Where's the Christmas Pot Noodle?

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

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

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

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....

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?

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

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.