dreadful "In the land of far-off Anesthaesia, a small pizza strives in search of the perfectly straight anchovy, realizing on his journey that he is to be the savoury of the human race. Contains strong language".

It seemed to be a collection of possibly the chief-steward's personal DVD collection, with lots of Meg Ryan and Sandra Bullock. Super.

And now, we are back home. T's now succumbed to the flu (with a record 5 changes of the bed last night), but is happily ensconced in her (clean) bed and some Disney to amuse her (or to send her, hopefully, to sleep).

It is still bone-jarringly cold.

Ravenscar

2008-12-31T08:26:00.000-08:00

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.